Nostalgia (Bucky Barnes//Avengers fanfiction)

Chapter One

Sokovia + December 2015
-Evelyn-

I was so used to feeling paranoia, it took me almost four hours to realize someone was following me.

Being in the CIA, the first thing they taught us was to always be aware of your surroundings. If you're not- you're dead. It was as simple as that. Being in a new country meant being especially cautious to those around you.

But I wasn't here for the CIA. I was here for me. My fiancé, Matt, was on a highly classified mission to trace a cyber leak. There'd been multiple attempts trying to hack into our server, and he'd located it to the small country. He'd been gone for three months, which shouldn't have been a problem, but he had failed to make contact in the past two, and they couldn't find him anywhere. ATM cameras, security cameras, cell phone calls- not a single thing. He basically fell off the grid with no explanation as to why.

So naturally, I was pretty paranoid.

The crisp December wind was like a slap to the face as I walked out of my hotel, and the freezing sleet seemed to chill me straight to the bone. I pulled out my umbrella and headed out on the frozen cobblestone streets, struggling to keep my balance with my boots slipping on the ice. I pulled my coat closer, the frisk wind blowing so hard it almost made me fall over. There were a few people out, but it being ten o'clock at night and the fact it was seven degrees outside with a freezing storm, the majority were in their homes with all the fire places ablaze and heaters up to as hot as they can go.

I stepped on to the porch of the tavern and shook off my umbrella. When I opened the heavy wooden door, the heat hit me like I had just walked into an oven. I tromped over to the fireplace and dried myself off for a minute or two, then headed over to the bar area.

"Vodka please," I told the bartender, shedding a layer of wet coat and hanging it on the coat rack, "The hardest stuff you've got."

The bartender smiled knowingly as he got a glass from on the shelf, "Rough day?" He asked with a thick Sokovian accent.

I sat down on the wooden stool and laughed. "You have no idea."

He set my drink down on the bar and left me to go in the back. I glanced cautiously at few other people on the bar with me, but they didn't seem like much of a threat to me. There was one gentleman who sat alone, who seemed to be watching me with a cold, hard stare. After a few seconds I looked back cautiously, to find him peacefully enjoying a book with a pint of beer next to him. He seemed strangely familiar, but I couldn't remember where I had seen him before. He looked up from his book, his eyebrow raising slightly, and then delved back into his novel. Did he recognize me too? Did he know who I was? Why I was here? But the more questions I asked my self... The more I thought- who cared? I was here to find my fiancé for me, not the CIA. I was psyching myself out.

I couldn't believe I'd actually come in the stupid bar. I never in my life had a taste of alcohol. Why now? I spent a whole two weeks and I still hadn't found anything on Matt. I thought I'd had my biggest lead, and It fell through horribly. The address he was suspected to be hiding in ended up being an extremely old church in crumbles. Still, I searched the area and there was nothing to be found. Frustratedly, I glared at the clear liquid in the class. I impulsively grabbed the glass and took a swig, the alcohol burning it's way down my throat and leaving me woozy. It numbed my anxieties, so I thought why not? Maybe holding back from drinking alcohol was a mistake. It certainly helped with the pain. It made me forget the man I shouldn't have been worrying about in the first place. I took another swallow. Matt's face got more muddled in my memories. Then I got another glass. And then a third. Seeing straight was impossible. By the time I could barely function was when the bartender considered me totally wasted and decided I didn't need anymore drinks.