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Character: James "Bucky" Barnes &
Time period: Post-CA: TWS
Warnings: Obsessive Bucky on the loose.

At first, independence had seemed like one of his better ideas, but he had begun to revise his opinion once he had verified certain truths, taken noted of the factions searching for him, and realizing that the world was a wide landscape where a man could get lost. After he had rearmed himself from the bodies of two Hydra agents, a drug dealer, and a gang banger, he had come to realize that slipping away, hiding, being nothing at all was very easy, too easy.

He had been built on the foundation of a command structure for more than seventy years. Even before the blurred vagueness of falling, he knew order and military command. Aside from mashed up images, feelings and impressions, he knew that he had to have some manner of structure in his life. With no more commands down the line, he loitered, slipping through the shadows on Washington for awhile, finding the unsavoury places and people, leaving a few bodies in his wake and not particularly caring that they were found and televised either. A weapon bared he moved through the chaos at first because it was all he knew, listless for anything but the violence he had played a role in for so long. It lost it's purpose without the trigger of structure.

His world stagnated as he avoided those who hunted him, and he cared little for the lives he took when they found him. They came to command him because they thought he would simply bow to old standards, that he would go back to being his code name if they applied even electricity to his brain. They hadn't earned the right to command him. They were weaker than he, hadn't even survived a single encounter when he decided to throw his weight back at them. They were weak men, lost in words and hiding behind guns and dying in the shadows of buildings and trees.

Slowly, resolution began to form from the ashes of his lost command structure. He decided he would allow himself to be commanded again, that he yearned to be commanded by someone with the strength of both character and body to overtake him or at least bow him slightly with respect. Pierce had been like that, he reflected. The man hadn't needed to physically harm him to command his respect, though he remembered well being struck when he required the prompt. A few others had commanded a similar reaction deep in his guts, and his attention snapped over to them. One at a time, he decided. One searched, the other could be found if he looked.

He had been lost for a few months, considering leaving to go to Brooklyn for more pieces of an old puzzle, but he was drawn back into Washington because beating information out of a SHIELD agent had satisfied him that he would get what he wanted. As a ghost story, he knew that the only way to get proper attention was to do something not only obvious but dramatic. His depth of dramatic no doubt would be very different from others that he knew existed, but like a well-trained dog returning to his master, he knew how to get the attention that was needed to invite a recall command.

Hydra agents were not easy to find in large quantities in Washington anymore, most arrested or underground and hiding. It took him two days to find a nest of the vipers, using the old underground tunnels that he knew well. He'd ended them to prove he might not be under command, but it was something worth earning given his skills. Their bodies were left in obvious Hydra uniforms and symbols and piled high in front of the Smithsonian. As if the symbol of his loyalty degradation wasn't enough, none of the corpses had heads, and he had piled them in such a way that he could sit atop the whole mess and lounge there as obvious as the start of a new day.

Media and police were one thing, not that interesting, but he let them think they had command of him for a moment. Let them show his face around for SHIELD and Hydra and them to know he was here. Meaningless orders were ignored, people's reactions only earned a turning of his cheek in dismissal before he knew that the police presence would be a problem to slip away from. Instead he slipped from his lounging perch to ignore warnings and breaking into the Smithsonian because it suited him there. It seemed a fitting place to bow to the command of someone worthy.

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She really didn’t felt comfortable calling him James, she had only called him that when she had been angry with him and had wanted to let him know she was, which had been kind of rare since they rarely had fights, some spats here and there, but nothing out of the extraordinary when it came to their interactions, so it was really going to take her awhile and a conscious effort to call him by his given name and not the nickname that everyone had knew him with, it was a bit hard right now and it had only been a few minutes, but it was something they both needed right now, plus addressing him like that might make it easier for them to move around.

There was a miniscule smile in response to his murmur about earning it back, it at least assured her that he was going to make an effort and try to move on from what he had been reduced to be by Hydra, she knew some aspects were going to remain and she could, no, she was going to deal and accept them. “Alright then, it’s settled then.”

She decided not to question on how he was going to address her, she was going to let him decide that on his own and she was going to willingly accept it as he had, though she hoped he didn’t used captain or something similar. There was a light tensing up at his words and her fingers tightened against the armrest, before she allowed herself to relax again. “Then I guess we will need to be very careful and to avoid something like that happening to either of us, right?”

