Well...here we are...

Altercation: You're right! That song does fit her well! Thanks for mentioning that!

NadzKers12: Aww thanks! Get ready for another roller coaster. Because I'm just getting started!

CJ/OddBall: Yeah, they're a couple! And so much fluff it's starting to make me sick so I'm going back to being evil! I'm not quite sure on that saying either...I tried looking, but didn't find anything.

DarylDixon'sLover: Thanks hon! Glad you liked it!

hateme101: He is like her own personal hero. If only he would realize that...

inperfection: Doesn't she? She just can't catch a break! Good thing Bucky's there...

chibichibi98: James is going to train her eventually. After she's all healed up.

Farbeyondthegrave: Isn't that the truth, though?

DarkJewel55: Well...that's not exactly what happens...

Tiphanie: There's a big break coming. Because I've gotten my evil touch back! And I can't let them be happy for too long. They're gonna suffer so bad! MUAHAHAHA!

Chiharu-angel: Thanks hon! Glad you liked it!

Enjoy!

James was ashamed to say he fell asleep. He'd been under such mental strain...Olivia being late getting home, his panic as he combed the streets for her, every possible scenario going through his head. Had HYDRA found them? Had they taken her as bait? Had they killed her? Left him a trail of breadcrumbs to her body? Then they'd grab him there, do whatever it was they had planned. Had someone else taken her? Had she been snatched off the street? Pretty girl walking alone at night. She didn't know how to defend herself well, and it would be easy to just take her. One hit to the face and she was down. Then he'd probably never find her...at least alive. They'd torture her, rape her, all the things she'd already gone through. And he knew if he did find her alive...he didn't want to think about that.

But he had found her, in the stupid alley she insisted on taking when she was running late. The dark one that ran behind a bar. When he'd seen that man on her, touching her...the anger he hadn't felt in a long time rising to the surface. He would have killed the man. There was no question there in his mind. He would have killed the asshole, giving him what he deserved. But she'd stopped him, not wanting to have that guilt hanging over him. He'd tried so hard keep them safe. He'd tried so hard to keep something like this from happening. He'd tried so hard...gone so long without hurting anyone. But that man had deserved it. That sick bastard didn't deserve to live. Any man who thought they could do that to a woman deserved to have their face punched in. But that didn't mean he was okay with doing it. At least not after the fact.

He wasn't sure what had woken him at first, his senses not quite caught up until he heard it a second time. He was on his feet, pushing the bathroom door open. Olivia was on the floor, bent over the toilet. She was shaking like a leaf, her breathing coming in gasps as she sobbed, and puked into the toilet. He knelt down, reaching for her shoulder. She jumped, gripping the toilet lid as a squeak left her, and he stilled his hand, resting it on her shoulder.

He shushed her, pulling her hair back as she vomited again. "It's just me." He said quietly, but she didn't seem to notice.

"I-It...h-hurts..." She sobbed out, leaning over to vomit again.

Her skin was warm as he felt her face. He leaned over her, but didn't see any blood in her vomit.

"I need you to breathe." He said, grabbing some toilet paper to wipe her face off. She was sweaty and had snot and vomit everywhere. "I know it hurts doll, but you'll stop puking if you calm down."

He put his metal hand on her other shoulder and she shrieked, jumping away from him. She continued to sob, leaning over the toilet and he sat back, running his hand down his face. She was delirious and obviously not in a state that she could listen to him. Her breaths were short, small gasps, followed by a long exhale as she sobbed pitifully over the toilet. Blood had soaked through both pieces of gauze on her head, her panic not helping that either. He wasn't sure what to do. She wouldn't let him touch her, and she wasn't going to listen to him. He sat there for a second before getting an idea. He got up, flushing the toilet to try and remove the vomit smell, before leaving the room, grabbing what he needed before entering the bathroom again.

He sat down, leaning against the wall in the small space, pulling his knees up so he had room. He opened the book, starting at the first page.

"'In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.'" He started reading. "'Not a dirty, nasty wet hole full of the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.'"

He got through a chapter and a half before she calmed down. Her breathing was still shaky, but it had slowed to a relatively normal pace. She was still sitting on the floor, her head against her arm on the side of the toilet. She hadn't vomited again, which was a good sign. He finished the chapter, and he almost would have said she was asleep, had she not flinched when he moved.

"Doll, we gotta get you cleaned up." He said, squatting down next to her. "Gotta get some water in ya. Make you feel better."

"I...can't." Her voice was hoarse, cracking as she spoke.

"You can't what?" He asked.

She didn't say anything, just stayed where she was. He could see the tears falling, and he was surprised she had any left.

"Okay. How about I bring you some water instead?"

He didn't wait for an answer as he got up, heading to the kitchen to get a glass. He heard a thump from the bathroom, a frown forming on his face. He set the glass on the counter before heading back to the bathroom, sticking his head through the door. She had fallen over, now curled up on the floor.

"Doll..." He said, but got no response. "Get up." But she didn't even flinch. "Damn it." He breathed, moving over to shake her shoulder. She didn't move.

He scooped up her unconscious form, propping her up on the couch. He wiped her face with a rag, getting the vomit out of her hair as well. He changed the bandages on her head, checking to make sure they weren't aggravated. Her cheek was still red, slightly bruised from where she'd been slapped, and her lip was cracked and split it was so dry. She was still warm, but had started to cool off as she relaxed. He checked the bruise on her stomach, big ugly and purple, standing out against her pale complexion.

"What am I going to do with you?" He breathed, shaking his head.

He got more ice, wrapping it in a towel before leaning it on her stomach, tucking her shirt around it. He probably should have taken her to a hospital, made sure she wasn't bleeding, made sure her head trauma wasn't worse than it looked. She'd taken some hits, had her head bashed more than what was probably considered safe. He probably should have gotten her checked out, but he didn't, knowing doctors liked to ask questions, wanted to know everything. They'd probably say he beat her, he did this and then he'd really be in trouble. He'd have to leave her, run again to god knows where. And he didn't want to leave her. They'd be sitting ducks at a hospital. He didn't know who the man was, but he doubted he'd been set on them. He had been weaponless, and couldn't fight worth a damn. Well, no one really could against him. He was a trained assassin with a metal arm. There were few who could stand as an opponent against him. And he'd left them in D.C. He could keep it in his head that HYDRA had lost their trail. Hadn't followed them, had given up trying to find them. Or, he could pray that much. They'd never be completely safe.

He sat down on the floor, leaning against the couch as he picked up the Hobbit, continuing to read to her. He called her work when morning came, explaining to the owner she was in an accident and probably would be out for the rest of the week. He seemed nice, worried about her. Olivia always spoke highly of him, and he could see why. Older, grandfatherly type. He quickly scrapped his idea about making her quit. He'd follow her every day if he had to. He picked the book back up, continuing to read.

He got halfway through the book before she stirred, waking up. He got up, grabbing the glass, knowing she was dehydrated. He knelt down, watching as her eyes fluttered open, slightly dazed and bleary for a moment as she registered her surroundings. But they were focused, which made him breathe a sigh of relief. Her head trauma hadn't been as bad as he was expecting.

"Drink." He said, holding the glass to her lips.

He made sure she took small sips, knowing if she took it too fast she'd probably start puking again, and they'd be back at square one. She seemed to perk up a little as she finished the glass, her eyes clearing slightly. And that's when everything went to hell.