From Darkness

Twenty-Eight

I woke up again when the train slowed, but only because Bucky had moved onto my seat and cupped my cheek in his hand. I jerked violently, and he gripped my shoulder tightly.

"Hey, it's me. It's alright. You're safe," he murmured.

"Jesus," I said. "Where are we?"

"Almost to our stop."

"Alright, okay. I'm fine. I'm awake." I shut my eyes again. He leaned in close so that his nose brushed against my cheek.

"We need names."

"What did you go by when you were here before?"

"Iacob."

"What do you think I should pick?"

"Ioana. It's best to stick with names that are close to your real name. That way, you respond to it appropriately."

"I can live with that."

"Are you ready to go?" I opened my eyes and turned toward him. He didn't pull away, so our faces were close enough to kiss. He glanced at my lips before moving back to my eyes.

"Yeah," I said. He moved away slowly and reluctantly and then reached under the table for Dana's backpack. I slung it over my shoulders, and then the two of us waited, huddled side-by-side until the train stopped.

When it finally did, he stood up and held out a hand to me. I took it and followed as he quickly led me to the exit.

"Keep your hand in mine," he whispered. "Act like you've been here a thousand times. Like nothing looks interesting or new, and you know exactly where you're going. Don't let me go for anything. If we get separated, find the nearest bathroom and wait for me there."

"Okay."

"You have your knife?" I slid it out of my pocket and held it in the sleeve of my shirt.

"I do now."

"Don't let it go."

"I won't."

We pushed our way through the crowd trying to get out onto the platform. He was faster and definitely acted like he knew where he was going. He kept his hand in mine and didn't say anything at all until we left the station. His false comfort faded into obvious tension. He looked wound up and cautious as he searched the streets with his eyes.

"How much longer until we get there?" I asked as we walked. He put his arm around my shoulder. The metal one was in a tight fist at his other side.

"Not much if we drive," he remarked. Then he pulled me onto the next street and let me go. I had to rush to keep up with him as he swept the street for anyone suspicious. He found a car and had the door popped open in a flash. "Climb in," he said after tossing his backpack in and holding the door open for me.

"Robin Hood," I muttered as I passed him. He slid in beside me.

"We'll dump the car a few blocks from the apartment," he told me as he got to work hotwiring it with a ridiculous amount of skill and speed. "That way, no one comes asking questions. There are more people here than in Belarus. And trust me when I say we can use that to our advantage. But we still have to lie low. We won't be able to do this again."

"Probably best that way."

"Have to decrease the number of illegal activities you get up to when you're trying to make a home out of place. Which is why I never stole a car in your neighborhood."

"I'm sure my neighbors appreciated that."

The engine rumbled, and he turned his hand to the gearshift. I didn't think we were trying to make a home anywhere, just trying to stay safe. But since we didn't really know what the next day would bring, I guess that was as close to home as we were going to get.

"I memorized the city as best I could when I was here before," he told me, pulling the car onto the road. "Maps. Roadways. Alleys. I'll teach you to do the same. You'll want to get familiar with this place just in case you need to get away quickly. The apartment is on the top floor, so we can't be ambushed. Anyone sets foot on the roof, and we'll hear them. Anyone comes up the stairs, we'll know. I got to know the woman who runs the place. Hardly anything gets past her, and she'll help us with anything we need done quietly. She's fine being paid under the table."

"Good plan."

I leaned against the window and looked out at the passing city. It wasn't too far off from what I was used to. I couldn't understand the language, and things were built differently, but with the same concept. It still felt more comfortable to be in a city again. I didn't feel as closed off and isolated. It made everything feel more real.

Bucky was quiet as he drove. His eyes were continually checking mirrors, and he turned down random streets just to circle back and make sure we weren't being followed. But we drove without incident, and I was relieved when he pulled the car up to a curb and jumped out. I handed his backpack across the seat, and he pulled it on and reached for my hand to help me out. I met him on the sidewalk. He shut the door and motioned in the direction we were going to take. He knew the place better than I did. He'd put himself in danger just to come back to DC.

The apartment building was tall and noisy. Even though it was so late, I could hear TVs and voices down the halls when we stepped into the lobby. There were chairs and cigarette butts, cans of beer, and unfamiliar magazines. He pulled me to the stairs and moved up them quickly, two at a time. My legs were shorter, and it wasn't easy for me to keep up with him, but he paused at every landing to give me a chance to catch up.

The stairs went on forever. They wound up in an almost circular pattern all the way to the top of the building. When we finally reached it, he dug through his backpack for the key as he walked up the remaining stairs. His apartment was right at the top, just like he said.

"Stay out here while I check," he instructed, getting the door unlocked. "It's been a while since I've been back. There could be squatters. If she didn't just move someone else in."

"Alright," replied.

He got the door open and reached under his coat for the gun I hadn't seen since I used it to shoot my own father. I turned away and looked down the stairs instead. I couldn't make out the inside of the apartment in the dark. The door opened right into a narrow hallway.

"It's clear," I heard him say from inside. So I stepped in and shut the door. He appeared in the hallway and reached over me to lock it. There was hardly any light coming from down the hall, so he was nothing more than a dark shadow beside me.

"It smells like still water and shit," he warned me. "I wasn't exactly in a good place when I left it." He moved away from me, kicking garbage aside as he stepped into the single room. "We'll get the power turned on tomorrow. I'll make a bed until we can find something better."

He dumped his backpack against the wall, and I looked around while my eyes adjusted. He was right. There was hardly anything aside from a small fridge and stove. And he didn't have anything that wasn't already attached to the floorplan. The windows were blocked out with newspapers, which made the rooms even darker.

"It's a dump, I know," he said, unzipping his backpack.

"It's more than sufficient," I told him.

"Sufficient is exactly what I was going for. Believe me, I never thought I'd come back here. Let alone that I'd bring a woman with me. Especially not you."

"Were there other women you considered bringing here, James?" He looked up and smiled at me.

"I may have considered it once or twice." I rolled my eyes and stepped away. I dropped my backpack on the floor under the kitchen island since there really wasn't anyplace else it could go. He did have a lot of shelves held up by cinderblocks. But since he had nothing to put on them, I would go ahead and guess they were strategic. "We'll get a mattress first thing."

"It's fine, Bucky."

"I'll buy food tomorrow with the money Dana gave us. But we might have to clean out the fridge. I left on short notice. It's probably not pretty. Maybe we'll even get a couch."

"Bucky, it's fine. Really. This isn't the worst place I've ever been, I promise."

"I do have something that might make it a little easier, though."

"What's that?"

I turned back around to face him, and he stood. He was holding my pillow. The one I'd given him. It had obviously been smashed into his backpack for a while because it was somehow even more misshapen than I remembered. But it was still the same floral pattern that matched my bed at home. I reached out to touch it. It felt like a lifetime ago. Emotion bubbled in my chest.

"It's the only one I have," he said.

"It's perfect," I assured him.