I'm Here | ✓

38 - Lure

I go to stand up and someone hands me the phone.

Glancing up at them, I realize it's a young girl, probably in her mid-20's. She's holding out the phone with a small smile, and then her face turns to surprise.

She knows you're the Winter Soldier. I momentarily freak out before realizing that I'm still undercover and I take the phone from her with a grin. "Thanks," I say, reverting back to English.

"Oh my God!" She exclaims, and I cock my head, stuffing the phone back in my pocket. She puts her hands over her mouth. "You're Sebastian Stan!"

"Last I checked." I remember how Sam told me this guy I was imitating was normally pretty casual and nice to his fans. "What's your name?"

"Hannah," she responds breathlessly. "Can I get a photo for my friends?"

"Sure," I say with a smile. She practically prances next to me and takes the photo. I'm uncomfortable with her this close to my left side, but we've stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and I realize our presence is starting to gather some attention. Perfect. Now you've just gotta keep it. "Do you want me to sign something for them? You know, just proof that I'm actually me." I roll my eyes with a tiny smile, gesturing to my face. "As though this isn't enough."

"Sure!" She digs around in her purse for a moment before extracting a pad of paper and a pen. She holds them out to me and I try to remember how the actor's handwriting looked before signing it and drawing a tiny heart next to the forged name. I give it back to her and she hugs it to her chest. "Thanks!" She squeals.

She starts to walk away and somebody stops her, likely asking who I was. She turns back to me and answers them, though I can't hear it. The other person's eyes light up. They get the attention of the rest of their apparent group, and soon I'm surrounded by people wanting photos and autographs. I'm used to covert missions; undercover sniping, planting bombs, night extractions, but this time I'm the center of attention in broad daylight. Keep going. It can't be too much longer.

Over the top of someone's head, I spot someone staring at me, leaning against a sign on the corner. I try not to maintain eye contact, but I watch him as I bend down to sign someone's phone case.

I see him push off the sign and casually saunter over to me. I pose for another photograph, looking at the camera but watching him approach in the corner of my peripheral vision. He hovers at the edge of the group. Not pushing, not yelling, just waiting.

Fine. Let's make a scene.

"Hey!" I call with a smile, pointing at him. "What's your name, man?"

The crowd turns to look at him, and suddenly he looks very nervous. "Grant," he answers finally. The crowd pauses for a second but soon goes right back to clamoring at me. I grin at them, starting to walk toward the man who calls himself Grant. It's probably not his real name, but I keep my act.

"Grant, huh?"

"You're supposed to be in Concord today."

"Shit!" Sam yells in my ear. I just tilt my head and furrow my eyebrows, acting confused. It wasn't hard; I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Sorry?" I ask.

"Concord, North Carolina at the Charlotte Motor Speedway. It was all over the news like, last week. You're filming Logan Lucky." He mirrors my head tilt. "Right?"

This isn't over yet. "You're the one, aren't you?" I say with a tiny chuckle, hoping Sam understands that I want to tag this guy. "There was a change of plans. I just wanted to visit."

This guy, Grant, gives me a strange look that I can't pinpoint. He nods slowly. "Just a visit. Okay."

"Is this a problem?"

"Yeah, it's just..." he tisks. "I've got a niece. She's a huge fan of yours and I mean, huge. She's got a poster of you on her wall and everything. She convinced my sister to fly her down to Charlotte just to see you. And, see, the funny thing is, she called me this morning, thrilled, because she ran into you on the street and got your signature."

Just long enough to tag him. That's it. The crowd around me stares between Grant and I, confused. Grant looks totally unconcerned, almost like he's the one interrogating me. I can feel a bead of sweat drip down my face. This is going to end badly.

"Listen, man, I'm just trying to go out to dinner, would you just..." I try to walk past him, knowing full well he's not going to let me out with that.

He grabs my right arm on the way by, pulling me closer to him. "There's only one other goddamn person who looks like Sebastian Stan," he hisses in my ear. "And you're starting to look a lot like him."

I hear a tiny whir; I can't tell where it's coming from, but it's confirmation enough. He's tagged.

I spot the stairs leading down to the subway that Grant was leaning on earlier and I race toward them, twisting out of his amateur grip. He gives chase, but he's nowhere as fast as me. I leap over the fence, skipping ten stairs and jumping around groups of people. It's busy at this time of day; people are just trying to get home, and I use it to my advantage. I duck down a little bit to appear shorter than I am and I start to walk. I can hear Grant yelling behind me but I don't dare turn around. In seconds, he gives a frustrated grunt and abandons the chase.

I slip the sunglasses back over my eyes with a sigh. "That was closer than I'd like," I murmur.

"It's fine. I tagged him."

I glance backward. "I'm not even sure if that's an agent. He was talking about his niece."

"I can't tag everybody who causes you a headache, Bucky."

"I don't know. We'll just see where he goes next." I think through my encounter. He was armed and seemed like he was waiting for me, but he spoke so casually. I just had to hope he was an agent, or Sam would be on me about it for years.

I wander around for a few minutes, trying to think it through. I can't figure it out. Eventually, I decide to just go back up the stairs I came in. I don't like the subway inherently. I don't care if it's a new fancy piece of transportation technology. Ever since I was freed from Hydra, I've maintained the same philosophy; fuck trains.

I emerge back out into the sun and squint around for a moment, reorienting myself.

It's gonna be a long walk home.