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Setting: Romania (Civil War)
His once blue eyes were dim, almost navy now. The bags under his eyes showed signs of restless nights. His stubble and long hair revealed he'd nearly let himself go. His clothes were worn and faded.
There was no time to keep up with one's physical appearance when on the run. You knew this all too well.
Romania had offered you a different kind of sanctuary than it did for the wanted man named James Buchanan Barnes.
You escaped a life of misery, too, but not from Hydra. . .from your own flesh and blood.
"It's you," your voice was barely a whisper as you approached him—James Barnes.
You'd seen his face pastured everywhere from posters, television, to the papers. A black hat wasn't enough to conceal the identity of a man you'd been reading about all this time. Someone like him was misunderstood like you, and for that, you had to know him. Maybe you could help each other.
"I don't know what you mean, I'm sorry," he replied briskly, turning his attention back to the fruit stand before him.
"Barnes...I've read about you. Everyone's read about you." Your casualty mixed with the hesitation in your voice wasn't enough to scare him off, but enough to spark a curiosity within him.
"And yet you don't run in fear at the sight of me? That doesn't seem too smart." His voice was hoarse and his head hung low.
You tensed up, "I'm not afraid of you. I don't want to turn you in. I just...how do you do it?"
"Do what?"
Were all his answers going to be this short, you wondered.
"You're always on the run. You have to stay hidden, hidden from far more dangerous people than the ones I'm steering clear of."
This caused a dry chuckle to escape his chapped lips, "I'm dangerous. I can't even trust myself. I live like this because it's the closest thing to freedom I'll ever know."
"I feel like a caged bird," you sighed.
You and this man were complete strangers. You hadn't seeded him out, but you'd recognized his face in the crowd of people bustling about. That meant something to you. This made you feel it was safe to confide your secrets in his, since they were so much like his own. Besides...who did he have to tell?
"You're a young girl, I'm sure nothing you could have done is bad enough to stop you from turning your life around." He examined an apple between his gloved fingers, before shooting you a sideways glance.
"I'm twenty this year. I was going to community college back home, living with my uncle and aunt," you paused, "it was a bad situation all around. My uncle drank too much and my aunt cowered at his feet. He was—"
"Abusive." James Barnes finished the sentence for you, as simple as it was. You were thankful he did; speaking of it caused your eyes to sting with unshed tears.
"I don't think I've ever done a bad thing. I believe I could turn my life around, as long as I can stay hidden from him."
He shook his head, "He's not looking for you, kid. He doesn't care enough to."
"I stole his life savings," you admitted.
The hint of a grin appeared on his tired face, "He deserved it."
A comfortable silence loomed over the two of you while James reached across the fruit stand and paid for his pickings. He then turned to you.
"Why'd you come up to me?" He asked, not in a rude way, just out of curiosity.
"I don't have any friends. I haven't had anyone to talk to in months. I've read about you. How you're being searched for from one end of the globe to the other. No one can locate you. But here. . .I find you at a little fruit stand in Romania, just another face in the crowd, and I can't walk away today knowing that it's you."
"So you're a fan," he let out another hoarse, dry chuckle. The laugh never reached his eyes.
"Do you mind if I walk with you for a while, James?" You inquired, though you felt that he'd decline.
After all, you were just a stranger that discovered his identity when he thought he was in a place no one would recognize him.
"I could use the company." He nodded, his eyes ahead of him as the two of you fell into a steady stride alongside one another.
And for the slightest second, you thought his eyes became a little brighter and his demeanor less intense.
"Are you alright?" You asked him, unsure if you were making him uncomfortable considering the situation.
"Mm, fine," he mumbled, taking another step forward before looking over at you. "It's been a long time since I've had someone to talk to, too."
And just like that, in the tiniest moment, two strangers on the run from their problems collided into what felt like a promising, new friendship.
___
Hello, all! Thank you for one million reads! That is insane. I can't believe that many pairs of eyes have read my stories about Bucky. I'm so thankful for each and every one of you. To those of you who still read, despite my slow updates and months-long disappearances, thank you. I'm sorry I'm not consistent and my stories aren't as long.
Sometimes I have bursts of motivation to write, but usually I'm busy and bogged down with the real world. Being a grown up sucks...
I'm excited to update this, though, and I hope you liked it. It's just short and sweet, nothing extravagant, but I thought it was cute.
Thank you again. Can't wait to write some more for you all.
I'M ALSO UPDATING MY STORY "EPHEMERAL" again, too, if you used to read that or would like to begin.It's Bucky's journal entries over the years he is with Hydra. It's short and a quick read, but I have fun with it.
