Till the End of the Line

Sarah bolted up, the duvet sliding off of her as she stared around the room. She'd had a nightmare, about what she couldn't remember but it had woken her up with a start.
A muffled sound came from overhead and Sarah looked at the empty spot beside her in bed. She figured that James must be up already and finally fixing the roof, like he'd said he would. Rubbing her face as she eased back into the pillows, Sarah's thoughts turned to the night before and what had happened after she and James watched One Hundred and One Dalmatians. A small shiver of excitement ran down her spine when she recalled the feeling of the way he had held her in his arms, the way he had ran his fingers through her hair, the way he had kissed her…
For Sarah, it had been a very welcome surprise; something she'd been secretly hoping for for some time. But James had pulled away, hadn't spoken a word to her afterwards either.
She sighed and listened to the footsteps on the roof for a moment. Why had he stopped? Come to think of it, why had he started in the first place?

Sarah had realised a long time ago that, superficially, there wasn't really anything wrong with her. She knew that her looks were decent, had enough self-awareness to know she didn't have any majorly off-putting personality traits, and she'd received enough confirmation in the past to consider herself reasonably skilled between the sheets. But somehow she just never managed to keep a guy interested for very long. It seemed as though most of the men she'd been with always regarded her as someone to have fun with in the short term, but never as actual relationship material.
She wondered if James had kissed her out of a sort of reflex, figuring that he probably hadn't been physically intimate with anyone for a long time, and since she was the only person around… This thought made sense to her, especially considering the fact that this wasn't the first time he had acted without really knowing what he was doing. She remembered his violent reaction after the second time he had studied her collection of photographs and newspaper cuttings of the Howling Commandos, and their last night at Liv's place, when he had nearly choked her after she had woken him from another nightmare. And then there was also that time when he had put his arm around her in his sleep, which Sarah had interpreted --at the time-- as a sign that his feelings for her might have been developing into something less platonic. But now it dawned on her that those moments of tenderness hadn't been about his affection for her, but his loneliness, both emotional and physical. She understood that James had acted impulsively, instinctively, maybe even regretted what he'd done, perhaps not even remembering he'd done it at all.
This didn't make Sarah feel any better, especially now that she had finally admitted to herself that she wanted to be with James, for the rest of her life, however long that'd last. But everything seemed to point to the fact that he didn't feel the same way about her, and she would just have to accept that.

When Sarah had just begun to set the table for dinner, wondering whether she should go out to call James, as he was still on the roof, she heard a noise in the pantry and a few seconds later the door opened and he appeared. He looked tired and dirty, and didn't seem to notice Sarah as he moved over to the sink to wash his hands.
"How's the roof?" Sarah asked. James turned around, drying his hands on a tea towel.
"Better, now."
Sarah nodded, fidgeting with the fork she was holding. The moment he had entered the room she was once again overcome with those familiar nervous flutters in her stomach. "I made pasta," she said awkwardly, gesturing at the table.
James' behaviour confirmed Sarah's theory that he had no idea what had happened, and she decided to play along and pretend she wasn't inwardly battling all sorts of thoughts and emotions concerning him.

One week passed, during which they had taken up their usual practice sessions on the stack of logs. The temperature had dropped considerably and the days were becoming shorter now that November was coming closer.
Sarah's aim had improved drastically: she was still nowhere near hitting the centre of the top log, but she now only missed the stack occasionally. She attributed her progress to the fact that she was exercising all her effort to keep her mind free of anything related to her feelings for James. Even though she still didn't like guns, or shooting them, she kept herself busy by learning as much as she could about both just so her thoughts wouldn't stray off. She even spent the evenings taking apart the gun she practiced with, examine it, and reassemble it (with a little help from James) on the kitchen table until it was time to go to bed.

On Saturday morning, Sarah woke up much earlier than she usually did. She'd had another bad dream, which she, yet again, was unable to remember from the moment her eyes opened. Still feeling rather groggy, she sauntered to the kitchen for some breakfast. James usually went outside in the morning, either to work out, or fix some part of the house or the truck, and it was therefore a surprise to Sarah when she found him sitting at the kitchen table, reading something on the laptop.
"You're up early," he said, closing the laptop and rising from his seat.
"Am I?" Sarah retorted, yawning as she sank into the chair opposite the one he had just vacated.
"Want some coffee?" he asked while walking to the kitchen counter.
"Oh yes, please…" Sarah answered in a grateful groan. She leaned her elbows on the table and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles before casting a glance at the window that overlooked the lake. The sky outside was grey, the glass wet with rain.
"Are we going to practice in the rain?" she asked, not very enthusiastic at the prospect of being wet as well as cold.
"We're not practicing today," he said as he placed a cup of coffee in front of Sarah before sitting down opposite her and adding: "or, I should say: I won't be helping you practice today."
She raised a questioning eyebrow while she took a sip. He looked at her for a moment, clearly deliberating something. "We're running low on ammo," he began slowly, "and there's a place, about a day's drive from here, where I can… restock."
A great number of questions immediately sprang into Sarah's mind: where exactly was this place? who owned it? how did he find out about it? would it be dangerous? But the only question she voiced was: "So, when do we leave?"
James had just raised his cup to his lips to take a sip but paused mid-way, frowning. "'We'?" he repeated. "You're not coming, Sarah."
"What?"
"I'm going on my own, you're staying here."
"Why?" she asked, trying not to sound too indignant. He sighed, shaking his head a little.
"It's risky."
"But couldn't I-,"
"No." James put his mug down a little more forcefully than necessary, and from his tone and the look on his face Sarah understood that she shouldn't try to argue. He didn't look at her as he rose to bring his mug to the kitchen, and when he came back and hoisted up his duffel-bag from a chair Sarah asked: "You're going now?"
He gave a curt nod as he swung the bag over his shoulder. Sarah got to her feet too.
"Where exactly is this place?' she asked, trying not to stumble over her words, "I mean, what if something happened, I wouldn't know where to find you…"
James sighed and pulled his hood up.
"It's better if you don't know."
She nodded, not because she agreed but because she understood that she wouldn't be able to lead any Hydra followers to him, should they come looking for him in the cabin.
"When will you be back?" she asked quietly, the thought of either one of them being found by Hydra had set her nerves on edge and she didn't want to sound anxious or scared.
"A couple of days."
"That's not very definite…'
"It's not something I can be very definite about," he shot a glance at her, then added: "but I don't think I'll be longer than three days. There's enough ammo for you to practice with or…" he paused, "Well, it's here if you need it."
"Just in case, right?" Sarah said, with a brave attempt at a smile. He nodded, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
"Be safe," he said, and for a fleeting second it seemed as if he was about to move closer to her, perhaps to give her a parting hug. Sarah had been on the brink of doing exactly that but stopped herself almost instantly, and so had he, if that was what he'd been about to do.
"You too," Sarah muttered, breaking the momentary silence. His eyes lingered on hers for a little longer before he turned and started towards the door.