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Steve ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. Sam had been so sure, and the tip had been good. But here he was, in yet another foreign city, with no trace of Bucky whatsoever. He pulled out his cell phone and called Sam. When he answered, Steve said, “He’s not here.”
“Damn. I’m sorry Steve,” Sam replied.
“I’ll be back in New York tomorrow. Meet me there?”
“Already stateside. Hey, when you get a chance, call Stark. He’s been looking for you. Something about some freaky glow stick.”
Steve chuckled. “All right.”
He hung up, then sat on the park bench. It was a beautiful day, but otherwise, things looked pretty gloomy. He was worried that Bucky was out there, scared and alone. Steve knew logically that Bucky could take care of himself, but that didn't stop Steve from worrying, especially if Hydra got a hold of him again.
For the moment, Steve was content to sit in the park. There were some kids playing with a dog, while a mother looked on with amusement. A group of teenagers were attempting skateboard tricks on the steps, and were amused when one boy got hurt. Then they yelled triumphantly when another managed to flip his board as he jumped the steps.
He could hear music coming from somewhere, and saw a man sitting under a tree, playing guitar. He had scraggly brown hair, and for a moment, Steve’s heart leaped. But when he looked, he saw the man had a normal left hand, which he was using to strum the guitar gently. He had the case open in front of him, and passers by would drop money into it.
Steve glanced up at the sky as birds flew overhead, and he said quietly to himself, “I hope you’re okay Bucky. Wherever you are.” He stood, and as he walked past the guitarist he dropped some money into the case.
He never knew Bucky had learned to disguise his hand. Or that he knew how to play guitar.