A/N: Very lengthy chapter to compensate for how long this one took! Comment what you think about it, I always loveee reading what you all have to say xoxo

Also...sorry if I butchered the locations...i tried my best with Google Maps.......

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It was a small feat to have convinced Rogers that I was capable of carrying a gun without having the urge to kill everyone around me, but a good old pat on the back was due. He did the same routine, threatening, lecturing and all that, but I tuned him out the moment he said 'yes'...albeit reluctantly.

The gun was nothing special, just a regular Glock 17, but the weight of it in my hands felt like gold. Since I was so used to having a firearm to defend myself, going without it made me feel naked; it wasn't too hard talking the Captain into it, by now he should know better than to argue with me if he wanted to save himself from being annoyed by sarcastic quips...I guess that's why.

Carefully, I checked the chamber to see if it was loaded with enough bullets – a habit formed after 2009 – and to my relief, it was loaded with 17 perfect rounds. With an internal sigh, I put it back in the waistband of my jeans, an option I had to go for since holsters were out of the question.

The paranoia from that event was strong, even until now. To this day, I never walk into a fight without checking to see if I had enough ammo. That rookie mistake almost got me killed, and if I hadn't been so careless, the Soldier would have been dead by now.

Shame, isn't it?

Today, we were venturing out into the city, where the streets were lively and filled with people. Steve protested against it at first in fear of being out in the open, roaming within crowds of citizens and tourists alike, but another reminder that his 'best friend' was somewhere out there and how we wouldn't be able to find him if we stayed in one spot changed his mind.

We all had our costumes on, still. I opted for a cap this time to cover the cheaply-made lace front. No need to draw attention to my forehead. Why couldn't Steve get a better wig? Oh right. Cause he's an idiot.

"Why are you so worried about the gun?"

Pietro was beside me, hands in his pockets as he watched. We were in the front yard of the safe house, loitering about while waiting for Steve and Sam to come out.

"Hmm," I wagged my eyebrows at him with a smirk, "Life lesson number one, check the chamber. Never miss that step."

"You speaking from experience?"

"Oh, worse. It's the thing that got me into this mess in the first place."

I sensed a question coming my way next, but the two men walking out of the door with heavy footsteps stopped him from asking it. Pietro looked disappointed, like a cat in the rain, so I gave him a wink before Steve headed our way.

"Good?" Steve peered at us through the lens of his aviators.

Never, actually. However, I replied, "Yep."

He nodded once and climbed into the passenger seat, with Sam getting comfortable in the driver's. The speedster beat me to the door, and to my surprise, he held it open for me. The gesture was nice, in a non-threatening way as I've learned to accept it, yet I couldn't help but squint my eyes at him in suspicion.

"What? Don't you want to get in?"

Right. That's what I was supposed to do.

After his little outburst in the hallway, his words never left my mind. 'I just want to be your friend' stuck to me like glue on paper. I wasn't enjoying it. Even though I knew by now that he meant well – weirdly enough – I still couldn't process it in my brain. Who does that? Who wants to befriend the enemy so casually?

Maybe old habits die hard, or maybe I was right to listen to the nagging voice in my head, telling me that he'd slit my throat the moment he gets his chance. We'll just have to see.

Pietro slid in after me, getting comfortable in his seat by stretching his arms out and spreading his legs. His right knee was touching my left, much to my annoyance. The thin denim did nothing to spare my skin from feeling the ticklish tap.

"Personal. Space." I delivered a sharp slap to his knee.

Thwoop, his knees closed swiftly. Problem solved.

"Ouch!"

"What's going on back there?"

Ah, shit. Another problem appears.

"Nothing, Cap." He rubbed the sore spot, "It's my fault."

The dilemma of whether or not I should amuse his antics was still present, but I was surprised to find myself smiling and not minding it. Oh, God. Mental note to self, get a doctor to cut my smiling muscles as soon as possible.

Electric blue eyes made contact with mine as his lips pulled down in a playful scowl, as if to say 'jeez'. Rolling my eyes, I reciprocated the expression.

Mocking authoritative figures brings people together, after all.

In a fleeting glance I saw Sam through the rearview mirror, eyes upturned in amusement. His smile lines were so prominent, I could see them even from where I was seated; deepened Crow's Feet that held a lifetime of glee suddenly made me feel envious of Sam. He probably doesn't even know how lucky he is either.

Sam was a good guy, I could tell. Not one of those Good Guys that just act like they're Jesus on the surface yet are actual spawns of the devil, but is an actual good person with a good heart. Take it from me. Out of all people, my opinion on that subject should have some weight to it, right?

