IC Inbox

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This is the IC inbox for Bucky Barnes at Riverview.

Network name: user.name

This is the place to contact Bucky over the network. Contact by voice or text is perfectly acceptable, and there is no need to plot with me prior to posting in this inbox.

Note: As of the end of December 2017, Bucky has no phone, he has destroyed it. Consequently, this inbox can only be used for in person interaction. You are still more than welcome to post here without plotting with me first.

Comments

[ex_this_ismydesign36]

[ Will hadn't been sure what to expect. Anything from James walking away and leaving him to get home on his own, to ... quite literally getting tossed off the damn roof.

He hadn't entirely anticipated a question. As such, Will kept his response on point; giving James the opportunity to talk. ]

Yes. They are a part of my Earth's history.

[advanced]

[He nods, that makes it a bit easier. It means he doesn't have to explain who they were, at least, or what the war was.]

I was born in 1917, I fought in that war. Drafted, not volunteered, I was never an adrenaline junkie. I was a prisoner of war, twice, the second time I didn't get rescued. Experiments by the deep science division, HYDRA, brainwashing. I forgot my own name, I forgot everything. I wasn't human, I was their asset, their Soldier. I was kept in storage, cryogenic freeze, and brought out when they needed me. I killed on their command for seventy years.

If I think that I'm a weapon, it's because I am.

[He shrugs slightly, voice still carefully void of any emotion.]

I might not be the Soldier any more, but I still don't have back what I lost. I don't remember most of my life, but I remember every single person I killed.

[ex_this_ismydesign36]

[ He listened quietly, the way James speed skipped over some points; Will had a similar habit and so he recognized it.

The last comment, he looked up and his expression was carefully neutral. ]

Of course you do. [ He said softly, without judgement but also without pity. ] That's how the human brain works, James. Your parents may tell you a dozen times not to touch the hot stove but you won't remember a single instances of being kindly told; you remember how it felt when you touched it.

It's the way the brain works. Again, its survival, remembering the horror in an effort to avoid it the next time. But you weren't given that choice. You kept being thrown into the horror, again and again and again, until it's all you know.

But it doesn't have to continue to be that way. [ He said softly. ] You look in the mirror and you see the weapon, understandable. But tell me James who do you see when you look in the eyes of your friends?

[ He held up a hand quickly. ]

It's not a question to be answered right now. But the next time ... try to look at who they see.

[advanced]

[He doesn't understand.

It's to be expected, he's probably from a world where brainwashing really does just mean repeated exposure to trauma and the brain working to survive by suppressing in an effort to avoid things. It wasn't that way, they literally went into his brain and pulled things out with electricity, rewiring him.

He doesn't bother to explain.]

That's the thing, he sees a dead man.

[He, not they, a slip he doesn't realise he's made.]

[ex_this_ismydesign36]

[ No, no he probably doesn't. But then there is no way James could understand the mental manipulation Will had undergone either.

They were unique experiences to both of them.

Will notes the verbage. There is an obvious opening there but the profiler doesn't pursue that door. Instead, he goes around to the side porch. ]

Who is the dead man?

[ Its in his tone. He understands that James is talking about himself, he's not asking literally or for a name. He's curious to see what parts of himself James sees as dead. ]

[advanced]

[He's said enough that it doesn't bother him too much to say more, this area isn't one of the ones that will have him leaving at once. There are areas too painful to touch on, even for him, but this isn't it.]

The man I was before the war. He used to smile, and step out with gals, and dance.

[Even Will can't say there's anything left of that man in him.]

[ex_this_ismydesign36]

[ For a long moment, Will turned James' words over and over in his head. There was a lot there to poke at but Will had a feeling that it might be time to back off a hair.

That and provide a small offering of his own. One that wasn't entirely laden with landmines. ]

I have a measurement like that. Before and after an event in my life, where I was irrevocably transformed.

[ Will glanced out across the horizon, watching the play of clouds in the sky. ]

I wish I had an answer for you, James. All I can offer is the understanding that I know you can't go back.

[advanced]

[It's not the response he's expecting, but it's-- good. Better than the people who try and reassure him that it'll only take time and he'll get back there, better than Steve who just looks sad and reassures him that he's still Bucky.

Understanding.

He nods his own to Will, not pushing to ask what that transformation was. He might find out in time, but now is not the right time for it.]

...thank you.

[ex_this_ismydesign36]

[ Will nodded and then took a deep breath as he walked towards one of the sides of the building, looking down and then out and across, before he turned back to James.

His smile was a small thing, quick and sort of twitchy but genuine. ]

I'll be alright to get myself back. [ He offered. He felt itchy in his own skin and suspected this might be a reflection of James' need to put some distance between himself and their recent words.

Put some distance between himself and this nosy, screwed up stranger who couldn't shoot straight. ]

[advanced]

[Bucky can't deny that he's grateful for Will's sense of empathy right then, because he does genuinely want to run away and he's being given an out without resorting to something quite as drastic as fleeing.]

Sure.

[It's short and curt, before he simply turns away and begins to walk away himself.]