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So, they've got the Winter Soldier. Had him for days now. The first few days he was sedated out of his mind, and restrained more often than not, more mental patient than prisoner. But they've doubled up one of the sturdier cells, cutting it in half with a transparent wall, so someone can safely speak to him with a barrier in place, rather than having to get within arms' reach.
The last forty eight hours have been clearer, calmer - he's off most of the drugs, and no longer bound to a gurney. Still nothing like as impressive as rumor paints him, or even previous acquaintance. Instead of a masked and heavily armed figure, he's a medium-sized young man, long hair loose about his face, clad in scrub pants and a t-shirt, barely more than pajamas. At the moment he's sitting propped against the back wall, knees drawn up, head resting on his folded arms, silent.
*
Agent Bobbi Morse had had various run ins with the Winter Soldier. In one instance he was utterly the soldier, intent to kill her, and another else in SHIELD getting in his way. She'd seen him mow down people in combat without blinking at the deaths caused by his hands, without so much as a glance spared for those that ran screaming in his wake.
She'd been at his mercy, as he broke her leg when she was down, ready to end it all, and by happy chance a few off beat cops had interrupted him.
She had seen him locked up and behind containment fields at the facility at Triskellion, before he'd escaped.
She had also come home one night to find a gun pointed at her forehead and an invitation to sit down. A command to chat. He'd demanded that she help him save the life of one Miss Potts. Which she had. Partly due to some curious want to see what it might drag out of the killer. Partly, as well, because Rogers had asked her to help. That had of course, been in the report she'd filed for the Director some months back.
Bobbi Morse, Agent Mockingbird, was anything if not loyal. Blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore her standard issue uniform as she approached the clear viewing window. A quiet rap of her knuckles following, "Hey, Barnes. You coherent in there?"
*
He's polite enough to unfold and rise to his bare feet, but doesn't approach the glass. "I am," he says, mildly. There is an utter lack of recognition in his eyes - she's just another new agent to him, come to ask questions or tend him or even simply gawk. His expression isn't even curious in its own right - there's just a kind of patient blankness. AT least he's no longer caught in a flashback or memory loop, screaming and fighting the bonds they had on him.
*
A small 'hmm' follows as she eyed him, folding her arms. There was not taunting, no swearing or cursing his name. A sharp and critical interest followed and she slowly nodded. "I'm Agent Morse. I'm aware you've been suffering from some rather serious mental dissociations. I promised a few people that I'd look in on you if we ever brought you in." She offered her voice calm and polite, all things considered.
"I've met you before, a few times actually. I can attest to having seen different personalities from you." A pause, "Do you have any recollections at all?" She'd seen the reports already, but it was always better to converse with someone, if they were willing.
*
His brows go up, and he takes a short pace closer to the divider. THat pale gaze searches her face for a long moment. "Of you? No," A shake of his head, and he brushes his hair back with an impatient metal hand. "In general…." Buck trails off, for a little span. "I have a memory of Captain Rogers, which…which I think was brought out by contact with another woman with powers to affect memories. I have indistinct images of violent incidents - I remember killing a number of people, but not their names or why they were targets or the circumstances." His voice is low, matter of fact, that last delivered as calmly as the rest.
*
A nod, and Bobbi very calmly folded her hands behind her, shoulder relaxed as she offered a polite smile. "I thought as much." Then she was moving and collecting a folding chair from off to the side, settling down into with care as she leaned forward.
"I spoke with Captain Rogers, actually, about you before. He was concerned about your mental state. The last report I had on you, was a complete flip from what I had on record. So it was interesting to say the least."
Another pause, "Rogers was willing to go off the books in trying to help you, you know."
*
"Well, Captain Rogers was right to be," His voice is a flat deadpan….and the blue eyes are terribly weary. "I'm not sure what day it is, but I've lost a bit of time already, and apparently tried to attack the Director at least once. What do you mean, from what you had on record?" He's still standing, arms loose at his side, gazing at her through the glass.
*
A roll of her shoulders followed as Bobbi sat up straight, gazing back at him. "Well considering the first and second times I met you, were in combat scenarios, and the last time, you were fighting for another's life.. Well," She shrugged, folding her arms.
