Who Am I? » [Stucky]

108. Highway Home

Steve hobbled along lopsidedly: taking a long well-spaced stride and then springing off the other foot. He swayed left and right as he stalked onwards; trying to keep his head down as the travelled the streets. He refused eye contact with strangers and denied himself the commodity of raising his head: his eyes were glued to the pavement and he hung his head inconspicuously as he walked. He could feel eyes on him as he walked; observing his squint walk and paying a brief second of concern for the state of their fellow human being before quickly filling their mind with a new thought.

Steve managed to wander to a phone booth, unnoticed and undisturbed by any passer by: he squeezed through the crowds of people as an anonymous traveller and reached his destination unhindered.

He scraped around his jingling pocket for coins and pulled out some nickels and dimes and inserted them into the slot of the phone. He picked up the black plastic phone and held it to his ear and was greeted by the dead-air tone: a single toned, constant beep.

He jabbed his fingers at the keypad, punching in digits and eventually stringing together a phone number from memory, managing to unearth it from the dusty depths of his mind.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon... Pick up, pick up, pick up..." Steve hissed impatiently, repeating the small phrases and tapping his foot frantically in impatience. He drummed his fingers on the dingy vandalised glass panel that bordered the outside of the box, his fingers tapping the reversed obscene script scrawled across it in marker pen.

There was a scratchy scrabbling as the line stirred to life; the telephone owner picking up. "Hello?" The voice intoned, inquisitive about the unknown number contacting him.

"Sam? Thank god..." Steve nearly melted with relief; his shoulders sagging; his back falling against one of the walls of the box. "It's me... Steve."

"Steve?!" Sam spluttered, amazed that he had finally heard from the superhero who had dropped off the grid without rhyme or reason. "Where've you been, man? No one knows where you and Bucky are!" Sam was flabbergasted.

"I know... I know... Just calm down... Look, I'm in Bangor, in Maine... And I need to call in a favour," Steve said apologetically, his voice going dove-like and innocent.

"Bro, what in the hell are you and Bucky doing up in Maine?" Sam squeaked.

"Bucky and I aren't in Maine..." Steve sighed woefully, his eyes welling up with tears again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam said with concern on the other end of the line, his voice slowly pitching up.

"Bucky..." Steve paused, trying to find the words to say it. There was no way of gently saying it and he had to be eloquent. "They got him, Sam. HYDRA got him. And now I'm stuck in Bangor and I've got a bounty on my forehead. They're calling us terrorists... Because the chief superintendent just happened to be a HYDRA agent. And Bucky didn't exactly help by shooting out half the police station when we broke out of jail..." Steve whispered, lowering his mouth closer to the microphone half of the phone.

"Man, you have me lost... Police station... Terrorists... What the fuck happened, dude?" Sam uttered.

"We were arrested... And escaped... That's all that's important-" 'One minute remaining...' chimed the line, mid-sentence. "And I need to ask you a big favour... And feel free to say no, but I need to get home..." Steve requested politely.

"What happened to your sexy Harley?" Sam queried, genuinely shocked.

"Trashed. We had an accident, being chased by HYDRA and the police... Look, please... I need to get home and I need to know whether you can get me there? It's just police cars are patrolling the city, looking for me, and I can't check into any hotels or go in any shops or go anywhere with CCTV, and I'm hoping if I make it back to New York I'll be safe again. I could seek asylum with Tony if I'm still being hunted. I just need someone around me... And Bucky's not here with me anymore... I need to get home so I can start planning his rescue..."