[ When it comes to the list of people he has to make amends to, "the entirety of the SHIELD organisation" is a little hard to manage.
It's not like the Winter Soldier was personally responsible for the HYDRA uprising, but he undoubtedly contributed: he shot Nick Fury. Infiltrated and helped take down the helicarriers, plummeting them out of the sky. He figures he owes them— something, he's not entirely sure what, but there's those ancient ties of loyalty to the Strategic Scientific Reserve, too. And HYDRA is far from gone (cut off one head, two more shall take its place), so it's likely his experience could come in handy. He knew the people involved over the years, met them, took orders from them. Maybe he'd like to chip in and help out. Maybe he'd just like to see those men and women burn, too.
All of the above is true.
So when SHIELD calls, Bucky answers. To their credit, they don't yank on his strings; they don't tell him that he's required to do anything for them as a condition of his pardon, so he makes his way to the headquarters in Midtown of his own volition — unbeknownst to him, the exact same building where Steve had first woken up. Bucky checks in at reception, and when he hands over his ID, the bored receptionist looks at the name, and recognises it, jolts, and then looks up at him, startled.
Welcome back, sergeant. Someone will be with you shortly.
So he's standing in the bustling lobby, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, killing some time by staring at the Wall of Valor. His expression eventually turns into a frown as he looks at the large memorial, taking in the names, his own engraved as one of the fallen. When some footsteps approach him from behind, he automatically notes the sound, picks it out from the surrounding white noise — some habits will never change — but he doesn't react much. Just glances to the side as the darkhaired woman draws closer; presumably the agent sent to retrieve him. ]
[ It had been Daisy's idea for SHIELD to reach out to Bucky Barnes when they first got word of another HYDRA cell emerging from the shadows. They've spent the last decade trying to stamp out the cult turned terrorist organization, and for a while they'd thought they'd finally gotten the last one. It was too good to be true, though, just like it had been back in the 40s. And because their own sources had run dry, why not turn to the person who had just as much reason to want HYDRA stopped?
Mack had been pretty easy to convince. It helped that he'd learned long ago to trust Daisy's instincts, first when they'd been partners and then after she'd nominated and voted for him to take over as Director. He hadn't failed her yet and she'd done the same. That was why he'd suggested she be the one to work with Barnes — she hadn't needed any convincing.
Even now, as she approaches the man standing at the memorial exactly where she'd stood over a decade ago, it's hard to rein in her instinct to completely fangirl over the hero. That's what he'd always been in her mind, HYDRA or no. Bucky Barnes was a hero, a war veteran, a Howling Commando. He hadn't deserved any of the shit that had happened to him and she felt like SHIELD had an obligation to do whatever they could to apologize for the part they'd played in his suffering. ]
Actually, I'm your partner for this op. [ Okay, there's absolutely no holding back the pleased smile that spreads across her face. She holds out her hand to shake. ] Agent Daisy Johnson. It's an honor, Sergeant Barnes.
[ It's an honour. Those innocent words trip something in him, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it flicker across his expression that's almost a wince. But he holds out his right hand and shakes hers firmly, politely. He's wearing gloves; they already know who he is, and yet old habits die hard, and so he'd found himself automatically reaching for them this morning like he was donning a suit of armour. ]
Nice to meet you, Agent Johnson. Looking forward to it.
[ His gaze trawls over the woman, taking her in and sizing her up, instinctively trying to assess her capabilities at a glance, although he knows it's futile. There's no standard for what a SHIELD agent is supposed to look like — anonymous white men in suits, maybe, the Coulson model, but through run-ins with the organisation over the years he's been realising that not everyone always fits that model. So his partner might as well be a pretty young brunette.
But that word, honour, is still caught behind his teeth, so Bucky tips his head to the Wall of Valor: the elegant memorial, the long line of names, the various emblems of the organisation over the years. This question has been nagging at him ever since he first learned about it, and even moreso now that he's seeing it in-person, like a pebble grinding in his shoe. ]
Isn't it a little weird, me being up there when I'm—
[ A disgraced, albeit pardoned, mass murderer? ]
—not dead? Or is it just no one wants to foot the bill for re-engraving the stone?
[ Brief as it is, she catches that flicker in his expression, putting the puzzle pieces together enough to understand she'd said the wrong thing. Not that he points it out, of course; doing so would just open wounds he likely would rather not address with a total stranger. So she lets it pass — just for a moment. The humor is easier to deal with, anyway. ]
We've all died at least once around here. [ A shrug and a smile that makes it seem like that's a completely normal thing for a person to say. ] Some of us, a few times. Just because it doesn't always stick doesn't invalidate the sacrifices made.
[ Especially in their line of work, where their secrets have secrets and the cost of keeping them can sometimes be too high. Look at what happened with Coulson. His first death had cut him off from the Avengers, the team he'd helped put together, and from a woman he'd really cared about. And Bucky... He'd lost everything when he died back in the '40s. No, his name deserves to be on that wall.
Crossing her arms, she glances down for a moment, visibly weighing her words before looking up again. She can't just let it sit after all. ]
I'll tell the others to hold back on the "it's an honor" thing as much as they can. No guarantees, the Howling Commandos are chapter one of every SHIELD history book, but they'll try their best.
