( He grinds his jaw a little and wonders, again, if she's telling the truth. HYDRA had never played these games with him but some of the other people who used him had - some liked giving him the illusion of freedom or used him as a personal companion or bodyguard instead of a politically-charged weapon. He doesn't know what to believe about this, though. This sounds like truth, almost, even if he doesn't dare believe it.
But he's still not free. He had tested these walls and the door and it hadn't given at all, even with his strength, so he's at their mercy. )
I'm your captive too. You locked me in here. What do you want? Information? They didn't give me any. I only knew a mission and a target.
[ Fuck. She'd known it wasn't going to be easy, she and Coulson had spoken at length about it when he'd finally agreed to her being the one to run this op, but she hadn't known it would hurt this much. Most of the Winter Soldier's missions had been kept out of any documentation, so they'd only been able to guess at the sorts of things he might have endured, but this... ]
No. [ Her expression tightens with pain and she shakes her head. ] I know it'll take time for you to trust me, and that's okay. But for that first part— Like I said, we can't let you leave yet, but you're free to go anywhere on this property. And you won't be locked in anymore.
[ Turning, she moves to the coffee table positioned in front of a couch and armchair, picking up the tablet laying there. She wakes up the screen and enters a few commands. ] This place was designed by Bruce Banner to keep the Hulk in. Steve Rogers and I each spent some time at the previous location, so we thought it would be suitable for you too. But I'd rather you not feel like a complete prisoner, so—
[ The previously hidden screen on the wall beside his door beeps and glows. ] If you put your hand on that and say your name, you'll be the only one who can lock that door. You'll also have access to any door on this property. Within reason. You won't be able to get into other bedrooms but you'll be able to get out of them.
( Steve Rogers. Why does he know that name? Is it a target? If he was one of his targets, he'd be dead, and she's speaking about him as if he's alive and well. Not a target, then. It's clearly someone of some importance, the same as this Bruce Banner and Hulk are, but none of the names mean anything to him. HYDRA kept his information compartmentalized so if he was ever captured alive, he couldn't betray him. His programming wouldn't allow it.
His thinking is muddled now, blurry, and he doesn't have the clarity of a mission. He doesn't have that voice in his head telling him what to do and how to execute it and h's flying blind on what to do next. He knows how to survive, he always knows that, but he's blind on information except what she gives him. )
[ Oh. He doesn't remember. They must have— Fucking HYDRA monsters. They really had taken everything from him, the same way they tried to take everything from her. ]
Someone who cares about you a great deal. [ Her voice is tight as she says the words, but she manages to get them out in one go. The next part is more difficult; she stumbles as she gently asks him what might be a terrifying question. ]
Do you remember your name? [ And then, after a beat: ] It's okay if you don't.
( Someone who cares about him? There's nobody that cares about him that exists. He knows enough to know that he's not from this time or this place and that HYDRA has been freezing and thawing him for longer than most people are alive. He knows he's not aged in all that time. It's the constant of his life. He's only caught a few glimpses of himself in the mirror over the last decades but every time, it's the same face that looks back at him. Haunted, blank, ageless.
His name. Does he have a name? He thinks he might have once only he's never heard it used. Maybe he was grown in a HYDRA lab. He knows they can do that, can conceive children completely outside of the womb. He's never really thought about where he comes from because he's always just in a state of existing from moment to moment - no past, no future. He's just the soldier pulling the trigger, over and over. )
Ob''yekt. Soldat.
( He knows he's used the Russian words but he's heard them in Russian too many times to remember them in English to begin with. It had always been in Russian, over and over, and while he can speak dozens of other languages he thinks best in that one now. )
Sorry. Asset. Soldier. That's my name. That's what I'm called.
