Moments in Time

Romania's Woods

Bucky didn't know what to do. So many things were happening in his chest, in his head, and all around him. He was confused. He was hurt. He needed to hide.

The blond man was hurt, but he left him somewhere his friends could find him. He had Super Soldier Serum, so he'd be okay until they could get him help. It was fine to leave.

So why did it hurt him when he did?

~

A week passed, then two, three, and finally a month. Bucky had made it to Europe, and traveled by foot from Italy to Romania. It hadn't taken him long, since he rarely slept.

He'd found out that it was a very bad thing for him to do. Sometimes he'd lie down to sleep for a few hours, only to discover he'd lost two days, and was covered in blood. He knew what that meant he'd relapsed, and honestly it terrified him, but what could he do about it?

If he was in the middle of nowhere, he would take the risk and sleep. If there were people around, he didn't dare lose control for a moment.

Eventually, he found a remote place in Romania, away from people, and in the wild. He had a small shack with a bathroom, a bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room. It was ramshackle and in obvious need of repair, but it was remote, and nobody was around for miles. Plus, it was easily defended, and it would be easy to escape into the woods if necessary.

He made himself busy; there was no furniture, but there were tools in a shed not far away that he borrowed. His first attempts were laughable, but as he practiced, his pieces grew more sturdy and reliable.

He took peaceful walks in the forest, learning about the different plants and animals that frequented them. There were berries and roots and different leaves that were edible, and before long he had figured out where they grew.

He had found some books in the shack that the previous owner had collected. Apparently they had the same kind of thought process that Bucky did, because everything that he wanted to learn or know was in a book on a dusty shelf.

Bucky wanted to, but found it impossible to forget the man from the river. He began carrying a blank notebook around with him. Before long it became a sort of diary, holding drawings of things he remembered, sketches of the forest, little projects he began, short stories from the old days that he suddenly remembered for no reason, only to forget the next day.

~
Two months had passed quietly since Shield had fallen. Bucky still had trouble sorting through and naming his emotions, but he was doing better with his memories, and could retain them twice as long as before. He wasn't quite as paranoid in the beginning, although he was careful, and anything but stupid. He always had a perimeter set up, had at least three guns with corresponding ammo clips, tear gas bombs, and a number of knives hidden on his person, and he was aware of his surroundings, taking careful note of anything that could hint at danger.

So, when he noticed that one of his perimeters had been disarmed, and another was triggered after a morning of gathering mushrooms, berries, roots, and checking his snares (he caught a rabbit, and a squirrel), his body immediately reverted to mission mode.

He continued as if he hadn't noticed, aware that he had probably already been spotted. He stepped into the living room, and was immediately hit with the smell of an apple pie. His brow crinkled as he stepped forward, eyes nervously darting about.

Bucky froze, not knowing what to do. The blond man was there, standing at his stove as if it was where he belonged. He had an apron on, and a new skillet that definitely was not there before. Something sizzled in the pan, smelling of meat and onion, and an apple pie was cooling on the stove, perfectly brown and enticing.