Chapter Four

Domestic Life

Elizabeth soon found out that James wasn't really taught the basics of living with someone else. In fact, she guessed that HYDRA didn't teach him much of anything but assassination.

"What's this?" he asked her, pointing to an open Word document she had left on her laptop.

"Oh, nothing," she said, slamming it shut. "It's just an article I'm trying to write for the paper. It's due tomorrow."

"What's it about?" He kept his eyes steady on her, as if hanging onto her every word. It was the first time a guy had looked at her that way, and she didn't know how to feel about it.

"It's a feature article," she told him. "Anyway, would you like to try grilled cheese? If you don't like the chocolate cake, I don't know you'd like anymore."

"It had too much chocolate," he stated simply.

She rolled her eyes and began making two sandwiches. When she was done, she gave him one and kept her eyes on him as he took a bite. She couldn't read his expression until he smiled ever so slightly.

"I like it," he said.

"I can make you another one," she offered, taking a bite out of hers.

"Can you teach me?" he asked hesitantly.

She grinned widely. "Sure."

Food wasn't the only thing James tried to help with. Though Elizabeth taught him more on how to feed himself using the contents of her fridge and cupboard, he wanted to learn how to help her with the housework.

The first thing they started on was dishwashing. It was a task she did manually, because she refused to rely on a machine.

"You grip the dish firmly, but don't break it," she said, demonstrating it with her left hand as she reached for a sponge with her right. "Then, you add some dishwashing liquid and water to the sponge and squeeze it, to form bubbles."

"Why form bubbles?" he asked her, confused.

She shrugged before continuing with her demonstration on washing a plate. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time, but she did her best to focus on her work. When she was done, she watched as he executed it perfectly.

"Good job," she complimented. "Now, rinse the plates one by one."

After showing him how to do it the first time, he took responsibility of washing the dishes. She still hung around him, and no matter how much she told herself it was to guide him, she knew that it was just because she liked being around him.

A few days into living with James, she realized there was a small problem.

"We're running out of groceries," she said to him as they sat down for breakfast. "I'll go buy some later. Would you like to come along?"

He froze, his spoon midair. It was a few seconds before he spoke. "Wouldn't I be recognized?"

"People know you by your arm. You could wear a jacket and a cap. I have extra ones upstairs," she suggested before it hit her that he might not be ready. "You could always just stay home. I'll be back in an hour or so."

He nodded, seeming much more relaxed. It never occurred to her that she had begun calling the place 'home'. Instead, she finished her breakfast, freshened up and went out to go buy food.

James watched as Elizabeth went out the door. He was slightly worried that something might happen to her, but he knew worrying wouldn't solve anything. He went off to the kitchen and began washing the dishes they had used.

She had this way of being patient with him and teaching him what to do in the house. He knew he had no idea what he should do, no memories at all of how to help. It must have been frustrating for her to teach him how to use simple appliances, like the microwave. But she never showed any sign of it.

She was all smiles whenever she was around him. When she was writing, he could see her furrow her eyebrows, frown and mutter to herself. Sometimes, she even banged her head on the table, though she tried to do it silently as to not startle him. He loved her even more for that.

She was everything good in the world, in his eyes. She was everything he wasn't, and he knew he didn't deserve her. He was a murderer, someone who didn't even know his own identity. He was a loose cannon.

Once James was done with the dishes, he freshened up as well. Without knowing it, he had wandered into Elizabeth's room. He saw a picture of her and a redhead. Both of them were smiling widely at the camera.

He picked it up and noted how her smile was different in the picture. There, it looked like a smile taken before a laugh. She had braces, colored violet, if he saw it correctly. She looked a few years younger, and more carefree. Her hair was up in a ponytail, but it was shorter in length.

Still, her eyes still crinkled in the corners in the same way. Her nose still scrunched up ever so slightly. Her grin was still wide and happy enough to make him forget about his past.

She was as beautiful as ever.

He put down the picture and began looking around some more. There were a lot of books in her room. Most were gathered into one bookshelf but some were beside her bed or littered across the room. He glanced at the tattered ones on the table beside her bed.

Pride and Prejudice, Noli Me Tangere, Les Miserables, The Tempest. The authors were all different, but he guessed that they were classics, or at least very old books. He picked up the first one and scanned the pages. A smile formed on his lips as he noted the name of the main character.

He suddenly heard a car pulling up the driveway. He glanced out the window and was relieved to see that it was just Elizabeth's car. He went downstairs to meet her and opened the door to see her carrying three bags of groceries. He quickly took one and set it on the counter.

"Thanks, James," she said.

He nodded and helped her put everything away before talking. "I saw a photograph in your room. It was you and a girl."

"Oh, that's Caroline. She's my best friend," she explained. "She actually lives with me, but she's away for work. She works for S.H.I.E.L.D."

He froze momentarily at her words. He could see her staring at him, trying to make out how he felt. "And did you tell her? About me?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm not telling anyone if you don't want me to."

He nodded, relieved. He wasn't sure if he could handle anyone knowing about him just yet. After a while, he spoke again. "I'm planning on trying to get some of my memories back."

Elizabeth nodded. "Have you tried the Smithsonian?"

"I have. It was more of my time as a soldier. I wanted something different, something not related to fighting."

"Well," she began, grinning. "I heard you were quite the charmer. Maybe if you cut some of that hair of yours, you just might recover that title. You might even go dancing with someone."

"Any clue as to who that someone might be? That girl across the street is kinda cute, you see. Or maybe her friend, the blonde," he teased her.

She huffed, turning her head away. "Go and ask them, if you like."

"I'd rather not."

"Really?" She glanced back at him.

He nodded, doing his best to look sincere. "Of course. The brunette living in the apartment next to theirs is way prettier."

She turned to walk away, placing the last of the groceries back to where it belonged. "Nobody's stopping you, then."

James chuckled as he watched her retreating figure. He walked towards her and pulled her closer to him. "I'm only teasing you. You know my eyes are set on you and you alone, doll."

She smiled and looked up at him. "Did you just call me doll?"

He thought about it for a moment. The word had just slipped out. "Yeah. I guess I did. Why?"

"I like it."

He grinned for the first time in weeks.