THE SUN HAD only just begun to rise when Cara broke the silence. We'd finally made our way out of the city of Langley, Virginia, but I knew that it would take ages for me to eventually feel safe. My heart still raced each time we spotted another car on the highway with us, my mind convincing me that Agent Wretton was near, laying in wait until we decided to make the fatal mistake of getting out of the car or exposing ourselves to the world.

"Keep a lookout for a parking garage," Cara said as she pulled off the highway. "A car rental would work better, but anything we can find is gonna have to do."

I furrowed my eyebrows. I was beginning to realize how horribly my plan would have gone if I'd stuck to my own ideas of getting Bucky back by myself. I needed someone with experience, someone with knowledge of being a fugitive. Someone like Cara. "What for?"

Her ponytail brushed her shoulder as she looked to her left, judging whether or not she could successfully make the right turn onto the next street. When she did, she answered, "We're getting a new ride. It's time to make a change."

My chin jerked to glare a her so fast that I felt a small pain at the back of my neck from the force. "You're getting rid of my truck?" I asked, partially confused, while anger clouded my vision.

Shrugging, Cara had her head on a swivel as she looked for anywhere we could stash the car and switch it out. "Common sense, Elda," she said, exasperated, "we can't go on the run in a vehicle like this! Everyone knows what it looks like now. We've got to get a new one." She makes a few more turns, my voice falling silent in disappointment. I was in for some kind of adventure, that was sure. Giving up the last thing that tied me to my house was definitely not what I expected to do that day, and needless to say, I wasn't happy about it.

I didn't say anything more, though, as I knew that Cara would only get louder and press her point more. She was good at that. Winning arguments happened to be a strong talent of hers, something that probably accompanied her throughout her entire life.

"Bulls-eye," Cara muttered, and I looked out the window to see a parking garage on our right, the concrete structure standing tall in the middle of what looked to be a downtown area of wherever we were. "Alright, I'm gonna need two dollars when we leave here." She paused a moment to raise her eyebrows expectantly at me.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, and you don't have any money on you, is that it?"

Cara's too-sweet smile was nearly comical as she said smartly, "If I'm driving, then you're paying." She collected the ticket that was dispensed from the machine and proceeded into the garage, slowly pushing the truck up to the top. "Ooh, that one's nice, right?" She said when we passed a bright orange sports car. "Too flashy, but a girl can dream." This same exchange happened again, enough times that I began to think that my new friend was having far too much fun with the prospect of stealing a car.

Only when we got to the top of the parking garage did we come across a strong black Jeep, the frame making a shape like a box on wheels. I'd never cared much for the aesthetic of cars, but I was beginning to understand just what made Cara Jansen tick. And for some reason, it was cars.

She smiled simply. "That's the one." Parking next to it and cutting the engine, she sighed. "This one looks fun, wouldn't you say?"

"Cara, we're stealing it," I tried to reason with her. "This is grand theft auto."

The young woman cocked an eyebrow. "You really know your crime, huh?"

I shook my head. "No, I watch TV. Enough of it to know that this is illegal, and we could get in serious trouble for this."

"Oh, but escaping from the CIA and shooting out their tires isn't?" Cara scoffed, opening the passenger door. "Elda, I came here to do a job. To fulfill a promise I made to Steve. If you truly want to get back to Bucky this badly—"

"I do," I insisted.

"Then you're gonna have to let go of your pre-existing morals. At least," she squinted, "some of them. This job is going to take more than prayers and dumb luck, Elda. This is going to take a lot out of you. I hope you're prepared."

I hesitated. What she was saying, most likely, was that I'd emerge a different person after all of this, in light of victory or failure. I would be a new person. But I'd already been transformed once. Bucky made me a new version of myself. What was one more change? So I nodded. "I am."

Cara eyed me for a moment before nodding. "Okay, grab your stuff from the back and put it in there, I'm gonna get this thing started." It didn't take her long to slide a thin piece of metal down the window and unlock the door, reaching in to follow through with her plan. While she did that, I gathered my things and transferred them from my beloved truck to this new Jeep, which had food wrappers and kid's toys in the back seat. Oh, god, I moaned internally at the sight. It's a family car.

The car grumbled to life, and Cara let out a gentle whoop of celebration. Looking back at me in disdain, she hissed urgently, "It's not a fucking vacation, El, it's a goddamn getaway! Put some effort into it!"