Right now, he had nothing but her and so all of his efforts were focused on keeping her and making certain that she had no reason to leave him behind. He might be able to follow her, stalk her, even kill her, that wouldn't suit his purpose to gaining some level of the power structure back in his life. He couldn't wander around in a daze the rest of the time he was alive, and he had no intention of going back to Hydra or even the Soviets.

He did stand by what he said, that he was better off dead than without her. His abilities, his training, his conditioning made him dangerous at the best of times, but when he had something to focus on, he was better. He wouldn't allow himself to survive outside of her; she was going to become his kill switch. "Yeah, you be more careful. People know you far more than they will ever know me."

She snorted just a bit at that comment and rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah I will try to be.” But then she had always been careful, even when she went out in public she had managed to keep her presence low key and not a lot of people had realized they had been walking or near Captain America, it was quite amazing how easily she had been able to hide herself in the middle of a crowd, and maybe that might come in handy for them later. “Don’t you think being close to me is going to make people also know more about you?

That if people didn’t knew him already as a killer, considering his image at the very least was all over the news and maybe if they were lucky his face wouldn’t exactly be visible enough for people to recognize him right away, the arm could be easily concealed if they needed it. She looked away again and became aware of the sound of music from the distance, probably from the same place she had heard the laugher coming from, and she couldn’t help but smile and trying to see if she could identify the song. “Oh I think that’s the look of love.”

He was of the opinion that if he kept his arm hidden away and was more adamant about personal cleaniness and hygiene that he wouldn't have a problem avoiding much attention. It wasn't as if facial recognition actually worked on him, since he had been stripped from the system to allow him to move in and out of borders and the like without a problem. Hydra wouldn't blow that if they wanted him back. "No, I can claim I'm just a fan or a friend or something," he said simply. "I can blend in."

He tilted his head a bit at the sound of music, though aside from the tune and a few words, he wasn't about to identify it. He actually didn't know any songs anymore, probably not even the National Anthem it had been so long. "The what?"

“You do realize I have some very dedicated fans out there and they might recognize your face as that of my…best friend right?” She knew that there were other fans like Coulson out there, people that apparently loved the idea of Captain America and all the things she apparently represented for all of them, she had met some of them outside of Coulson sometimes and they could be quite eager in their zealous and happiness of meeting her, she wasn’t really sure how he was going to react if any of them decided to question him about his resemblance to Bucky Barnes. “We will just work on blending in; I don’t like drawing much attention to myself anyway.”

She followed the rhythm and tune from the song in her mind, being able to put the necessary words when it was necessary to complete the song, she could even hear Dusty’s voice in the back of her mind now. “The Look of Love, it’s a love song and apparently a rather favored one to dance with.” And it reminded her a bit of the quick dance lesson Sam had given her, claiming it was needed when she finally went and had that dance with Peggy. “I was never a good dancer."

"Which best friend? The dead one from seventy years ago? Those sorts of things are impossible," he said simply and tilted his head back on his neck to look up at the sky. It was quite blue now, better than the sky he often looked up in the big cities that was crowded with metal and wires. This was much better. "I can grow a beard if you want."

He frowned at the idea of dancing, but something about the whole idea was somehow... appealing. He didn't know why or how, but he listened a little more closely to the sound, picking out the rhythm before he slowly pushed himself out of his seat and rolled his red sleeves up to his elbows. He extended his metal hand to her. "Show me."

“Oh yes impossible and crazy, like that crazy thing with Captain America being back after seventy years and turning out that she wasn’t dead, oh yes what I was thinking.” She was technically not supposed to be here either, but here she was, sitting with a man that had been her best friend once upon a lifetime ago, so anyone could think something like that had happened with him. “No, you tried it once when you wanted to appear older; it didn’t look that good on you.”

She was aware of his motions out of the corner of her eye, registering it and wondering what he was going to do now, she hadn’t expected the offer and she stared at the offered hand for a few seconds, processing what she was going to do now and it was then that she also noticed he had finally changed, looking rather well put and now she felt a bit sloppy considering she was only wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, but whatever is not as if he had ever judged her for what she decided to wear.

Finally she decided to risk it and accepted his extended hand, and moved to stand up. “I told you that I couldn’t dance.”

It was rather impossible, wasn't it? Two people so displaced in time for completely different reasons and somehow coming back together. Someone was having a good laugh about that somewhere, though he supposed that as long as he had heard that he couldn't mind all that much. "I am older now, and it will be for hiding my face this time." He wasn't enthusiastic about a beard though. They itched and were hard to manage.

