Till the End of the Line

Sarah detested lying. She hated the fact that it was an implicitly approved feature of human interaction. She hated being lied to and she hated lying to other people. It was undoubtedly because of this deep-rooted aversion to lying that she was so incredibly bad at doing it. It made her uneasy: she felt weighed down as if the lie was literally pressing on her whenever she did it. Of course, little things didn't bother her that much, but lying about what was really going on in her life was almost becoming a physical burden. So far she seemed to have done well though, because Olivia was an expert in catching her out if she was lying. No one, except for Bucky and herself, knew what Sarah was going through. And Sarah doubted whether even Bucky knew what she was feeling half of the time. Even though they spent every day in each other's company, Sarah hadn't spoken much to him after their first day at Olivia's. She felt as if a gloomy cloud was hanging over her, which became gloomier and heavier every time she lay eyes on him.

It was morning, the fourth morning since Sarah and Bucky had fled from the apartment. Sarah woke up to find the sofa next to the bed empty. Bucky had been sleeping there every night, and he was up before Sarah every morning, as usual. Sarah looked at the empty spot on the sofa for a while, envisioning Bucky's sleeping silhouette on it. Immediately, she felt the heavy cloud again, drooping over her and darkening her view of the world. It was Monday, and Olivia had to be at work all day again. During the days before, Sarah had managed to avoid Bucky without seeming to obvious about it, as Olivia would do enough talking for the three of them. Now, she was left alone with him once more and she wasn't sure how to handle it.
When she had hopped her way to the living room, she saw Bucky sitting at the dining table on the other side of the room with her laptop. He looked up when she came in, and she paused for a moment.
"Hi," she muttered, gingerly swaying on one foot, clutching a bowl of cereal in her hands.
"Hey," he replied, a small frown on his forehead. Without another word, Sarah hopped to the couch, put the bowl on the coffee table before sitting down, and just as she reached out to pick it up again something large and furry jumped into her lap.
"Sergeant Tibbs!" she exclaimed, a smile working its way onto her face for the first time in days, and the tabby cat purred as she scratched him under his chin.
"What?" she heard Bucky ask from across the room.
"Oh, nothing it's just Liv's cat," Sarah explained, taking the bowl from the table while Sergeant Tibbs started making himself comfortable in her lap.
"Olivia has a cat?" Bucky asked, mildly surprised.
"Yeah, he's very adventurous: sometimes he doesn't come home for days… I was wondering when he'd show up."
Sergeant Tibbs purred loudly again as he settled down, curling up in a ball.
"Could I have my laptop when you're done?" she called out to Bucky, popping her head over the back of the couch, "I'd like to check my emails."
"Of course," he replied, closing it almost immediately and bringing it to her.
While he held it out to her, Sarah was hastily getting rid of the bowl so she could take the laptop from him, she hadn't expected to get it back this fast. He waited patiently until he could hand it over, his eyes fixed on hers and an inscrutable expression on his face. With her free hand, Sarah lifted Sergeant Tibbs off her lap and put the laptop in his place. Bucky sat down by her feet, looking down at the cat who now came towards him with a curious glance in its green eyes. From the corner of her eye, Sarah watched how Tibbs slowly made his way over to Bucky, sniffing his sleeves, taking a little longer at his left arm. It could probably sense the metal hidden underneath the fabric. The cat looked up at Bucky, who still frowned down at it, then it started purring and jumped into his lap. Sarah bit her lip to keep herself from laughing at the look of utter bewilderment on Bucky's face. She saw him stare at the creature in his lap for a moment, then, pet it awkwardly with his right hand. Smirking slightly, Sarah turned her gaze back to the laptop screen. She'd been hoping to hear from Aidan, but he hadn't replied to her last message yet. Sighing in disappointment, Sarah closed the laptop again and pushed it away from her, running a hand frustratedly through her hair.
"Something wrong?" Bucky asked quietly, still warily petting a loudly purring Sergeant Tibbs.
Sarah shook her head, and pushed the laptop a little further down her outstretched legs towards Bucky.
"You can take it again, if you want." He took it from her and placed it next to him, but didn't make an attempt to get up. "
How's your ankle?" he muttered after a small pause. Sarah shrugged.

