Steven G. Rogers (
thekidfrombrooklyn) wrote2014-12-29 07:26 pm
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OOM: Bucky, after the cells
Steve isn't sure when Bucky will be released from the cells, and so is passing the time at the Caribbean inlet, wondering how to get Orpheus's boat here. If it's possible, which he isn't sure about at all.
(There are boats floating on the perfect blue water. That seems promising.)
Boots off, pants rolled up, face turned up to the sun.
(Remembering, too, days spent at the shore, drawing sunbathers and flirting couples and Bucky as a boy, as a young man.)
His sketchbook is tucked in his coat. He may take it out before much longer.
(There are boats floating on the perfect blue water. That seems promising.)
Boots off, pants rolled up, face turned up to the sun.
(Remembering, too, days spent at the shore, drawing sunbathers and flirting couples and Bucky as a boy, as a young man.)
His sketchbook is tucked in his coat. He may take it out before much longer.
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It's... clean, here, and spacious -- especially after the cells. James wanders aimlessly toward the lake, watching the sky and the water.
Part way there, he spots a familiar figure in the distance, and angles his trajectory of approach to bring him toward Steve.
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He gets to his feet and brushes sand off his trousers. "Bucky! Hi."
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He slows to a stop as he reaches him.
"... nice out here," he observes, after a moment.
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He shoves his hands in his back pockets.
"Did you stop by the bar for your Christmas present?"
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"I will, though."
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"I love the book. It's a beautiful book."
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"I'm glad. I thought it might... suit you."
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He's quiet a moment. "It ridiculous, how happy that makes me. You do remember, don't you? You remember me."
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"Yeah. Not... not everything, yet, but I do."
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"Though I guess the more important question is what you remember about yourself."
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"Some things."
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"I'm... sorry."
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He picks up his boots and jacket. "Want to walk a bit?"
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He moves to Steve's left without hesitation.
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What do you remember about the last seventy years? seems like an awkward way to start a conversation, as does So we met about ninety years ago..., and aside from their shared past he's not sure what he should talk about.
Though he could say nothing.
The silence seems to settle between them quite firmly.
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"In the cells."
Abruptly, out of nowhere.
"She's ... different. From what you know."
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A long, long beat.
"Natasha. Romanova. --Romanoff."
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"She's actually great."
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He considers the sound of those words, then qualifies them.
"Her now."
Another long beat, as he frowns over what Steve has just said.
"She engineered the intel release?"
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He walks several steps in silence.
"I wasn't ... sure."
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He nods.
"And... I know. Now, I mean. That ..."
"They wouldn't have. Targeted her, with you. If she was ... with them."
A thoughtful beat.
"Probably."
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