[ Tears burn at her eyes and her jaw trembles for a second before she takes a deep breath and pushes it all back down where it belongs. He doesn't need to deal with her emotions on top of everything else. Hell, he might not even believe they were real — it's all too apparent that no one in HYDRA gave a damn about him being a person with thoughts and emotions of his own. ]
Well, you're not either of those things anymore, and I don't speak Russian, so. [ Forcing a smile, she presses the tablet to her chest, crossing her arms over it. ] Before HYDRA took you, you had a different name. A different life. Do you want to know about those things? It's okay if you're not ready. You can take all the time you need. There aren't going to be any missions, and no one's going to take your memories from you again.
[ If he isn't ready, she's not going to force him. That was one thing she'd been firm on when they'd discussed what would be happening here. The only thing they would force him to do was stay, but absolutely everything else would be his choice. If he asked for their help in that, then they could do so, but otherwise, everything was his call. Far too much of his life had been dictated by others. ]
( He had a name and a life. HYDRA took him from being a real person and made him this instead. It's worse than thinking he'd just been with them all along, to know he belonged to someone and to somewhere and was taken from it and hadn't always belonged to them. It was easier to just be their thing and be blank and unburdened by that knowledge. Now he has to live with the fact that there's a person he doesn't know and that person is him.
He shakes his head. It's too much right now, he thinks, and he doesn't even know who this woman is that keeps telling him these things. She says he's free but he has to stay on this property, that she'll let him out of this room but he's not allowed to just walk away. He's a liability and he must have some information in his brain that they want. That must be it. )
I would like if you gave me a name.
( The words are hard to get out because he hasn't asked for anything in so long that it's difficult to figure out how to do it. He's not used to being asked what he wants or how he wants it and being given choice is almost too much right now. A name, though, is just for convenience. She doesn't speak Russian so she can't call him what HYDRA called him. )
My name is Zimniy Soldat but you don't speak Russian. So you should choose a name. And I would like to have your name.
[ A name, not necessarily his. Was that distinction on purpose? Would he tell her if it was? He might not realize it himself. All of this is probably way too much for him to process, let alone accept after everything he's been through. A name is a baby step, but every step is one worth celebrating. ]
Okay. We'll call you James.
[ Not Bucky. If he isn't ready to dive into his past, then she won't call him by the name that would be most likely to trigger any suppressed memories. James, though — it's still a part of him, a piece of truth he can carry even if he doesn't know it yet. ]
My name is Daisy. Daisy Johnson. And I think it's important for you to know that I hate HYDRA more than probably anyone on this planet, save a handful of people. Everyone here hates HYDRA and wants to help you recover from what they did, and we all know it's going to take time for you to believe that.
[ Even if he isn't able to process all of this yet, maybe something of it will stick with him and help ease his path forward. If there's even a possibility of something helping him, she's willing to try it. ]
For now, I'm hungry. Are you? I can't really cook, but we have some things here. Lots of canned goods and frozen stuff, but also fixings for sandwiches, which is much more my speed.
( It's one of those things he inherently knows without knowing why he knows it. He knows how to fire so many different weapons, different calibers, different sizes. He knows how to use knives. He knows hand to hand in multiple styles. He can think of ten languages off the top of his head that he knows he can speak and feels like there's more he'd know if he heard them.
Cooking is there, deep in his memory, and he doesn't know how or why he knows it. He's subsisted on MREs and IV nutrition for longer than he can remember but he knows how to put things together and cook them, how to plan meals, how to know which things to buy at the store to plan. )
If there's food, I know how to cook it. Daisy.
( It's a little stiff when he says her name but he needs to get used to it if he's going to be here the same as he needs to get used to the name she picked for him - James. He likes it. It's a nice enough name. )
[ That's surprising, though she knows it shouldn't be. Being a wartime soldier and growing up in the era he had, it makes sense that he would know how his way around a kitchen. He might not be a gourmet chef, but since the most she can usually manage is radiated quesadillas, she'll be more than impressed by whatever skills he possesses. ]
Well, okay then. Come on, James, the kitchen's over here.
