The night air was fresh and clean, filling Steve's lungs with the scent of flowers and trees. He wanted to close his eyes and just breathe, but Bucky was climbing into a big black car and Steve didn't want to be left behind. Not again. Sliding into the passenger seat, he leaned back into the soft, rich-smelling leather as Bucky shifted gears. The engine hummed, vibrating in his bones as the car rolled forward, Bucky's hands on the gear shift and steering wheel calm, belying the tension in his shoulders.

Bucky grinned, flashing Steve a quick glance as he turned the car onto the road. "Like what you see?" There was a challenging edge to his voice.

Realizing he had been staring, Steve felt heat rise to his cheeks; he turned away, lifting his shoulders inside the borrowed shirt—a worn blue cotton button up that pulled a bit across the shoulders, not quite big enough for him. His lips formed the word 'no' but he said nothing. He was thankful Bucky was alive, of course—that was a painful hope he'd given up long ago, believing it impossible. But this wasn't exactly the Bucky he remembered—so much had changed; what could he say? I'm sorry I let you fall. I'm sorry I didn't go after you. I'm sorry I didn't stop Zola. 'Sorry' was just so inadequate. He let his forehead rest against the cold glass, his breath clouding the window. "Where are we going?"

A soft, slightly mocking, laugh answered him. "You'll see."

A few minutes later, the car slid to a stop outside a large building. Steve peered through the darkness, his serum-enhanced night vision picking out white-edged stairs leading up to a red brick building with a large sign that proclaimed, "Storybrooke General Hospital." He frowned. Bucky had brought him to the hospital?

Bucky switched off the engine. "Are you coming?"

Steve turned and met his sardonic gaze. "What are we doing here?"

Bucky's eyes glittered through his lashes and his lips curved in a humourless smile. "This is a rescue mission, Steve. We're here to free a prisoner." He pushed open his door and stepped out of the car.

Steve followed, his thoughts chasing each other like a flurry of snow caught in a draft. A prisoner? In a hospital? A vague sense of déja vu washed over him.

Bucky's steps were confident as he entered the quiet building, passing down dark, empty hallways. Steve's eyes flickered back and forth as he trailed after him, his nostrils twitching at the uniquely hospital scent of cleaners and medicines, with an undercurrent of dust. Shouldn't there be staff here, even at night? And since when did they turn the lights off in the halls? He remembered hospital visits from before the serum, when his asthma had woken him gasping for breath, and the glaring lights had stabbed at his eyes. Here, soft shadows cloaked everything, broken only by the moonlight filtering through the windows; and heavy silence cloaked the halls like a thick blanket, broken only by the sound of their footsteps.

Bucky stopped at an empty reception desk and grabbed something that jingled like keys, then turned down a hallway marked "Psychiatric Ward." Steve blinked. Wait a minute. Was the prisoner Bucky planned to release a mental patient? Suddenly, this seemed like a very bad idea. "Bucky!" he hissed, coming up beside him. "This prisoner—why was he locked up?"

Bucky's teeth flashed in the moonlight as he turned toward Steve. "She fell in the love with the wrong man, and made a powerful enemy in doing so."

"So, she isn't dangerous then?" Though it sounded like this 'powerful enemy' probably was someone to watch out for.

"Steve, trust me." Bucky clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "We're the good guys here. We'll be heroes for freeing her."

Steve nodded. He'd been called a hero before, many times, but since Bucky fell, he hadn't felt like a hero. The true heroes were the men in the trenches, the ordinary people who stepped up and did what was right.

And then Stark had strutted around, wearing the title of hero as if he deserved it, when Steve had known guys worth ten of him. Wait. Steve shook his head. No—Howard never did that. That was somebody else. But the memory slipped from his grasp like melting ice.

Bucky had stopped in front of a door, so Steve brushed away the remnants of memory. He was trying a ring of keys one after the other in the lock. The fourth one clicked and he cast a grin over his shoulder at Steve as the handle turned. "Here we are."

The room was small, with one high window in the plain brick walls. A girl sat up as they entered. She perched on a narrow cot against one wall, her dark auburn hair falling back from clear blue eyes that narrowed at sight of them. "Jefferson?"

"Ah, you have your memories back." Bucky held a hand out to her. "Lovely. This is Steve. Come with us."

She hesitantly took his hand and stood up. "Why are you doing this?"

Bucky rested his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I need your help to do something that I can't. Find Mr Gold. All you have to do is tell him where you've been, and that Regina locked you up."

She shook her head, frowning. "Wait… what?"

That was exactly Steve's thoughts too. Gold? Why on earth would he help?

"It's very important." Bucky squeezed her shoulders. "Mr Gold's gonna protect you, but you have to tell him Regina locked you up." He nodded. "He's gonna know what to do. You understand?"

She shook her head. "Who is Mr Gold?"

Bucky laughed softly, shaking his head. "Of course. You wouldn't know." He bent his head toward her, his voice nearly a whisper. "His real name is Rumplestiltskin."

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "Yes." Her voice was faint. "I will find him." She looked over Bucky's shoulder and her eyes met Steve's. "Thank you."

Bucky stepped back and sketched a courtly bow as she left the room. He grinned at Steve, his back to the window, the moonlight casting shadows across his face. "And now we are heroes."

Steve shook his head helplessly. "Buck… we can't just let her wander off on her own. She doesn't even have shoes!" He stepped out into the hallway, and called after her, "Wait!"

She turned around, her face in the moonlight nearly as pale as her hospital gown. "Yes?"

Walking toward her, he gestured firmly for Bucky to follow. "We have a car. We'll drive you."

A/N: 'Flight Square' (or 'Escape Square') is a chess term that refers to a square to which a piece can move which allows it to escape attack.