It was strange, but the serenity of the situation and Bucky's quiet attentiveness seemed to have an adverse effect on her already overstrung mental state. Rather than feeling a little more at ease, she felt tense and her mind was suddenly swimming with a score of thoughts and feelings that had been simmering below the surface for a while now; the cloud was tightening around her like a bubble with very limited air supply. She was frustrated. It had been four days since she'd been attacked in her own home, bruised her ankle, lost everything she ever owned, and Bucky was acting as if nothing had happened. He still behaved secretive and aloof, just as he'd done before the attack. Sarah felt she was entitled to more than the explanation he'd given her about the assault, she wanted to know everything, she wanted him to give something back now that everything had been taken away from her. She wanted to argue, to shout at him; to storm and rant and cry. But somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it would be of little use. He had barely flinched when he killed those men, she doubted if he would even so much as blink if she started working herself into a rage. He was like a locked vault. And seeing as she was now dependent on him, she decided to keep her mouth shut unless it was absolutely necessary to speak to him, until she knew how to articulate her thoughts in such a way that would make it impossible for him to give her anything other than a satisfying response.
Bucky frowned and, biting his lip, glanced down at Tibbs for a moment.
"Do you want some tea?" he asked quietly.
"No, thank you."
Hesitating for a moment, he said: "You know, I had a look at Olivia's movie collection, and I found out she has Hitchcock's Psycho. That was the next one on the list, wasn't it?"
Sarah nodded.
"Well, I thought maybe we could watch it now," he uttered hopefully, then added hurriedly: "I mean… It's not like we have anything else to do, right?"
Sarah didn't feel like seeing a movie, but she agreed to it anyway. At least she'd have an excuse for not talking in the next hour and a half.

As compensation for letting her and James stay with her, and because Olivia was not an avid cook and she wanted to prevent another delivery-service-disaster, Sarah had offered to cook dinner every night. It was almost six-thirty when Olivia came back from work. Sarah and Bucky were laying the table when she stormed into the living room with an ecstatic grin on her face, shrieking: "THEY HIRED ME!"
Sarah let out a surprised: "Seriously?" just as Olivia had run over to her to pull her into a bone-crushing hug, almost lifting Sarah off the floor in enthusiasm.
"Yes, yes! I got the job!" Olivia cried delightedly.
"Ah, well done, you!" Sarah said, both smiling and wincing as Olivia's grip was starting to become painful.
Olivia let go of her and, almost jumping up and down on the spot with joy, she turned to Bucky who looked puzzled at all the sudden excitement.
"I'm no longer an intern! Well, officially I still am until the end of next week, but the Smithsonian decided to hire me as a permanent employee!"
"Oh, really? Congratulations!" he said, still a little flustered.
"Thank you, thank you!" Olivia said, clapping her hands, still positively bouncing, "Tonight we're going to celebrate!" she said, walking over to the bags she had dumped on the floor when she came in. She pulled out a bottle of champagne. Sarah laughed, "Whoa there, Liv! Should you be drinking if you have work tomorrow?"
"I only work half the day tomorrow, I won't have to be in till four!" Olivia answered, beaming.

Sarah felt strange, at first, as she had been in such a vile mood earlier and was now suddenly forced to be excited. Only after her third glass of champagne and being exposed to Olivia's unrelenting happiness for what seemed like a couple of hours, did she start to relax. Soon enough she joined Olivia in chatting, laughing and cracking jokes. James meanwhile seemed almost unaffected by the alcohol. He chimed in on the conversation every now and then, but he mainly observed the two girls prattling on with a bemused expression playing on his face. Not until after the fourth round of champagne, however, did he finally get up and start clearing the table.
"You're such a sweetheart, James," Olivia said, beaming, while he was piling the empty plates, "I don't think I know any other guy who does the dishes without an express request."
One corner of James' mouth curled up slightly, "I take it you don't know many guys who have been in the army, then?"
Olivia gave a small titter, "No, no I don't. You should introduce me to a few." Sarah snorted, so did James, quietly, before he left the room.
As soon as he was gone, Olivia leaned over the table and said in a hushed voice, "You are so lucky, Sarah, this guy is a gem." Sarah smiled, more at how tipsy her friend was than at what she was saying. "So are you, of course," Liv continued, "but I mean… He's polite, strong, he cleans, and he's got that whole… tall, dark and handsome thing going on," she gave another titter, "I'm not going to lie: if he has a brother, I totally need to meet him."
Sarah snorted again, "And if he's not to your liking, you can keep his army buddies as back-up?"
Olivia gave a shriek of laughter, "Oh god, I'm pathetic, aren't I?" she said, shaking with giggles.
"I believe the scientific term for your condition is called: drunk and single," Sarah said in what she thought sounded like a posh, serious, scholarly tone of voice. They looked at each other, both of them trying to keep a straight face, but then they lapsed into giggles again.

