[She watches him, and there's something similar to it. Watching how he curls in on himself and sobs. She shifts as she stands next to him, wants to offer something to make it better, but she's never been good at that. The words he says are easier, even if there are truths that still catch in her chest that lurk behind her own.]
He's still working on it.
[Words said soft and quiet. There's something a little familiar to the tone, a little sweet to the curve of her lips that is too sad to be a smile. But she remembers the fact that when she'd been pulled into James' memories (the other one) it hadn't all been bad. It had been Bucky showing Steve how to dance in a small room, and the music from the phonograph, teasing and laughter.
But she remembers how awed he'd been, like it was a fragile snowflake about to melt if he touched it. And she has her own memories of him, even if she hadn't really talked about them, not even to either of them. It's hard for her, when it's tied up in a complicated ball of the emotions of a thirteen year old girl who hardly remembered anything beyond the walls of her prison.]
no subject
He's still working on it.
[Words said soft and quiet. There's something a little familiar to the tone, a little sweet to the curve of her lips that is too sad to be a smile. But she remembers the fact that when she'd been pulled into James' memories (the other one) it hadn't all been bad. It had been Bucky showing Steve how to dance in a small room, and the music from the phonograph, teasing and laughter.
But she remembers how awed he'd been, like it was a fragile snowflake about to melt if he touched it. And she has her own memories of him, even if she hadn't really talked about them, not even to either of them. It's hard for her, when it's tied up in a complicated ball of the emotions of a thirteen year old girl who hardly remembered anything beyond the walls of her prison.]
Does it still hurt? What happened?