"I would consider that a rather major personality flip. You had more memories that time, and showed empathy beyond yourself. You wanted to talk, and while you pointed a gun at my head, it was all rather civil by comparison." She didn't look overly upset about that.
"Rogers and I compared notes and it's fairly certain that whatever was done to you, was rather nasty."
*
The look he gives her at that can only be described as 'sardonic', though there's only the faintest hint of sarcasm in his tone when he replies. "I agree," he says, and his voice is a little softer. The mention of pointing a gun at someone….he doesn't quite smile. "What did I want to talk about?"
*
A wry smile pulled at Bobbi's lips, the blonde rolling her shoulders back to cause a slight crack to her spine and she grimaced faintly. A few too many hours spent at the desk rather than in the field would do that though. "You wanted me to use my considerable skill at bio-physics to save the life of one Miss Pepper Potts. She was hooked on a drug known as Vigor and was wasting away. Shield was working on a cure, but it was slow going. It wasn't top priority. You made it that." She nodded toward him with a wave of her hand.
"We chatted some about the recent alien invasion. I was curious if your attempt on the Director was because of that or not. You had no knowledge of it."
*
The mention of Pepper wipes away even the hint of humor. He goes all but blank. "I've met her," he says, quietly. "She said we were lovers. I take it this is true. Why would you work with me? By all accounts, I've killed a number of SHIELD agents. And I sitll don't, when it comes to aliens."
*
A shrug, "I wanted nothing more than to use her as an excuse to find out more about your where abouts and bring you in. It was practical. You managed to track down my apartment, and break in, and get the jump on me." She gestured toward him.
"For anyone to find me and track me at this point in my career is disturbing. I put a lot of time into making sure I'm hard to be found." And then she paused, glancing over him. "But she did need the help. A few more weeks and I think she'd have been broken when the sources for Vigor dried up. So I helped her. Regardless on whether or not you showed up. It was the right thing to do."
*
"Good," It's almost curt, that response….but there's something vague flickering in his eyes. "And now I've been brought in," he adds, almost offhand, gaze flickering around the featureless expanse of his cell. There's a toilet and a sink in one corner, and nothing else. No bedding, no furniture. Then he looks back to her, head tilted just a little, prompting. "What are you going to do with me?"
*
Bobbi Morse leaned back in her chair, hands settling into her lap as she studied him and then followed his glance around the cell and back to meet his gaze. "Indeed, but I promised Rogers back then to help with you. And this is the best I've got. I'm a senior agent and had been assigned to you previously. Though I'm pretty sure the Director has me on thin ice for the length of time it took me to report my findings." She tilted her head, watching him.
"The best I can offer is my professional opinion on your mental state and stability. Perhaps help in the lab if required to run tests on your blood work." Another pause as she considered him, lips thinning.
"And to make sure that you don't escape a second time."
*
James considers that, silently, listening. Then he nods. "I don't want to escape," he offers, finally. "But that's the opinion when James Barnes is driving," he adds. "I don't know why I was sent out in a state bad enough for one of your agents to bring me in alone. It seems suspicious, honestly. If I'd been such a wrecking ball to you all before - if I've escaped from harder facilities than this…." He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a sigh. "I'm probably a Trojan Horse."
*
A nod, "I understand and you're not the only one suspicious either," She offered, folding her arms as she considered him.
"Not that suspicions can do anything when we're not exactly sure the how or why as of yet." She considered him again, crossing her legs.
"I imagine there must be some method to the madness, some kind of a trigger to set everything in motion. Could be a person, or an event for all we know." She trailed off for a long moment, falling silent again. "But Rogers will swear by you still, and as much as it makes sense to put you down, he won't allow it if he can have a say."
*
There's that weariness to him, for all his posture's upright, even relaxed. "That's Captain Rogers for you," he says, lightly. "And that is what makes the most sense. I've already discussed it with the Director," he adds. "She'll take care of it personally, if it comes to that." Bucky's bizarrely offhand, as if the idea of Peggy Carter being the one to execute him is exactly what one'd expect in this situation.
*
A nod, practicality seeming to be alive for the two, at least for the moment. "If we can, however slim a chance it is, do something to undo some of the damage though? You could be a valuable asset for Shield. Especially against the Russians.." She offered, tossing her hand up with ease. It was the logical conclusions to make after all.