He knew very well that she could very easily deny him a dance with her, the opportunity to do something that he suspected he hadn't done in a very long time. His hand waited, no pressuring but available until she took it, and he pulled her up from her seat with an ease that he didn't even think about. "And you think I remember how?"

He still grasped her hand and set his other on her waist like he was supposed to, pulling her along almost naturally into a slow rhythm that followed the music. He stared at her, his blue eyes meeting hers as he took the lead as a gentleman should. If he didn't think about it, he moved like old times but with far more fluid deadly grace. "Hmm, not so bad, I guess."

It was more like something that shouldn’t have happened outside of fiction, but Fate was certainly having quite a good laugh at their situation, probably finding it amusing that people that had been so close in the first stages of their lives, could be in such different places at the moment, close but at the same time so far away from each that really that first life they shared could have not happened at all. “You’re not exactly that old, or at least not technically.” They were probably around the same age if they counted the seventy years that have passed; Bucky was just a year older than her after all. “…No beard.”

There was a small shrug in answer to his question. “I don’t know, maybe you will due to muscle memory.” Which might account to the fact of her being able to fight her way out of SHIELD that first time not long after she had woken up and still feeling a bit dazed, not to mention confused at the sheer lie they had tried to feed her with and to apparently ease her into this century, they had clearly failed with that.

Remembering whatever dance knowledge she had and certainly made easier when he seemed to react more naturally than her, her hand came to rest on his shoulder and she took a bit of steadier hold of his hand, also out of habit she looked down to make sure she wasn’t stepping on him and was just a bit surprised she seemed to fall rather naturally into pace with him, easily letting him lead her in this. When she looked up, she wasn’t surprised when she noticed that he was staring at her and she looked back at him steadily, trying not to feel so weird that they were having their first slow dance under these kinds of circumstances. “I guess not, at least I don’t seem to have two left feet as I did before.”

No, he was not that much older than she was, though he wondered if she had surpassed him technically given he wasn't awake for that long whereas she had had a few years to get a grasp of things apparently. There was no point considering the math much. "Still older than you, I suppose," he murmured as he remembered looked at the dates listed in the Smithsonian. "Against it, hmm? No beard."

His muscle memory was used for far more important things than dancing, but he said nothing about that. Instead, he enjoyed the easy way that they seemed to dance on the deck as the music played from another part of the neighbourhood. He didn't feel her feet on his, and he wouldn't have minded if it did either despite being barefoot. It just wouldn't have bothered him. This was... different, not bad but different.

It was probably the first dance he had had with her, wasn't it? He didn't remember any of the others, but he wanted to hold onto this memory. It prevented him from saying or doing anything she might consider weird to preserve the moment. "Must be all that boxing you've been doing. Gives you good steps for dancing."

“Only by a year not much of a significant difference,” But now she wasn’t sure if that was right, she had been out at least a year before he was considered active again, maybe they were probable in the same age range or not, but then he had been in and out of activity in all the time she had been frozen, which means he could have spent less time in the ice compared to her through the years and just thinking about that was enough to give her a bit of a headache and she decided to ignore it for the time being. “Yes, I am.”

And she really had no shame admitting that, the one time he had let it grow (not only to look older but also due to a girl that had said in passing it could be a good look for him) hadn’t lasted more than two days before she had kind of forced him to get rid of it, in a way strangely showing her opinion was a bit more valued than the one of a possible girlfriend, no wonder so many people had wondered about their relationship. And she was sure that right now, if anyone were to see them swaying slowly and almost gently to the music in the distance, even bigger and more important questions will be raised –mostly about her sanity.

She laughed just a bit and shook her head. “You said kind of the same thing when you started to coach me into it back then, that it was not only going to make me a bit stronger but might improve my dancing as well.” And she decided not to mention the other reason why Bucky had started to train her and introduce her to boxing, he might remember eventually. She tilted her head a bit to the side, pondering if she should also mention that Sam had helped her as well, in the end she decided it was better not to do so. “I am not wholly sure if that helped, I might still stumble.”

There was no point debating their ages because in his mind it didn't matter anyway. They were what physical age that they appeared to be, and he knew from experience and much testing that his cells didn't age as they should anyway. He was too healthy, too in his prime, too good at regenerating, so he didn't age appropriately. He had a date of birth that he knew about, so he supposed that despite everything, he could be into his nineties for accuracy sake. "Fine, I will remain clean-shaven."