A sudden thought formed in the forefront of my brain; the want to get to know the man behind the wheel. We haven't talked much, but I was curious to learn more about him. It's always the people with those damned smile lines around their eyes. Those wrinkles don't lie. I wanted to know what life he led that he got to have the privilege of having them engrained into his skin.

"Y/N, Maximoff," The bass in Steve's voice sounded especially harsh within the compact walls of the car. "Do I need to repeat the plan or have you got it down to a pat?"

At the same time we both said, "We've got it."

"We're almost there," Sam slowed down as he steered into a crowded street.

"Okay," The Captain turned around, a tight line pulled across his lips. "Remember, call us when you find it, no drawing attention to yourselves and absolutely no more throwing people off of buildings. I don't need a repeat of last time. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

The car went silent for a while before a certain light-haired guy leaned closer to me to whisper, "What was the plan again...?"

This motherf-

"I can hear you." Steve sighed exasperatingly, his head bowing forward in an effort to hide his frustration. "In fact, I can hear you even if you were a mile away from me. Did you forget that, kid?" He pointed to his ear, turning around to face the wide-eyed speedster.

"Right..." He dragged the 'i', sheepishly nodding at the realization. "Super-soldier hearing. Sorry, heh."

"What am I gonna do with you?" said Super-soldier turned back around, sighing for what seemed like the fifth time today. "Being away from Wanda isn't good for you, I see."

At the mention of his sister, Pietro's face fell immediately. I couldn't tell the reason why; if he missed his twin or if he was insulted. I tried to get his attention but he had averted his eyes to his window.

Something in my gut twisted, but I chalked it up to hunger since I skipped breakfast this morning.

"Want a recap?" I offered, doing the same thing he did by leaning in to whisper. He faced me, one eyebrow raised in question. Despite the fact that I always had a serious face on, I tried to emphasize it to let him know I wasn't joking.

What? This isn't an act of kindness. If he fucks up the plan then I'm as good as dead, too.

With a shrug and an almost-nod from him, I began to repeat the key details of last night's planning.

————

THE DAY BEFORE

"You're kidding me." scoffed Sam, "This does not look like paradise."

"Well, it is if you're looking for a certain individual." I motioned to the pile on the table like a magician would do on stage. "The jackpot of clues."

"This is all from Rumlow?"

Steve was already examining the pile, brows in their usual position of being furrowed to death.

"Maybe even more. There seems to be another party involved by the looks of it."

"He's still under Hydra." Pietro chimed in. My head instinctively turned to his direction, where he was seated comfortably on a large crate. "They might be that other party."

I continued, "It's better than nothing. Even if it's from Brock Rumlow."

Steve nodded nonchalantly, I could tell he was more focused on the paper he was holding. One glance was enough for me to know what it was that captured his attention. It was a blurry picture of The Soldier, the one we saw pinned to the wall before we ripped it off. There was a sadness in his eyes that I've only ever seen twice – one being my own reflection.

He put it down. Something told me that he knew I was watching him and I was 99% sure that if I hadn't been so obvious about it, he would have folded the photo and stuffed it into his pocket.'

"We've got all night." He tilted his head, "Dig in."

So, we did exactly that.

It was a boring process, one unintelligible note after the other. Anything in a language besides English, they tossed my way. Anything that looked like CCTV footage I chucked their way; no need for me to catch a glimpse of the bogeyman.

Two hours of sifting through undusted papers, five cans of Cola's and three and half a bag of chips later, we finally deciphered enough to connect the dots...or attempt to connect, at the very least. Everything we thought was viable, we put to the side. The ones deemed  garbage, went back into the bag.

I have to admit, it's hard for me to look at still footages of The Soldier and read about things pertaining to him. I hate that I have to push aside the fear threatening to omit it's way out of my body in the form of puke. Even if I tried my best to ignore the nagging feeling, the sinking feeling at the pit of stomach was borderline crippling.

"This one's in Romanian," The handwriting on the paper I was holding was messy, but readable nonetheless, thank God. "Something about him being last seen at – well, isn't that just neat?"

"What is?"

"He goes out to the local market every Sunday morning. Looks like they've staked him out." Are you kidding me? He's going to the market? It's like if a lion went for a stroll at the butcher's. "Playing house, I see." I tried to keep the bile down my throat.

"That address...it's here, in Bucharest, no?" Pietro, who had moved to the spot next to me on the couch, shifted his weight to peer at the note. I followed suit, eyes darting to the wrinkly paper, and sure enough written at the bottom was an address that read 'Strada Lipscani 129'.

"It's in the heart of the city." From what I remember, at least. "Can't be good if this was written down. We don't know how dated this information is, plus, nobody stalks The Winter Soldat and gets away with it. We can't be sure he hasn't moved."

"Doesn't hurt to try." Steve shrugged.

