September, 2014.

North Sea.

I won the war, which was decided after a whisper-shouting match over whether or not I had used my photographic memory to cheat. It turned into a party trick once we settled the dispute. Bucky would lay a card, or a line of them, face down and I'd tell him what was on the other side. He was thoroughly entertained.

But soon enough, our skipper ruined the fun. The flood lights outside were cut off, and the control panels upstairs were dimmed. Marcus climbed down the ladder a few minutes later. Bucky straightened up instead of leaning over the table. The top of his head was only a few inches from the low ceiling; at full height, he was far more intimidating than Marcus.

"We're about five kilometers from the coast of Norway," he said. He stepped forward, and I hastily moved our cards out of the way as he unrolled the map again. "We ended up a little farther south than I expected, but only by about thirty kilometers. You can get off whenever you want."

"Hold on, please. We can get off? We're three miles off the coast, in frigid northern waters, and you're saying we can just get off?" I asked. I looked at Marcus with open anger. We were an hour away from being done with him; I didn't care about his lasting opinion of me.

"It's not like I can drop you off in a port somewhere. I don't have any of the permits to do that or the connections to get one within the next half hour. So you swim, or you pay me to take you back," he explained for us.

"You got a life boat of some sort?" Bucky checked. "Thought I saw one out on the back deck. We could take that."

"Life boat stays with the big boat. You swim or you pay to stay," Marcus repeated more simply. I looked at up at Bucky from where I was still hunched over the island.

"I figured this would be the hard part," I told him, thoroughly ignoring Marcus.

"Honestly, me too," Buck replied flatly. I stood up and untangled my leg from my backpack strap. "We could've stayed in Scotland for a few more days."

"You can go back right now for the right price," Marcus cut in.

"You're not part of this conversation," I said quickly.

"Could've found someone a little nicer," Bucky continued.

"Hey," Marcus shouted.

"Shush," I chided without turning my head. Bucky was glaring at the other man enough for the two of us. "Well, we're here now. I don't want to swim. You?"

"I don't want to swim either, but I'd also like to keep the illegal to a minimum. Any ideas?"

"I already gave you two ideas, and you ought to pick one," Marcus advised. "I don't have any qualms with tossing you off my boat."

I bit my lip and bowed my head to hide the humor on my face. After a few silent moments, I looked at Marcus.

"You know, I think we have been very cooperative. Far more cooperative than you deserve. So, do you want a little extra money, or do you want me throw a fit?" I asked.

He looked at me as if I was still the naïve little American tourist on the dock asking for an illegal service. Absolutely not a threat.

"I think I'll take my chances with your fit," he answered. I slowly turned to Buck, and he started to shake his head.

"Do you trust me?" I questioned, smirking just a little.

"Way more than I should," Bucky promised.

"Trust me just a little longer," I requested.

"What the hell are you going on about?" Marcus demanded. His temper was flaring, but it hadn't been molded like mine had. Yes, he had pissed me off, but I knew how to use that.

"Nothing you need to worry about," I assured him. I painted a genial smile on my face, accommodating and apologetic. I took a deep breath and struck.

I kicked out, and my heel landed firmly in Marcus's diaphragm. He huffed out a breath and doubled over, but I was ready with a right hook when he straightened up. It only served to piss us both off. He was being beaten up by a petite, five and half foot tall woman, and I was bare-knuckle boxing. He swung at me wildly, but he was easy to deflect. I stepped out his wingspan, and Bucky stepped in. He grabbed Marcus's arm as the lesser man threw his weight forward and forced his arm behind his back.

Bucky looped one arm around Marcus's neck and released the pinned down arm. Even though he struggled, Marcus was no match to Bucky's metal arm.

Bucky maneuvered his arms into a complicated hold and squeezed just a bit tighter. He looked just a little disappointed in himself, even though he was showing remarkable restraint and perfect form. He glanced up at me and slowly shook his head. Marcus began to close his eyes and sink to the floor. Bucky lowered himself to one knee and kept his grip on Marcus. Once he was completely unconscious, Bucky let him hit the floor.

"Nice to know you haven't lost your touch," I muttered. Bucky glared at me half-heartedly and began to search the pockets of Marcus's raincoat. He found the money I had handed over earlier and gave it back to me. I packed it away.

"We've only got a few minutes before he starts to wake up. What's the plan?" he asked. I was already pulling my backpack onto my shoulders.

"There's a lifeboat on the back deck. Two people can manage it," I babbled. "Grab you stuff."

