Finding You

Bucky watched as Sharon pulled out a rack of clothes for Sam to pick through. “Choose something. Anything you like.”

Sam turned his head in shock as she walked past him. “Seriously? Where’d a girl like you, no offense, get clothes and an apartment like this?” Sharon began to speak but Sam held up his hand. “And don’t even try to tell me it’s from selling art.”

“It’s from selling art,” Sharon and Bucky said in unison.

And a few other things,” Sharon continued, as Sam gave her a pointed look. “But it’s all to help me do my job.”

“Which is?” Sam asked as he tried on a third shirt that he was pretty sure cost more than his first car.

Sharon grinned and turned to Bucky. “Plenty of things here that would fit you just right, Bucky.”

He stayed on the sofa, arms crossed tightly across his chest. “No thanks, I’m fine with what I’ve got on.”

“Yes, you are.”

She said it quietly but his super-soldier hearing picked it up. His eyes narrowed at her, which she saw and knew that he heard her. She smirked and winked at him.

Honestly, he didn’t know if he should be appalled, confused, or turned on. But he was definitely surprised.

And, okay, maybe a little turned on.

She reminded him of Natasha in a way. She was bold like her, knowing what she wanted, and not afraid to say it. But she definitely wasn’t like the girls he used to know. He turned to Sam who’d just sat on the arm of the chair across from him, a new, extraordinarily expensive shirt clinging tightly to his body. The two men exchanged glances. Bucky took a deep breath.

“When can we get out of here?”

Sam smirked and shook his head, seemingly enjoying the curious banter between Sharon and Bucky.

Steve’s words suddenly replayed in Bucky’s head. “Make sure she’s okay.” Looking at her now, she was definitely not okay.

FIVE MONTHS EARLIER

Bucky shot upright, the sweat dripping down his forehead, his hair soaked. He must’ve been dreaming, or nightmaring, for a while. He took a few calming breaths, ran a hand across his face, and then rose from the makeshift bed on the floor. He walked slowly into his kitchen, his shuffling feet and general dishevelment giving away his true state of being. He was exhausted. He was frustrated. He was, simply, tired of life.

He opened a cabinet and pulled out a glass, sticking it under the faucet and filling it halfway. He took a swig and held it in his mouth for a moment, breathing deeply before swallowing. It was a technique he used often to calm himself after a nightmare. His journal was open on the counter and he turned it around to read his latest note:

KNOWN: Berlin - Prague - Budapest - Kosovo - Athens

POSSIBLE: Cairo - Jerusalem - Ankara - Kyiv - Stockholm - St. Petersburg - Reykjavik

DEFINITELY NOT: United States

“Where are you, Sharon?”

She was the spy, not him. It wasn’t easy trying to think like someone you briefly met and tried to kill nearly seven years ago.

———

He’d told Sam about Steve’s request a few weeks after Steve had returned. “Good for him,” he’d said, “but don’t you think it’s too little too late?”

“I can’t say no to him, Sam. Not after all he’s done for me. The least I can do is try to find her.”

“Okay. What can I do to help?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“I know,” Sam smirked. “So, what do you need?"

Bucky smiled and shook his head. “Got Maria Hill’s number?”

Sam flashed the largest grin Bucky’d seen in a while. “On speed dial!”

———

Bucky opened a kitchen drawer and removed a large manila folder. Stuck to the front was a note that read: “This is all I have. Good luck. Let me know if you find her. — Maria”

He flipped open the folder. In it were Sharon’s CIA documents, her resume, known aliases, possible safehouses (in Prague, Budapest, Kosovo, and Athens), and some old candid photos of Sharon, Maria, and Natasha. He poured over everything, as he had every night since Maria sent it a couple of weeks earlier. He memorized every note, every alias, every possible detail in the hopes something would lead to finding her.

He thumbed through the photos and stopped at one, pulling it gently from the stack and holding it closer for a better view. Sharon was laughing. Not a giggle, but a full-on, eyes closed, wide mouth cackle. Natasha stood next to her, nose scrunched and a big grin. Natasha had probably told a joke and, more than likely, an inappropriate one. He chuckled to himself. Sharon was pretty, and smart, and tough, but kind. He could see why Steve would like her.

