The Winter Warrior // Captain America

«Chapter 24»

The train coming to a stop jolted Anna awake, and she shot up, discovering the man who had once sat across from her was gone, and a young girl now sat in his seat. The girl had greenish eyes, wore a beanie over her shoulder-length blonde hair, and she wore a grey jacket and jeans. Her backpack was in her lap. 

"Where are we?" Anna asked her. 

The girl looked up from her phone with a raised eyebrow. "Bucharest," she said, popping pink chewing gum. 

Anna nodded. "Okay, thank you." 

"Whatever." The girl collected her things and stood up. Anna looked outside and saw a large sign telling her she had indeed arrived in Bucharest. The girl told the truth. 

Anna rubbed her eyes and blinked before rising to her feet. She heaved her bag on her shoulder and exited the train, feeling the cold air hit her skin. She felt the metal tug at the skin of her shoulder and she winced, rubbing the spot with her other hand. 

After a short walk through the station, she travelled downtown until she came across a grocery store. She entered, bought a bottle of water and a sandwich before heading to the advertisements. One of them offered a small, one-room, furnished apartment. After counting her money, she knew she could afford about three nights there before she'd have to get new cash. 

She dialled the number on the advertisement. It rang three times before someone picked up. 

An hour later, she had settled down in the apartment. It wasn't much, but she'd get through for the next few days until she found something new. 

The apartment was a disgusting shade of green. An old mattress lay in the corner that felt bumpy, but it was better than the cold stone floor back at HYDRA. It had a small kitchen, a brown couch, and a table without any chairs.  

Anna checked the weapons she had on her and discovered they were all still there. She changed her outfit to a dark-green tank top and black cargo pants before flipping open her notebook. 

Anna Sarah Rogers. Me. December 28, 1922.

Steve Rogers. Brother. July 4, 1918. 

Bucky Barnes. Friend. March 10, 1917.

Romanoff. Ally(?). 1984. - Dead?

Brock Rumlow. HYDRA. ?

Alexander Pierce. HYDRA. ? - Dead

The woman at the grocery store. Friend. 1954. 

Anna sighed, resting her head against the wall behind her. She glanced down at the area between her shoulder and the metal. The skin was irritated, red, and flaky. A disgusting red scab was loosely hanging from her skin and she picked it off, flicking it through the room. 

A knock on the door sounded and she shot up. She quickly put on a jacket and held her gun in her pocket, keeping her hand around the handle. 

She snuck over to the door and creaked it open. A young man stood on the other side, holding a small bouquet of flowers. "Hello," he greeted her with a smile. "Are you Alina?" 

"Who are you?" Anna asked, tightening her grip on the gun. Alina was the name she had put on the form when she booked this apartment. She couldn't risk anyone knowing her real name. If Anna even was her real name.

"I am Adrian, Adrian Cristea. I live in the apartment next to yours. I came to say hello." He held out the flowers. "Welcome to the building." 

She squinted her eyes at him. He looked familiar. He reminded her of the man on the bridge. She slowly took the flowers from his hand. "Thank you," she mumbled. 

"You're welcome. If you need anything or have any questions, you can come to me," Adrian smiled. 

Anna nodded once before closing the door. She took the flowers and closely inspected them to see if anything was inside them, but there was nothing suspicious. She put them in a vase she found in a cupboard and placed them on the table. 

She took her notebook and wrote a new name under the others. 

Adrian Cristea. Neighbour. ?

Her stomach grumbled loudly and she checked the fridge for anything edible. One egg, an apple, and a partly-filled container of juice. 

She grumbled a few Russian curse words under her breath before putting on black gloves to hide her metal hand. She also added the baseball cap that someone had left behind in this apartment. 

She headed down the stairs and saw a farmers market down the street. She glanced over her shoulder before walking over to the first stand. She bought a loaf of whole wheat bread and some cheese. She handed the saleswoman the money before stuffing her groceries in her bag. 

She turned around and saw another stand that sold books. She curiously walked over and picked up a red, leather book. She traced her finger down the spine and flipped through the pages. "It's 30 Leu," a male voice said and Anna shot up, looking at the salesman in shock. 

"I was just looking," she said softly, putting the book down. 

"It's okay, darling. I won't rush you," the man grinned, walking over to her side and placing a hand between her shoulder blades. She resisted the urge to shudder as he handed her a black book. "This is one of my favourites. I think I have about 10 copies at home." 

"Can you take your hand off me?" Anna asked. 

"Sorry?" he questioned, actually offended, moving his hand to her shoulder. 

"Take your hand off me before I break it," Anna grumbled, the blue in her eyes shifting to a dark grey as she glared at him. 

The man cackled, only tightening his grip. "A pretty girl like you? Breaking my hand?" He smirked. "I don't think so." 

Anna flipped around, gripping his wrist and twisting it to the back. The man groaned in pain and she tightened her grip. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry!" he exclaimed and Anna was sure people were watching by the sound of mumbles behind her. She let him go and smiled a fake smile. "I'm sorry," the man repeated before scurrying away. 

Anna turned around and bumped into someone. Her hand shot to the gun in her belt, but the brunet man in front of her quickly apologised. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" he asked her, his blue eyes filled with emotion. He was American, Anna noticed. 

"It's okay. I'm fine," she muttered, removing her hand from the gun and smiling slightly.

He picked up Anna's bag from the floor. She hadn't even noticed dropping it. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that," she said, putting the strap of her bag around her shoulder. 

"I know." He shrugged. He held out a hand. "I'm James." 

Anna shortly shook it, feeling a spark in her heart as his warm hand engulfed hers. "Alina," she told him. 

"That's a pretty name." He smiled. 

"Thanks," she mumbled. "I should get going." 

"Okay." He nodded, stepping back. "It was nice meeting you, Alina." 

"You too, James." 

Anna travelled home, looking around every other step. She locked the door and took out her notebook, reading over the names. James Buchanan Barnes. Her friend. Bucky. Brown hair. Blue eyes. 6 feet tall. Muscular build. 

She fished out the newspaper article of the two supersoldiers waking up in the 21st century. She traced her finger over their faces. It was him. 

She just couldn't remember him.