I glared at her and finished putting my things away before closing the door to my truck. "Leave the keys," I said, "If we're leaving my truck, we may as well give it to someone else."

Cara shook her head, but tossed the keys so they landed on the hood of the car. Careless, putting the keys in a place where anyone could take them, but despite the discomfort in my stomach at the sight, I knew that it was the whole point of this pit stop.

I tapped my foot anxiously as we left the parking garage, pulling out two wrinkled dollar bills from my pocket. Every second that passed, I expected to see a police car, or hear someone yelling at us to stop. I could see a little girl or boy in my mind, looking on in confusion as two strange women drove away in their family's car. I hated my mind for doing it to me, but I supposed it was nice to remain somewhat humane in situations like this. Who knew what lengths I'd have to go to in the upcoming weeks.

"See? That was easy," Cara said, though her voice lost its usual upbeat energy. "Now, it's time to collect a pigeon."

I was cut from my thoughts, widening my eyes at the expression. "Sorry, what?"

She smirked. "Sam. He's in Kentucky."

My stomach tightened at the sound of his name. I could still see his back, retreating from me as he left me to deal with the consequences of that awful day. If I got my hands on him, I would...well, it wouldn't be pretty, that was for sure. "What?" I asked, wringing my hands in an attempt to keep my voice level. "Why?"

She shrugged, gripping the wheel. "He's in hiding, he's constantly moving."

"Yeah, but how do you know he's in Kentucky?" I'd clearly missed something here.

"Steve told me." She said it flatly, like it tasted sour in her mouth. The sound of his name coming from her mouth wasn't exactly happy, either.

I leaned back in the seat and crossed my arms. "What, just like that?"

Cara shook her head. "No, of course not. Steve's a dumbass, but he's not an idiot. He gave me a code to decipher, and I did. It's where his parents grew up, apparently."

I nodded. It was true, I'd known that since I was a little girl and Sam was telling me all of his favorite stories about his parents. It was a wonder that I didn't think of it myself. "Alright," I nodded again, "I believe you."

She gritted her teeth, tightening her jaw. "Let's just hope he didn't have any surprise visitors while I was looking for you, though."

My eyes dropped to my lap. Though I was sure I wanted to wring Sam's neck, I wanted to be the one to inflict harm on the sorry bastard. If anyone else got to him first, I wasn't sure what I was going to do. "Yeah," I said softly, "let's hope."

||

I'm not usually one to get annoyed by anyone other than idiots and my parents, whom can be one in the same more times than not, but after nearly eight hours on the open road with no one else but a twenty-four-year-old ex-Avenger that also happened to be in a previous relationship with Captain fuckin' America, I was spent. My brain was fried, and I wanted my ears to be burned off by the amount of absolute nonsense that came out of her mouth.

I mean, really. How many TLC songs can you sing from heart before being declared a lunatic? For my taste, it seemed to be around fifteen.

But then again, there were the good moments that countered the bad. It had been so long since I'd spent time with a girl close to my age, and though I rolled my eyes so many times that I was afraid they would remain facing the back of my skull, I found myself relaxing in the cadence of Cara's youthful charm. In some ways, she reminded me of a teenager, excited to go on a road trip with someone. But in other ways, she sounded like a wise woman of age, speaking about things even I had no knowledge of.

Morehead, Kentucky was a place I'd never been, though I'd heard much about it through the words of my childhood best friend. The town was quaint, the streets quiet as we rolled in during the early afternoon. We were both practically dead on our feet, though we supposed it was a blessing that we were, in fact, not on our feet, but still sitting.

Cara seemed to know the way, and before long we were sitting in front of a small, one-story house with dark blue shutters and a matching front door. I swallowed roughly. If we were right, Sam would be inside, or at least nearby. But if we were wrong, the CIA could have tracked us using their insatiable technology, and it'd all be over before it had even begun.

I went to open the passenger door when Cara grabbed my forearm, yanking me back inside the car. "Elda, wait." When I raised my eyebrows, she said, "What if his parents are home?"

Shaking my head, I reassured her, "They're dead, Cara." I turned my head to look at the windows again, as if Sam would look out from behind the white curtains and see us. "Besides, so what? It's not like we're nationally wanted fugitives."

Cara scoffed. "Yeah, not yet."