[ Which he's probably already noticed, given its not even ten feet from where they're standing. It's not a big kitchen by any means, but the layout is open with a little table right in the middle. They'd tried to make it a bit cozier than the first cabin she'd stayed in, with more warmth to the wood and fewer southwestern patterned throw pillows. There are books and movies on the shelves that are actually good, and they'd added a second bedroom with sheets that aren't scratchy. Small improvements overall, but ones she hopes will help.
Walking over to the kitchen, she opens a top cabinet to show the assortment of cans and dry ingredients, then a bottom one with pots and pans. ]
We tried to stock all the basics, but we've got more in another building on the property. Too many supply runs are risky, but if there's anything you want or think we need, we can add it to the list for the next one. And you're welcome to as much as you want, whenever you want.
( When he looks through the cabinet to find ingredients, it takes him a moment to find what he's looking for and once he does, he pulls it off the shelf and puts it next to the stovetop before going to find the pan and spatula he needs. He feels like he used to have more steps when cooking pancakes than this seems to be but he follows the instructions and mixes the batter up. )
I think I know another way to make these but there's not all of the ingredients here. I don't know why I know that.
[ Settling in at the table, she alternates watching him and fiddling with the tablet. Staring isn't a good thing, she doesn't want him to feel like he's some sort of specimen or something, but she also needs to know how he's coping. The fact that he hasn't tried to attack her or run is promising, at least. ]
The mind is surprisingly resilient. It can go through all sorts of pain and trauma and still remember all the words to a favorite song. Or how to make pancakes. [ She sets the tablet aside, giving up the charade of being interested in anything but him. ] Your life before HYDRA was a long time ago before things like pancake mix were really available. There are probably a lot of things that will feel a little different than you think they should, and I'm sorry about that.
( A long time ago. He's known it has been a long time that he's been in their possession but now he's curious about how long it's been and why they took him. He's made himself a useful weapon, at least, and clearly kept himself alive this long. He pours the mix into the heated pan and watches it carefully while he works out what to say. )
That's a... complicated question. [ But somehow it's also one of the easiest he could have asked her. She knows the dates by heart. ] You were born March 10, 1917. HYDRA took you in 1945 when you were presumed dead during World War II. The last time you were awake, that we know of, was in 2014.
[ Why hadn't she put any beer in the fridge? It might be early in the day still, but beer with pancakes sounds pretty great right about now. Coulson would probably disapprove but he's not here to give her one of his patented looks. ]
Without knowing how much time you were awake off-and-on all those years, it's hard to say exactly. Biologically, you might be around 30? But linearly, you're about 100.
( It's a lot of information to process. He's a hundred years old but he looks like he's 30? He was with HYDRA since 1945 but it's 2014? None of this makes any sense. It makes absolutely no sense. He busies himself with flipping pancakes and sliding them onto plates before he says anything else and when he does, it isn't much. )
I don't think I understand.
( It's overwhelming, is what it is, but he doesn't know how to express that without appearing vulnerable. Daisy doesn't have visible weapons but she is keeping him captive here. He stays silent for a few moments and then has another question. )
Am I allowed to go outside here? Or do I have to stay in here?
[ She can't begin to guess at how hard this must all be for him, or how much harder it will be when he hopefully begins to regain his memories, which they're almost certain he will. HYDRA might have tried to make a clean slate of his mind time and again, but there are likely still impressions buried deep and just waiting to rise to the surface again.
Leaning forward, she rests her folded arms on the table and shakes her head. That pain is back in her expression again, and she wishes so badly that she could do something to help him get through this moment. ]
You don't have to stay in here. This property's about two miles across, so there's plenty of room to stretch your legs, and the perimeter fence is easy to spot when you're walking around. [ It's a laser fence, rising up to the tops of the trees and fairly hidden from above. ] You don't need an escort to go anywhere, but if you want company, I'm here. I'll be here until you've recovered enough to leave.
( He's never had a handler before in all his years of being HYDRA's hitman and he wonders why these people seem to think he needs one. Is it because he doesn't know who he is and they're afraid of him finding out? Is he unstable, like they used to say he was before wiping him over and over? Is Daisy going to wipe him when he shows an emotion other than confusion or calm? )
I want to see the machine. I want to see how you plan to wipe my memory when I get too...agitated. That's what has to happen every time.
