Grey clouds had stretched over the enormous New York sky, nearly mirroring the grey masses that flooded the busy streets.

Dog was sleeping in an old hijacked pickup truck, the windows were ajar as she made herself comfortable on the front seat.

A couple of feet away from the car, William stood rigid, back almost pressed against a new glass building filled with businesswomen and men alike. Though the roads were filled with potholes and clearly been patched up in different places, it was clear as the night skies in Alaska;

Modern times have been built over the old. Cement had been poured over the cobbled stone, bricks had been laid over the old wooden walls and buildings unable to fit into the new era, had been demolished completely. As if they were never there.

But there was a piece of history still on the streets of Brooklyn. Old, worn out and on the brink of collapsing, it was still there. Just a small piece hiding in the towering cement jungle.

The building seemed ancientp, as if the weight of the years was heavily sitting on its shoulders, pressing on its fragile spine, threatening to snap it. Wooden planks had been nailed over the bashed in windows, the walls were painted with unreadable graffiti in a variety of colours. The building looked as if all life had been sucked out of it over the years, the wooden house looked weak compared to the surrounding grey neighbourhood that was made up of cement and glass.

There was yellow tape covering the entrance and Will stepped closer, studying the ghost of a home. He stepped through the gates, or a place that was supposed to be the gates. It was merely a rusty iron frame and nothing else.

He slowly walked closer to the house, seeing the overflow of roses, freshly painted doors, a... Woman in a polka-dotted, old sundress waving at him from the door. Telling him something, calling him home.

"Come inside sweetheart, Lord Woolton's Pie is ready and calling your name!"

She said with a large smile, her blue eyes shining bright as her blond hair cast a warm halo around her head.

William's head hurt, but it couldn't compete with the feeling of loss as he realised who that was. She was still waving, still as radiant as ever.

"Mama." he whispered with weak knees, watching the colourful, happy memory flash before his eyes.

"You there! Get off my property!"

He spun around, all traces of vulnerability gone as if it was never there. He sensed the man's hesitancy as their eyes met. He had been rushing towards the house, but his step had faltered and slowed. He was shorter than William, wearing a silver suit and holding a phone away from his ear.

"I said, get off my property." he snarled. Though Will realised he didn't step over the iron frame of the old gate.

He was afraid. His dull human senses told him to stay away, but he was too stupid to listen.

"I'm calling the police if I spot any of you hooligans graffitiing it again. This is a very important house for my family! Have a little respect!"

William wanted to scoff, but settled with a raised eyebrow. If it was important, it wouldn't even be in this condition.

"Mine." he said bluntly, his gaze never wavering.

The man seemed startled by his rough tone, taking a small step back.

"What?"

William refrained from ripping his head off. Instead, he raised the rusty key, the man narrowed his eyes, studying it. Suddenly he looked surprised once he realised he had a key just like that.

"I always thought my gran was nuts... How did you... You know what? Fuck this, it's been a long day. Just don't break anything and I'll just pretend it never happened." he muttered, raising his hands in the air and backing off, getting a few odd looks from passing people.

The man kept talking to himself as he disappeared, giving William his peace again.

He continued his trip down the memory lane.

But when he looked back at the entrance, there were no roses, no freshly painted door and no mama calling home.

He sighed, adjusted the backpack and moved closer. The floors were rotten through, the steps that led up were barely even there. His steps were slow and calculated as he ripped off the two blanks that were supposed to keep people out of the house.

Stepping over the threshold did not trigger another flood of soft memories.

It was strange, nothing seemed familiar at all. The walls were bare and mouldy, someone had punched through one, but most had been covered in colourful graffiti. Then floors were littered with empty Cheetos bags and cigarettes. Few beer bottles were tossed into corners and shards of glass blended in with the dirt and trash.

He frowned, eyes sliding into a corner. His corner. A corner he used to sleep in.

A shiver coursed through him. "what were you thinking?! Getting into the river for nothing?!" someone yelled at him, though he couldn't see the face, couldn't recognize the voice. He huffed in frustration, clenching his fists but relaxing immediately when his eyes slid to another corner.

His mama was holding him close, stroking his hair after papa had roughened him up for childish mistakes. "Shh darling, it's alright. You're alright. Steven, sit down please."

"But it isn't right mama! It's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, sweetheart. Sometimes you can do everything right and it will still go wrong. Other times you could do everything wrong and it still goes right. It's not fair - its just life. Now come and finish up your pie."

Who was that? Who was that trying to argue with his mama? He couldn't recall, couldn't even see them.

He curled his fists and banged them against his head, trying to shake himself out of the sweet sweet memories.
Though this time, he couldn't run from his own mind.

"Steven will be okay, stop crying sweetheart. Lord will watch over us." she whispered as she held William close, sitting by a tiny bed. A boy was sleeping on it, a boy whose face was as pale as mid-winter snow and shoulders as frail as spiders webs. And for some reason, that scared William.

Steven?

"Well hello William, aren't you just going to be a ladies man once you grow up." someone said, chuckling as they pulled Will close to them. "don't you dare to teach him anything, Buck." someone warned the tall man, earning a laugh from him. "oh I wouldn't dare."

His fist banged through a fragile surface, the splinters grazing his hand and leaving behind a slight trickle of blood.

He was breathing heavily, eyes wide as he stared at the dusty wooden planks.

Steven? Unknown relations. A stranger, and his mother. His mother had been a sweet woman. What about father? What had he been like?

