"You ready?" I chuckled towards a distraught Bucky.

"Yeah, yeah, I just need my hat."

I tapped my foot playfully as I zipped my jacket. Today is Saturday, market day in El Maravillas. We found comfort in everyone busily bustling in their own affairs, so much so that no one pays us any mind. We settled in the Cuban safehouse for months.

"I think we should stop at an ATM."

Bucky looked at me in a panic. "What the hell are you talking about? They can trace any account connected to you."

"James—I know. S.H.I.E.L.D. has a fund for undercover agents. We are given the login information upon our enlistment. I can access it remotely—the whole point of the fund is to have money available with a scrambled route signal. If I pull from that, they can't possibly know it was withdrawn from a Havana ATM."

"That sounds fake." He scrunched his nose and raised his eyebrow. "Why am I just hearing about this now?"

"Listen... I remember my dad talking about it too—it's proven useful as a way for S.H.I.E.L.D. to take care of their undercover agents without making themselves directly known or involved. Our funds are low and we're running out of Hydra items to barter—I think we've waited long enough, don't you?"

Bucky huffed. "I don't like it... so we're walking to an ATM that's miles out of town. At least if they come, we can get a head start."

I rolled my eyes. "Will that make you feel better?"

"Yes," he chuckled.

After briskly walking ten miles outside the capital and making our withdrawal, we reentered the Havana farmer's market. We'd already walked for four hours before ever setting foot in the market.

"God, my feet hurt; you want to split up to get our stuff faster?" I begged.

"I guess we can do that," Bucky teased. I punched him in the arm, realizing too late which arm I bruised my knuckles on.

"Don't you know which one is which by now?" Bucky laughed.

"Shut up," I grimaced. "I'll get the chicken and cheese—you've got produce and bread?"

"Yes ma'am—do we have enough for several plums?"

"How many is several?"

"Several."

"James."

"Fifteen?"

"Dear God, you're going to have two a day until next market?"

"Mhmm," he smirked.

"Doesn't Pauli just give you plums at this point?"

"Yeah, but I feel bad, so I should buy some too."

"That many though?"

"How about ten?"

"That's... that's fine—just get fewer apples to split the difference."

I watched as Bucky eagerly approached his favorite vendor—Pauli the plum guy. Bucky may be as obsessed with Pauli as Pauli is with plums—that's the only thing the guy plants, grows, and sells. He probably only eats plums, too, if I had to bet. I'll be forever grateful Bucky's obsession was enough to land him employment harvesting in Pauli's fields. I turned to find the meat vendor section when a phone booth to my left starts to ring. I paused. When no one moves to answer it, I warily entered the booth.

"Hel-Hello?"

"Am I speaking with Agent Jennifer Coulson?"

"Depends who's asking?"

"Listen, I know you don't have any reason to believe me, but my name is Sharon Carter. I used to work at S.H.I.E.L.D. with Nick Fury."

"Is he alive?"

"As far as I know, yes. But he fled the country, seeking out Hydra remnants. He tasked me with tracking you, provided you were alive—I take it I'm speaking with Jennifer, then?"

I exhaled sharply. "That's yet to be determined. Why are you trying to contact her now?"

"Because her life is in danger."

"Why do you care?"

"Because," she huffed, "I promised Nick."

I held the phone to my chest and sighed. Reaching the phone back up to my ear, I gathered the nerve to continue engaging with this 'Sharon Carter'. "How would she know if she could trust you?"

"Because the last thing Nick said to me is that she's going to pepper me with questions and try to find some way to distrust my help," she groaned. "But that he couldn't be there for your dad when he was killed—and he owes it to him to do everything in his power keep you safe, including betting on your willingness to trust the intel of a stranger."

I hesitated, letting my chin fall toward my chest.

"But her life is in danger," Sharon pressed.

"How so?"

"I'm currently a CIA operative, and they're trying to arrest Jennifer Coulson for aiding and abetting the evasion of capture of the Winter Soldier. They are hellbent on arresting and putting him on trial. But... what they really want is him, not her. If she were still in contact with the Winter Soldier, all she would have to do is turn him in—"

"I won't betray him!"

Silence.

"Agent Coulson, there isn't time—"

"He's not dangerous; he's lost and he is desperately trying to remember who he is. He was tortured and traumatized for decades—he needs help, not a firing squad!"

"Coulson," she hissed, "I'm risking everything to phone you. The Winter Soldier will be arrested and tried for his crimes. That is not up for debate. All I'm trying to do is get you out of the line of fire—I promised Nick I'd protect you. Please, don't make me break his promise."

"I can't let them take him," I breathed.

Muffled voices and clattering broke out.

"They found you."

The line clicked dead.

...

"James!" I yelled as I sprinted towards him.

"Jaige? Are you hurt? What's going on?"

"No, no—but we need to get out of here. Now."

"Okay."

James grabbed my hand and started toward our safehouse. He turned his head back toward me as we hurried.

"What are we running from?"

"The CIA."

He stopped short and spun to face me.

"What?"

"Phone booth, Sharon Carter, it rang—the CIA know where we are and they're coming in hot."

"Shit," he breathed. "We need to head outside the city, as far as we can."

I nodded and we made a break toward Havana Port. As we ran, I realized James might not know exactly what we were running from. "The CIA... kind of like the FBI," I struggled to speak while we ran.

"Oh, fuck."

"Yeah, they're bad news for us. Let's find a boat on the marina and get the hell out of here," I labored.

The skies filled with the thunderous sounds of helicopters. Ladders plummet out of the helicopter doors as strapped agents descend. Dozens began surrounding us.

"Get behind me." James stepped in front and wrapped his arm back around my waist. Agents on the ground drew their weapons.

"James, wait—"

He turned to face me, drawing himself close to my frame. With his face inches from mine, he whispers, "I can keep you safe. They're all afraid of me."

My breath shook as I attempted to steady myself.

"Agent Coulson, Sergeant Barnes—stand down! On your knees!" a voice barked over a megaphone.

"I thought we'd have more time," he agonized. "This'll be Hydra all over again—"

"James, listen to me," I held his face in my hands, drawing him close. "I won't let you go through something like that again."

"On your knees!"

James and I slowly crouched toward the dirt; arms roughly folded behind our heads.

"If this is goodbye, I hope you know how much you mean to me," James said.

"This isn't goodbye, James—" I cried out as they dragged us apart.

"It's okay, Jaige, please don't fight them. It'll be okay."

I stopped wrestling in my restraints and fought tears as I looked back to James. Fighting it was futile, as I could already feel the burning flood gates break open down my cheeks. Several helicopters began to reload with agents and take to the skies. I bowed my head as I entered the CIA van.

I whipped my head up as tumultuous chaos ensued when James broke free.