May, 2014.

Canada.

Ian looked me over after letting me out of the hug. It wasn't that I had anything against him or hugs or Canadians in general, but having someone's bear-sized arms wrapped around me was a little annoying.

"You retired," he guessed. I nodded and looked back at Bucky. I couldn't see him through the headlights, but I still looked. "What are you running from?"

"SHIELD," I answered. "They recruited me about a year after I last saw you. I got out before all this Hydra crap started up, but the feds are rounding up anyone and everyone they can get their hands on."

"Your friend SHIELD too?"

"No, but he's running. That's good enough for me," I told Ian. He nodded and dug in his pocket for a second. I pushed my paranoia down and didn't reach for a gun. I left them in the truck like an idiot. Ian produced a simple flip phone instead and passed it to me.

"One number in there. Call it when you get to Scotland," he ordered. He had outranked me five years ago, and he never stopped acting like it. "A friend owed me a few favors. He's setting you up in a house over there."

"What do I owe him?"

"Nothing. He owes me, and I called to collect," Ian explained. "I wanted to set you up away from the shadows."

I considered what that meant for myself and Bucky. It was definitely a good thing.

"Your boat leaves in two hours; it's docked on the far pier. Best be on it," he continued. I tucked the phone into my pocket, making a mental note to find a good place for it in my backpack. "You shouldn't have any problems on board. All male crew, but I think you can handle yourself if they tried anything."

"With the ammo I packed, I could take down several ships' worth of grabby men," I informed Ian.

"I have no doubt," he chuckled. "Stay in touch, Richards."

"I'll do my best," I promised. Ian wished me good luck and even waved at Bucky as best as he could through the headlights. He rolled back a security gate and stayed to watch as I drove through it. Bucky was quiet as I drove to the farthest container ship in the docks. I left him to wipe down the truck as I introduced myself to one of the sailors on the pier.

Being "Ian's friend" opened the door to the quarterdeck easily. Bucky followed me aboard and through the passageways of the ship, all while wearing a baseball cap low over his eyes. I still knew how to navigate the decks of a ridiculously complicated ship after boarding one navy vessel on a SHIELD mission. It came in handy trying to find the quarters Bucky and I had been assigned.

He didn't get comfortable once we were in the small room. He shoved a chair under the doorknob and went about searching the cabin. I, on the other hand, got as comfortable as I could. The racks in the room didn't look like anything special, but at least Bucky and I had our own space. I wasn't sure what to think of the day he would feel comfortable enough sleeping next to me.

"How'd you arrange this?" he finally asked. He sat down stiffly at a table the size of a serving tray but continued gauging the room. He was finding its weak points and hiding spots; he was deciding where the best and worst vantage points were in case of attack. I had missed the opportunity to see this little display at the cabin.

"I only called someone who owed me a favor. He set it up," I corrected. Bucky stared at me, asking a silent question. "He works in shipping nowadays and can usually get people across the Atlantic."

"Why'd he owe you?"

"He was in the Middle East the same time I was. Stepped on a half-assed IED, and I was the one who wrapped a tourniquet around his leg and threatened the pilot of a med-evac helicopter so he could get back to a base hospital," I answered. "We kept in touch. He lost the lower half of his left leg, but you can't tell."

"You must have given officers hell. Threatening pilots," he joked dryly. There was half a smile on his face, and it was nice to see.

"That I did," I confirmed. I laid back on the narrow mattress of the bottom bunk and stretched out the best I could. There was plenty of room for me, but I doubted there was much extra space for Bucky if he wanted to do the same. "Meanwhile, you got to give Captain America himself hell."

"We put each other through hell," he said, smiling wider. He seemed to realize how easily he had commented on Steve, which had been nearly impossible so far. I had mentioned him once. I had said how popular the Smithsonian exhibit had been, and Bucky became even more distant than usual.

"What'd you remember?" I asked. I knew the look on his face.

"Giving him flak for being a lab rat when he got to Europe. We were at a bar in England on furlough," he told me. His eyes lit up; he didn't need to smile for me to know it was a happy memory. "He was taller than me, and all the girls were going for him instead of me. He still had a decent dress uniform, and I was covered in trench mud and wearing a borrowed coat."

He seemed to change, right then and there. The sullen and quiet Bucky who wasn't quite sure whether Steve was real or fictitious now knew the answer. It was a very minute shift, but it was still something.

*

Author's Note:

For those of you who follow me, you already know I've been fighting with my Wi-Fi. I'm happy to say that problem is resolved! I hope to post another chapter sometime today.