His eyes caught a corner of a faded paper in the darkness underneath the floor. Carefully, he pried the wooden plank off. There was a box snugly placed in the hole, looking so frail that he was sure if he tried to take it out it would turn to dust between his fingers. He reached out his hand slowly, fingertips crazing the crumpled papers slowly. The handwriting oozed of elegance.

There was a pair of crooked reading glasses and a tiny journal. Though what caught his attention was a tiny wooden figure. He wasn't sure what it was, but he had a hunch it could be a raccoon dog. He carefully picked it up, blowing away the dust as he carefully turned it in his hands, sliding his thumb over it's side.

That was his, it had to be linked to William.

He carefully pulled out one of the letters, leaning back as he started drinking up the words on the paper.

Dear Joseph,

I cannot wait for you to return to us, the days seem duller without your presence. I still look at your painting every evening after the boys have fallen asleep, the memories bring me such joy...

The two supersoldiers walked side by side, strides long and posture confident. Anyone with a keener eye could tell that they were well-trained soldiers.

Though they both tried to blend in, together they still caught attention of a few passerby's.

Bucky couldn't trust anyone. He wouldn't allow himself to. People were poison, they were greedy and would go to lengths to achieve something that suits their needs. And if a simple lie doesn't work, they'd turn to violence. They'd turn to pain and torture. So how could Bucky Barnes trust again? Every face seemed suspicious, every suggestion even more so. 

And then there was Steve. Captain America who was incapable of lying. The only person alive Bucky had learned to trust over the years. It had been a long and painful journey, and even now he couldn't really end this chapter because he still felt it in him, the darkness that HYDRA had raised over the years. 

"It looks different." 

Steve said gently, becoming to a stop before his old house. It was painful to look at, but he realized he should have visited sooner. Though it was frail and on the brink of collapsing, it brought him peace.  

"Feels like a few decades has passed doesn't it?" Bucky joked lightly, nudging Steve. 

"You could say that. I wonder who it belongs to now? Obviously not to the government or it wouldn't even be here anymore." he muttered, looking disappointed at the state of the old house. 

"Well, at least it is here. My parents' house is now a strip club" Bucky shrugged, leaving Steve standing alone as he stepped over the iron frame of the old gate, stepping into the familiar yard that he had spent most of his teenage years in. 

Steve sighed, following Bucky into the place that used to be his front yard. Though both became quiet and tense when they heard shouting behind them. 

"Hey! You two! get out of there, this is my property. I swear that I will call police the next time I see any of you thugs snooping around. Shame on you that's it, I'm calling the cops now-"

"It's Captain America." Bucky said with an icy undertone, though there was annoyance plainly visible on his face. Steve gave him a warning look, daring him to say anything else. 

"What?" the man piped out, staring up at him with childlike wonder as he lowered his phone. Steve looked at him warily, offering him a tense smile. 

"Yes, we're on a case here." the man nodded frantically. "Of course, of course! My lips are sealed, go on in, live there if you as much as wish!" the man stuttered out frantically, as if the words had turned into an anxious ball of unfinished thoughts that just poured out of him. 

He then saluted awkwardly, gripped his satchel and turned on his heels, making himself nearly stumble over his own feet. 

Bucky turned back towards the house, studying the rotten floorboards that led to the tiny porch. He pulled out his handgun, feeling oddly tense. Steve followed his lead, peeking at the rooftops as he slightly turned around, making sure they had eyes on every direction. 

This house used to be Steve's home a long time ago, but then his family fell apart and this house became a curse. Painful memories of a family that once was. 

They moved in, eyes dancing around the scenery carefully, watching, assessing and calculating. 

Bucky turned so the metal arm was towards the door. He listened carefully and heard only silence. He pushed the old door open, holding his gun steadily as he was met with a hollow house and gently floating dust that shone in the air whenever it found a ray of light. 

Steve followed him in warily, though they soon realized they were completely alone in there. He closed the door, it was nearly falling off it's hinges and he wondered how was it possible that it was still intact. 

Although Steve wasn't a fan of this house, the graffiti and crumbling walls did hurt him deep inside. Bucky let out a heavy sigh as he studied the pieces of trash littering the old house that had sheltered the Rogers'. 

"Well, this place has definitely seen-" he stopped, raising his gun again as he looked around with narrowed eyes. 

Steve spotted the tiny droplets of blood on the floor and signed for Bucky to skim the left side of the house while he moved in on the right side. There weren't many hiding places, so Steve was fairly sure whoever it was that had been bleeding in the house had escaped through one of the windows that was missing a few wooden planks.

He didn't let down his guard, though when Bucky stepped next to him, he lowered himself over the hole in the floor.

He spotted something hidden underneath the floor. He reached for it, carefully raising the pair of old, crooked reading glasses. They seemed too small and fragile in his hands.

“were those...?” Bucky's voice was gentle as he trailed off, Steve nodded. yes, they used to be his Pa's.

The old glasses weren't the only thing in there, there were a few old letters that had most definitely been hiding there all these years.

“Did you know?” all Steve could do was shake his head as he pulled old parchment out of the hidden place. There were just three letters but he could recognise the names on them anywhere. Those used to belong to his family, his parents.

Bucky on the other hand tried to wonder who could possible have been there and what else had been hidden under the floor?

“it all got a little more interesting. Come on, we got a stranger to track down.” he said, eager to get his hands on the surveillance cameras. Tracking was his thing, it could take ages, but he would not rest until he had whoever their new target was.

***
A/N

Been writing three chapters at the same time, thought I should finally give you all this. Also... 😇 y'all just wait 😁

Give me songs that you think fit with this book, I'll post the playlist in next chapter!

All the best
SincerelyLoki
😉