Sorry! I had planned to get this one up earlier, but I got distracted watching Phineas and Ferb...I got chills though, writing this one.

DarylDixon'sLover: I have big plans for them. Big plans...

ennathecookiemonster: Aww thanks! I'm glad you like it! And I'm not a nice person, so I can't let them have a nice, easy time. And I'm glad you liked the reference. I couldn't not put it in there. Bucky needs his plums. Someone give him some plums. And Scott his orange slices!

Tiphanie: Yes, he gets his plums! I couldn't not put that in there. He needs his plums! James is handy! I could see him tinkering after everything. I try to be nice, but I can't. Especially not in this chapter.

xenocanaan: Thanks hon! I kinda feel bad for them too, but I want them to suffer.

Enjoy!

Olivia didn't say a word after the incident. James had gone out to find a bed, bringing it back in the truck. He packed it up to their apartment, Olivia cleaning when he got in. The apartment smelled better, and the moth eaten curtains had been replaced. Things were starting to look better. Not quite as dreary. He dropped off the mattress before heading back out, knowing they'd need something to use besides a blanket. Sheets would be too much, so he settled for a sleeping bag. It would keep Olivia warm, and could easily be moved if the situation ever came to that.

He hoped it wouldn't. He had finally found someplace safe where he could lay low and work on his demons, as well as Olivia's. He knew there were some she'd have to face on her own, but he wanted to help her as much as he could. She'd bought him plums to help him with his memories, she deserved something in return. He grabbed a stack of notebooks and pens, knowing she was bound to get bored, and this way, she could do something.

Olivia was making dinner when he got back, heating chili up on the stove. She didn't look at him as he set up their bed, but he could see her still shaking. Guilt filled him as he stared down at the floor.

They ate in silence, Olivia sitting on the table, and James sitting on the mattress. The tension between them was heavy, both of their gazes on the floor. James did the dishes after they were finished eating while Olivia wrote something in one of the several notebooks James had bought.

"You should get some sleep." He said, tossing the leftover newspapers in the trashbag.

"I don't think I can." She said quietly, her voice breaking. "I just hate that I have to be this way." She furiously wiped away the tear falling down her face. "I can't be normal anymore."

James felt like he was suffocating, the feeling in his chest making it hard to breathe. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he didn't know how. He was lost on how to help her.

"I'm so scared of everything." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "And I hate it." The pen in her hand was shaking as she gripped it tightly.

"I know." He said quietly, reaching his hand slowly to pull the pen from her grasp. "I get scared too." He closed the notebook, setting it on the table. "Sometimes I think I'll wake up and it's all been a dream. Find out I was frozen again, and I hadn't escaped. And sometimes I'm scared that something will revert me back, and I won't be able to pull myself out. I'll be stuck as a merciless killing machine again. We won't ever be normal again. The fear will always be there." He slid his flesh hand into hers, and he was surprised when she squeezed it tightly. "But we can learn how to not let it control us."

"James, I want to talk about it." She said, looking down at their hands. "What happened...between us."

"Not right now." He said, shaking his head. "You're tired. It's been a long day." He squeezed her hand before walking back to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

In truth, he was scared to talk about it. It was a demon between them, keeping a wall up. He knew he wasn't totally at fault, his old handler...Rumlow, she'd called him, had a big part to play. The abuse she'd suffered at his hands was far greater than what he would wish on his worst enemies. And he hated that it had happened to someone so innocent in it all. But yet, it had been him first. He felt guilty because of that, that he had been the first, forced on her like an animal. And he hadn't had a choice but to comply. He hadn't known better. But that didn't make it any easier on him.

He knew if he ever found Rumlow again, he'd break his promise to himself and he'd kill the bastard.

James had insisted that I sleep on the bed, even though I wasn't really tired. I could hear him moving around, tinkering. After our little talk I could tell a storm was brewing inside him. He had energy he needed to get out. I heard a rustle and then he was walking past the bed, and out the door. I sighed, rolling on my back. I was just glad we'd made it 24 hours and hadn't been shot at or almost killed. I'd gone outside by myself and come back fine and in one piece. We had running water and electricity. James had fixed up the apartment nicely. Who knew he was so handy? Though, I guess when you've got that much on your mind, it wasn't hard to get lost in projects.

Though, I didn't understand why he didn't want to talk about what had happened. Was he worried he'd lose himself? Worried he'd get mad and wind up hurting me? I knew he carried a lot of guilt and anger because of what happened. He blamed himself for the way I was, which wasn't true. If anything, he was just as much of a victim as I was. He was forced to rape me. He didn't have a choice. Rumlow had a choice, and he did it anyways. Rumlow was to blame. He put me through hell. Broke me over and over again. I don't think I'm capable of murder, but if I ever saw him again, I wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

James was still gone when I woke up again. It was early morning, the sun not quite risen yet. I stumbled to the bathroom, glad to have one that worked again. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I padded to the kitchen. I stopped when I noticed one of the plums gone, a small smile forming on my face. I made myself some oatmeal, setting some aside for James if he wanted some when he came back. I opened the back door, stepping out onto the balcony. There was still a small nip to the air, not quite summer yet. The city was waking, cars driving by on the street below. Yeah, I could get used to this.

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL, WASHINGTON D.C

A lone figure lay in a hospital bed, bandages covering nearly every inch of their body. The healing process was slow, but sure. IV's pumped drugs into the body, keeping the pain at bay, though that wasn't a problem. The door opened, a figure dressed in black entering. He gulped at the sight in front of him, the figure even more daunting wrapped up like a mummy.

"Our team found them, in Hungary." The figure's eyes moved to the man. "Sir."

Well then, where are they? Was typed out painfully slowly on a screen.

"They got away. The Asset took out most of the team. Ran, and took the girl with him. They were gone before backup could arrive."

Where did they go?

"We don't know. But they aren't in the country anymore. We found a group of hitmen that tried to overtake them not far from where we found them. Wherever they are, they're moving fast."

Then why are you standing here telling me this? Tell everyone I'm tripling pay if they bring them both in alive. So I can watch his face as I tear down everything he thinks he's built.