1.

Dave Grohl's vocals growl in her ears so loudly that Marni can't hear anything else, which is exactly what she intended. Trips to the market are daunting, what with so many people, each with a future stretched out before them that could go any number of different ways. It's easier if she has her earphones in, music cranked up as loud as she can stand it, to keep her from concentrating on anything else but the words and melodies hammering through her mind. It can make it a little difficult to communicate with the different vendors, but it's a minor inconvenience as compared to the alternative.

She stops in front of a familiar booth, and immediately sees a vision of herself arguing with the vendor over the price of potatoes. Shaking her head, she announces, "One cabbage please, and three potatoes. Keep the change," in Romanian. Guess she won't be having meat this week, but it's a small price to pay in order to avoid a confrontation.

True to form, the vendor makes a scalping, but it leaves enough that she might be able to acquire a chicken breast. That is, if she goes to the right place. That, and some fresh fruit. It's the most she can hope for. She's still got a good amount of tasteless off-brand cornflakes left, so she'll just have breakfast for dinner (and lunch...without any milk) for a couple of nights.

She keeps her head down as she walks, eyes trained on the shoes of the person in front of her. Unfortunately, that's when her music decides to cut out. Torn between the choice of scrolling through her phone in a busy market or proceeding on in the quiet, she decides to go for the former. It doesn't take long for her to find the problem, but while she's desperately tapping her screen, someone runs into the back of her.

"Shit!" The word comes out in English, and she immediately hates herself. Way to blend in; start spouting a foreign language. Why doesn't she just scream, 'I'm an American fugitive' at the top of her lungs?

"Sorry." But the other person seems to speak English too. Marni opens her mouth to respond (should she go back to Romanian? Most people know a few curse words in another language, right?), but before she can, he lightly grasps her shoulder. It's barely a touch. Just a polite gesture, one meant to steady the other person involved in a collision, but it's enough to throw her off her game. Without meaning to, she looks up at him.

He has a kind face. That's the first thing she registers. Kind and… well, if she held with noticing such things (which she doesn't, it's too damn dangerous), she'd say good looking. Tall, dark and handsome.

"Are you alright?" He's back to speaking Romanian (are they just going to pretend neither of them heard the other speaking English? Or that his accent leaves something to be desired, so he's not a native), and she shakes herself free.

"Fine." It's rude, but she can't afford to stand there any longer, so she turns around in the opposite direction of where she was going, and marches away. That was a close one. Good thing she didn't have a vision.

At least, that's what she thinks, until she slowly turns around, heading back in the opposite direction, and immediately sees the stranger again. Only this time, several men are holding guns on him as another man forces him into the back of a van, a pistol to the stranger's back and a cord around his throat. She starts to cry out but realizes just in time that this isn't the marketplace she's seeing. No, it's the street just ahead. He's wearing the same clothes, which means… oh no.

She should ignore it. She doesn't know this stranger, and who's to say that he doesn't deserve the treatment she saw him receiving. He could be a murderer, for fuck's sake! But then again, he could be like her. And what's the point in having these strange abilities if she's not going to use them to at least try and help others? Her decision is made. She has to find him.

At first, Marni tries elbowing her way through the crowd, muttering 'Pardon me's' as she goes, but it's too slow. The market is too packed, and she's just one person. If she's going to catch up to him, warn him of what's coming, she has to get creative. Anxiously, she glances around the marketplace, gaze finally landing on a beat up produce truck. That'll have to do.

"Coming through!" She feels bad about her abruptness (and the fact that she's stepped on more than a few feet), but it's worth it when she finally approaches the truck. "Excuse me. I'm looking for my friend." It's all the explanation she gives as she shimmies into the back of the truck, ignoring the vendor's protests. For a second, she doesn't see him, and then she recognizes the baseball cap and shirt. There he is. Four booths up, three over. "Thank you." She tosses the vendor the rest of her change (she must have a death wish. Either that or she's plain stupid) and darts through the crowd, knocking anyone in her path out of the way.

"Hey!" Once he's just ahead of her, she calls out. Nothing. Of course not, this place is too loud, and she could be speaking to anyone. "Guy in the baseball cap! Stop!" He turns his head, but if he sees her, he must not recognize her. Dammit. She's going to have to play well and truly dirty. Gathering her courage, she takes a deep breath, and takes off at a full sprint, diving between several people, finally running directly into his back.

