[ even if the desire to prod and poke is there, permanently thrumming underneath her flesh alongside a misplaced hope for bucky to emerge from the armoured shell of the man he is now ( a man she still swears she recognises, regardless of the look within his eyes never quite possessing the same amount of recognition or the mirth that had been so integral to a best friend she would have — and had — walked the line for, time and time again ), steph never pushes.
she leaves reminders of their youth around her apartment, sometimes, to observe the way his eyes might take note of them, searching to see if she can ever spy a moment of enlightenment — but the lack of a connection, of that spark that informs her she's triggered a memory, rarely comes. the disappointment she can never quite conceal is worse in the moments she hesitantly wraps her hand around his fingers, pointing to men and women in photographs as she accompanies them with stories and her fond, nostalgic chuckling.
( see, buck? that was the old man across the street that used to bandage me up when you weren't around to stop me from acting like a knucklehead or that was the dame who never gave you the time of day, but never quite wondering aloud, to bucky or herself, if any of them went on to have happy lives like they deserved, raising children and grandchildren stephanie rogers would never meet or see smile. )
she catches herself, now, when a memory strikes her in front of the television and has her faintly grinning to herself, turning to him with a do you remember that one time — before she stops and her lips fall closed. even the first syllable no longer leaves her tongue, but she makes an attempt to keep her sad smiles to herself when she happens upon a cheesy movie she thinks bucky would have ragged on her for watching. she would have interjected with a it was the only flick they were showing, but it's difficult to laugh over the night she spent watching gone with the wind at the cinema when she finds it on the classic movie channel, despite every line clicking within her mind as though she had been dragged to watch it a week ago.
she's become too accustomed to bucky — or james, the name she tries to address him by now to prevent the sight of him flinching away — faltering in his recognition to anticipate the abrupt question. as one might expect, he catches her off-guard, brows furrowing of their own accord before she can prevent the reaction.
she sounds almost sheepish when she confirms: ] Yeah. And all over your shoes. [ it hadn't been her crowning moment — but then again, neither had most of their youth before she'd been a symbol for america's war efforts, when her bones had been fragile and her constitution had been embarrassingly weak. ] I tried to warn you I didn't have the stomach for roller coasters.
[ she smiles, albeit weakly. a part of her wants to insist they return to the spot, one day — but like every other object and person in her past, she imagines the amusement park she had once been in awe of has faded and been ripped apart, merely becoming a ghost of what it once was. ]
[ he doesn't remember that she threw up all over his shoes, but he does remember that she threw up, and he thinks he recalls a reference to it later, too, something about payback that he can't quite put into context. he's getting used to not being able to put things into context; some days it bothers him more than others.
today, with her smiling at him even as weakly as that, he takes the victory without focusing on the losses, or at least he tries. ]
I liked the roller coaster.
[ at least he thinks he did. there's something in his tone that's almost asking for confirmation, despite it not being phrased as a question. he's still learning who he is, now. sometimes, the past helps with that. more often than not, it really doesn't. ]
[ it's too difficult to differentiate bucky and james, sometimes, existing as two sides of the same coin but with neither side mirroring the other, even if she can swear she sees flashes of the man whose shoes she had assaulted with a display of her own weak constitution. perhaps she's not truly steph, either; she's no longer the same girl he would have remembered, before his mind had become a system of frayed nerves and an incomplete database, wiped of what hydra had thought to be inessential in his programming — when it had been anything but, their new programming erasing the harddrive of bucky barnes and the man stored inside of it with it.
but where there's still flashes of her history inside of her, reciting the story of a girl too small to contain such a large and adamant spirit, bucky is gone, the pages of his own story yellowing and creasing due to the hands of time and neglect. she doubts she'll ever be able to flip back the pages for him — nor does she believe he wants to return to his past, rejecting the moniker of bucky but embracing james. the name is almost detached from the man he once was, but the syllables of it cling to that ghost of a soldier, regardless, as if refusing to exorcise him entirely.
she guesses neither of them truly have banished the spectres that linger and collect dust in the corners, after all. even the faint memories of an amusement park breathe life into a past neither of them can step away from, welcoming the ghosts they can never quite leave behind to haunt their steps. she treads carefully, uncertain, but the tics in her expression don't reveal as much. she opts for a faint smile, encouraging him, but refuses to press any further than she has, letting him retreat into his vague memories of his own accord. ]
You did. [ an affirmation, followed by a small attempt to fill in any blanks, but with her own recollections. ] That was the last time I ever let you talk me into going on one of those. [ her lips curve at the edges, weakly amused, but more nostalgic for a time that's flown by her. ] Haven't been on any in a long time. [ nearly 90 years worth of time, but who's counting? ]
[ preferences are something he is only very slowly regaining- that he is allowed to have them is still something he's shaky on, that he's allowed to want and allowed to ask for things. verbalisation is perhaps the most difficult task yet; he knows to answer when spoken to, but no one cared much for a weapon to take initiative outside of the context of a mission.
he knows some of his own preferences: he doesn't like the cold. he doesn't like pain and will go out of his way to avoid it, most days, except sometimes he can't feel anything at all and pain is the only thing that penetrates the haze in his head, so sometimes he seeks it out, too, and that is confusing. perhaps the warm-cold one is the only real preference he has.
