So, I feel like this one's a little jumpy...but let me know what you think.

xenocanaan: Aww thanks! Glad you liked it!

hateme101: Thanks hon!

DarylDixon'sLover: Yeah, I couldn't leave him out! They'll get their happy ending eventually. Eventually

Lesliezin: I couldn't leave the plums out! Bucky deserves his plums. We can be evil together! Rumlow will get what's coming to him.

Cassouminette: Yeah, he's like a puppy! And I couldn't let them live off junk! They need real food too! And Olivia is perfect for that.

Tiphanie: Rumlow can't stay dead until he's really dead! Which is going to be glorious. And I needed a little gentle Bucky! Lots and lots and lots of feels! They'll get over their communication problems eventually.

RosiePosie15: I couldn't leave the plums out! Bucky deserves his plums!

Enjoy!

We'd been in Romania for almost a month now. It was early June and things between James and I were still tense. Sure, we got used to living with each other, spending time together that wasn't forced. But there was still a wall between us, and most of that was my fault. Me and my stupid fears. Every time we'd get closer, I'd end up just pushing us apart again. Though, on the bright side, there hadn't been one threat to our lives. No attack, or attempted murder. We'd been relatively at peace. Except for the argument about the bed.

"You're the woman, you should get the bed."

"I'm half your size, which means I can curl up way easier than you can. You, sasquatch, are sleeping on the bed. Me, Hobbit, is sleeping on the couch."

And I'd grabbed a blanket, curling up on the couch he'd brought up earlier that day. That was the end of that. Sure, the couch wasn't comfortable, and James only slept every few days, but I at least felt better than when he was sleeping, he was comfortable.

He still wouldn't let me talk about what happened. He kept putting it off, distracting me, or he'd just plain leave. It almost made me feel worse. I understood he was guilty, he felt like he was to blame, but it didn't make me feel any better.

All of my bruises and cuts had healed, the gunshot wound on the back of my leg nothing more than a scar now. James had a time taking the stitches out, getting me to stay still for that long while he pulled my skin off was fantastic. Well, he didn't necessarily pull my skin off, but it sure felt like it. I'd taken the stitches out of his arm a couple weeks earlier, since apparently he healed faster. Lucky. So he had called it revenge.

It was early in the morning and I was standing out on the balcony. The air was just the perfect temperature, not too hot, and not too cold. James was still asleep inside, and I didn't want to wake him by moving around inside. I was hungry, but I could wait. I thought about how I was going to approach the subject again tonight. I really needed to talk things through, and he was the perfect candidate. Well, he was the only candidate. My notebook had only heard it at least a dozen times.

James had taken to writing in notebooks as well. He wrote constantly, using different pens, highlighters, tab markers, sticky notes, even some pictures he got from magazines and newspapers. Most of them were of Captain America. Steve. His best friend. Or, who was his best friend. I didn't push into that subject much knowing it was sensitive territory. One wrong word could send him over the edge, and I didn't want to risk that. Not when things were starting to settle. Which is why I didn't say anything when he dodged the conversation with my.

"Hey."

I jumped when I heard his voice. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes, standing in the doorway.

"Hey." I said back, moving closer to him. "Sleep well?"

"As well as I could." He said, glancing down at me before looking at the building across from us. Well, the roof of it anyways. "Beautiful day."

I hummed my agreement, silence falling between us for a moment. "Do you want to do something today?" I asked. "Like wander around the city? Take a sightseeing tour? Go to a museum?"

I almost walked away with the look he was giving me. I almost ducked past him to go inside and bury myself in the couch.

"Sure." A small smile passed over his face. "I think a little fun would be good for us."

A big smile formed on my face and I followed him back into the apartment, grabbing clothes before heading to shower.

James was eating a plum when I came out of the bathroom, flipping through a newspaper. I grabbed a banana and a bottle of water, throwing both in my backpack before sitting next to him on the couch. I picked at the sleeves of my jacket, waiting for him to finish. He always took time out of his day to eat a plum, after what I'd said about it helping to improve memory. It was like a ritual for him now, and I wasn't about to interrupt it. He did that, and read the newspaper. He said it was to help him remember that he's really here. He's 70 years in the future, with barely any idea how he got here. I felt for him. I really did.

We went out and went sightseeing, hiking around Bucharest. It felt good to get out, do something fun. Take time to ourselves and just relax and act like we're normal. Not an ex-brainwashed-assassin who worked for an ex-Nazi terrorist organization who's actually 90 years old and has a metal arm and his sidekick, the daughter of one of the members of the ex-Nazi terrorist organization, who were both on the run from said ex-Nazi terrorist organization. Yeah, to everyone else who asked, we were just James and Olivia, brother and sister travelling Europe for the summer before I went away to college. It was simple and easy to remember.

We spent the day out, getting lunch at a little cafe before heading back to the apartment. It was nice, spending time with him like that. No stress, no running for our lives. Sure he was still twitchy, especially in crowds, but I got him to crack a smile a couple times. That was a feat I could cross off my list.

Things were starting to be smooth sailing, until I woke up one night because cold air was blowing on me. The balcony door was open, and James wasn't in bed. I got up, grabbing the knife from under the couch before heading that way.

"James?" I called, not hearing or seeing him anywhere. I didn't hear or see anyone.

I leaned over the edge of the balcony, half expecting him to be hanging by a thread over the edge. Not that I'd be able to help him all that much. He'd be on his own if that were the case. I frowned when I saw a figure jump across the alley to the building next door, the figure landing with a roll before standing up. What the hell? Was there someone else in the building? Was James somewhere downstairs fighting them off? Had they just tried to escape? I watched the figure climb over the edge of the building, dropping down onto a ledge before jumping to the ground, jogging across the street to our building. What the serious hell?

I backed into the apartment, gripping the knife tightly as I quietly closed the door, not quite sure what I was going to do, or what I could do. I ducked down in the corner of the kitchen, the couch blocking my sight of the door. I waited there for what must have been a lifetime before the doorknob twisted and the door opened. The only light was coming from the bathroom, which James had insisted we keep on so I didn't fall and hurt myself in the middle of the night if I got up. My eyes were adjusted to the darkness and I managed to make out James' form as he entered, closing the door quietly behind him.

I flipped on the light, making James turn, his eyes set, ready to attack. But I didn't care. I was freaked out, and I wanted answers.

"What was that? Was that you that I just watched jump onto the roof of a building? What the hell were you doing?"

"Testing escape routes." He said nonchalantly, shrugging at me.

"Testing escape routes? For what?"

"We're safe here for now. But if things ever turned sour, then there has to be several options for us to get out. And that's one of them."

"Yeah, but I can't jump across a street to a building."

"Not unless I threw you."

"Throw me? You're going to throw me?"

"If there were men with guns inside the building and that was our only escape route, that or die, would you let me throw you?"

I thought about it for a moment. He had a point. I sighed, placing the knife back in its spot as I dropped on the couch. "Just...don't freak me out like that. Disappearing in the middle of the night, leaving doors open. You didn't climb down there on the outside of the building, did you?"

"No. I used the stairs like a normal person."

I couldn't help the snort that escaped me. I knew I wasn't going to sleep again, and neither was he, so we stayed awake, just staring at the ceiling, sharing a few words between us. I waited until things got quiet before I asked the burning question, the thing I had been waiting weeks to do.

"James...can we talk...about what happened?"

He turned his head, staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. "Okay." He said sitting up. "But under one condition. If things get ugly, I want you to run. And don't come back."