Till the End of the Line

In the wonderful British tradition of emotionally repressed social conduct, Sarah was very involved with her family, but they didn't necessarily have a close bond. When she still lived in England, Sarah's mother would phone her weekly, but they never exchanged anything other than superficial chit-chat. Together with her brother, Aidan, she visited her parents once or twice a month. Now she only spoke to her mother every other week on Skype. Her brother had come to stay with her for a few weeks during the summer, but aside from that and her recent trip over for her grandmother's funeral she hadn't seen her family since moving to the States.
Sarah preferred England over America for many reasons, but she was very happy with her new life. She had already made some good friends, most in D.C. of course, and she earned enough to live quite comfortably. Slowly but surely she was starting to become accustomed to the influence of her new friends and the distance between herself and her relatives. She missed her brother most, but being away from her family and their cold British manners had definitely made her open up to her own feelings, enabling her to actually discuss her emotions rather than push them away.

Sarah tried to remain calm when she passed through the hallway, towards the front door. This sudden intrusion of the outside world made her realise that, whatever her personal views of Bucky were now, he was still a fugitive. Sarah let out a trembling sigh to steady herself before looking through the peephole, and let out another sigh of relief when she saw it was just her friend Olivia.
"Liv! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed when she opened the door. Olivia stepped over the threshold, kissing Sarah on both cheeks and dumping her wet umbrella in the corner of the hallway.
"I thought I'd check up on you! You said you'd be back on Saturday.." Olivia started taking her coat off and walked towards the door to the kitchen. Flustered, Sarah followed her without saying anything.
"So, how are you? How was the funeral?"
"Eh…" Sarah didn't know what to do or say. Olivia would often turn up for a cup of tea and a chat, and although Sarah always enjoyed these visits, they were prone to extend well into the night (especially if they decided to have a real drink after the tea). She couldn't let Olivia stay, but she was too bewildered to come up with an excuse to send her away.
Joining Olivia by the kitchen table, Sarah watched her friend shaking her wet, blonde curls out of her face before she fixed her gaze on Sarah again.
"Hey, are you okay? You look… weird."
"What? Oh, no. I'm fine," Sarah replied shiftily.
Olivia rested her hands on her hips, scrutinising Sarah with a frown.
"No, you're not. What's wrong?"
Sarah blinked, "Nothing." Suddenly Olivia let out a little gasp.
"Oh sh-, I'm so sorry… I wasn't sure if you maybe needed some more time alone. I mean, you've only just come back and your grandma died and all…"
"It's not that, I-…" but Sarah stopped herself when she realised how incredibly dim she was being: those were all perfectly good reasons for sending Olivia away. But the damage was already done.
"So, what gives?"
Sarah couldn't help it, her eyes quickly swerved to the stairs. Olivia noticed and glared at her suspiciously.
"I know that look…" she muttered, pointing a finger at her, "you've got a guy upstairs, don't you?"
Sarah stared at her, aghast.
"What? No!"
"You're a terrible liar, Falsworth."
Sarah scowled at the almost indecent look of excitement on her friend's face.
"Alright, fine. Yes: there is a guy upstairs."
Olivia gave a little squeal: "Good for you! It's been a while."
Sarah raised an eyebrow.
"What? It has been a while," Olivia said, grinning and Sarah pursed her lips.
"Okay, I'll leave you two alone," Olivia said, still grinning. She made her way back to the front door, Sarah following her meekly. "But call me tomorrow, alright? You've got to tell me everything."

