Time to go

Memory Problems and red bull coffee

"Did you know that the jeep had satellite radio?" Bucky practically moaned as the tugged his leg out of a three foot drift.

"So we could listen to the live report of the police tracking our every move? No thanks." Clint sighed, but was kind of missing the heated jeep as well. "But just how much farther are we going to be walking because my feet are turning into toesicles!"

Bucky put a hand over his eyes, "Oh it's a little more than a kilometre to the docks, so we'll be there in less than a half hour maybe."

"Dude, I'm American. What the heck is a kilometre?" Clint snorted. "think miles perhaps?"

Bucky sighed, "тупой американец."

"Hey, I know enough Russian to know that that wasn't at all nice. You're American too!" Clint looked genuinely hurt.

That stopped Bucky in his tracks, "How did you know that?"

Clint frowned, " You told me you used to live in Brooklyn."

"I don't remember that." Bucky frowned like he was trying desperately to remember.

"That's alright it was a late night conversation, I barely remember it myself." Clint brushed it off lightly. " I'm sure it'll come back to you sometime."

"No not that, not the conversation." Bucky had dead look in his eyes. "Brooklyn, I don't remember Brooklyn.There is just this huge blank spot."

"What about your friend?" Clint was grasping at straws, he hated to think that Bucky had lived a collective ninety years and remembered almost none of it.

"I don't have any friends."

That line rung hard through Clint, pulling up a memory he didn't want to relive. He could literally almost see his younger self in Bucky. An elementary age Clint was sitting in the shadow of the schoolhouse with that exact same look of emptiness that was covering Bucky's face. The same answer he told his teacher when he was no older than eight.

"Clinton why aren't you with the other kids? It's recess, go play with your friends." The stern faced but kind hearted teacher whose name Clint had long forgotten stared down at him, casting a long shadow over his thin face.

"I don't have any friends ma'am."

It made Clint want to scream, no one should ever have to say that they have no one.

Without hesitation Clint slung an arm around Bucky and started walking, "Now that's where you are wrong, I'm your friend Bucky. Because I'm with ya till the end of the line."

Clint's last words seemed to pinch a nerve inside Bucky's mind , sending him to his knees and making him clutch his skull in agony.

"Bucky!" Clint dropped down next to him, not caring that the snow was melting and soaking the pant legs on the only pair of pants he had. "What's wrong?"

"Head.....oh god, bright. Ste-" The last word was lost when Bucky abruptly groaned and passed out face first into the snow.

"Goddammit!" Clint cursed as he tugged Bucky's face out of the slush and checked to see if he was breathing. Thankfully he was breathing, and wheezing and when he wasn't wheezing his breath came out in puffs like he had just run a 10k, but hey you take what you can get.

"Buck," Clint tapped his face lightly with the backside of his glove. "Dude, you okay?"

Clint got no response other than a slight twitch. "Wonderful, just bloody wonderful." He sighed hefting Bucky into a fireman carry and lifting their abandoned duffels into his free hand. Turning in a circle trying to figure out which way the docks had been he cursed again, and decided to go left into the wind where he could smell a slight fish/salt smell.