[ Handler. The word is like a punch to the gut, even if it is fairly accurate. It's now how she wants it to be between them, though. She wants to be his friend, but she knows it might be a long time before it comes to that, if ever.
Standing because she can't stay still with this anxious energy coursing through her, she moves to the shiny new coffee pot on the counter. A box of filters and a big plastic container of grocery store-grade grounds are beside it, and she goes through the motions of prepping the maker with ease. ]
There is no machine, James. Not one that does that, anyway. Not here. And I'm not your handler, I'm... [ What, exactly? The bittersweet memory comes to her and she leans into it. ] I'm your transitioner. I'm here to help you as you go through this change.
( He thinks it's soon to be trusting anyone but he doesn't have a grip on anything right now. There's skills he has, of course, but he has no attachment to the name she's given him yet and he has no memory of who he was before HYDRA had him. He has his kills, his tortures, his violations - the darkest of intimacies that he can never share with another human being for fear of being seen the monster that he feels he is inside.
She is his transitioner, whatever that means, and he almost wishes she had said friend or nurse or anything other than this word that makes him feel like he's died and now he's crossing over into some purgatory he doesn't deserve. Punishment is what he knows. It's a familiar friend. This isn't. )
[ But she wouldn't blame him in the slightest if he didn't believe that. She certainly hadn't trusted Lincoln when she'd woken up in Afterlife. He has absolutely no reason to believe her after everything he's been through, but she has to try.
Picking up the glass carafe, she leans over to turn on the faucet but stops as another memory surfaces. ]
Do you know what an Inhuman is? I won't be surprised if you don't, but it's relevant, I promise.
I've killed Inhumans before. Whole groups of them. I was never on the capture missions. Only the elimination ones.
( When he says it, it's cold and removed, and he realizes he's talking to a person, someone this truly affected, and he shakes his head before the apologies tumble from his lips. He hasn't apologized in longer than he remembers; he doesn't remember if he's ever apologized. He knows he's crying because he thought he lost empathy and the capacity to care but now he remembers what he did and he feels remorse. His missions destroyed lives, destroyed countries, destroyed half the world. He did that and he can't take it back. )
[ This is a punch to the gut. The breath is knocked from her lungs and she hears a rushing roar of nothing in her ears as her mind struggles to comprehend what she's just learned. He'd... killed Inhumans. Possibly whole communities of them. Jiaying had said— Somehow, it wasn't until this moment that she'd put those pieces together. She'd stupidly thought it was only about Whitehall, but of course, it was so much more than that.
But even as pain and rage rise inside her, none of it is directed toward Bucky. Not one single ounce of it is for him. Yes, he'd been the one to physically carry out horrific crimes, but it hadn't been his choice. And as she registers how this is affecting him, she puts aside her own pain and focuses on his. ]
You take this one step at a time. One minute. One hour. One day. You get through one and then you get through the next. That's all you have to do, and we'll help you in any way we can. [ She takes a step closer and wishes she could just give him a hug. ] I'll help you.
How? I murdered whole communities and you want to help me? You should murder me. You should take me out. I'm weak now, you should eliminate the threat. I'll let you.
( Daisy gave him a name and has been talking with him the way people should normally be with one another but she knows he's a murderer. She knows he could kill her. There's no machine to wipe him, there's no restraints on him. He could simply kill her and run into the wilderness - the perimeter isn't something he's worried about. He's done bigger prison breaks than that before.
[ Now she's angry at him. The word comes out like a teacher scolding an unruly student, firm and leaving no room for argument. She's been on the other side of this conversation before and she's not letting him spiral the way she had, not if she can help it. ]
HYDRA forced you to do those things. None of it was your choice. Before they took you, you were a hero. You fought to protect people. That is who you are, not who they made you become.
You don't know that. You just know what someone told you about me. I'm a killer. I know that. I'm good at it. I know that too. Those things are true. I don't know anything else, Daisy. How can you think I was good?