"Well, considering the fact that we're trying to hide from S.H.I.E.L.D, I'd say it would very much hurt if we tried and failed."

I heard Sam move from behind me, chair creaking as he stood up. "Hold up."

There were several maps laid out on the floor of the living room. On them were red markers encircling certain streets with multiple arrows drawn pointing to them. There were labels at the end of said arrows, or there used to be, at least. Now those writings were faded, pencil scratching left in place of them; I have a feeling that our dearly departed asshole did that on purpose.

The heels of Sam's boots clacked in sync with his footsteps, the sound stopping when he crouched down to pick out one of the marked maps.

"Lipscani...Lipscani...I swear I saw that just a minute ago while we- ah, bingo!"

He lifted the map – a medium sized square one – off the ground, straightening it out as he stood up and put it on the table. Before he could even ask, we all gathered around him to see what it was that he discovered.

In big, bold lettering, Centrul Vechi straightened across the top of the map, just above the border that separated the heading and the graph. I studied the names scattered all over the surface, trying to find the street he was allegedly on.

Turns out there was no need for me to even try, since Sam was already pointing to a big red circle that looked like it had been drawn on multiple times.

"This is it. He found him. There's no way this is a coincidence."

"Yeah, but how are we supposed to know his exact location?" The familiar accented voice spoke up. "It's a whole city."

"That's where you come in," The Captain replied. "Run through the whole city. Find him, tell us, then we move in on him."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Pietro scoffed, "Not even a 'please', or a 'will you be able do this, my dear sweet Pietro.' Fine." The last part he mumbled, but I heard it nonetheless. A chuckle escaped me and I rushed to clamp a fist over my mouth, passing it off as a cough.

He gave me a discerning look. I just rolled my eyes at him.

"We might not have enough time, considering who we're up against." I looked to Sam, who was still hunched over the map. "I mean...you're not exactly subtle when you run. He might catch on."

"What?! I can so be subtle!"

Cap shook his head, "You definitely so cannot."

With a lopsided smile he said, "I'll prove it to you."

I couldn't even process it when he zoomed around the room and returned to his original spot. It happened in the blink of an eye, yet the breath he let out was enough indication of what he just did.

"See?"

Yep. Definitely not subtle.

It felt like a moment in a comic – Pietro with his arms up and head held high, cocky and boastful of his attempt at proving Steve and Sam wrong; pride shattering just seconds after when the room proved them right instead.

A vase had fallen, shattering on impact as it met the ground. As usual, papers flew everywhere. The curtains were still swinging as a result of the strong gust of wind that trailed behind the speedster. That, and the fact that we felt the breeze just as much as we saw it.

"The inanimate objects beg to differ." I clucked, shaking my head. "And you killed one of them, too."

He groaned, sighing loudly when the two men looked at him with a stare that said 'I told you so'. "Suggest something else, then."

They carried on with their discussion – which was really just an argument in disguise – while I busied myself with the map before me.

Centrul Vechi, or Old Town, bustled with local businesses. Restaurants, pubs, hostels...you name it. They were littered throughout Lipscani Street, which made it evident that it would most likely have a good amount of people wandering around.

The said street was long, stretching generously across the map, but the circle prioritized just one specific area; where Lipscani met Calea Victoriei.

"I recognize this place."

The arguing stopped, Steve whirling around to eyeball me. "You do? Does that mean he's been there before? You know where he is? This narrows the search down? Good, good, good. You think we can find him faster, then?"

"Holy fuck, shut up." I cringed, irritated with his bombarding of questions. "No, it wasn't him who brought me here, but I know where he could be."

It wasn't him, but David (or whatever that guy's name was). "This is where we took Dr. Nolan from."

"Who?"

The doctor's disapproving face as he wrapped my injury came to mind. That was the last time I saw him, the day they told The Soldier to kill me.

"He worked for Hydra. Or if we're being transparent, he was forced to."

His cries for help and the pleading look in his eyes as David held his wife and son at gunpoint flashed through my mind, once again reminding me of how much terror I put innocent people through. He wasn't totally clean, per se, there was proof of him committing tax fraud which isn't so bad considering what other crimes I've seen people commit. But one slip through the crack was more than enough for Hydra to take advantage of a medical professional.

I was the one who made David stand down from murdering Nolan's family, masquerading my intention as a win for the mission, when really, I just couldn't take the look in their eyes. In hindsight, David probably ratted on me and started Hydra's turn against me. Who knows. Hope he's dead now.

"He lived in one of these buildings. They took over the apartment, of course, but I'm not confident The Soldier's in there."

"At least we have somewhere to start."

I looked at him, The Captain, and tried to will away the fear that was starting to creep up my throat. What if I'm right and we find him? What would I do then?

"Yeah." I'm starting to regret telling him at all. "At least."