September, 2014.

North of Aberdeen, Scotland, United Kingdom.

Rain soaked grass and harshly packed dirt kept my footsteps quiet as I approached the docks. The town we had stumbled upon wasn't much more than a small fleet of fishing boats, a run-down restaurant slash coffee shop, and a general store that seemed to specialize in bait and tackle. I had left Bucky in the capable hands of the middle-aged woman running the restaurant so I could try bargaining for our passage to Norway. Bucky tended to look grumpy and imposing whenever our upcoming travels were brought up, but his slightly scruffy and typically confused demeanor seemed to charm the pants off Susan, the barista. So I left him there, grumbling, and took off towards the double row of piers.

They were wide and long docks, stretching plenty far out into the little harbor so the boats had clearance underneath. The water was calm today, regardless of the brief storm. The boats only swayed gently. My weight made the mossy, wooden planks groan quietly.

I knelt down as I came to one of the piles of fishing nets on the dock. There were dozens of mended places in the net, but even more gaping holes that just couldn't be helped.

"Can I help you?"

Alright, Gail. Time to be charming, I reminded myself. And not a SHIELD agent.

I slowly and somewhat clumsily rose from my crouch and wiped my hands on my pants. Fish guts didn't really bother me; I had seen worse.

"Hi, sorry. Just looking," I said quickly, smiling charmingly. The young man I was talking to looked me up and down conspicuously, sizing me up. I could read his mind because I was feeding him false information. My pants were practically starched and didn't have a single stain on them. I was wearing one of Bucky's t-shirts under my button down, and the combination of its light color and careful buttoning made my breasts seem just a little perkier. My boots had been brushed clean, and my backpack was only slung over one shoulder. He was looking at an overly curious American woman who was trying to be prepared for possibly strenuous travel but hadn't seen any yet.

"Something you were looking at in particular?" he asked. He was wearing jeans and a dark green rain jacket that fell to mid-thigh. There was some sort of grease or fish guts on his cheek, and his hair was just as rain soaked as mine. He couldn't have been much older than me, and he was definitely attractive in an 'I-do-manual-labor-and-it's-working-for-me' sort of way.

"Do you know who owns this boat?" I questioned. I stuck my hands in the pockets of my open jacket and felt my partially unfolded Swiss army knife. The corkscrew was out because I could hold the body of the knife like a set of brass knuckles and use the twist of metal like a really cruel little blade.

"That'd be my father," he answered. A family business. I could probably work that.

"Does your father ever charter his boat?"

Mr. Fisherman smiled a very charming smile and lowered the bundle of ropes he had wrapped around his shoulder.

"No one ever wants to charter a boat this far north. Isn't much to see," he answered. "Depending on where you're wanting to go and how much you're willing to pay, he could probably be convinced."

Praise the most merciful God in heaven above, I sang in my head.

"Would the price change if two people were on that boat?" I checked. I couldn't read the emotion that crossed his face. Was he excited about the prospect of two pretty American women travelling on his daddy's boat, or was he disappointed I might already be involved with a man that wasn't him? Neither one made me feel warm and fuzzy.

"Wouldn't think so, long as both people are going the same way," he assumed. "Where are you wanting to go anyway?"

"Norway."

His eyes widened.

"That's a long boat ride," he realized. I had to force my girlish, innocent smile back onto my lips.

"I have the money," I replied. "When do you usually take this thing out?"

"Dawn, every other day," he answered quickly.

"So, we should be here tomorrow before the sun is up. No problem," I said, sounding way too chipper for someone who just made an illegal deal to cross a small patch of the Atlantic.

"I'm not paying for the petrol to boat you and a mate out to Norway. Costs a good deal to fill up the tanks on this boat. I'd say five hundred quid for each of ya should be enough to start with," he informed me. My smile wavered, but I pulled my backpack from behind me and sat it on the dock. I had only brought a little over a thousand pounds with me and left the rest with Bucky. I sorted out a thousand and zipped my bag back up. I stepped closer to Junior's boat and passed the stack of bills to him. He pulled off one of his gloves and took the money. "Be here tomorrow morning at 5:30."

I nodded and backed away, offering him a small smile. I didn't like him, and I didn't even know his name. Bucky wouldn't like him either; I was sure off it.

I started the hike back to him and the dinky restaurant. When I pushed through the door, he was still being verbally bombarded by the barista.

"Made a new friend, have you, Jaime?" I asked kindly. Bucky looked over his shoulder as I approached and looped my arm into his.

"He's an absolute doll, this one here," Susan bragged. She refilled Bucky's cup of coffee and sat a fresh cup down for me without a request. "He was just bragging about the work you do."

"He was?" I asked flawlessly. I could handle this. Buck took a sip of his coffee, and I knew it was so he wouldn't have to answer to me.

"Oh yeah. Writing for a travel magazine sounds like fun," she gushed. Bucky had managed to come up with a very believable lie, even if it got around to the guy with the boat.

"That reminds me," I announced to Bucky, "we've got a boat ride tomorrow bright and early."

"We're staying the night?" he asked hesitantly. I nodded and sipped my own coffee.

"Where are you two staying? There isn't an inn or hostel or spare room for fifty kilometers probably," Susan warned us.

"It's alright. Our car is down the road a ways, but I've slept in stranger places," I told her. Bucky chuckled, but I stuck to smiling politely. Susan nodded, a look on her face as if she was thinking about something deeply. She didn't argue with our arrangements, which was smart of her, and offered us dinner as a sort of consolation.

Naturally, we didn't turn away free food.