When Olivia was gone Sarah quickly ran upstairs to her bedroom, where she found Bucky staring thoughtfully out of the window. At the sound of her entering he spun around to face her.
"It was only a friend, but she's gone now," she told him. Thunder stormed over the house again as they looked at each other. Some of the concern seemed to melt off his face. He cast one more glance out of the window before following her downstairs.
While Sarah went to check the oven Bucky lingered in the living room. On the dresser next to the couch stood a collection of picture frames, some of them of Sarah and her friends, most of them of her family. Bucky picked up one of the photographs of Sarah and her family, her parents, her brother and her grandparents. Even in old age Bucky was able to recognise James Montgomery Falsworth. A small smile crept over his face at seeing his old friend happily surrounded by his loved ones. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Sarah in the kitchen, then turned his gaze back on her smiling face in the picture. "I think it's done," she called out to him. He placed the frame back on the dresser and joined her in the kitchen.
They tried the apple crumble, although Bucky insisted on eating it in front of the television so he could watch the news again.
Outside, the thunderstorm was growing ever stronger and they had to turn up the volume to hear the newsreader. Sarah placed the dishes in the sink when they finished eating. She had no interest in the news. Instead of returning to the couch she took her laptop from the study and sat down at the kitchen table to check her inbox. She had one email from the Old Stone House, confirming the payment of her fee, and one from the DAR museum saying the quilts they needed her to repair were ready to be picked up at her convenience.
Sarah spent a while on her laptop, returning emails and answering messages from her English friends. At dinner Bucky asked her about her family. She told him about her parents, her mother Charlotte and her father David. But Bucky seemed most interested in hearing about Aidan, as he had served in the air force for a few years and this was something he understood.
After dinner Bucky did the dishes, despite Sarah's protests that he didn't have to, and when he was done he asked if he could watch the news again.
"Why do you need to check the news so often?" Sarah asked while he made his way over to the couch. He looked surprised, the remote already in his hand.
"I, eh… I just want to stay up to date," he replied evasively. Sarah frowned, she could tell that he wasn't being honest with her, but she would ask him when he was able to pay attention. Once more he was sitting on the edge of his seat, staring tensely at the screen. He hardly noticed Sarah sinking into the pillows beside him a few minutes later. The newsreader was talking about the arrival of a delegation of Ukrainian congressmen. Sarah's mind drifted off, watching the news often did that to her.

It was strange, but although she knew a lot about him, she had only actually known Bucky for a day. Spending the day together had felt oddly natural, though, and it seemed as if she had known him for a long time. She wondered what it was going to be like when he left. And this raised another question: they had never fully discussed the particulars of their arrangement. Sarah had no idea to what extent she was supposed to 'help' him. What did he expect from her? What were his plans after he had regained his memory?
Bucky switched the TV off, finally casting a glance around him and looking mildly surprised to see Sarah sitting next to him. Still deep in thought, she must have looked troubled because he shifted in his seat to get a better look at her.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She blinked back at him, not sure where to start.
"Why do you really watch the news?"
He stared at her, then seemed to deliberate.
"I'm trying to stay on my guard. You already pointed out that there would be trouble for the both of us if anyone found out where I am." He paused for a moment and focused his blue eyes on hers. "I don't want to get you into trouble, though. I'll leave here as soon as I've looked at the rest of the things you gathered for me. That shouldn't take long. I'll be gone before you know it."
Sarah swallowed, for some reason she felt a knot in her stomach.
"What's your plan? I mean, what are you going to do when you leave here?"
He ran his fingers through his hair, "Well, there's a few things I need to take care of, but after that… I don't know."
"What kind of things?"
He shook his head. She frowned at him.
"What things?" she repeated a little more urgently. He kept shaking his head.
Frustrated, she folded her arms over her chest and turned away from him, facing the blank television screen instead.
"Anything interesting?" she asked coldly, motioning her head to the TV.
"Sarah, I'm sorry…" he began, but she shot him a look that shut him up immediately. He bit his lip, looking more troubled and guilty than ever. "Possibly," he murmured, not looking at her. She gaped at him, her heart beating a little faster.
"What do you mean 'possibly'? Are you in danger?" He shot a nervous glance up at her.
"You don't have to worry about it, I'll be gone tonight, I promise."
"Like hell you are!" Sarah exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and glaring down at him. She had no idea where this sudden outburst came from. "Are you in danger?" she demanded again, stressing each word. He stared up at her.
Then after a moment he nodded slowly.
Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything he stood up as well, towering over her.
"I am, but you needn't be. I don't think anyone knows where I am yet."
Sarah cowered a little, he was very close and rather intimidating.
"Who's after you?" she couldn't manage anything louder than a whisper.
"Quite a few people, actually," he replied.
"Well, if you're sure they haven't figured out your location yet, I'm not going to make it easier for them to find you."
He frowned at her, confused.
"You're not going anywhere," she said, sounding a little more confident than she felt.
"If I stay you will definitely be in danger," he pleaded.
"So?" she said defiantly, her eyes flashing, "You told me you'd protect me if I got into trouble."
He made a small movement as if he was about to lean forward, but seemed to change his mind.
"I did promise that, and I will keep that promise. But-,"
"Then it's settled," Sarah said, cutting him off, "you're staying here."
She looked at him, determination branded on her features. She could see he wanted to keep protesting, but apparently he understood that she wasn't going to let him. He pressed his lips together with a frown, but nodded eventually.
"Right," she said, her tone still a little argumentative, "So… Yeah."
She hadn't noticed her hands had balled up into fists while they were talking. She shifted her weight awkwardly.
"I'm going to put the kettle on."