Run

Director Fury found the Winter Soldier begging inside a barber shop. He was practically on his hands and knees, pleading with an outraged barber. They had clearly been going back and forth for some time.
"This is crazy! You can't come in here with four bucks and expect to pay for a haircut!" The man was howling, red in the face. Bucky, with his clean, spiffy new haircut, desperately tried to bargain with him.
"I'll sweep your floors!" He cried. "I'll work to pay it off!" The barber unfortunately wasn't having it. "Please sir, if you'd let me go back to my hotel room, I'll bring you the cash-"
"I'm calling the police!" The barber finally cried and Bucky frantically scrambled to stop him, panicking. This was about when Fury, standing just inside the door, felt he ought to step in.
"No need," Fury said casually, stepping between the enraged barber and his telephone, holding out to the man a credit card. "I'll cover my friend here." Bucky stared, slack-jawed, at Fury and seemed unsure whether to thank him or run from him. The barber grudgingly took Fury's money while Bucky stood behind them and tried not to shake with fear.
"Funny running into you here, isn't it?" Fury said, taking his card back and gesturing Bucky to step closer. "Come on now, it's a lovely day for a walk." Hesitantly, Bucky obeyed and followed Fury out of the barber shop.
Bucky's still-broken mind was nearly paralyzed with fear as he stood next to Fury on the sidewalk. He was confused and scared and he wanted nothing more than to run, run all the way back to his cheap motel room and run from there until he reached the edge of something and just jump. But then again, he had been feeling that way for a while.
Instead of running, however, Bucky looked at Fury and spoke quietly.
"You've come to take me, right," he said and although it was phrased as a question, it came out as a sentence. More of a fact than a variable. But much to Bucky's surprise, Fury smiled and shook his head.
"I'm undercover too," he said. "In case you don't remember, I'm supposed to be dead." Bucky wanted to apologize, but the words caught in his throat and he closed his mouth. "No, no," Fury continued. "I'm not here to take you anywhere, Mr. Barnes. But I've had eyes on you and I wanted to talk. Now walk with me." Fury stepped forward and again, Bucky followed, still unable to be comforted. Fury walked quickly and in truth, the Winter Soldier did too, so he didn't have much trouble keeping up.
"You seem to be holding up relatively well," Fury commented to Bucky and Bucky shrugged miserably. He did what he had to do, like always. "Guy in your position, I wouldn't expect him to have a hotel room and a job." Bucky shrugged again, staring with a fearful fervor at the ground. And its not exactly a job, he thought. He didn't really count the odd jobs he did around the streets for coins a 'job'. And the hotel room was less than five star. But Bucky supposed it was true, he was doing okay. He was alive and he was free and that was something.
Bucky pictured again the running.
"Ever get anyone to look at that shoulder?" Fury asked, nodding to his stiff right shoulder.
"I, uh, I fixed it myself," he said and rolled his shoulder carefully. It was still a little sore.
"Yeah, I know you did, and that's what bothers me," Fury said, but before Bucky could really explain himself, Fury continued. "I know, I know, you can't go to a hospital. But if it's feeling bad now, it's only going to get worse and you can't ignore a dislocated shoulder forever. I know some people who could look at it for you, no questions asked." A pause ensued while Bucky thought silently.
"Why are you doing this, sir?" Bucky asked finally and looked over at Director Fury, his voice still barely above a mutter. He couldn't help but feel suspicious. This was too much to give to the man who had shot him nearly dead, Bucky knew and for that, he couldn't fathom why. "I don't deserve any of this." Fury didn't answer at first. He was quiet, looking at the pavement through dark sunglasses. Bucky shoved his metal hand in his pocket self-consciously. He took great care to keep it completely covered with gloves and long sleeves, but sometimes, even though he rationally knew no one could see it, he still felt exposed. He used his right hand to pull his windbreaker around his body tighter.
"Once we've fixed everything around here and flushed out Hydra, SHIELD could use a man like you," Fury finally said and Bucky didn't know how to react. He wasn't even positive if he knew exactly what Fury was offering. He took time and care with his answer.
"I'm, uh, flattered," Bucky said, although admittedly, he wasn’t sure if he really was. He’d have to think about that one. "But I really don't know what to say."
“I’m not asking you to accept right now,” Fury replied. “All I want to do is give you my phone number.” Fury stopped abruptly now and Bucky came to a halt just behind him. He looked up and realized with a bit of a start that they had walked all the way back to his hotel. “I believe this is you,” Fury said. “Now, before I go.” From his pocket, Fury pulled out a black smartphone and pushed it towards Bucky.
“This isn’t a phone number, this is a phone,” Bucky said, surprised.
“I know what it is, Barnes,” Fury said. Bucky really wasn’t sure if he wanted to accept it, but Fury pushed the phone closer to him until, awkwardly, he took it. “Just promise me you’ll think about my offer. You may not be ready now, but I have a feeling that you’ll be glad we had this talk eventually.”
Absolutely not, Bucky thought to himself with some vehemence, but outwardly, he only nodded his head and crammed the phone into his free pocket.
“Thank you, sir,” he said.
“And another thing, Barnes,” Fury added. “Believe it or not, there’s been some inflation since the last time you were in commission. Try to carry around more than just four dollars, okay?” When he looked back up from the pavement and the new metal smartphone to respond, Fury had disappeared into the crowd. It was really only to be expected and Bucky wasn’t altogether surprised. He reached up and pushed his hair back, mostly out of habit if anything, and ducked into the dingy hotel, away from the streets.
Bucky had been here all of two weeks, give or take some. The days ran together sometimes and he wasn’t too focused on keeping track. He would be the first to admit that he was struggling badly.
The smartphone was heavy in his pocket, and cold. It had a certain weird weight about it. Bucky found his room and tucked himself inside, quick to shut the door and avoid eye contact with anyone he had passed on the way there. He wondered briefly which of his neighbors constituted as one of Fury’s eyes, but he didn’t linger on the thought because the curiosity about the phone in his pocket was eating at him.
It turned on with a click and a buzz in his right hand and the black screen flashed a few times. Bucky waited patiently for it to turn on and then scrolled carefully through each page. There wasn’t much there. It had a calculator and a clock and a few other extraneous apps. A feature that caught his eye, however, was Contacts. He opened the folder and discovered, with a sort of indescribable sadness, two names listed. The first was, of course, Nick Fury, but the second was Steve Rogers.
Bucky shut the phone down and set it on the counter. He left the hotel in a jog and when he hit the streets, he ran.