Well, yeah, if Jim Morita were standing here, that'd be one thing. But I'm not exactly—
[ He hesitates again. The easier thing would be to just push past it, politely wave it off and proceed to their briefing and their work and the mission — cool, professional, businesslike — but Buck's never been good at keeping it professional. He's too emotional, too hot under the collar despite that carefully-honed neutral expression that he wields by default. So the fact that he's standing here, inside the bones and belly of an organisation that he'd helped topple, the disjoint keeps sawing on all his edges.
And so he can't let it sit, either. In the end, he opts for bluntness: ]
Let's just put it this way: I was surprised to get the call. Me and SHIELD don't exactly have the best history. The Winter Soldier left a lot of agents dead.
[ He's keeping his gaze fixed on hers — with a little too intense of a stare, perhaps, but it's to resist the temptation to peer all around them at the other agents passing by. His shoulderblades are itching, just waiting for the inevitable: people to goggle, stare, point, glower. ]
[ That intense stare doesn't bother her. She meets it without hesitation, not giving in to the nagging instinct to look away. This is an important conversation that will help define their relationship; it deserves every ounce of her attention. ]
What you did as the Winter Soldier wasn't your choice. HYDRA made you into a weapon and forced you to comply. You weren't the last to suffer that fate; everyone here knows what HYDRA is capable of.
[ They can't even begin to guess at how many people were brainwashed by HYDRA over the years, forced to be soldiers against their will. And that's not even taking into account things like the Incentives Program, where people's families were taken by HYDRA and used as leverage to ensure compliance. The organizations goals and methods had both been the very definition of evil.
Her expression softens slightly, something sad mixing into the determined set of her features. This next part is just as important, especially because it's not something he's likely to already know. ]
And SHIELD owes you a debt. If we had seen what was happening and done something to stop it, then so many of the horrible things you endured might have been avoided. [ She pauses for just a moment, then pushes through. ] There were some who saw what was going on and tried to stop it, but it wasn't enough. They failed and you suffered for it. So whatever we can do to repay that debt even in some small way, we will.
[ His voice trails off, trying and failing to find the right words. It just doesn't track, like a formula that isn't adding up right. How many of her colleagues dead, just because they happened to get in the way of the Winter Soldier and his mission? He remembers flinging one of them almost disdainfully into the engine of one of the SHIELD jets; the ensuing explosion, the burst of heat at his back, the sickly smell of burning flesh, and the Soldier not batting an eye. Bucky remembers it as clearly as if he'd chosen to do it himself.
He wonders what they told that agent's family, if he had one. ]
The way I figure it, I'm the one who owes a debt, Johnson. But okay. If you say so.
[ It's clear he doesn't really believe her, but he can tell they're gonna be stuck here all day otherwise, both trying to valiantly pardon the other. He exhales a sigh. ]
Either way, guess the best revenge is for the both of us is to punch back at the people really responsible, huh?
[ That's one thing he'll have in common with anyone, at the end of the day: a desire to leave HYDRA burning in the rubble. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
— the briefing / first meeting.
It's not like the Winter Soldier was personally responsible for the HYDRA uprising, but he undoubtedly contributed: he shot Nick Fury. Infiltrated and helped take down the helicarriers, plummeting them out of the sky. He figures he owes them— something, he's not entirely sure what, but there's those ancient ties of loyalty to the Strategic Scientific Reserve, too. And HYDRA is far from gone (cut off one head, two more shall take its place), so it's likely his experience could come in handy. He knew the people involved over the years, met them, took orders from them. Maybe he'd like to chip in and help out. Maybe he'd just like to see those men and women burn, too.
All of the above is true.
So when SHIELD calls, Bucky answers. To their credit, they don't yank on his strings; they don't tell him that he's required to do anything for them as a condition of his pardon, so he makes his way to the headquarters in Midtown of his own volition — unbeknownst to him, the exact same building where Steve had first woken up. Bucky checks in at reception, and when he hands over his ID, the bored receptionist looks at the name, and recognises it, jolts, and then looks up at him, startled.
Welcome back, sergeant. Someone will be with you shortly.
So he's standing in the bustling lobby, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, killing some time by staring at the Wall of Valor. His expression eventually turns into a frown as he looks at the large memorial, taking in the names, his own engraved as one of the fallen. When some footsteps approach him from behind, he automatically notes the sound, picks it out from the surrounding white noise — some habits will never change — but he doesn't react much. Just glances to the side as the darkhaired woman draws closer; presumably the agent sent to retrieve him. ]
Hey. You my escort?
i'm so glad to have you back in my inbox!
Mack had been pretty easy to convince. It helped that he'd learned long ago to trust Daisy's instincts, first when they'd been partners and then after she'd nominated and voted for him to take over as Director. He hadn't failed her yet and she'd done the same. That was why he'd suggested she be the one to work with Barnes — she hadn't needed any convincing.
