A/N: Hi all,

Welcome to chapter 6. Sorry about the coding issue with chapter 5 – I have no idea what happened there.

Anyway, thanks again for the reviews; they mean a lot!

Enjoy.

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…Til the end of the line-

He jumped awake, the words echoing in his mind as the memory of his dream quickly faded. However, he didn't need to remember his dream to know who had said the words. It was him. Captain America.

Bucky still had trouble thinking of him in any other way – to everyone else they were best friends, but for him, his basic instincts remained intact. For him, the man had been his target.

Pushing the words from his mind he turned his thoughts towards the new day… which somehow was even worse.

He was leaving today.

How could he not?

He had spent 3 nights in Grace's apartment now, Hydra was bound to catch up with him soon enough. His only option was to keep running: both for his sake and for that of his Samaritan. And yet, the knowledge that he was never coming back seemed to make his heart feel heavy… Wait? His heart?

No. That wasn't right. He was highly-trained assassin – he used his head, not his heart.

Standing up from the bed, he headed to the small wardrobe where his clothes were. His clothes, not the borrowed ones he had spent the weekend living in. He had showered the night before, and had even managed to wash his hair again – all in all, he could probably get by for the next couple of weeks without showering.

Beginning to plan out his next move, he reached into the wardrobe to begin dressing – and instantly froze.

It was the clothes.

Almost hesitantly he picked them up to study them, even bringing them to his face so he could smell them…

She had washed them.

He couldn't even think of when she would have done it. But he knew that his previously filthy clothes were now clean, and that there was only one explanation for it: she had washed his clothes for him.

Dammit.

Leaving today was already going to be hard enough… and then she just goes and makes it even harder.

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Measuring tape, measuring tape…

She had started at the top drawer looking for the damn thing, and was now down to the third. She was just on the verge of trying the fourth when her fingers finally brushed over the object she needed.

Pulling it out, she slammed the draw shut before heading back to the counter. She needed to hurry up or she would be late for work. All the more reason to get this out of the way now.

"James…" she called.

Oddly, she hadn't seen him yet this morning. Granted she only had 2 other mornings to compare it to, but for those last few he'd been up almost immediately after she was. In fact, it wouldn't have surprised her if it turned out that he sat awake in the spare bedroom, just waiting for her to get up.

Quickly rinsing her dishes in the sink, she contemplated calling his name for a second time when she heard his bedroom door open.

"Morning" she called to him, still busying herself at the sink. "Sorry if you were busy, but I need to get something from you before I head off."

Turning around, she grabbed the tape and a notepad from the kitchen counter before moving in his direction. "Okay, so I know my brother's clothes are almost a good fit but…" she trailed off for a moment, confusion marring her features. "You're dressed? …I mean, of course you're dressed. But, those are… you're wearing the clothes from the other night…"

Not really knowing where she was going, she let her sentence fade out, the confused expression still clear on her face.

After a few seconds he cleared his throat. "Um… I don't know how I can ever really thank you for what you've done, but-"

"Thank me?" She echoed, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Why would you need to thank me?"

"I… um… well, I'm leaving." He replied hesitantly.

Not really thinking before she spoke, Grace blurted out the first thing that came to her.

"Why?"

"Because… you were right. There are people who are looking for me, and the best way for me to get away from them is to keep going. If I stay here, they'll find me. And you."

"But…" she wasn't really sure why she was arguing or what argument she was going to use. All she could think was that he couldn't leave. He just couldn't.

"You've been here for 3 nights now and no one has come looking for you. No one. Did you ever think maybe it's because you're safe here?"

"I think it's more to do with luck." He offered gently.

"Is that really what you want?" she asked, a hint of desperation entering her voice. "Do you really want to run for the rest of your life?!"

"What else is there?" He shrugged.

And suddenly, she was pissed off.

She couldn't decide whether it was because he had the audacity to suggest leaving without consulting her first or because he had adopted such a defeatist attitude. Either way, she didn't hold back.

"Living!" she practically snapped at him. "You could live, James. You don't have to run forever. You could do something with your life, be someone you want to be!"

"It's not that simple" he shot back, frustration quickly becoming evident in his own tone.

"Yes, it is! It is exactly that simple. Is it easy? No - it's not. In fact, it's excruciatingly hard. But you do it anyway. Because that's what life is. For God's sake! Hasn't anyone ever told you that the things most worth doing in life are usually the most difficult?!" She paused briefly for air before continuing.

"But you know what, if you would rather waste your opportunities, waste your second chance at a life because you're scared or you think it's too hard, then just get out."

She was breathing heavily now. And with every second the silence stretched out between them, the more embarrassed she became. She really hadn't meant to get so worked up.

She couldn't be sure how long they stood there, but it felt like an eternity. And what was worse is that she had no idea what he was thinking. Did he hate her now?

Eventually it got to the point where she couldn't take it any longer, and very softly uttered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But, seriously. Cards on the table. Are you leaving because you want to, or because you feel you're supposed to?"

"Staying would be a risk." He answered, his voice equally quiet.

"That's not what I asked…"

He opened his mouth several times in attempt to answer, only to close it each time, still having said nothing.

She chuckled slightly before putting him out of his misery. "Okay. So, you say that staying is a risk. Is it a smaller or bigger risk than going back out there?"

He shrugged.

"Don't do that." She chided. "I thought we'd finally gotten rid of the non-verbal responses…"

"Statistically," he began, ignoring her comment about his shrugging. "The risk is equal. But only for the time being."

"Well, why don't you stay here – for the time being – and then, I will help you find somewhere else to go when this place becomes too risky…"

It took a long time, but he eventually, very reluctantly, nodded.

Instantly she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

She began smiling before a thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Promise you won't leave the moment I walk out that door! Promise me you will be here when I get back this afternoon!"

"Fine" he agreed after a few seconds, his mouth forming a thin line.

"No, "she insisted. "Promise."

"Ugh. I promise" he replied, rolling his eyes at her for good measure.

"Good." Her smile was back in place now, her mood instantly lifted. "Now, come here so I can get your measurements…"

"Why do you need my measurements?" he asked, refusing to approach her.

"Because" she huffed, striding towards him with the measuring tape and notepad in hand. "Regardless of where you are or where you're going, you need clothes. My brother's were okay on you, but you should really have clothes that fit."

"These clothes fit." He protested as she gestured at him to raise his arms so she could begin measuring.

"Let me rephrase: you need more clothes that fit. Now hurry up or I'll be late for work."

It was a few more seconds before he finally admitted defeat and lifted his arms as instructed – but not before rolling his eyes at her again first.