A shiver rushed down my spine at the thought. I cursed myself for thinking of my parents at that moment, wondering what they would think of their daughter if they saw my name added to the list of America's Most Wanted. Fuck off, I grumbled inwardly. There's no point in thinking about them now.

I sighed, gathered myself, and opened the door again, stepping out onto the street. My feet dragged across the overgrown grass, finding my way to the garage. The door on the side of the building caught my eye, and when I tried it, the hinges squeaked, swinging open into the dark space. My eyes adjusted, albeit slowly, and I reached for a string that hung from the ceiling, pulling it to turn on a light. With the garage now illuminated, I found my way to the door that would lead me into the house.

Gulping as I stepped inside, I wished that I had my trusty baseball bat in my hand.

The room I'd stepped into was the kitchen, and the sight of dishes strewn about, food left on the counter, was startling. If Sam was here, he'd be careful with what he left out. He'd always been a rather neat person, so the appearance of this mess was disconcerting. I padded over silently to the stove, hovering my hand above one of the burners to find that it was still warm.

Still warm. Someone's in here with me.

I inched my way around, my breath shaking. If only Cara had come with me, then maybe I had a chance of getting out of here without dying or being turned over to the CIA. My feet were silent as I practically crawled to the door frame that would lead further into the house. My hand lifted to brush a strand of hair away—

A white bowl slid from the counter as I bumped into it, and it went flying to the tile below, crashing and making an unbearably loud shattering sound that had my stomach hurtling into my throat. I couldn't do anything to stop it, I covered my mouth with my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. If I think hard enough, they won't see me.

I only opened my eyes when I heard his familiar voice. "Holy shit, Elda."

And there he was, the man that had abandoned me those months ago. Sam Wilson, in the flesh, holding a gun up to me.

My initial reaction was shock at seeing him, actually seeing him, and everything else faded away. Even my thoughts of making him pay for what he did to me had fled my mind. I blinked and whispered, "Do you mind putting that thing down?"

His eyes were wide as he stared at me, as if not quite believing I was there. "Yeah, uh, sorry." He dropped it onto the counter and crashed into me, pulling me tight against his chest. "It's so good to see you."

My arms remained limp at my side, refusing to return the embrace. "You too," I said weakly into his chest.

It wasn't long before I motioned for Cara to come inside. I wasn't sure I could handle this alone.

She narrowed her eyes at Sam when she saw him. "Hey there, pigeon."

He rolled his eyes at the nickname, giving her a once-over. "Gee, Cara, you look...older."

Cara scoffed. "Thanks. You're the spitting image of unemployment." She grinned at the mock annoyance that he showed at the weak insult. "It's good to see you."

He beckoned them to the living room. "Come on, sit down. We've got a lot to talk about, huh?"

Before we could reply, the television in his living room spoke, drawing our attention to the picture on screen. It took me a moment to realize I was staring at my own face.

"Authorities for the Central Intelligence Agency ask that the people of the United States keep a peeled eye for this woman, Elda Reid, a twenty-seven-year-old originating from Northern Wisconsin. She has been identified as a key player in the case regarding James Barnes and Sam Wilson, both of whom are still missing."

My jaw went slack. I was on the news. I was wanted.

"Hey, that's pretty sick!" Cara clapped me on the shoulder, jolting me forward.

I scowled. "Shut up, Cara, you're not the one that's being called a fugitive of the state."

The screen cut to a feed of a press conference, none other than Agent Wretton speaking into a microphone. "We have reason to believe that Reid is being assisted by one Cara Jansen, a twenty-four-year-old from New York."

The brunette beside me chuckled. "Aw, hell yeah, I am!"

Sam blew out a breath and stared up at me. "She's..." he started, "she's so weird."

I pursed my lips. "Yeah," I said, jabbing a thumb in her direction. "Try eight hours with that."

Cara slapped my arm playfully. "Hey!"

The sound of Sam's laughter filled my ears, a sound I'd gone without for so long, and it was now feeling unfamiliar. Like he was a stranger to me. But after what he'd done, abandoning me like a foul captain to its crew and passengers, I supposed that's exactly what he was.

My childhood best friend was now a man I hardly recognized. And it shook me to my core.

||

this is so long, it's 2,750 words and here i was thinking that it would be like 1000 at most. i'm telling you, this book is just starting to write itself, and that's the greatest feeling ever.

anyway, that's it for today. hope you enjoyed, and i'll see you on thursday!

august 12, 2019