Even now, as she approaches the man standing at the memorial exactly where she'd stood over a decade ago, it's hard to rein in her instinct to completely fangirl over the hero. That's what he'd always been in her mind, HYDRA or no. Bucky Barnes was a hero, a war veteran, a Howling Commando. He hadn't deserved any of the shit that had happened to him and she felt like SHIELD had an obligation to do whatever they could to apologize for the part they'd played in his suffering. ]
Actually, I'm your partner for this op. [ Okay, there's absolutely no holding back the pleased smile that spreads across her face. She holds out her hand to shake. ] Agent Daisy Johnson. It's an honor, Sergeant Barnes.
ditto omg ♥
Nice to meet you, Agent Johnson. Looking forward to it.
[ His gaze trawls over the woman, taking her in and sizing her up, instinctively trying to assess her capabilities at a glance, although he knows it's futile. There's no standard for what a SHIELD agent is supposed to look like — anonymous white men in suits, maybe, the Coulson model, but through run-ins with the organisation over the years he's been realising that not everyone always fits that model. So his partner might as well be a pretty young brunette.
But that word, honour, is still caught behind his teeth, so Bucky tips his head to the Wall of Valor: the elegant memorial, the long line of names, the various emblems of the organisation over the years. This question has been nagging at him ever since he first learned about it, and even moreso now that he's seeing it in-person, like a pebble grinding in his shoe. ]
Isn't it a little weird, me being up there when I'm—
[ A disgraced, albeit pardoned, mass murderer? ]
—not dead? Or is it just no one wants to foot the bill for re-engraving the stone?
[ A tug at the corner of his mouth; dry humour. ]
no subject
We've all died at least once around here. [ A shrug and a smile that makes it seem like that's a completely normal thing for a person to say. ] Some of us, a few times. Just because it doesn't always stick doesn't invalidate the sacrifices made.
[ Especially in their line of work, where their secrets have secrets and the cost of keeping them can sometimes be too high. Look at what happened with Coulson. His first death had cut him off from the Avengers, the team he'd helped put together, and from a woman he'd really cared about. And Bucky... He'd lost everything when he died back in the '40s. No, his name deserves to be on that wall.
Crossing her arms, she glances down for a moment, visibly weighing her words before looking up again. She can't just let it sit after all. ]
I'll tell the others to hold back on the "it's an honor" thing as much as they can. No guarantees, the Howling Commandos are chapter one of every SHIELD history book, but they'll try their best.
no subject
[ He hesitates again. The easier thing would be to just push past it, politely wave it off and proceed to their briefing and their work and the mission — cool, professional, businesslike — but Buck's never been good at keeping it professional. He's too emotional, too hot under the collar despite that carefully-honed neutral expression that he wields by default. So the fact that he's standing here, inside the bones and belly of an organisation that he'd helped topple, the disjoint keeps sawing on all his edges.
And so he can't let it sit, either. In the end, he opts for bluntness: ]
Let's just put it this way: I was surprised to get the call. Me and SHIELD don't exactly have the best history. The Winter Soldier left a lot of agents dead.
[ He's keeping his gaze fixed on hers — with a little too intense of a stare, perhaps, but it's to resist the temptation to peer all around them at the other agents passing by. His shoulderblades are itching, just waiting for the inevitable: people to goggle, stare, point, glower. ]
no subject
What you did as the Winter Soldier wasn't your choice. HYDRA made you into a weapon and forced you to comply. You weren't the last to suffer that fate; everyone here knows what HYDRA is capable of.
[ They can't even begin to guess at how many people were brainwashed by HYDRA over the years, forced to be soldiers against their will. And that's not even taking into account things like the Incentives Program, where people's families were taken by HYDRA and used as leverage to ensure compliance. The organizations goals and methods had both been the very definition of evil.
Her expression softens slightly, something sad mixing into the determined set of her features. This next part is just as important, especially because it's not something he's likely to already know. ]
And SHIELD owes you a debt. If we had seen what was happening and done something to stop it, then so many of the horrible things you endured might have been avoided. [ She pauses for just a moment, then pushes through. ] There were some who saw what was going on and tried to stop it, but it wasn't enough. They failed and you suffered for it. So whatever we can do to repay that debt even in some small way, we will.
no subject
[ His voice trails off, trying and failing to find the right words. It just doesn't track, like a formula that isn't adding up right. How many of her colleagues dead, just because they happened to get in the way of the Winter Soldier and his mission? He remembers flinging one of them almost disdainfully into the engine of one of the SHIELD jets; the ensuing explosion, the burst of heat at his back, the sickly smell of burning flesh, and the Soldier not batting an eye. Bucky remembers it as clearly as if he'd chosen to do it himself.
He wonders what they told that agent's family, if he had one. ]
The way I figure it, I'm the one who owes a debt, Johnson. But okay. If you say so.
[ It's clear he doesn't really believe her, but he can tell they're gonna be stuck here all day otherwise, both trying to valiantly pardon the other. He exhales a sigh. ]
Either way, guess the best revenge is for the both of us is to punch back at the people really responsible, huh?
[ That's one thing he'll have in common with anyone, at the end of the day: a desire to leave HYDRA burning in the rubble. ]