"I'm sorry-" He starts in Romanian, then realizes just who it is. "You."

Still breathless, she gasps out, "They're waiting for you. Men with guns. Street up ahead. Run."

"How-"

"Please. Run." Taking her own advice, she ducks under another set of elbows, forces her head down, and disappears. At least, she hopes she's disappeared. Lost him. She fools herself into thinking she's pulled it off until she hears a shouted, "Wait! Stop!" in English. As she dives under a stall and squeezes her way through the narrow space between trucks, she's silently begging, pleading with her damned abilities to show her how to get out of here.

Apparently, the best that her precognition can do is show him catching up with her, pinning her against a wall, and asking question after question. Not if she changes her course, he won't. Another sharp turn, into a building, and without a word to the owner, out the back door. Okay, now he won't find her… except she's seeing him cornering her against the building and again, asking questions. The roof? Surely, he won't follow her up there. He's a decent-sized man, heavy. That probably means he's slower than her, not as agile. He won't risk it. Grabbing hold of the first fire escape ladder she can find, she starts to climb.

She's made it to the third landing when she nearly falls, hit by another vision of him catching her on the roof, grabbing hold of her arm, and swinging her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing, then carrying her down to the fire escape and questioning her. Fine. She knows when she's beaten.

It's foolish, but once Marni reaches the next landing, she stops. If he's going to catch up with her eventually, demand to know her secrets, and maybe even kill her, she's not going to run herself ragged trying to get away. No, she'll wait calmly to be punished for her moment of weakness.

It's not a long wait. Only ten seconds have ticked by before she's not alone. She's still gasping for breath, but he doesn't seem to be winded at all.

"Why'd you run?" That's an odd first question, but she'll take it over all the others he could've asked.

"Because you were chasing me."

He nods "Okay, that's fair. You speak English. American?"

She shrugs. "Not currently. You?"

"Not in a long time." Neither of them seems to be able to think of anything else to say, so they just sit there, her trying to remember how to breath, and him… scowling. Finally, he breaks the silence. "Who are you?" There it is. She knew it was coming.

"You first." She's really done it now. Pushed too far. It'll be a wonder if she survives the next sixty seconds.

"Barnes." He finally replies, then shakes his head. "Sorry. Bucky. Bucky Barnes."

She nods and quietly murmurs, "Marni Evans."

"Now that that's out of the way-" he glances over the railing, then looks back at her. "Why don't we get on solid ground and find a place to talk? That is, unless you're gonna run again." She doesn't have to see the future to know how that would work out.

"I won't."

2.

She's scared shitless, that's for sure. Bucky half-way expects to look away for a second and for her to be gone, disappeared into the crowd (he could easily find her, but it seems like that would only frighten her more, and if what she told him is true, it's probably best to keep a low profile), but she sticks with him all the way to the small coffee shop. He can read Romanian, but that doesn't mean he recognizes the names of the different native drinks. So, he goes with his gut.

"One black coffee. You?" He turns to Marni. She startles and shakes her head.

"Nothing."

"Come on." He attempts a smile, but he's not sure if it comes off friendly or predatory. It's been a while since he's done anything like this. "I'm buying. A thanks for saving my ass." He realizes belatedly that he's using English instead of Romanian, but the owner doesn't seem to care.

Marni meets his gaze and finally nods, naming off a type of tea he can't stand (and frankly, he's not sure what's in it). The owner informs them it will be ready in a moment, and he motions towards a table situated in the corner.

"Over there okay with you, or would you prefer to be in the open?" He'd prefer privacy, but he'll do whatever she's comfortable with. Now that he's chased her down and basically forced her to come with him. God, no wonder she's terrified.

"Corner is fine." She clears her throat and glances back up at him. Right, he's supposed to lead the way.

It's force of habit, pulling out her chair for her. He doesn't realize it's odd until she raises an eyebrow and mutters a quiet, 'Thanks.' They're strangers, and maybe these days that's not so common, but it's how he was raised.