He danced with her for the length of the song, which seemed much too short by his measure. He was certain that old songs were longer, but then again, turning and stepping was not a complicated procedure. It wasn't a difficult song to dance to, and even as it came to an end, he was still swaying with her until his head tilted with the start of the next song. It was faster, picking up a beat that was clearly not any real love song.

He drew her tighter against his chest, and then he pulled her into a new dance, one that required a bit more foot work and skill. If he didn't think about it, if he just watching her and felt the slide of her body against his own, he could easily move with it. As soon as he started to think, his steps found a very different rhythm and moved in very different steps. "Keep pace, Rogers. I'm testing your dexterity."

The matter of age was irrelevant for both of them, after all they had been through, it was clear that aging was one of the many things that didn’t happened normally for them, hell, they had even managed to survive things that would have easily killed a normal person, but that was the thing was it? They were not exactly normal anymore, even Schmidt had mention that to her, hadn’t he? But those had been words she had never dwelled much upon. “Hmm, thank you, I really appreciate it.”

She knew this moment wasn’t going to last forever and the best she could do was enjoy it for as long as she could, it was probably going to be awhile before something like this could happen again and they were back to what had been their default interactions and atmosphere since she found him. It was a bit of a shame when the song ended but she will make do with what they have done already, it was better than nothing, when he didn’t immediately let her go and instead drew her tighter, she felt a small brief second of panic.

Which was quickly smothered when he easily transitioned to a new set of steps, to go in pace with the new song she could hear in the distance, and well she was a bit startled and so not prepared for the new change, she had never been a smooth or graceful dancer after all, but she was stubborn and could now learn more easily than before. She felt the slide of his body against her, felt his motions and a quick look downwards to check the footwork, and she found herself following his lead and steps before she looked up at him with a rather pleased smile. “And how is my performance in this test going, Barnes?”

He sensed her surprise when he simply pulled her into the next dance, drawing her with him even if neither of them could actually do it perfectly. Either long out of practice and having never particularly practiced at all, they moved still, bumping knees, brushing feet, and he was pretty sure that was her foot he stepped on once when he tried to avoid a chair. It was almost a moment of care-free attempts at being normal people, though he doubted many people just spontaneously started to dance in the backyard of a house they were borrowing.

Still, when the song ended and no new one took its place, he reluctantly released the hold that he had on Stephanie and stepped away. He reached up instead to smooth at his bangs which had come loose and draped around his face again. "I think we both need practice."

She wasn’t surprised when he wasn’t as graceful, at least dancing wise, as he had been in the past, back then he had been the best dancer and every dame wanted his attention when he dragged her to clubs, where she will just sit and watch before slinking away, much to his annoyance when he got back to their dingy little apartment to find her there. Yes, they were not graceful, at least not as much as when they were in battle, and there was some bumping and he was the one that stepped on her, but it was good and nice, spontaneous and happy enough that she couldn’t the smile on her face, in this moment she could easily make herself believe they were just like they were before and get lost in the moment.

And a moment that eventually came to an end when the song did, for a few seconds she had just looked at him and a small voice in her mind had expecting him to…of course not, when he released her, well, she didn’t complained and maybe even took a step back, trying to keep whatever composure she had left and not think on what could have happened. “Yes, maybe we do.” Once again she could hear laughter in the distance and she couldn’t help the small pang of longing. “I…am going to look for something to ear. Are you hungry?”

She turned around and slowly slid the door open, this was the best way she had to kind of try to put things into normalcy and not let it fall into anything awkward or make her dwell on other thoughts.

He realized belatedly that he had an opportunity to seal her to him with a kiss, and he hadn't taken it. The old him probably would have, would have never missed an opportunity for a kiss from anyone. Kisses were innocent after all, a way to show affection and keep it to himself while never pushing too far. Dames loved to be kissed, and he had always been very good at it. Clearly, he needed practice reading the signs again; too much killing had dulled his fangs in that area. No, not just the killing... it was everything else as well.

He knew better than to try to recover the situation, and he knew that the kitchen was probably a safe place for him. It wasn't particularly safe for her given the pointy objects in there, but it was safe for him. "No, not really hungry, but maybe if they have some milk," he uttered softly. Why had he said that? What was it about milk that made him reflect far too deeply on old jobs that he didn't really remember?