( he likes food, but some of it leaves his stomach upset and he doesn't like that. he likes it when she smiles. )
she confirms that he liked the roller coaster, though, and he thinks about going again, about seeing if he likes it still or if that is another thing that was electrocuted out of him. bucky barnes liked the roller coaster and if james really is bucky, if they're the same person, he should like it, too, right?
but it would mean crowds and noise and interaction and he doesn't think he wants any of those things. even if he did- he's not sure he could have managed asking for it.
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thousandyard2014-08-05 12:05 am
no subject
she leaves reminders of their youth around her apartment, sometimes, to observe the way his eyes might take note of them, searching to see if she can ever spy a moment of enlightenment — but the lack of a connection, of that spark that informs her she's triggered a memory, rarely comes. the disappointment she can never quite conceal is worse in the moments she hesitantly wraps her hand around his fingers, pointing to men and women in photographs as she accompanies them with stories and her fond, nostalgic chuckling.
( see, buck? that was the old man across the street that used to bandage me up when you weren't around to stop me from acting like a knucklehead or that was the dame who never gave you the time of day, but never quite wondering aloud, to bucky or herself, if any of them went on to have happy lives like they deserved, raising children and grandchildren stephanie rogers would never meet or see smile. )
she catches herself, now, when a memory strikes her in front of the television and has her faintly grinning to herself, turning to him with a do you remember that one time — before she stops and her lips fall closed. even the first syllable no longer leaves her tongue, but she makes an attempt to keep her sad smiles to herself when she happens upon a cheesy movie she thinks bucky would have ragged on her for watching. she would have interjected with a it was the only flick they were showing, but it's difficult to laugh over the night she spent watching gone with the wind at the cinema when she finds it on the classic movie channel, despite every line clicking within her mind as though she had been dragged to watch it a week ago.
she's become too accustomed to bucky — or james, the name she tries to address him by now to prevent the sight of him flinching away — faltering in his recognition to anticipate the abrupt question. as one might expect, he catches her off-guard, brows furrowing of their own accord before she can prevent the reaction.
she sounds almost sheepish when she confirms: ] Yeah. And all over your shoes. [ it hadn't been her crowning moment — but then again, neither had most of their youth before she'd been a symbol for america's war efforts, when her bones had been fragile and her constitution had been embarrassingly weak. ] I tried to warn you I didn't have the stomach for roller coasters.
[ she smiles, albeit weakly. a part of her wants to insist they return to the spot, one day — but like every other object and person in her past, she imagines the amusement park she had once been in awe of has faded and been ripped apart, merely becoming a ghost of what it once was. ]
no subject
today, with her smiling at him even as weakly as that, he takes the victory without focusing on the losses, or at least he tries. ]
I liked the roller coaster.
[ at least he thinks he did. there's something in his tone that's almost asking for confirmation, despite it not being phrased as a question. he's still learning who he is, now. sometimes, the past helps with that. more often than not, it really doesn't. ]
THIS IS SO LATE sorry august ate me
but where there's still flashes of her history inside of her, reciting the story of a girl too small to contain such a large and adamant spirit, bucky is gone, the pages of his own story yellowing and creasing due to the hands of time and neglect. she doubts she'll ever be able to flip back the pages for him — nor does she believe he wants to return to his past, rejecting the moniker of bucky but embracing james. the name is almost detached from the man he once was, but the syllables of it cling to that ghost of a soldier, regardless, as if refusing to exorcise him entirely.
she guesses neither of them truly have banished the spectres that linger and collect dust in the corners, after all. even the faint memories of an amusement park breathe life into a past neither of them can step away from, welcoming the ghosts they can never quite leave behind to haunt their steps. she treads carefully, uncertain, but the tics in her expression don't reveal as much. she opts for a faint smile, encouraging him, but refuses to press any further than she has, letting him retreat into his vague memories of his own accord. ]
You did. [ an affirmation, followed by a small attempt to fill in any blanks, but with her own recollections. ] That was the last time I ever let you talk me into going on one of those. [ her lips curve at the edges, weakly amused, but more nostalgic for a time that's flown by her. ] Haven't been on any in a long time. [ nearly 90 years worth of time, but who's counting? ]
shhh never worry
he knows some of his own preferences: he doesn't like the cold. he doesn't like pain and will go out of his way to avoid it, most days, except sometimes he can't feel anything at all and pain is the only thing that penetrates the haze in his head, so sometimes he seeks it out, too, and that is confusing. perhaps the warm-cold one is the only real preference he has.
( he likes food, but some of it leaves his stomach upset and he doesn't like that. he likes it when she smiles. )
she confirms that he liked the roller coaster, though, and he thinks about going again, about seeing if he likes it still or if that is another thing that was electrocuted out of him. bucky barnes liked the roller coaster and if james really is bucky, if they're the same person, he should like it, too, right?
but it would mean crowds and noise and interaction and he doesn't think he wants any of those things. even if he did- he's not sure he could have managed asking for it.
so he nods, making a low noise of assent. ]