He doesn't say anything until their drinks arrive, giving her a minute to gain her composure, and him a chance to reorganize his thoughts. He can't just jump right in with, 'How the hell did you know what you told me?' or 'Who do you work for?' She could've been lying. This could all be a trap. But if she's acting, playing scared to lure him in, she's doing an exceptionally good job of it. No, his bet's on her working alone. She finally breaks the silence, telling him,

"It would be better if you didn't ask me anything and we just went our separate ways. Forgot today ever happened."

He nods. "That's probably true for both of us, but I'm going to risk it." It's brief, but the corners of her lips turn up, revealing a smile that changes her whole face.

"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you." She takes a sip of her tea, then asks, "What did you want to know? I'm guessing you have questions." Does he ever.

"Let's start with who you're working for."

Her brow furrows. "I'm a teacher. Currently, I'm working freelance, teaching English as a second language out of my apartment." That would explain her being bilingual. She seems like the type who could be a teacher. He wants to trust his gut, that she's telling the truth, that's all there is to it, but he still has to ask.

"Are you with Hydra?" Another frown.

"Am I with a monster from Greek mythology? No, I'm not. If that's not the Hydra you're talking about, then again, no. Never heard of it."

"SHIELD then?" The color immediately drains from her face, and he realizes her hands are shaking around the coffee cup.

"Please." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Please don't tell them you found me. I'll do whatever you want. Just-"

"Hey." Without thinking, he reaches across the table and covers her shaking hands with his good one. "It's okay. I'm not with SHIELD, and I'm guessing if you're that scared of them, you're not either." Probably on the run from them. That opens up so many other questions. There's no gentle way to do this, so he decides to just get it over with. "Why does SHIELD want you?"

She hesitates, then whispers, "Same reason I knew about the men waiting for you." He's determined to wait, not pry it out of her, but when a full ninety seconds pass, and she doesn't say anything else, he has to look for other options. He may regret this…

"Look." Not giving himself time to doubt the decision, he pulls off his glove and rolls up his shirt sleeve. "This is Vibranium. Ever heard of it?" She nods. "Metal arm, guy who's definitely not Romanian hiding out and asking about SHIELD? I've got some secrets too." And he can pretty much guarantee his are worse than hers.

"So it's an "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" type of situation, huh?"

Despite himself, he chuckles. "Pretty much. But I asked you first."

"Can't argue with that logic." She takes another long sip of her tea. "You won't believe me if I tell you, though."

"You'd be surprised by how much I can believe." A hell of a lot more than he did seventy years ago, that's for damn sure.

"Alright." Her knuckles turn white as she grasps the teacup tighter. "I see the future." That's… not what he was expecting. "Little shards of it, in something like a vision. Most of them are pretty much useless, and I can't control when I get them. In your case, you ran into me, and ten seconds later, I saw you garroted and being forced into the back of a truck on the street ahead with a gun pressed to your back."

"So, you ran after me?"

"Looks that way." Surprisingly, that makes sense. The only thing bothering him is…

"How did you know I wasn't a raging psychopath with a bomb being taken in by special forces?"

"I didn't." She shrugs, not looking up at him. "I still don't." She took a chance on him. Too bad he's actually more dangerous than what he just described.

"Anything else I should know? Can you fly or turn invisible?" Good, a smile.

"Nothing that exciting. I can speak every language." So, she's not dangerous in the traditional way, but he can still see why SHIELD would want to get ahold of her. "Your turn." Marni nudges his foot under the table. Okay. He can do this.

"I…" He should start with his good points. What are his good points? New plan: go with what's most believable first. None of it is all that believable, though. "I'll start with my full name. James Buchanan Barnes. That's a little clunky, so I go by Bucky." If that's ringing any bells, she's not showing it. "I was a sergeant in the U.S. army. A buddy of mine signed up too, and he got admitted into a special program. That was around the time my regiment was captured by enemy forces. But luckily, my buddy came and sprang me loose with his task force." So far, so good. Now for the plot twist.

"Here's where it starts to get weird." There's no good way to put this. He may as well plow ahead. "The place where all this happened was Germany. The year was 1942, and that buddy of mine was Steve Rogers." Her brow furrows slightly (he can't really blame her, if he was hearing all of this for the first time, he'd kindly invite whoever was feeding him this load of bullshit to go take a long walk off a short pier) and she silently repeats the name: Steve Rogers. "You know him by what most people call him. Captain America." And, there's the recognition.

