There's a low rumbling noise and I glance up at the rear view mirror. A sleek blue car pulls up directly behind us almost silently. I tense up, just a little, but Steve doesn't retract and I don't want to move him. My left hand instinctively goes to my waist, and after a few seconds of patting around, I realize that I don't have my knife. I don't have any knives, any guns, and weapons right now.
The car door slams, but from this angle, I can't see who stepped out of it. Steve hears it too, because he pushes away from me and vigorously wipes his eyes before checking the mirror.
"Natasha's here." He says. He clears his throat and rolls down his window. I'm still on edge. This Natasha, she's a double agent. I don't trust her.
A woman, about 5' 4", saunters up to the car and leans on the door with a smirk on her face. "Lost, boys?" She quips.
"Heh. Sorry, Nat. We had... something to resolve."
She cocks one eyebrow and glances knowingly between the two of us, looking like she's about to laugh. "Is that right?"
I grit my teeth. I already don't like her.
Steve chuckles, to my surprise. "Drop it. We'll see you at the house. It's just up the road, right?"
"Follow me. I'll open up the gate for you. Second driveway on your right."
Steve nods and Natasha retreats back to her car. As soon as her door closes, I turn to Steve.
"I don't trust her."
"She's just sassy. I don't trust many people, Buck, but I trust her." I cross my arms and think about it. If Steve trusts her, then I probably should. There's just something... off about her, I guess. I can't explain it.
In a few miles, we find her car pulled off to the side of the road and her holding open a rusty gate for us. We turn down the little dirt road and start bumping along slowly, with Natasha's car following behind us. It's surprisingly long, and the further we drive through the trees, the more oddities I notice. Cameras, disguised perfectly in the foliage, and little flickers of metal underneath the dust in the road. Barriers, perhaps? Traps? Whatever it is, it makes me nervous. I want to point it out to Steve, but I don't.
There's another much more modern gate up ahead, and it glides open as we pull up to it. We follow the road as it makes a sharp right, and pull up to a small, run down cabin on the side of the road. Steve kills the engine and Natasha pulls up next to us. We meet in front of the cars, where Natasha grins and gestures at the house.
"It's not much to look at. Well, from the outside, anyway. It's supposed to be inconspicuous."
I guess that's for the best if I stay undercover for now. It's not too much different from my apartment in Romania, by the looks of it. We walk the rest of the way up to the house, where Natasha pulls out a key ring - with an astounding number of keys hooked to it - and fits one into the keyhole of the door. It slides open without so much as a squeak, and I am shocked when I see the inside.
It's very modern, kind of like Steve's apartment. I wonder if that is a thing people do in the United States nowadays. The walls are a perfect smooth white, and peeking into the kitchen, I see it's filled with equally modern metal appliances that I don't know how to use. It's really empty in here, but I suppose as a safe house, it isn't used very much.
Natasha strode around, plopping down on a recliner in the opposite side of the room. She gestured for us to sit, and I did, but only after Steve.
"You'd never guess it, but this whole place is a reinforced steel structure. Super strong, but keeps your enemies none the wiser. Anyway, you're gonna have to tell me what happened. I don't know how much of what I've read I can trust."
Steve goes into a brief recounting of the events from the past few days, from my relocation to New York to the attack to the hospital and finally ending up here. He left out how I stole that motorcycle, attacked the nurses, and my uneasiness at coming here. I appreciated that. This spy didn't need to know the ins and outs of every story.
"Listen, I hate to leave now but the press is still crawling over my apartment and somebody is gonna get suspicious if I'm not back soon. You two can work out the logistics of how the next few weeks are going to look with Bucky staying here and everything. Natasha, I'll call you in the next few days and Buck, I'll... I'll see you when I can, okay?" I nodded. I didn't want to see him go just yet and leave me here with this stranger.
But he grabbed his coat, waved a goodbye, and shut the door behind him, leaving Natasha and I in awkward silence.
"I'm so glad you're safe, Bucky." She sighed. "I saw what happened on the news, and somehow, you're always made out to be the villain in everything. I'm really sorry."
"Thanks?" I said, not sure how to reply.
She glanced up at me and we just stared at each other for a few moments. I was confused, she looked determined, and the air around us grew more uncomfortable.
"You don't remember me, do you?"
I blinked. "You helped us out at the fight in Germany. Thank you for that, by the way."
"You're welcome, but that's not what I mean. Before that. You don't know who I am to you."
"Am I supposed to?"
She scoffed and stood up, walking to the kitchen. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and started filling it with water while I sat alone in the living room. Over her shoulder, she said "So you don't remember the Red Room? The ballerinas? Natalia Romanova? That means nothing to you?"
I waited for the memories to come, but I drew a blank.
"Umm... no. I don't know what you're talking about."
"They weren't kidding when they said they wiped you." She whispered. I felt like she was interrogating me on something I knew nothing about. I glanced around, looking at the rest of the house to avoid the memories of Hydra torture sessions. She clearly knew more than I did about myself.
"If it's anything bad, I really don't want to hear about it. I know I did some bad shit, but it wasn't me, I swear. It just makes me regret it all the more."
She nods knowingly. "I feel the same way. It's easier to forget it."
Hm. Maybe she does understand.
I don't have time to ponder on it. "There's some cereal and stuff in the cabinets, feel free to look around. There's some drinks, water, and I think a little whiskey left in the fridge if you want any. Clothes are in the bedroom, the WiFi password is on a paper on the counter... I guess you can call me if you need anything else."
"I... I don't have a phone."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Never really needed one, I guess."
"Okay. There's a landline in here. Any calls you make are untraceable, just type in the number and press the green call button. You'll be fine, it's not too hard."
She wrangled a key from her massive key ring and tossed it at me. "I'll have Steve check up on you every now and then. Are you okay?"
I glanced at the key. "Um... yes?"
"Great. Stay as long as you'd like." She threw open the door, winked at me, and left.
I watched her out the window until she got into her car and drove off, a little fast for a dirt road.