Closed to [crylittlesister]

He doesn't know where to go. He knows, in the aftermath of DC, that he has to go. He spends a day trying to get his brain working, fights against the drugs still working out of his system, and somehow gets out of the country. He's not sure where he's going, but it's out of the US, and it feels like he's being pulled, stronger and stronger, until he's on a plane.

The trip is both fine and unbearable. 13 hours in a cramped metal tube, it's easiest to retreat into his own mind, to try to start to piece together fragments of memory, to work though what Hydra left, and what's already started to come back.

He knows he's James Barnes, and he died in the war, except he didn't and was picked up by Hydra, made into... this. He clutches at his left arm, feels the hard metal under his fingers, and tries to keep calm.

Being released from the plane and finding himself in Japan is both nerve-wracking and exhilarating. He can still feel that pull, the same kind of instinct that meant he knew how to use any kind of weapon imagineable.

He takes one train, then another, and then a third, until he's surrounded not by city but by a small, rural town. It's small, idyllic, and though he gets a few looks from the locals, he doesn't say anything to them. There's mountains, and forests, and he knows, somehow, that this place is safe. Safe for him. Nobody here's going to question the fact that he's a scruffy, exhausted white man in a rural Japanese village.

For the first time since dragging his target - Steve Rogers - out of the water of the Potomac, Bucky lets out a breath and relaxes, just a little. What he's going to do now, he's not sure, but for now, he could use some time to relax and keep working through his memories.