Bucky pulled out his phone and sent Sam a text.

Need to go to Europe

Did you find her?

No. But I think I know where to look. Know how I can hitch a ride?

In less than 24 hours, they were in Athens, Greece. It was the last known place she’d been before anyone (meaning Maria, which also meant Fury) lost total contact with her. Sam and Bucky walked along the main street, the beautiful blue ocean on their left and the bright sun shining all around them.

“It’s too hot here.” Bucky wiped the sweat off his forehead and nose, cursing under his breath.

“Maybe if you weren’t always in black emo leather, you’d be cooler.”

“Hey!” Bucky stopped and pointed at his jacket. “This is brown, not black.”

Sam laughed. “You know, I could actually see you living here. T-shirt, shorts, sneakers. Riding a moped. That is if the cool, laid-back Bucky ever wanted to emerge from that cocoon of sadness.”

“I’m laid-back. You think I’m not laid-back? Did you ever think it’s just when I’m around you? Huh? Did you ever think of that?”

“Oh really? Well, why do I make you so uptight? What? Do I annoy you?” Sam feigned offense.

“Yes, actually.”

“Oh, wow. WOW. Well, you know what? You annoy me, too!”

“Good!”

“That’s right!”

They stood there, on the sidewalk of the busy main street, yelling like children, or an old married couple, and pointing fingers accusingly at one another for longer than they probably should have. Sam suddenly noticed a kid watching them from a few feet away. The kid smiled and waved at Sam. “Uh, we have an audience.”

“What?”

Sam faked a smile and spoke without moving his lips. “Turn around and wave at the tiny human, Bucky. And smile!” He grabbed Bucky’s shoulders and turned him to face the child. Bucky also plastered his best fake smile, waved, and spoke through gritted teeth.

“Hello, tiny human. Nothing to see here. Just one grown man and one giant baby having a discussion.”

Sam, still holding Bucky’s shoulders, shoved him down the nearby side street.

“Alright, enough of that.”

They walked on a little farther, Sam stopping every so often to appreciate the smell of food in the hole-in-the-wall eateries. Bucky paused after turning down what seemed to be a deserted street. He looked up at the buildings, then down at his phone. All he had to go by were the coordinates from her file.

“What? What is it?” Sam pulled his attention away from the nearby taverna and heavenly smell of souvlaki and moussaka.

Bucky glanced at his phone again. There was only one building on this street. A 3-story, partially dilapidated apartment building. They weren’t in the best part of the city, but that was kind of the point of a safe house. “I think this is it.” He took a few steps forward, but Sam turned back to the restaurant. Bucky gave him an incredulous look.

“Oh come on! I haven’t eaten more than a protein bar in the last 20 hours. I’m just gonna get some food.” Bucky narrowed his eyes. Sam held up his hands. “To go! I’ll meet you up there in a few minutes.”

Bucky turned around and headed into the building. He couldn’t believe the condition of the place. It should’ve been condemned. He made his way up the stairs and walked down the long corridor to her apartment at the end of the hallway. He tried the handle and, seeing it was locked, got a good grip and forced the door open. He glanced down the hallway to make sure no one heard before stepping inside.

He stood there, briefly wondering if he’d somehow stepped through one of those portals and back into his apartment. Because other than the fact they were in Greece, there was no difference. There was a mattress on the floor, an empty bookshelf, a small table (no chair), and a tiny kitchen and bathroom. Not to mention the peeling paint, decades-old wallpaper, and a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Sam appeared behind him in the doorway, holding a freshly made kebab.

“Wow.” Sam paused mid-bite to stare at the sparse apartment.

“I’ve got more at my place than this.”

“That’s saying something. Sharon was living here? Even for a safe house, this is —“

“Sad.” Bucky’s eyes drifted to the mattress. He hoped she at least had some blankets to throw on top of it.

“I asked the owners of the restaurant if they knew her. Showed them her photo. They said it’s been a couple of months since they last saw her. Said some other people came looking for her around then, too.”

Bucky shook his head and walked towards the meager kitchen. “Two months. Do you know how far away someone can get in two months?”

“I do, actually. Because I’ve done it.” He sighed and took a sad bite of his kebab. “Don’t ever recall eating food this good on the run with Steve though.”

