September, 2014.

North of Aberdeen, Scotland, United Kingdom.

The next morning, we returned to Susan and the community of fishermen eating an early breakfast in the diner. Susan kept scrambled eggs and sausage coming for Bucky, and he just kept eating them and thanking her.

"Well, at least you're being polite," I told him after he began his third plate. He ignored me and stretched his fork out to reach for what was left of my French toast. It was mostly the crust and a little powdered sugar, but I let him have it anyway while I finished my second cup of coffee.

"It took a while, but I did remember my manners," he quipped. "When do we need to leave?"

I stared pointedly at Bucky's mouthful of food.

"I spoke too soon," I commented flatly. I shook my head but answered his question. "A few minutes. Finish your food, we'll pay our tab, and then go. The docks aren't that far away."

Bucky nodded fervently and finished the last couple bites of his eggs. I pulled a handful of small bills out of my backpack, making sure they were pounds and not dollars. I had borrowed Gerald's personal vacuum sealer so I could seal my tens of thousands of American dollars into nice, easy to pack bricks. Bucky had gawked at the money, even after I explained inflation and the current value of the dollar. There was still a couple hundred dollars loosely held together with a hair tie at the bottom of my bag just in case I needed them.

We left our table in the corner and paid Susan on the way out. We left before a majority of the other patrons, and we led the way to the dock.

"What's your take on our escort?" Bucky asked. He pulled his hood over his head and adjusted his gloves. The cold weather had made it a lot less conspicuous for him to wear them.

"I don't like him," I summarized. "Don't actually know his name, but he doesn't strike me as a very good person."

"Great," Bucky muttered. "Which boat is his?"

I pointed to the same boat I had found yesterday. It was thirty or forty feet long, with a rig for nets off the stern. The middle third of the desk was enclosed, with a second level fitted with a steering wheel and navigation equipment if I had to guess. A figure in dark green was already working on the bow, almost right on top of the royal blue letters naming the boat. I hadn't paid much attention to the name before. Jolene.

"That him?"

I nodded and lowered my hood so he could see me. Bucky drew in his strides so I was the first face approaching the boat.

"Nice to see you made it," he called out flatly. He looked over my shoulder at Bucky, and pursed his lips. "Your friend, I presume."

"This is Jaime," I answered. He reached a hand over the short wall separating boat deck from wooden dock, and Bucky met it. The sexist ass hadn't wanted to shake my hand until there was a thick layer of cash between us. Men.

"Marcus," he said plainly. "There's a gate farther down. You can come aboard and get settled in."

Bucky led the way and offered me his hand to step onto the boat. Marcus opened the door to the interior for me in a show of some civility. He followed Bucky and me in and gestured to a few maps laid down on an island countertop in the middle of the room. Benches lined three of the walls, with the fourth taken up by a ladder and what looked like a small closet.

"This is the route. It'll take the whole day, but it's a straight line," he explained. There was, in fact, a straight line from the far northern point of Scotland and a randomly picked point on the west coast of Norway. Marcus jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the closet. "There's a galley and head downstairs. A couple bunks. You can use them if you want."

He looked up at Bucky and me, waiting for some sort of acknowledgment. I gave him a miniscule smile, but by this point it was nearly a threat.

"I also want another two thousand. To cover some of the lost profit I'd be bringing in today," he announced. I sat by backpack on his map table and dug out half of what he demanded.

"Get us to Norway, and you'll get the rest," I bargained. He tucked the money into an interior pocket of his rain slicker.

"I'll get us on our way," he said. He slipped back out the narrow door to the desk outside, and Bucky let me know exactly how he felt about Marcus as soon as the door was shut.

"I know I don't smile much and come off as the sort of person you shouldn't trust to babysit, but he gives me a run for my money," Bucky complained. I looked out the windows to see Marcus untying one of the anchor lines farther up the bow. "Of all the people and boats on this dock, you picked him."

"Unfortunately, he's exactly the kind of person we needed," I informed him. "Willing to work for money with very few morals. We're going to be dealing with his type more often than not, Buck."

Bucky tracked Marcus's movement as he entered the ship's cabin again. Without a word, he shucked off his jacket and climbed the ladder out of sight. If the lesser man knew he was being watched, he didn't let on.

"I don't like him," Bucky whispered quickly. He sat down on one of the benches and put his bag under his arm. His notebooks were in there; he wouldn't let it out of his sight.

"I know," I answered. I looked at the stained carpet while I leaned against the island. The ship's engine began humming below my feet. It was a comforting noise; I had always been able to sleep well on anything with a ridiculously loud engine. "We just have to make it through this trip without killing him. Then we're in Norway, and we'll figure out the next step."

"That's all we'll be doing for a while, isn't it?" he asked, his tone low. "Getting somewhere, and figuring it out?"

"Yeah, 'fraid so," I said. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm doing my best to keep-"

"I'm not blaming you," Bucky quickly interjected. He stifled a yawn before he kept going. "I'm never going to be able to stop jumping from one place to another and doing nothing more than figuring out the next step."

"We can stop whenever you want," I cut him off. I sat next to him on the bench, which was uncomfortable and unsurprising. "I have a fair amount of cred within a few government agencies. I can hide you away somewhere and go get Steve or anyone. With enough forethought and planning, I could get you a deep cover. Your name would die, but you could live free."

"I don't want to know how much you've paid Marcus the ass to ferry us to Norway, so I really don't want to know how much a deep cover would cost," he said, trying to sound cheerful. No, you don't want to know. "I can handle this. If I can handle God-forsaken Hydra and shitty cryostasis and brainwashing, then I can handle this."

"Congratulations, you have a worse motto than I do," I laughed. "I mean, it's spot on, but it's really bad. It's kind of depressing."

Bucky began chuckling, a real true belly laugh, and gently elbowed me away from him. Luckily, I had sat on his right side. His laugh morphed into another yawn, and I stood up again.

"Alright, do you want coffee or a nap?" I asked.

"You really think I could sleep on this boat? With Captain Asshat up there?" Bucky whispered at me.

"Coffee then," I decided. I opened the door to what I hoped was the staircase. Surely enough, a steep and narrow set of stairs was behind the door. "You staying up here?"

Bucky gave me a stupefied look. He was practically begging to know how I could ask such a silly question. He wasn't stupid. Going downstairs was taking a more vulnerable position. If one of us went below decks, one of us needed to stay behind and protect the other, to guarantee them a way out.

"Staying here, got it," I said. I took the stairs carefully, and soon I was deaf to nearly everything around me. I was closer to the engine now. There's was a simple kitchen with only a mini-fridge, coffee pot, and toaster to accompany the sink. There was a four person booth and a pair of bunks built in further down the same wall. The coffee pot was stained from use, but God forbid Bucky and I go without coffee for who knows how long.

Twenty minutes down, oh so many hours to go.

*

Author's Note:

I love how Bucky had gone from a grumpy, quiet old soul to a grumpy, cuss-happy buddy.