"Oh." That's it? Oh? Well, at least she's not running.

"I can stop now, because trust me, it just gets harder to believe from there."

She shrugs. "You'd be surprised by how much I can believe." He can't very well contradict her since she's using his own words against him.

"So, things were back on track. I wasn't a prisoner of war anymore and Steve had suddenly become superhuman. We got assigned to…" She doesn't need all the details. "...another mission that wasn't exactly on the records and it went south. That's when I lost my arm." She's staring at him now, but not like he's crazy. More like… is that… sympathy? No, he's got to be reading this wrong. "I was lucky not to lose my life, but everyone in my unit thought I was dead. The unlucky part was that the people who found me were from the group we were supposed to wipe out. And they…" What's the proper term? Tortured him? Put him on ice? Tore him apart and put him back together again with dark new parts replacing his old ones. "… did some experimenting. A combination of science and psychiatry. They'd already shot me up with the same stuff that gave Steve his new abilities, and then-" He swallows hard. "-there was some brainwashing going on. By the time they were done, there wasn't much of me left. Just a killing machine that could be activated with a few key words and put back on ice whenever my mission was complete to be used next time."

Surprisingly, she doesn't look scared. Maybe it's because she's decided he's out of his mind. Maybe… just maybe… she's decided to take a chance on him. Again.

"I'm sorry you went through all that."

He's not sure what to do with that, so he just shrugs. "It was rough, but I got away eventually. That's why I'm hiding out here. But not before doing a lot of damage. More than I can ever make up for." He shouldn't do this, but if he's going to be completely honest with her… "Get your phone out. Search for the Winter Soldier. Several news outlets should have the reports." She's going to run out of here screaming, and really, he can't blame her.

A few tense minutes tick by as she scrolls through her phone, frowning at certain points, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the table as she reads. Finally, she hits a button, and the screen goes black.

"You seem pretty well preserved for a 98-year-old." It's so off the cuff, so unexpected of a statement, that he ends up laughing.

"Thanks. I think."

"You're welcome. I think." Neither of them says anything for a few minutes (on his part because he can't think of a good follow up to 'I'm a monster', and on her part… well, probably because she's trying to figure out the best way to get away from him; that's what he'd be doing if the situation was reversed), but eventually, she speaks up. "So, what do we do now that we know each other's dirty little secrets?" He honestly hasn't thought that far ahead.

"I don't know. You go back to your corner of the city, and I go back to mine. Pretend today never happened. Or-" This is wishful thinking. He shouldn't even mention it; but damn it, he's tired of only having himself for company. And, well, Marni seems nice. Easy on the eyes too with her sandy curls and big, brown eyes. No, he can't think that. There's no way that noticing that will lead to anything good. "-if you like, I could give you my contact information. Just in case you ever wanted to do this again." She chuckles.

"What? Warn you you're about to be captured and then have you chase me several blocks followed by a cup of tea and confessions?"

He feels a smile forming on his face. "Sure. Or just the tea part."

"That seems considerably more practical." She taps the screen of her phone again, then nods to him. "Okay, shoot." He slowly speaks the digits, expecting that to be the end of it. However, not ten seconds later, his phone dings. "So you have mine too."

"You didn't have to-" It slips out before he can stop it. "If you didn't want to-" Dear God. And to think women used to date him.

"I know." She nods, not looking him in the eyes. "And I did. Want to." Oh. Maybe he should just get used to the unexpected when it comes to her.

"Thanks." Smooth. Smooth as a bed of nails. Jesus, he's out of practice even with friendly conversation. That's not even considering… no, she probably didn't mean it like that.

Clearing her throat, she stands, teacup in hand. "It was nice meeting you, Bucky."

He needs to say something back. "You too, Marni. Sure you don't need any help getting home?"

"Nah." She shakes her head. "It's not far. You might want to lay low for a while. Just a piece of friendly advice."

"I'll do that."

With a wave, she's off, shoving her earbuds back into her ears as she heads out the door. All that Bucky can manage to think is that his life just changed in some major way. He's not sure yet how or why, this feels like a turning point. Now, if only he could figure out towards what.