( He doesn't know why she's angry but it makes him bristle and he backs away a little. He doesn't know what to do with all the emotions swirling around and he thinks it's too much for right now. He thinks someone else might be able to make sense of it, wouldn't be so muddled, but everything is just not right. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But he's still not free. He had tested these walls and the door and it hadn't given at all, even with his strength, so he's at their mercy. )
I'm your captive too. You locked me in here. What do you want? Information? They didn't give me any. I only knew a mission and a target.
( He narrows his eyes. )
Testing? Poisons, chemical weapons? My body?
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No. [ Her expression tightens with pain and she shakes her head. ] I know it'll take time for you to trust me, and that's okay. But for that first part— Like I said, we can't let you leave yet, but you're free to go anywhere on this property. And you won't be locked in anymore.
[ Turning, she moves to the coffee table positioned in front of a couch and armchair, picking up the tablet laying there. She wakes up the screen and enters a few commands. ] This place was designed by Bruce Banner to keep the Hulk in. Steve Rogers and I each spent some time at the previous location, so we thought it would be suitable for you too. But I'd rather you not feel like a complete prisoner, so—
[ The previously hidden screen on the wall beside his door beeps and glows. ] If you put your hand on that and say your name, you'll be the only one who can lock that door. You'll also have access to any door on this property. Within reason. You won't be able to get into other bedrooms but you'll be able to get out of them.
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His thinking is muddled now, blurry, and he doesn't have the clarity of a mission. He doesn't have that voice in his head telling him what to do and how to execute it and h's flying blind on what to do next. He knows how to survive, he always knows that, but he's blind on information except what she gives him. )
Who is Steve Rogers?
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Someone who cares about you a great deal. [ Her voice is tight as she says the words, but she manages to get them out in one go. The next part is more difficult; she stumbles as she gently asks him what might be a terrifying question. ]
Do you remember your name? [ And then, after a beat: ] It's okay if you don't.
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His name. Does he have a name? He thinks he might have once only he's never heard it used. Maybe he was grown in a HYDRA lab. He knows they can do that, can conceive children completely outside of the womb. He's never really thought about where he comes from because he's always just in a state of existing from moment to moment - no past, no future. He's just the soldier pulling the trigger, over and over. )
Ob''yekt. Soldat.
( He knows he's used the Russian words but he's heard them in Russian too many times to remember them in English to begin with. It had always been in Russian, over and over, and while he can speak dozens of other languages he thinks best in that one now. )
Sorry. Asset. Soldier. That's my name. That's what I'm called.
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Well, you're not either of those things anymore, and I don't speak Russian, so. [ Forcing a smile, she presses the tablet to her chest, crossing her arms over it. ] Before HYDRA took you, you had a different name. A different life. Do you want to know about those things? It's okay if you're not ready. You can take all the time you need. There aren't going to be any missions, and no one's going to take your memories from you again.
[ If he isn't ready, she's not going to force him. That was one thing she'd been firm on when they'd discussed what would be happening here. The only thing they would force him to do was stay, but absolutely everything else would be his choice. If he asked for their help in that, then they could do so, but otherwise, everything was his call. Far too much of his life had been dictated by others. ]
no subject
He shakes his head. It's too much right now, he thinks, and he doesn't even know who this woman is that keeps telling him these things. She says he's free but he has to stay on this property, that she'll let him out of this room but he's not allowed to just walk away. He's a liability and he must have some information in his brain that they want. That must be it. )
I would like if you gave me a name.
( The words are hard to get out because he hasn't asked for anything in so long that it's difficult to figure out how to do it. He's not used to being asked what he wants or how he wants it and being given choice is almost too much right now. A name, though, is just for convenience. She doesn't speak Russian so she can't call him what HYDRA called him. )
My name is Zimniy Soldat but you don't speak Russian. So you should choose a name. And I would like to have your name.
no subject
Okay. We'll call you James.
