Bucharest || Bucky Barnes

4

Solitude became his life.

Hiding away in Bucharest, in southern Romania. He lived in a small apartment that overlooked a street that constantly had people selling their products in stalls covered with tarps.

To blend in, he traded his uniform in for jeans, shirts, and his overcoat. A cap always on whenever he stepped out of his apartment to walk the city's streets.

For safety, he only left when needed. But now and then when the walls felt like they were closing in, he took walks down the many roads, till he got as lost his mind constantly was.

It was during one of these walks, with the sun overhead, when he stopped at a huge palace that had a steady stream of pedestrians pouring in and out.

Curious, he went in. Keeping behind a group of teenagers, so if a curious eye looked over, it would pass right over him.

But as they went further in, he took off by himself till he stood in a courtyard of some sort.

"Curtea Veche was built in the 15th century."

He turned in surprise to see the blond haired woman from the bridge. She smiled a small smile as she gestured around them with one hand.

"Vlad the Impaler sat on the throne here twice, the second time in 1476. Over the course of the next few years, the court was renovated and consolidated several times.

"And in the year of 1728 when a fire swept through the town, it was gravelly damaged along with the whole town. Then in 1738 a powerful earthquake rocked the city making Curtea Veche derelict. Until 1776 when Alexandru Ipsilanti rebuilt it, naming it Curtea Nouă. But to the people it remains as Curtea Veche."

The woman smiled wider at his lack of emotion as she finished. "Sorry, I'm a talker." She then held out a hand. "My name is Clarissa Sparrow."

He took her offered hand and shook it twice. "Bucky."

"Nice to meet you, Bucky. How come you're in Bucharest?"

"Vacation." Was the automatic lie.

Clarissa didn't seem to notice as she pushed a stray hair behind her ear. "I was in Washington DC on vacation too. And... I'm glad you were there at the time."

He gave a slight nod, fully aware of what she was talking about.

"Hey," she said awkwardly. "This sounds weird.. But if you need help getting around, you can call me."

Pulling out a black notebook from her gray canvas bag, she scribbled something down with a pen, ripped it out and handed it over.

He stared at the numbers. Wondering why on earth he was accepting this as she said goodbye and left the courtyard.

His first instinct was to throw the number away. But instead he folded it, and pocketed it. Leaving his mind to figure out why.