Bucky fetched his backpack and pulled it on, tightening the straps and fastening the clip across his sternum. He followed me out the door and took a length of chain from the deck. I watched as he wrapped it around the door handle and the safety rail, used his left hand to crush it down, and nodded proudly at his work. If Marcus did wake up before we got off the ship, he wouldn't be able to open the door.

The lifeboat was actually a rowboat chained to the railing near a gap in the stern where a narrow ramp was fitted to haul in fishing nets. It was locked down with a couple padlocks, which Bucky twisted off as easily as most people opened a bottle of soda. He also man-handled the boat to the top of the ramp while I sought out the oars. I found them in an equipment locker that Bucky also had to rip open.

"How do you want to do this?" I asked. We both stood behind the rowboat, letting ourselves be rocked by the wind off the waves.

"You get in, I'll push it off," he said plainly.

"Then you'll get in," I checked.

"Yes, then I'll get in," he confirmed, laughing lowly at my worry. He gently pushed me towards the dinky boat and watched me get in. The keel of the rowboat made it perpetually off-balance, and I clumsily took my seat. "Nervous or something?"

"I don't like oceans. Deep water, creepy animals, I can't see my toes," I rambled off. "There are a lot of reasons not to like the ocean."

Bucky chuckled and gave the rowboat a shove. He pushed until it was halfway in the water, which promptly began lapping at the wood while I tried to calm myself. I could handle big boats on the ocean and small boats in shallow water, but I didn't like this. I gripped either side of the stomach-churning dingy with clammy and gloved hands and watched while Bucky continued to push. He nimbly jumped onto my side of the wood right as the stern of the rowboat cleared the ramp. I bit my lip not to squeal. I couldn't risk waking Marcus.

The momentum of Bucky setting us afloat carried us away from the Jolene, and we both watched her drift farther away. Miles past her bow, I could see a line of faint lights.

"I think that's the way we're supposed to go," Bucky said, turning around to face me again. He took the paddles from the floorboards and fit them into the rings on each side of boat. I lifted my left arm and felt around the hem of my jacket sleeve for a small button. Buck watched as I found it and pressed it a few times, the plain grey material of my jacket suddenly illuminated by a pale greenish-blue light. The face of a compass popped up after I hit the button a certain number of times, and I made quick work of reading it.

"Those lights are to the east. So yeah, we need to go that way," I confirmed. I held down the button until we were back in darkness. Only a couple safety lights from the bigger boat, which Bucky was paddling to pass, flashed lazily in the pitch black.

"Where'd you get that? And how long have you had that?" he asked. The rhythm of his rowing was perfectly steady, and he wasn't anywhere close to out of breath.

"It's SHIELD tech. I took it with me when I left," I explained.

"I'm surprised you were able to take it. I figured SHIELD wouldn't let their tech walk out the front door," he wondered aloud.

"I was able to bargain a little. I had a lot of leeway in the organization," I tried to describe discreetly. I once again lifted my sleeve but didn't activate the internal computer. Luckily, the whole thing was self-contained. It had no connections to outside internet sources, which made it incredibly hard to hack. "There's a compass, temperature regulator, atmospheric analytics. I can even use it to hide my heat signature or check my vitals."

"Is that standard issue?"

"For certain field agents, yeah," I affirmed. Bucky nodded and went back to silent rowing. Every now and again, Bucky would get nosey about me and SHIELD and why I left. I was glad now wasn't one of those times. I couldn't escape to the next room or go to town, and God knows I wasn't about to jump ship into the Northern Atlantic ocean anytime soon. At some point, everything would come out.

Thankfully, rowing the boat to shore kept Bucky's mind busy. I offered a few small course adjustments, and we made it to the beach in good time. Neither of us were all too excited with the prospect of stepping in the frigid water, so Buck ran the bow of the boat as far into the sand and pebbles as he could. Only then did he step out and haul me and our junk farther ashore.

We landed between two small towns, judging by the lights. I lifted my backpack onto my shoulders again and made the executive decision to start walking south. Bucky followed without a word, not even winded from his rowing.

"What's the plan from here?" he asked after a few minutes of silent walking. Intermittent streetlights were showing us the way past the abandoned beach front. September in Norway was a bit chilly.

"All of our money is tied up in dollars or pounds. If the next town or city we come across is big enough, I'll go to a bank and exchange it, and maybe we can find a train or bus or something," I rambled. "Is that legal enough for you?"

"Sounds pretty legal," Bucky answered, chuckling just a little. "You think a bank will still be open this late?"

"That is a small problem," I admitted. "We'll figure it out."

A few kilometers later, we were figuring it out and hot wiring a car.