"At least, I know that's what Rogers would want the most. To turn you back to the good ol' USA." The leather she wore creaked as she leaned forward.
"But Rogers is a bit of a boy scout," She paused, "Your former words, not mine, but I agree with them none the less."
*
He spreads his hands, not quite shrugging, the diffuse light of the cell running like gleaming liquid over the curves of the metal digits. "I'm not averse to that, when I'm in control. I'm just afraid that's exactly what I was sent out here to do. Why am I allowed to remember some of who I used to be?" His brow goes furrowed, and he adds, haltingly, "But not all of it. The conditioning….it's still there."
*
The blonde eyed his metallic arm, "You're closer now to who I met before, not entirely intact, but yes. I can see the hints. Enough to tease that hint." She murmurd, tapping her chin.
"We have a few things that I'll have to run by Director Carter, but something might stick. No promises if she'll even allow my suggestions. Like I said, thin ice." She spread her hand out before her in a shrug.
"Rogers can get away with a lot more than most of us, especially with the Director."
*
"From what I do know of him, that's always been his way," Buck's voice is finally tinged with something - sadness, envy? Who knows. "What are your thoughts? The Director said there was someone on staff who had skills related to memory. But I imagine she'd be grateful for any suggestions that might prove helpful."
*
A shrug, "I'm a bio-chemist at heart. If it's medical I might be able to crack it with enough time. And luck," She added, considering she was one of the few to get close to discovering the secrets to the super soldier serum? She'd been so close, and yet so very far..
"We have a few people on staff that have some unusual capabilities. Not entirely sure of their limits, but I want to talk to them before I go volunteering them for the Director." She murmured, considering. "But it might possibly work out."
*
He nods again, looking at her. "I know it was at least partially so," He licks his lips, and there are faint signs of strain appearing in his face. "From what I do remember." Which would explain him utterly losing his mind when he woke up to find himself strapped to a gurney, monitoring equipment attached to him. The footage from the cell cameras of that particular breakdown was….unnerving. "There might be a chemical way to break the resistance…."
*
Another slight nod of encouragement and Bobbi, glance him ove again, noting the faint signs of strain with an expert eye. "As I said, I've got a few theories to test out. So long as you're here at least and the Director green lights them." She leaned back in her chair, a creak of leather against the folding chair.
"Do you remember how long you were out on the streets for?" She was certain he'd likely been asked the question already, but given the nature of their discussion? Perhaps she was just testing how much he'd tell her.
*
"Several weeks," he replies, without hesitation. "My first …conscious memory is waking up in a cheap motel near Hell's Kitchen. Heart of the City's the name. I paid in advance, registered under the name 'John Frost'. I have other ID in that alias, as well."
*
"That would be in line with what the reports said," She nodded, and rose from the folding chair. "Thank you, Barnes." A pause as she considered him.
"Do you prefer to be referred to as Barnes at the moment or would something else work for you?" She asked, arching a brow.
"For however long you remain here, I'd rather be polite."
*
"Barnes works," Bucky's smile is thin. "Or even James, if you're feeling informal. The conditioning hates it when I use that name, but…" He looks at her, from under his brows. "And how should I address you?"
*
Bobbi made a show of inclining her head politely, "Barnes it is. You'll have to forgive me if I'm not quite comfortable with addressing a man that tried to kill me a few times by his first name." She smirked, "Even if I can respect that it wasn't your fault entirely."
"Like I said at the start, Agent Morse. I mostly go by Morse around here. Bobbi if we're friends, though you're pleasant enough for the moment.."
*
He drops his gaze for a moment. "I understand," he says, simply. James, the Soldier, whoever he is - there's no attempt at mock contrition. But there's definitely unease, and a hint of sick shame. "Agent Morse, then." A glance up. "For the moment."
*
Bobbi shrugged easily, as if unbothered by the statements. Such was life, sometimes people tried to kill you, professionally it happened. Even if there were some truly terrible people on either side of the line, Morse didn't seem too daunted by it. "Hey I'll bring you some books or something next time, if you want. Any requests? I mean, they sure as hell won't let you have them, but I'm sure reading out loud won't be too dangerous." She hooked an eyebrow upwards.
