He didn’t like the cold, but like most things, Steve set his mind to ignoring the unease that settled between his shoulder blades and carried on. He’d lived through war and death and time travel, and he wasn’t going to let a chilly breeze stop him. They kept travelling, and Steve was grateful for Sam’s company as much as he was troubled by it. It was so blatantly obvious that Sam Wilson was a loyal solider and would follow his Captain on and on – and Steve’s mind flashed to all the horrible, familiar ways that could end, because he wasn’t an objective leader. There was no backup, no reconnaissance. There was no plan.

Eventually the dreaded cold gave Steve an excuse to leave Sam behind. He didn’t go willingly, but he followed Steve’s orders in the end. A couple of satellite images and a tweet had led them here, and they knew Bucky wasn’t in the tiny town. Clouds assembled and darkened, and Steve refused to stop before he’d searched a wider perimeter. He was nearly invincible, and what good were his attributes if he couldn’t use them to help his friends?

With his shield on his back – because they were trying to be anonymous, but shield was more than an emblem, more than a weapon and a defence, and Steve wouldn’t leave it behind, in no small part because he knew Bucky would try and punch him again – Steve began working into the snow, leaving the town and Sam’s frown behind him. He wasn’t going to let a chilly breeze stop him.