Bucky

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Bucky's POV four days later

Flicking his eyes over to the man he knows is supposed to be his best friend Bucky quickly averted his gaze when he saw that he was staring at him. It had been four days since he'd been found. Four days of wanting to run, but not actually doing it. The habit of the last two years had his muscles clenching in anticipation of a getaway every second, but he wasn't going to run anymore. At least not right now. Steve had shown up to his apartment in Bucharest begging him to stay and listen. That all he wanted to do was help him.

Shifting in his seat Bucky adjusted his tight hold on his backpack. Mentally making a list of everything that was inside to calm himself down. His notebooks for when he remembers things, two hundred and thirty seven dollars and sixty-two cents, his false identity papers, a change of clothes, a toiletry bag, his Gerber Mark ii tactical knife, his Glock 17 and several clips of ammunition. Repeating the list over and over as he looked out the window of the small private plane. When that stopped working he started to count his breaths.

"Buck, are you alright?" Steve's quietly deep voice pulled him out of his head.

Glancing over he sees the ever present concern for him on his face. His blue eyes searching his grey blue ones looking, hoping for him to remember everything from before, but he didn't. Buck's memories of his time with Hydra were clearer than those of his childhood. He wasn't okay, he was far from it. His mind was still swiss cheese and he was dangerous to everyone around him. Hell, he'd almost successfully killed the man across from him two years ago and would have attacked again just days ago.

He nodded once before looking back out the window. Steve's dejected sigh put him even more on edge. Bucky wanted to remember him more than anything. After seeing that exhibit at that museum he had tried for months to try and remember. There were fragments of memories, images of the man across from him when he was much smaller. He knew Steve hadn't always been the large man he now was. He'd once been small and frail, always sick with some ailment or having his asthma getting out of control.

A small smile crept across his face at the memory of him having to practically hold him down in bed because he was sick. Steve had been stubborn telling Buck that he was fine to go to work as he hacked out a cough. It was only after threatening to sit on him did Steve agree to stay in bed, falling asleep not long after anyway. The memory made him softly chuckle catching Steve's attention. Clearing his throat he sat up straighter still avoiding his gaze. Before Steve could ask what was funny the pilot's voice came over the intercom telling them they were about to land.

Buckling up they prepared themselves for the landing. It was much smoother than the cargo jets or the other crappy planes he'd been on over the years in service to Hydra. Once the plane evened out and came to a stop he took his time to unbuckle as Steve thanked the pilot. Standing up he followed him out and down the stairs to the tarmac to see a sleek town car waiting for them.

"Come on Buck. It's going to be alright. The sooner we get out of here the better." He calls back over his shoulder as they make their way down the stairs of the borrowed plane. Bucky pulled his hat lower over his face as he adjusted his grip on his backpack following Steve over to the waiting car. His eyes darting around looking for any signs of danger. Watching as Steve greeted the older gentleman in french with a warm smile and a handshake.

When the man glanced over at him Steve's eyes followed. Smiling he waved him over to introduc him to the man. "Buck, this is Christian. He's my friend's driver. He's gonna take us to her apartment where we'll lay low for a couple of days before heading back to New York." Not saying anything to either of them he just nodded.

"Bonjour monsieur Barnes, c'est très agréable de vous rencontrer. (Hello mister Barnes', it's very nice to meet you.) The man, Christian, stepped forward making Bucky take a defensive step back. Stopping, he held his hands up. "Puis-je prendre votre sac?" (Can I take your bag)

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