I do not own Captain America anything.

Except the digital copies. They are all mine. Mine, I say! ;)

I Am Machine

I am machine; I never sleep.

I keep my eyes wide open.

I am machine, a part of me

Wishes I could just feel something.

I am machine; I'll never sleep

Until I fix what's broken.

I am machine; a part of me wishes

I could just feel something.

"I Am Machine" - Three Days Grace

"Every time, huh?"

At first he didn't realize the words were being directed at him.

There was a presence at his elbow. But people stood next to each other all the time.

Then he felt the attention.

Unwanted, direct attention.

It was her.

The woman and her child.

A boy.

He had seen them every Thursday for the past month.

And now here they were again.

Relaxing on the manicured green near the swan spotted lake.

Under a clear blue sky etched with thin wisps of clouds.

Sharing fruit. Drinking from blue containers.

Watching the boats and their occupants float by.

Seeming to take no notice of him at all. Involved in their own comings and goings.

He liked to walk there in the Cismigiu sometimes.

On the paths, through the gardens.

Across the twisted wooden bridge and next to the meandering waterway.

Alone yet surrounded by people he wasn't required to make direct contact with.

Direct contact such as he was being faced with now.

They blended in with the other civilians, the other common population.

A young, moderately attractive mother and her child.

Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

But he had noticed them.

And wondered if they were tracking him, observing him.

Biding their time to capture the Winter Soldier. Turn him in for a substantial reward.

The woman.

Medium length, wavy, auburn hair.

Slender but not painfully so. More healthy than the skinny women seemed to think was attractive now.

No makeup. Simple clothes.

And her child.

A boy between five and eight, he thought.

Dark hair. Slight.

Still and quiet.

He thought there might be something strange about him.

Still and quiet, to an extreme degree.

While at the same time preternaturally aware and alert of the immediate world around him.

But not out of unhappiness and external duress.

For when he looked at his mother, his eyes smiled.

Even when his mouth did not.

And now here she was, child in tow, standing at his side at the intersection of the busy street that separated the park from the rest of Bucharest.

He realized he had been tensed, hyperalert.

Breath caught in his throat. Jaw clenched to the point of pain.

Nostrils flaring. Eyes narrowed.

Gloved hands balled into fists.

Watching the emergency response vehicle weave its blaring way through the slow moving afternoon traffic.

And Bucky Barnes didn't have an answer for her.

Every time, huh?

Yes. Every damn time. I know they've found me. I know I'm caught. I know I have to fight my way out and run again.

Because if I don't, they'll turn me back over to HYDRA.

And make me the Winter Soldier again.

Most times, he found it a challenge to speak to strangers.

Someone might notice him.

Someone might startle him.

He usually tended to duck his head and turn away.

Fade back into the human wash.

But out of character, he met her eye.

Just for a second.

Her slightly upturned face was friendly, open.

Side-eying the Winter Soldier in a casual way. As if talking to a ninety-five year old deadly assassin were nothing out of the ordinary in her day.

As if there were some unspoken comradery between them.

And he had to look away.

Throating some nonsyllabic, noncommittal response in return.

"Mmm."

James Buchanan Barnes, where are your manners? Speak up and look a person in the eye when you talk to them.

Yes, Ma.

The woman nodded easily, as though this was the type of conversation she engaged in on a daily basis.

Maybe it was.

"Yeah, I think it's an Army thing."

This caught his attention and he surreptitiously glanced at her again from under his ballcap.

She was older than he had first thought. Maybe early thirties.

Clear, light olive skin of the naturally Mediterranean tanned.

Not tall, not short. Not bony or heavy.

She wouldn't be noticed or out of place anywhere.

Then he found himself looking into her eyes.

They were startling.

Brillant blue edged with darker blue. Flecked with green? Yellow?

Almost kaleidoscopic in nature.

She didn't seem to notice. But kept talking.

"You're always prepared for the worst. Always on edge. Nobody else really gets it."

I do. I get it.

She smiled again.

"Well, nice that the possible crisis is over now."

Her voice was light and airy.

Romanian in speech but with a hint of American undertone.

Unconcerned.

Because she wasn't the one being hunted.

She was free.

And he didn't know how to respond to her.

People began to move around them and he realized he was stuck in his head again.

"Well, see you around."

Is that a threat?

No, it can't be. Look at her.

It might be. Anyone could be a threat.

She's not.

Maybe.

Another Thursday afternoon.

Another walk in the park.

Another chance encounter with . . .

"I'm Amelia."

He knew what was coming.

"This is Simon."

And wished it wasn't.

He didn't want to be rude.

But obviously he couldn't answer her unspoken question truthfully.

James Buchanan Barnes. My friends call . . . called me Bucky.

And if he couldn't answer her truthfully . . .

I was also the first Winter Soldier.

. . . he really didn't want to answer her at all.

But I don't do that anymore.

Sometime all those years ago had been instilled in him an honesty and integrity.

If that helps.

Long since decimated by the machine called HYDRA.

"I'm . . . Carl."

A small smile touched her eyes and migrated to her lips almost instantly.

"Hmm," she murmured, looking amused. "That's interesting."

He kept his face blank even as low grade panic started constricting his chest with invisible iron bands.

"You don't strike me as a 'Carl'."

Studying him openly for a second before continuing.

"You seem more like a Billy or a Tommy or a . . ."

Bucky?

". . . well, I don't know. Something."

She peered at him for another moment or two as he valiantly tried to remain impassive and casual.

Instead ducking his head away to glance down the boat spotted waterway.

And around the vicinity, unconsciously scanning for potential threats.

"Well, anyway, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Carl."

Relief flooded him as she accepted his lie.

"Simon and I come to this park every Thursday. We like to watch the boats."

Bucky didn't respond.

She removed her attention from the relieved Bucky and crossed in front of the boy then, kneeling in front of him.

Directing a pointed finger into the eyeline of the child. Then slowly moving it up as he followed it with his gaze.

Until he was looking at her.

"Simon," she spoke in a warm yet firm tone. "We're leaving in three minutes."

The boy didn't respond but dropped his gaze and returned to his inspection of the grass blades.

The woman began gathering up the scant sundries she had brought.

"Fellow American?" she inquired of the stoic man standing awkwardly a pace or two in front of her.

He nodded.

Very bad to be spotted by a civilian. Not good at all.

She seemed to take her time organizing and setting everything in order, more time than necessary.

About three minutes, just as she had told the child.

Interesting.

"Well, it's time for us to go. Maybe we'll see you next Thursday."

He nodded noncommittally.

Then she knelt again and grasped the boy's hand gently.

"Time to go, Simon."

The child did not seem interested in leaving his grass blades but made no argument.

Only rose, head down, holding his mother's hand.

"Bye, Carl."

And with another warm smile, Amelia and her strange little son went about their way.

The previously gregarious James Buchanan Barnes watched them with hooded eyes.

It would be better to never make contact with them again. Safer.

For me and them.

Hello, Bucky fans!

Yes, this is a Bucky/OC story. No, it's not directly romantic.

And no, Bucky's not gay or stuck on Steve in any way but as his best friend.

Just so you know.

There'll be a range of different emotions here. 'Cause humans are like that.

I'll be updating once or twice a week but not daily.

And I highly recommend the song to you, or at the very least, the lyrics.

They're very post Winter Soldier Bucky.

Alot of exposition here, the only time I'll do it, so on with your day then! :)

Anyway, everybody appreciates feedback.

Leave a review if you like.