Okay. I had to write this one too.

DarylDixon'sLover: James Buchanan Barnes is not a villain! He is a victim. That's the last thing I'm going to do, so don't worry.

Tiphanie: James definitely has a soft spot for Olivia, even if he doesn't know it. I touch on it a little in this chapter, but they've got a lot to get through before I get to the romance part of it. They're going to struggle plenty because I am evil. Muahahaha!

Enjoy!

"Here." James said, tossing the plastic bag from the gas station at me.

I caught it, looking inside. There was a bottle of water, a bag of chips and a candy bar inside. "What about you?" I asked, looking up at him. "You need to eat. And sleep."

"I'm fine." He said, digging through his duffel.

"No. You need to eat. And sleep."

"I'll eat with the crew." He said, sighing at me. "You stay up here." He handed me a knife, the same one he'd had when he'd kidnapped me a second time almost two days ago. "Stab anyone who comes through that door that's not me." He said, walking to the door. "Especially if it's me."

I thought about his words as I stared down at the knife. Why was he doing this? Why had he so willingly dragged me along? He had to know I was scared of him. Who in their right mind wasn't? And then finding out he was actually Captain America's best friend who was supposed to be dead, or ninety years old now was just the icing on the cake.

I ate my chips and candy bar slowly, trying to avoid getting seasick. It wasn't too bad, just needed some getting used to. I curled up on the bed not long after, tucking my arm under my head to accommodate for the thin pillow. The blanket wasn't much use against the cold as the sky got darker. James still wasn't back yet, and I had the knife gripped tightly in my hand. This was going to be a long two weeks.

Bucky was surprised to see her asleep when he got back into the room. She was out, curled up on the far side of the bed against the wall. He moved his bag, taking a seat in the chair across from her. He studied her for a moment, or at least what he could see of her. He didn't know why he'd saved her. Why he remembered her so well, when everything else was just a blur, or nonexistent. Maybe it was because he was tired of killing, and he wanted someone to save instead. And she had been right there in his mind. The girl he'd been forced upon twice, who was terrified of him still. And the worst part was she didn't even bother to hide it.

He kept the light off in the room, afraid he'd wake her up if he turned it on. She needed to sleep. She'd had a long couple of days, no thanks to him. But yet, when he'd given her the option to leave, run away herself, she hadn't taken it. She'd still followed him. Maybe she was warming up to him afterall. Realizing he meant it when he said he wouldn't touch her, or hurt her. He'd done enough of that. Maybe he needed to prove to himself that he was human. He wasn't a monster.

It was a few hours into the night, and he'd been lost in his thoughts, trying to remember things, when he'd heard her shaky inhale. He was on his feet in a second, moving over to the bed, ready to quiet her if she started screaming again. But when he got closer he saw she was shivering. He pulled his jacket off, pulling the blanket down just low enough that he could wrap the jacket around her, before tucking the blanket back where it was. He watched her as she curled up, tugging the jacket tighter around her. A small smile graced his face for a second before it fell, and he returned to his chair.

He managed to stay awake until the early hours of the morning, when he found himself drifting off in the chair, into his own nightmares.

I woke up warm and surprisingly well rested. I was a little stiff, but that couldn't be helped. I sat up, the warmth that had surrounded me, falling off, and then I noticed James' jacket. He must have put it there last night. I looked across the small room, noticing he was asleep in the chair. He was going to have a sore neck if he kept that up, so I got out of the bed, approaching him. His face was pinched in a frown, but I didn't think about it as I put my hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"James?" I whispered, trying to wake him up.

Suddenly his hand had grabbed my wrist, his metal hand wrapping around my throat. He was on his feet, my back hitting the wall of the cabin painfully.

"James." I gasped out, trying to get through his emotionless face as dots danced in my vision. "James..." I whimpered and he seemed to come back to himself, his hand letting go of me so fast I fell to the floor with a small bang.

I coughed, trying to get air back in my lungs as he backed away from me, staring down at his hands. I stood up slowly, his jacket still wrapped around me as I inched towards the door. He looked up at me, hurt shining in his eyes. I spun around, throwing open the cabin door before slipping out. It was cold on deck, a thin layer of fog settled around us. I coughed, still trying to get air moving in my lungs smoothly. I was going to have a bruise again. I wrapped his jacket tighter around me, lifting the collar so hopefully none of the crew would notice.

I made my way down the stairs, careful not to slip on the thin layer of condensation that had formed on the deck. I walked to the edge of the ship, leaning against the railing, looking down at the grey water flowing beneath the ship.

"The man you travel with, is he your lover?"

The question took me by surprise, not expecting anyone to be behind me. I spun around so fast I almost slipped.

"What? No...no." I shook my head at the crew member. He was short, not much taller than me with a round belly and a slight beard. Everything you would expect a sailor to look like. "I...I ran away. And he helped me." I said, looking back at the water.

"Family trouble?" He asked, his accent thick, but he spoke English well.

"You have no idea." I said, shaking my head. "My father was a horrible person." I said, wrapping my arms around myself, my hands hidden by James' jacket sleeves.

"I have a daughter. She'll be ten in two weeks. And a son who just turned eight. I couldn't imagine laying a hand on them, and it makes me sick to think a parent could do that to their child. You don't have to be wary of us. Most of us are married, have children. You and your friend are welcome here, Passerotta."

He left me alone on the deck, going back to work. I felt more welcome than I had in a long time on board the ship. I just had to figure out how I was going to go back into the cabin without alerting James too much. Because obviously, he didn't like being woken up.