I woke up early and had some time before work, so I wrote this. I hope you like it! Things are getting interesting!
linzeejee: Aww thanks! I'm glad you like it!
Farbeyondthegrave: I don't know how much of a champ I am. I just have a lot of free time outside work. And yes, she does have a little PTSD, and so does Bucky, but his is taking a different form, and I haven't really gotten into it too much. And they'll talk about what happened eventually. Probably when they get to Romania. Or a little after that.
Tiphanie: Right now, this is my favorite story hands down. It makes me want to go back and rewrite the others, but that's a long process I really don't want to get into yet. Bucky is definitely having some flashbacks, now that Olivia is sick. Even more so in this chapter. This is an interesting chapter. You'll see what I mean. And I'm doing a lot better, I still feel like crap because of the stupid medication, but I took my last dose today! So hopefully I'll be back in tip-top shape by the weekend.
NadzKers12: You'd be surprised at what I can get inspired by. I love 'protective Bucky' and I feel like he would totally want someone to take care of in that state. To prove that he's not a dangerous monster. That he's capable of being human.
DarylDixon'sLover: Libby will get better, eventually. She's not superhuman, so no fast healing for her!
Enjoy!
Olivia was doing better by the next morning. She still had a cough, and a runny nose, and her fever was still there, but it wasn't as extreme as it had been the day before. James had curled up with her in the dead of night when she'd looked really bad. She had been shaking, her teeth chattering. It wasn't that cold, but there still was a faint chill to the air, Summer not quite having hit yet. He'd sat down next to her on the mattress, her body immediately scooting back to his leg, seeking out any warmth. He'd put his metal hand on her forehead, her skin slicked with sweat despite her shivers. She'd grabbed his hand, surprising him, and held it to her forehead, refusing to let him move it. It had startled him, that she would be so willing to let him touch her at all, but then again she was delirious with fever.
He'd fallen asleep sometime in the early morning, the sky just starting to lighten as he drifted off. He dreamed of a small, skinny man...Steve...he was sick. A bad case of bronchitis. Steve was curled up on the couch of their small living room, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. James was in the kitchen, cooking something in a pot...chicken soup. Steve's mom's recipe. She had died...not too long before this memory. They were all they had of each other.
He was startled awake by a cough that sounded too close. He looked down, Olivia curled against his side, facing him. She was gripping his metal arm, his sleeve pushed up around his elbow. Her cheek was leaning against the cool metal, her arms wrapped around it. He swallowed the lump in his throat, emotions he didn't know coming to the surface. She looked so innocent there, curled around such a deadly weapon. He'd crushed steel with that arm, torn car doors off their hinges. But yet, she was snugging with it, like one would with a stuffed animal. Her features were relaxed, the frown that had marred her face, gone. She was still warm, but the fever seemed to be calming just a little. He knew it would still be too risky to move. He couldn't run with her like this, and if they got caught, or someone saw them, they would be toast.
He found himself reaching over to her as he stared at her, brushing a stray hair from her face. It was damp with sweat, but that didn't bother him. He probably didn't smell that great either. He'd need to shave, his face starting to itch. He felt the strange urge build up in him again as she coughed, still deep and wet sounding. He froze as she gasped a couple times after coughing, and he didn't move until her breathing had quieted down, or at least back to what it was before.
He gently pried himself away from her long enough to reach for the water bottle a few feet away. He lifted her, supporting her with his arm as he helped her drink, her hand coming up to hold the water bottle where it was as she finished it off.
He laid her back down, making sure she was comfortable before standing, stripping off his jacket to drape it over her. She sighed, coughing again before stilling. He refilled the water bottle with the water he'd boiled last night, before setting it next to her. He'd need to boil more, so he packed the empty pot down the stairs to do just that.
He gave himself a sponge bath, using the broken mirror in the bathroom to shave. He'd need to cut his hair too, the strands getting long and bothersome. He thought about giving her a sponge bath as well, but decided against it. That crossed way too many lines for him. He'd already defiled her, being forced on her like he was. He felt something inside him clench deep in his gut as he stared at his reflection. Was it guilt? It made him feel slightly sick. Like he could throw up at the thought. He remembered the way she'd screamed. The sound echoing in his ears. She'd pleaded with him, but he had to. His handler had made him. He knew his handler had done it too. He'd overheard them talking. The things he'd said about her, the way he'd described her made him angry.
