𝗗𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘

The Pressure and the Panic

She snaps her gum slowly. "How many beds?"

"Two."

"That'll be twenty-five dollars up front, then, and you gotta pay for each night separately after that."

"Great." James presses a handful of money onto the counter, thankful that Isabell didn't spend anything earlier, and the lady behind the desk blinks at him momentarily. Her eyes flick up and down his body, raising an eyebrow at the little girl draped around his torso.

"Cute kid."

"Thanks." James forces a smile, aiming for some form of charm. "She turns eight next month."

Isabell doesn't turn eight until December, actually, but it's good to feed people fake information, no matter how small. It'll throw the government off their trail.

So, the receptionist smiles and he collects their keys from her, heading towards the stairs. Isabell winds her arms around his neck so tight that he struggles not to choke.

"Jamie," She whispers, "Where are we?"

"Ssh, now. Don't worry yourself. Go back to sleep, doll, and I'll tuck you up somewhere in a minute."

"Tell me." Isabell whines. She nuzzles her head under James' chin. "JJ!"

She's waking up fully now, still groggy and therefore incredibly clingy. She only calls him JJ when she's particularly desperate for affection, and right now, she's clearly terrified. James jogs her a little on his hip.

"Just a motel, Iz, just a motel." He crouches slightly to unlock the door to their room, opening it with his elbow and flicking the lights much the same. The place isn't much, granted, but it's enough for them to feel comfortable, and James bends so Isabell can lower herself onto the nearest bed.

She doesn't let go. If anything, she holds on tighter, crossing her ankles behind his back and shaking her head resolutely.

"Wanna stay, stay with you."

"You're tired, Iz," Bucky tries to keep the exasperation from his voice, "You get comfy and once I've showered, I'll come back in again. I'm never going to be more than a few feet away."

"No."

Her nails sink into the tight flesh of his back, pressing half-moon scars of defiance against his skin.

James has never spent this much time with her before, at least not in his full, right mind. Isabell is intense, too intense for how stressed he feels, but there is no other option than to deal with her and he would never really wish it any other way.

He takes a few moments to remind himself of what he always does. That she is scared, she is vulnerable, and she is traumatised. She is just a little girl.

No matter how frustrating she may be, it isn't her fault. James has earned her trust, earned her love and now he must fight against his emotions to keep it. She deserves someone that she doesn't have to be afraid of.

So, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, letting Isabell curl up in his lap. "There you go, doll, 's OK. Take a deep breath for me, Iza."

"Jamie–"

"No, you're going to listen to me for a moment, OK? And keep going with the deep breaths." James ignores the irritated little huff she makes, "I've gotta shower, that's a fact, and you need to sleep. However, you're being difficult and you know damn well I'm not going to fight with you. So, let's settle this."

James stands up again, Isabell locking back around him automatically, and he grabs a chair from the corner of the room, taking it into the rickety en-suite and then setting it down firmly on the floor. The little girl in his arms looks bewildered. He raises an eyebrow at her.