Bucky's Diary

September 3, 2016

Come Fly With Me – Ruelle
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Dear Diary,

We've been on the run ever since we left Tony to die at the HYDRA facility in Siberia.

Never staying in any one place more than a few days, I feel like I've finally had a chance to see the world. Sure, with HYDRA I was all across the globe, but I never really got to see anything that didn't have direct relevance to my mission.

We started in Germany and made our way outward from there.

Germany -> Austria -> Italy -> Switzerland -> France -> Guernsey -> Ireland -> England -> Scotland -> Canada -> America -> Mexico -> Bolivia

We're in Tupiza, Bolivia right now and the rest of our itinerary consists of Bolivia -> Australia -> Africa

I know we're almost at the end of our journey, but I've enjoyed every second of it thus far, I'm truly excited to see where the rest takes us.

And, as for America, we stayed in the most obvious location: New York City. Sure, it sounds stupid, but it's actually pretty smart. We even got to go home, for the first time in what's felt like forever for us both, we walked through the threshold of Steve's childhood home... somewhere I remember as home just as much as he does.

Memories have flooded back to me this whole journey and every second I've spent with Steve only makes them clearer.

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We rode in adjacent to the Rio Tupiza on our way to a small house we rented for a short time. And, yes, I said rode in because the location to which we were headed was so remote that the only way in was on horseback. Unfortunately, horseback riding was not one of my HYDRA-acquired skills, so I was pretty clumsy... at least I'm a fast learner.

On our way in, we were sure to stop into a shop at the nearest town because we were a ways from there and were trying to avoid contact with other people as much as possible. We picked up necessities only, meaning, Steve grabbed water and food and other indispensables while I grabbed beer and cigarettes and other novelties.

Now, we were only about half a mile out from the place at which we were staying, meaning about six minutes away, and it had been all conversation the whole way.

"So, how many languages do you speak?" Steve asked.

"I- a lot. I don't even think I could put a number on it," I replied. "Why? Were you impressed by my Spanish skills in the store?"

"Well, that, and your German skills at the airport in July," he answered, bringing back memories from all those months ago.

I nodded. "Yea, I speak a lot of languages," I filled the silence. "A lot of slavic languages, but a lot of Germanic and Latin based ones, too."

"Do you have a favorite?" he wondered.

"I never really thought about it before," I was honest. "I've spoken Russian the most, second only to probably English, so I'd say I'm best at those... but Romance languages are so beautiful, I love them. Maybe French or Italian. I like Spanish a lot, too."

I saw him smiling at me about how enthusiastic I was being about something so minuscule.

"We're here," he announced. I saw the little house in the distance, too, it appeared to be run down, but in a charming way that made me want to explore the inside- not to mention the blistering, dry heat outside that I wanted to escape as soon as possible. I was hoping there was a fan in there.