[ Not Bucky. If he isn't ready to dive into his past, then she won't call him by the name that would be most likely to trigger any suppressed memories. James, though — it's still a part of him, a piece of truth he can carry even if he doesn't know it yet. ]
My name is Daisy. Daisy Johnson. And I think it's important for you to know that I hate HYDRA more than probably anyone on this planet, save a handful of people. Everyone here hates HYDRA and wants to help you recover from what they did, and we all know it's going to take time for you to believe that.
[ Even if he isn't able to process all of this yet, maybe something of it will stick with him and help ease his path forward. If there's even a possibility of something helping him, she's willing to try it. ]
For now, I'm hungry. Are you? I can't really cook, but we have some things here. Lots of canned goods and frozen stuff, but also fixings for sandwiches, which is much more my speed.
no subject
( It's one of those things he inherently knows without knowing why he knows it. He knows how to fire so many different weapons, different calibers, different sizes. He knows how to use knives. He knows hand to hand in multiple styles. He can think of ten languages off the top of his head that he knows he can speak and feels like there's more he'd know if he heard them.
Cooking is there, deep in his memory, and he doesn't know how or why he knows it. He's subsisted on MREs and IV nutrition for longer than he can remember but he knows how to put things together and cook them, how to plan meals, how to know which things to buy at the store to plan. )
If there's food, I know how to cook it. Daisy.
( It's a little stiff when he says her name but he needs to get used to it if he's going to be here the same as he needs to get used to the name she picked for him - James. He likes it. It's a nice enough name. )
no subject
Well, okay then. Come on, James, the kitchen's over here.
[ Which he's probably already noticed, given its not even ten feet from where they're standing. It's not a big kitchen by any means, but the layout is open with a little table right in the middle. They'd tried to make it a bit cozier than the first cabin she'd stayed in, with more warmth to the wood and fewer southwestern patterned throw pillows. There are books and movies on the shelves that are actually good, and they'd added a second bedroom with sheets that aren't scratchy. Small improvements overall, but ones she hopes will help.
Walking over to the kitchen, she opens a top cabinet to show the assortment of cans and dry ingredients, then a bottom one with pots and pans. ]
We tried to stock all the basics, but we've got more in another building on the property. Too many supply runs are risky, but if there's anything you want or think we need, we can add it to the list for the next one. And you're welcome to as much as you want, whenever you want.
no subject
( When he looks through the cabinet to find ingredients, it takes him a moment to find what he's looking for and once he does, he pulls it off the shelf and puts it next to the stovetop before going to find the pan and spatula he needs. He feels like he used to have more steps when cooking pancakes than this seems to be but he follows the instructions and mixes the batter up. )
I think I know another way to make these but there's not all of the ingredients here. I don't know why I know that.
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The mind is surprisingly resilient. It can go through all sorts of pain and trauma and still remember all the words to a favorite song. Or how to make pancakes. [ She sets the tablet aside, giving up the charade of being interested in anything but him. ] Your life before HYDRA was a long time ago before things like pancake mix were really available. There are probably a lot of things that will feel a little different than you think they should, and I'm sorry about that.
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How old am I, Daisy? I don't remember.
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[ Why hadn't she put any beer in the fridge? It might be early in the day still, but beer with pancakes sounds pretty great right about now. Coulson would probably disapprove but he's not here to give her one of his patented looks. ]
Without knowing how much time you were awake off-and-on all those years, it's hard to say exactly. Biologically, you might be around 30? But linearly, you're about 100.
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I don't think I understand.
( It's overwhelming, is what it is, but he doesn't know how to express that without appearing vulnerable. Daisy doesn't have visible weapons but she is keeping him captive here. He stays silent for a few moments and then has another question. )
Am I allowed to go outside here? Or do I have to stay in here?