He followed, abandoning the deck and the music and the dance steps they had made there.

She took a deep breath and pushed whatever that moment had been to the back of her mind, locking it away in a certain part and special part of her mind designed for that to never ponder on it again, they really were not in a situation in which she could waste time thinking about that and maybe it was better this way. Feeling somehow back to her usual self, or as usual as it could be considered in this situation, she stepped inside firmly leaving that moment behind and focusing on more pressing matters.

Though she nearly froze again when he mentioned the milk, mostly because she wasn’t sure if there was, but then maybe if Natasha had been here then she could have been magnanimous enough to leave something, oh God, please let it be so. “Hmm, I will check.”

With rather measured steps she moved to the kitchen, still maintaining her calmness despite that the place had more than enough things Bucky could use as a weapon and opened the fridge, they really needed to turn on the lights or something, and was thankful to notice that Natasha had indeed left something (mostly those tv dinners and hot pockets but beggars couldn’t be choosers) with a sigh she took the milk cartoon, checked the date and then placed it on the counter. “Use a glass.”

He followed her into the house, keeping a respectable distance between them as she made her way calmly into the kitchen. He narrowed his eyes at the brief flash of tension across her body at the mention of milk, and he wondered about it. Did she have a think against milk, or did she know the reference better than he did? He wouldn't be put out if there was none, just that he couldn't remember the last time that he had some and thought it worth his while to taste it again.

He stepped into the kitchen and watched her look in the fridge, pausing himself long enough to flick on the lights to illuminate the place. He stepped around the fridge door to peer into the area, not finding anything interesting even as he reached out and took the milk carton. He looked it over, finding it cool in his hands and then eased away from her like ghost to go in search of a glass. "Do you want some?"

He opened a few cupboards until he found the one that held drinking glasses and took one down. He opened the new carton and poured himself milk until it was brimming full, narrowing his eyes at the sheer amount. It was bigger than even the protein-rich shakes he normally drank. Probably too much.

When he moved to close to her, luckily enough, she didn’t reacted like she had done the first time it had happened –which had involved nearly smashing his head with her fist, besides they had breached whatever codes there was about personal space with that little number they had back there with that dancing deal and she just allowed it, it’s not as if he didn’t stayed long enough for his presence to matter that much in her personal space and once he was gone she focused once again on the contents of the fridge.

It’s not as if she was hungry, she had just used it an excuse, but then maybe she was hungry but she wanted something sweet –which was her won’t do when she was stressed, but it didn’t seem as if there was anything and no…wait…yes she was definitely going to kiss Natasha or something the next time she saw her, now she had no doubt Natasha could foresee nearly everything or she already knew how frustrating her situation was going to be, but whatever the case bless her for leaving her a slice, still carefully stashed in the plastic container of whatever bakery Nat had gone, of what she thought was devil’s food cake, yes bless Natasha.

“Ah yes sure.” That was probably going to help with the cake, with her little treasure found and safely in her hand, she finally stopped her search and closed the door only to stop and look at him and the huge glass of milk. “…Are you seriously going to drink all of that?” But then again maybe he was used consuming this much now, she eyed the glass before moving to one of the drawers and search for a fork. “If you are, try to pace yourself when you do.”

He paused in examining his milk to glance over to her rooting in the fridge, watching as she emerged with something that clearly interested her. He quickly went back to his own choice and nodded when she agreed to having some as well. He reached up to get another glass and set it on the counter, using his own to pour off some for her. It wasn't as if he had drank any, and it seemed she disapproved of how much he had given himself. No matter, it wasn't like he drank much of anything but what was handed to him. Even now, he tended to ignore food until he absolutely had to have something.

He put the milk carton back into the fridge before he picked up the two glasses - his still obviously bigger - and turned to regard her. "Your concern is noted, but this isn't even thick enough to be concerned about," he replied. Hydra provided protein rich meals in liquid form after all. He was used to being ordered to drink.

Her search for a fork was done quicker than expected, considering she was more familiar with the place and where everything was, there was a small hum at his comment and turned to look at him. “If you say so, then I guess you will know better, right?” Maybe she should stop worrying so much about little things, she didn’t know if that bothered him and there was the fact he was probably able to handle mostly everything since he will know his limits. “Hmm thank you.”