James turned, sending his fist through the bathroom wall. He leaned there, his hands supporting him as he breathed. He felt sick, all of those memories coming back at once. It wasn't fair, that she had to go through that. That she had to be this way now, because of HYDRA, because of him. His hands curled into fists as he fought the urge to go on a rampage, tear apart the house. If he woke her, that would only make her more afraid. But if he ever saw his handler again, he didn't think he'd have the same control.
She curled up against him again that night, leaning her forehead against his arm. He could feel the heat of her body next to him, the sensors in his arm registering it. He itched at his arm, the place where metal met skin. He hadn't noticed the pain much before, but now it was starting to come back. The arm was heavy, and sometimes it tugged at his skin, his muscle. If he didn't think about it, he didn't notice it, but there were times it was all he could think about.
Olivia shifted, rolling on her back as a cough, and another, and another escaped her. He leaned over, grabbing the water bottle, lifting her into a sitting position against his chest. She coughed a few more times before she quieted, and he helped her drink. Her head lolled against his neck, her skin warm against his as he froze. Her hand was gripping his shirt, her legs thrown over one of his as she curled into him. He had to remember to breathe for a moment. He didn't move his arms, didn't wrap himself around her like he wanted to do. If she woke up like that, she'd surely go into a panic. And he didn't need that. He wanted her to trust him. He didn't want her to be scared of him. But after everything he'd done, and not just to her, he'd fear himself too. He was a machine. A killer, a monster. She had every right to fear him.
He didn't know he'd fallen asleep until the sun was shining in his eyes. His cheek was resting on Olivia's head, her body still curled up against him. He found himself feeling lighter than he had before. Her temperature had gone down, her skin not quite as warm as it had been before. He couldn't bring himself to move, not wanting to disturb her, so he sat still, watching the sun come up over the hills.
That was until she woke up. He felt her shift, stretching a little as she groaned. She stilled against him, and he thought she had gone back to sleep until she stiffened, her breathing picking up. She was off him and across the mattress in a half a second, backing herself against the wall. Her breathing was ragged, coughs tearing from her chest at the sudden movement, and she looked pale, like she could pass out.
He stood up, holding his hands up as he backed away from her. "You need to breathe." He said. "Calm down. I didn't touch you."
She was shaking, tears in her distant eyes, and he was sure she was flashing back to everything that had happened. He wanted to calm her, consolidate her, but he wasn't sure how. How did you calm down someone who was terrified of you? Someone who was still sick and needed to take a deep breath before she passed out?
"You're sick." He said, snapping her back to reality. She was small, curled up as tightly as she could in the corner. He swallowed his guilt, trying to get her to listen to him. "You need to breathe, otherwise you're going to pass out."
Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to breathe, but the cough was making that hard. He was suddenly reminded of something...Steve had asthma. And when he got sick it made it worse. James remembered his ragged, wheezing breaths as he coughed, his asthma always making being sick so much worse. But she didn't have asthma. She was panicking. This was fear.
He didn't know what to do as he looked around the room, searching for something to help him. His eyes landed on the water bottle and he moved with the silent grace of an assassin and grabbed it, tossing it on the bed.
She jumped when it hit the mattress, her eyes flying open. She grabbed the water bottle with shaking hands, lifting it to her lips as she drank greedily, her breathing seeming to even out as she did.
"I'm going downstairs." He said after she finished, his hands still raised. "Just yell if you need anything." He slipped out the door, heading downstairs.
He stood in the front doorway, looking out over the countryside. He'd avoided one crisis. She was awake, but terrified and almost passed out because she was panicking. Because he'd been stupid enough to fall asleep holding her. But she had curled up around him in her fever induced delirium. She had been asleep, resting, what she really needed, and he hadn't wanted to risk waking her if he moved her. But that had been stupid, thinking she couldn't wake up sometime in the night and start panicking. But at least she was making some progress with her sickness. That was one problem starting to solve itself. The car driving down the road, headed straight for them though, that was another problem.