𝗗𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘

The Pressure and the Panic

A/N: Is this sort of a filler chapter? Yes. Can I resist writing tooth-rotting fluff for these two? NO!

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Isabell sleeps for the next few hours after that. She's exhausted out of her mind, and now that her foot is a little less sore, she's able to slip fully into the deep, inky sea of sleep.

James tries to watch the road. Mostly, though, he watches her.

Soft, velvety skin, warm and pale as she curls up as close to him as she can get. She's like a little cat, he thinks, and he reaches down to stroke her hair.

Isabell stirs a little, pressing her nose into James' chest.

She's so delicate it scares him, sometimes. How would he live with himself if he did something to her, someday? If he hurt her by accident or lost his temper, if he let someone rip her away from him again. If he slipped back into The Winter Soldier and simply killed her without thinking about it.

The thought is too much to bear.

James quickly pulls his hand away, ignoring the whimper it draws from her. He loves her. He loves her so much that it hurts him.

Isabell's eyebrows draw together. Instinctively, one small, shaky hand reaches for the hem of James' army vest, clenching into a fist around it. When he tries to detangle her, she only holds on tighter.

Bound. They are bound by their fear, bound by their hatred and their love. Bound by the bodies stacked to their name.

James drives on through the quiet.

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The nearest, most desolate motel James can find is about three hours away, stretching the fuel in their tank thin. He pretends that it doesn't worry him.

Small steps. They can draw themselves together when they have a place to sleep, regain their strength and then think of the next way forward. He has a rough outline in his head.

They need to go somewhere heavily secluded, where they can rewrite their identities and he can teach Isabell stability, that she deserves to be loved and that life is not just pain. Somewhere where they can be as close to safe as they'll ever get.

No more Captain America, no more HYDRA and no more killing.

It's just getting there that proves to be the issue.

James swallows back these thoughts as he pulls into the parking lot of the motel, closing the map beside him and finally turning off the ignition. This is as far as this car will take them.

He considers waking Isabell. However, she's tired and grouchy and she'll ask too many questions once she's awake, so he scoops her up instead and smiles as she automatically wraps herself around him.

James changed clothes after they cleaned her foot out, so once he's grabbed the backpack of stolen goods, they look almost like a normal family.

Daughter. He likes the sound of that.

Isabell is easy to carry, all fluffy and hot from sleep, and he is careful with her as he eases the door to the motel office open, shifting her onto his hip.

The woman at the desk barely looks up. James swallows.

"'Scuse me?"

"Eh?"

"D'you have any rooms?" He pauses a moment to comfort Isabell, who is squirming slightly in his arms. He kisses the top of her head, waiting for a response from the receptionist.