Rather carefully she took her own glass of milk and moved out of the kitchen, she wasn’t sure if he was going to stay there and follow her but it was clear he could do as he wished at the moment, and moved into the living room, fumbling a bit to turn on the lights, and settled down on the couch. She set her glass on the coffee table, over what looked like an old magazine, and worked on having her pathetic excuse for a dinner and well she really couldn’t help the small sound of pleasure when she had her first bite, God, this was what she had needed right now.

He drank most of his meals, so he didn't find that this one would be much of a problem. He handed her the glass that he had poured for her and watched as she tottered off to another room, clearly leaving him to his own devices. He remained in the kitchen rather than follow her, loitering around near the fridge before he simply seated himself on the floor and leaned against the cupboards. It was quiet here, his glass of milk set on a knee and looking around.

It was strange to like this place over the others. Was it because of the past he couldn't remember? He didn't know, but it was cool and quiet, and he quickly drank his glass of milk and found the whole thing very novel. It tasted like something other than what he would have expected his own vomit to taste like. It wasn't sweet or sour or acidic. It just was something cool and nice, and he almost regretted drinking it quickly. He also noted that it didn't satisfy him as much as the other drinks he was given.

Was this a normal life? Sitting around drinking milk, having no mission and just following around the one person that seemed to tolerate him. He figured it was better than his old life. This one had stuff he could drink when he wanted after all and not just drinking out of public fountains or puddles.

When he didn’t followed she didn’t thought anything of it, they were not going to spend all their time together and they needed the space after all, it was also good for him to get used to being apart from her in case anything happened and not grow to dependant of her presence or whatever she was representing to him right now, he needed to be his own person without having to follow anyone and she was going to call Sam to see how she could accomplish that, she wasn’t knowledgeable enough to do it herself.

There was also the fact she will need to think what to tell to Natasha about not picking the most logical choice by her perception, but she really couldn’t do that to Bucky and the idea of it just made her stomach churn and she suddenly felt sick, sick of the image of leading him to a trap and then watching as he was subdued and put in a cage or whatever Tony had created…just the thought of that made her shudder and whatever hunger she had left her.

She just finished what she had taken, mostly to try to avoid any questions if Bucky decided to ask her if she returned those back kind of untouched, but then when she walked back to the kitchen in a rather somber and quiet mood it was probably going to draw his attention, hence the reason she moved quickly there, washing the glass and the fork she had used, then throwing away the package the cake came in and moving back out. “I’m going to try to sleep, we will talk about what we will do tomorrow.”

He would follow her regardless of what she thought of his previous declaration in the Smithsonian. Right now, his entire world was made up of her, and while it might fade in time as he got used to the whole thing, he would follow her, even if it was right into a trap. He would walk wearily into it, but at her word, he would step inside and no doubt let the cage door slam shut behind him. How long he stayed there was another matter entirely. Almost anything was a weapon in his hands, locks, computer or otherwise were not an issue for him. Eventually, he would escape.

Yet, this life sitting on the kitchen floor, his legs spread out before him, looking at his own toes was a strange one. He turned his head slightly at the sound of her footsteps coming back to the kitchen, though he made no move to get up to greet her. He remained on the floor and watched her, easily noting her mood and the hurried pace she went from the kitchen door to the sink.

"Is something the matter?" He shrugged at the idea that she needed sleep, and he wasn't about to go off and find some himself right now. He was wide awake, and he thought guarding over her was more important. "Sleep well then."

She stopped when she heard his question and briefly turned to look at him. “No, just…tired I guess, it was quite an active day.” And it wasn’t exactly a lie was it, this day had been long and with so many turns that had now effectively changed her life for the foreseeable future. “Yes thank you, try to get some sleep as well; if something happens or you need anything, you know where I am.”

Not that she thought he was going to bother her unless it was truly important or they were in danger, which she might be able to sense, as it was it would have been wiser to stay close in case they needed to bolt and escape as soon as possible, but she concluded they were safe enough as it was and she could dare doing this for the moment. They will need to have a long talk about their plans and they both needed to have a clear head for it, which being away from each other might help a bit.

She let herself fall into the bed and just laid there, not feeling exactly sleepy, she felt tired but not the kind of tired that needed sleep to get rid of it, she turned to lie on her side and stared at the wall, taking deep breaths and calming herself, sometime between the breathing and thinking some of the stories her mother used to tell her when she was younger and sick, she fell into a light sleep.

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