Super short, but I got it done. It's a filler, really, but it's all I got right now.

DarylDixon'sLover: Yeah, things are gonna get sweet again.

chibichibi98: Yup. They've got a long way to go, but she's safe with Bucky.

NadzKers12: You're welcome, hon. I'm doing okay. It's been an emotional week, and it's gonna be the same next week. But I'll get through it. I've been through worse.

SilverShadowWolf46: She will. She's not going anywhere.

Tiphanie: I do have PTSD. I even have a PTSD dog. That's how bad I was. And it wasn't a knife, it was a gun. And they were my dad's friends. If you want to give me your email, I'll get deeper into the details, since I don't want to scar anyone else reading it for life.

Cassouminette: That's kinda what they got.

Hails: You have no idea. I wish I had a Bucky still. But we're not all that lucky. And I stole your idea.

LadySirimiri: You'd be amazed at what some people are capable of. It makes me sick to think about it. I know I had no control over my situation. I get hate all the time about how it was my fault, but most of those people don't know the whole story. Don't know how I got in that situation in the first place. Brighter days are coming, very very soon, at least for Olivia. For me...that's another story.

Enjoy!

Olivia's condition continued to deteriorate. Her cough got worse, her breaths wheezing in her chest. She remained unconscious most of the time, aside from when he forced her to eat. She was feverish, and it was only getting worse. He spent an entire day combing the city, looking for someone to help her. Someone who wouldn't ask questions, and wouldn't bring in the police. That was the last thing either of them needed.

He finally found someone on the outskirts of town. A retired ER doc, bought most of his medicine off the black market. He'd already gone and spoken to him once, then used the truck to move Olivia there. She was muttering incoherently, lost in some feverish delirium. He carried her to the door, the doctor already there and waiting.

He led James to his office, instructing him to lay Olivia down on the table. He washed his hands, pulling gloves on before standing over her. He checked her lungs first, listening to her breathe. It wasn't hard, James could hear the phlegm as she inhaled without a stethoscope.

"Definitely pneumonia." The doctor said. "You said she was drugged?"

"She was high as a kite when I found her. And knowing her, she wouldn't do it willingly."

The doctor checked her eyes. "Well, it's worn off now. How long has it been?"

"Two days."

"She'll start withdrawing soon. I can give her penicillin, which will help to fight the pneumonia. But unfortunately, I can't do much for the withdrawal. She'll have to get through that on her own." He fingered the scabbed over cut on her forehead. "Do you mind if I check elsewhere for any wounds?"

James shook his head, feeling the protective instinct within him rise as the doctor bent her legs up, pulling her jeans down. James looked away, running his fingers up Olivia's arm.

"She has the beginning signs of syphilis."

"What?" James asked, turning to look at the doctor.

"It's an STD. Sexually Transmitted Disease. The penicillin will help with that as well. I would suggest a pregnancy test once she's back on her feet. Just for precautions."

James hadn't thought of that. She said they'd raped her. And they wouldn't have the same orders HYDRA had been given. But she'd still ended up pregnant then. Who's to say it wouldn't happen again. But what would they do with a kid? They could barely take care of themselves. There was still so much they had to work through. Telling her she was pregnant...if she was...he didn't want to think about what it would do to her.

James made sure Olivia took her medication, and got enough to eat and drink. She was still mostly out of it, spending most of the day in bed. James cleaned the apartment, and cleaned the stairs. He started from the bottom, working his way to the top. It made him hurt, cleaning her blood from the concrete. It made him feel guilty. This whole thing happened because he was dumb enough to let her go out on her own. He should have known better. She was raped and drugged because of him. He remembered the first time it had happened, when he'd...taken her. The way she pleaded with him, tried to get him to spare her. But he hadn't. He had been under orders. These men...they did it for money. They did it for sport.

His fist met the wall, creating a nice sized hole in the concrete. He froze there, seething at his own stupidity. His own guilt. His ears caught her coughs, and he realized how close he was to their apartment. He jogged up the last few steps, opening the door to check on her. She was on her stomach, trying to get up, but she was too weak.

"Hey, hey, hey." He said, rushing to her side, turning her over before she hurt herself.

"I have to pee." Her voice was hoarse, no more than a whisper.

"Let me help you." He said, picking her up and carrying her to the bathroom.

She pulled her pants down while he steadied her, holding her up. She sat down on the toilet, and he placed the garbage can in front of her just in time to catch the vomit. It happened every time she got up. Whether from the withdrawals, or the pneumonia, he wasn't sure. He felt a little weird at first, standing there while she used the bathroom, but she had reminded him he'd done it before the first time they'd met. And he'd seen her naked. That he wasn't so comfortable thinking about. He'd helped her in the shower, but he'd made her wear her underwear. Call it guilt. Call it shame. Call it old-fashioned. He still felt like a breach of her privacy, and wasn't keen on it.

"You need a haircut." She said as she washed her hands in the sink, staring at him in the mirror.

"Well, maybe when you're better you can give me one."

She hummed her agreement, letting him pick her up again and put her back to bed. She was out like a light, curled up in the sleeping bag. He refilled her water cup, making sure she had crackers next to her before heading back out to finish cleaning the stairs. He tried not to let the blood bother him. It hadn't before. But seeing it like this, it made him nauseous.

Olivia slowly improved as the days went on. She didn't sleep all day like she had before, and could sit up without puking. She was still weak, incapable of walking by herself, partly due to the stitches in her leg, and the soreness she had started to feel. The withdrawals had come and gone, Olivia too sick to really notice it. Her fever had gone down, but she still had a nasty cough. He made sure she took her medication, the drug helping get rid of the syphilis, but there was still something that terrified him. Something that could quite possibly be growing inside her at that very moment. A tiny life, brought on by the worst possible circumstances. He knew he'd have to tell her the possibility was there. He'd have to tell her she could be pregnant. He'd bought the tests, and hid them, knowing they'd have to use them eventually. And if she was pregnant...he didn't know what they were going to do.

They couldn't raise a child. Hell, they weren't even really a couple. They couldn't handle a kid. Not in these conditions. If they suddenly had to leave, to run...that would make things harder. It would be a compliation neither of them needed. And Olivia...if she found out she was pregnant after everything that had happened...that could very well be her breaking point. She might not come back from that. And he wasn't about to lose her. He'd just gotten her back. He wasn't going to let her go so quickly.