"I'd be willing to bet he hasn't just 'gone out'," Steve muttered, blue eyes worried as the Quinjet headed for the city and now he wished he wasn't in such a hurry to get back from leave. What if Bucky did something terrible to him?

They were still too far away. An hour was so long. Where would he take him? How far would he go?

"He won't go far," he reasoned, white knuckled on the jet's controls. "He couldn't, not with a prisoner. He'll still be in Manhattan. The only problem is where? Where does he go? Where is he staying? Something abandoned. Somewhere the landlord doesn't care about the tenants..."