A little while later James returned from the kitchen, yawning, and Sarah decided this was a good moment to call it a night.
"Liv, I'm really glad you got the job," Sarah said as she got up, slightly wobbly after the last helpings of champagne, "You deserve it," she reached over and pulled Olivia into a one-armed hug.
"Thank you, sleep tight," Liv replied, sounding drowsy.
"You too," Sarah held on to the chair to keep her balance as she tried to figure out how best to get to the stairs. As if he had read her mind, Bucky quickly marched over to her, put her arm over his shoulder and lifted her up, carrying her into the hallway.
"Goodnight James," they heard Olivia call after them.
"Night!" he called back as they ascended the stairs.

Sarah could feel the drunken happiness slowly ebbing away. Instead, the dismal, grey cloud was gathering over her again while they made their way up to the room in silence. When he had put Sarah on the bed, Bucky sat down on the sofa and started unwinding the bandages covering his metal arm. Sarah looked at him, eyes narrowed. She could feel the cloud pressing on her and the alcohol stirring her emotions into a frenzy. Bucky was rolling up the gauze absent-mindedly, his eyes darting from his hands to where Sarah sat on the bed. She could tell he was feeling apprehensive, but this didn't reduce her urge to have it out with him. She could feel her heart beating a little faster while she waited for him to say something.
"Sarah…" he began quietly, his eyes on her knees rather than actually looking at her, "I know this hasn't been easy for you…" she snorted derisively. He looked up at her, confused.
"Don't start acting all sympathetic," she said waspishly, "don't act like you know what I'm feeling."
A little taken aback, he stammered: "I'm not.. saying that I know what you're feeling…"
"Because you don't!" Sarah said, her voice rising in anger, "You have no idea, you don't even…" she mouthed soundlessly, unable to find the right words. She could feel the anger bubbling inside her like poison. Her palms were balled into fists in her lap.
"You don't know what I feel. You wouldn't even understand if you did! You act like you're sensitive and understanding, but that's all it is: and act! I saw you, I saw how you killed those men, you killed them, and there wasn't even a shred of emotion on your face, not even afterwards when we got here. You're… you're like a machine pretending to be human: you don't have feelings at all!"
Bucky stared at her, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open.
"And don't pretend like you care, because you don't!" Sarah continued, her voice shaking, "If there's something I learned about you it's that you only care about yourself. I've lost everything because I helped you and cared for you, but you still don't even bother to tell me what the fuck has been going on! You never tell me the truth about anything, never the whole story…" she blinked back hot tears that stung her eyes.
"And you know something else? I bet I know why you won't tell me about what happened to you after you fell; about "who you are now". I bet it's because there's nothing good or decent to tell because you're nothing but a cold-blooded killer!" Trembling, she gasped for air, as she had been speaking so furiously fast that she'd hardly taken a breath during her rant. This was why she should've waited until she had figured out what she should say and how she should say it, because this had just been an alcohol-fuelled outburst of pent-up anger and resentment. And even though she was still irate and fired up, she was already half-regretting some of the things she said. She remained silent, however, her eyes on Bucky.
Bucky was still gaping at her, with the same expression of stunned disbelief on his face that he had been wearing during most of Sarah's tirade. For a moment they just sat there, staring at each other, until he finally closed his mouth, shaking his head a little as if waking from a trance. He let out a long sigh, passed a hand over his face, then gripped the edge of the sofa with both hands, shifting a few inches forward in his seat.

"You're right, I would never have figured out that you were feeling that…" he muttered, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. He sighed again, relinquishing his grip on the sofa and running both hands over his face now, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. With his face still hidden in his hands, he continued: "I wish I could tell you that everything you just said isn't true, but you're pretty spot on about me. Or at least, most of what you said is right, but there are a few things I might be able to rebut... I told you a while back that I wasn't ready to tell you everything yet. I'm still not ready, but then again I probably never will be... So I might as well tell you everything, or as you put it: the whole story..."