Bucky began opening kitchen cabinets, while Sam did the same in the bathroom. They looked through everything. Bucky ran his hand along the top of the fridge. “Maria said this place hadn’t been cleaned yet. So, Sharon would’ve been the only one in here until now. If she left any trace behind, we should find it.”

Sam opened the fridge to find a lonely carton of milk. “This is dated two months ago, which fits with the timeline the restaurant owners gave me.”

Bucky folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter.

“Where is she?”

Sam closed the fridge and finished off his kebab.

“She’s not here.” Sam took a step towards Bucky, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. There’s nothing here.”

Bucky shook off Sam’s hand.

“I can’t go back without anything, Sam. There has to be something that we’re missing.”

“She’s a super spy, Bucky. She’s not going to be that careless.”

“I know, I just —“ Bucky took a couple of steps and stopped. A floorboard creaked. Not just creaked but popped under his foot. He tapped it with his foot, then tapped the one next to it. Hollow. Not hollow. He and Sam exchanged a knowing look. Something was there.

Bucky took out his knife and knelt, running the weapon along the edge of the board until it popped up.

Sam knelt next to him in disbelief. “Is that —?”

Bucky pulled out several thousands of dollars in various world currencies, as well as a handful of passports. They opened up each passport, Sharon’s face appearing in all of them, but with different identities to match each country. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why would she leave all of this behind?” Sam flipped through a couple of the passports. “And the better question, if someone was following her, how’d they miss this?”

“Maybe she had to leave in a hurry. If those other people got the jump on her, maybe she didn’t have time to grab them.” He paused and chuckled lightly. “That would explain why the milk is still in the fridge.”

Sam shook his head. “Yeah, but to not take these? Where could she go? There’s like a dozen passports here, so what alias is she using now?”

Bucky picked up the last passport. Russian. He flipped it open to her face and name. Yelena Alianovna. He ran his fingers over the name and smiled, remembering a redhead from a long time ago, who probably had an influence on this particular identity.

Taking a deep breath, he stood and slowly walked to the window. “I don’t know.” He looked out at the beautiful ocean view. The boats in the water. The people along the shore. “How do you find someone who doesn’t want to be found?”

Sam snorted. “Shouldn’t you be able to answer that? Weren’t you also on the run for like 2 years? How’d you do it?”

Bucky nodded and looked at the passport as he spoke.

“All cash. No paper trail. Never take the same route twice. Always carry a knife.” He held his knife up for emphasis. “It has multiple uses. A hoodie and a baseball cap help you blend in pretty much anywhere.” He paused and took a deep breath, looking back up at Sam. “And don’t do anything suspicious. Or obvious.”

“O…kay. That paranoia thing you got going on is starting to make a little more sense now.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s just survival.” He paused, then looked out the window. “It’s survival,” he repeated softly. He looked at the ferry docked in the harbor.

Sam moved to stand next to him and looked out the window. “What? The ferry?”

Bucky grimaced. “Maybe. I don’t know. There are hundreds of islands out there. But if she wanted to get away in a hurry, if she felt trapped, that might be her best bet.” He took a step back, imagining the possibilities. “She could hop on the ferry and then jump ship.” Sam looked at him skeptically. Bucky shrugged. “It’s what I’d do.”

“Okay, so say she did that. Then what? Did she swim to shore? Hop on another ferry? Steal a boat?”

“I don’t know, Sam. I don’t even know if she got on the damn ferry! I’m just trying to play out everything.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I just need something. A lead. Anything.”

Sam nodded in quiet understanding as he flipped through each passport, checking for any stamps or other missed information. He paused and pulled a tiny slip of paper from one of them. “What was that you said about not leaving a paper trail?” He held up the evidence for Bucky.

There were no words, just numbers. Bucky took the paper from him and studied it for a moment, while Sam pulled out his phone and began typing.

“Coordinates?”

“Yeah.” Sam looked puzzled. “And you’ll never guess where.” He turned his phone around and showed Bucky the map.

Bucky dropped his head and sighed.

“I see we’re just going from one extreme to the other.”

Sam chuckled. “You may be thankful for all that leather in Iceland.”