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Leaning forward, she rests her folded arms on the table and shakes her head. That pain is back in her expression again, and she wishes so badly that she could do something to help him get through this moment. ]
You don't have to stay in here. This property's about two miles across, so there's plenty of room to stretch your legs, and the perimeter fence is easy to spot when you're walking around. [ It's a laser fence, rising up to the tops of the trees and fairly hidden from above. ] You don't need an escort to go anywhere, but if you want company, I'm here. I'll be here until you've recovered enough to leave.
no subject
( He's never had a handler before in all his years of being HYDRA's hitman and he wonders why these people seem to think he needs one. Is it because he doesn't know who he is and they're afraid of him finding out? Is he unstable, like they used to say he was before wiping him over and over? Is Daisy going to wipe him when he shows an emotion other than confusion or calm? )
I want to see the machine. I want to see how you plan to wipe my memory when I get too...agitated. That's what has to happen every time.
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Standing because she can't stay still with this anxious energy coursing through her, she moves to the shiny new coffee pot on the counter. A box of filters and a big plastic container of grocery store-grade grounds are beside it, and she goes through the motions of prepping the maker with ease. ]
There is no machine, James. Not one that does that, anyway. Not here. And I'm not your handler, I'm... [ What, exactly? The bittersweet memory comes to her and she leans into it. ] I'm your transitioner. I'm here to help you as you go through this change.
no subject
( He thinks it's soon to be trusting anyone but he doesn't have a grip on anything right now. There's skills he has, of course, but he has no attachment to the name she's given him yet and he has no memory of who he was before HYDRA had him. He has his kills, his tortures, his violations - the darkest of intimacies that he can never share with another human being for fear of being seen the monster that he feels he is inside.
She is his transitioner, whatever that means, and he almost wishes she had said friend or nurse or anything other than this word that makes him feel like he's died and now he's crossing over into some purgatory he doesn't deserve. Punishment is what he knows. It's a familiar friend. This isn't. )
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[ But she wouldn't blame him in the slightest if he didn't believe that. She certainly hadn't trusted Lincoln when she'd woken up in Afterlife. He has absolutely no reason to believe her after everything he's been through, but she has to try.
Picking up the glass carafe, she leans over to turn on the faucet but stops as another memory surfaces. ]
Do you know what an Inhuman is? I won't be surprised if you don't, but it's relevant, I promise.
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( When he says it, it's cold and removed, and he realizes he's talking to a person, someone this truly affected, and he shakes his head before the apologies tumble from his lips. He hasn't apologized in longer than he remembers; he doesn't remember if he's ever apologized. He knows he's crying because he thought he lost empathy and the capacity to care but now he remembers what he did and he feels remorse. His missions destroyed lives, destroyed countries, destroyed half the world. He did that and he can't take it back. )
I...I don't know what to do. Daisy, what do I do?
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But even as pain and rage rise inside her, none of it is directed toward Bucky. Not one single ounce of it is for him. Yes, he'd been the one to physically carry out horrific crimes, but it hadn't been his choice. And as she registers how this is affecting him, she puts aside her own pain and focuses on his. ]
You take this one step at a time. One minute. One hour. One day. You get through one and then you get through the next. That's all you have to do, and we'll help you in any way we can. [ She takes a step closer and wishes she could just give him a hug. ] I'll help you.
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( Daisy gave him a name and has been talking with him the way people should normally be with one another but she knows he's a murderer. She knows he could kill her. There's no machine to wipe him, there's no restraints on him. He could simply kill her and run into the wilderness - the perimeter isn't something he's worried about. He's done bigger prison breaks than that before.
Why? Why should she care so much? )
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[ Now she's angry at him. The word comes out like a teacher scolding an unruly student, firm and leaving no room for argument. She's been on the other side of this conversation before and she's not letting him spiral the way she had, not if she can help it. ]
HYDRA forced you to do those things. None of it was your choice. Before they took you, you were a hero. You fought to protect people. That is who you are, not who they made you become.
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( He doesn't know why she's angry but it makes him bristle and he backs away a little. He doesn't know what to do with all the emotions swirling around and he thinks it's too much for right now. He thinks someone else might be able to make sense of it, wouldn't be so muddled, but everything is just not right. )
How can you know me?
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