"I draw the line at men's mags though."
*
There's a wry purse to his lips at that, and a stifled retort. "Well," he says, finally, "I dunno. Something classic, I guess? And…someone could prop it up before the divider, though I'd have to have someone turn the pages. I don't imagine you'd find a lot of agents in a hurry to boast of having read bedtime stories to the Winter Soldier."
*
A laugh, and Bobbi Morse shrugged, the blonde was clearly amused. "Hey, classic I can do." She snap pointed in his direction, and it was clear how the spy was able to set targets at ease with a smile and a glance.
"It's better for your mental state to engage in something rather than left alone in solitary. It's been proven how destabilizing it is to be alone without means to keep the mind active." She offered.
*
Bucky tips his head to her, that hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. Like he's still has a hard time, breaking that studied immobility."Even without already being unstable. And the drugs were getting tiring," he comments, drily. "I'd ask to draw, but no one's gonna give me pointy objects, are they?"
*
That earned a raised brow from Morse and she folded her arms as she leaned against the glass to eye him up and down. "And how many ways can you think of to kill a man with something like a crayon? Because I can think of a couple and I'm not the one with a mental condition." She drawled easily.
"Suffice to say, they're not gonna give you crap. Pretty sure playdough is out of the equation too. So are slinkies, and blocks boyo."
*.
*
"…..What's playdough?" asks Bucky Barnes, expression quizzical. I'll take 'Questions I Never Thought I'd Hear Fall Out Of The Winter Soldier's Mouth' for a thousand, Alex. He apparently knows what a Slinky is. Apparently the cut off for what he might remember is the early 1940s. He's standing in front of the glass divider that cuts the cell in half, wearing scrub bottoms and a t-shirt, talking with Bobbi apparently amicably. At least he's not screaming, crying, trying to claw his way through the glass, or punching the divider. Things *are* looking up.
*
A pause, and Bobbi arched a brow as she considered him. "Oh man, they really kept you locked up tight, didn't they. Damn." She whistled, "It's a children's uh, toy. Soft, squishy, like dough but colorful and not intended to be made into anything edible." She made a vague gesture with her hands.
"I mean, you could likely jam that down a guy's throat and kill him. I guess.."
*
Do not give the man ideas. Bucky looks decidedly thoughtful. "I like the way your mind works," he informs Bobbi, pleasantly. "We're going to get along fine." Because that is exactly the compliment a girl wants to hear from an internationally feared cyborg assassin, right?
*
Carol walks down the corridor towards Bobbi, giving her a wave as she says, "Up the nose might work better, then your palm could be holding the jaw shut." She heard about Bucky being a prisoner, and since she took the afternoon off… well, she thought she'd come down to check on things.
*
Bobbi flashed him an easy grin, "Yeah well, what can I say? I get paid to think outside the box." She offered, glancing toward Carol as the woman approached.
"Honestly it could work either way, but setting a slow reacting poison to be absorbed by the skin would work a hundred times better. Especially if you're looking for a delayed reaction and need a clean get away. Play Dough is moist already and perfect for the transference of such things. Also the smell would cover up things rather nicely." She mused, tapping her chin.
"Hey Danvers."
*
Rumors should have gotten around that Daniel Sousa had finally been found, so Peggy actually took a day off and spent it with her husband. But that was just the day. This evening, she's returning to the office to at least check in on things. Even as ridiculously pregnant as she is, injured and recovering husband at home. She might have a bit of a work addiction. After shrugging off her light spring trench, the round woman begins to waddle her way as matter of factly as possible down to the cells. She arches a brow towards the crowd, just watching a few moments, a hovering, worrying shadow.
*
So, they've got the Winter Soldier in a subdivided cell - the original chamber that opens on the corridor now has a transparent divider built in, so they can come in and speak with him, or look at him, without being in arm's reach, or worry about him rushing his way out into the hallway beyond. Because exactly nobody save Peggy herself was happy with the idea that the Director was in arms' reach of a guy who kills agents with the kind of bloodyminded enthusiasm toddlers reserve for kicking over sandcastles.
So Bucky's standing on the other side of the divider, talking to Bobbi. He seems relatively sane. Even amicable and cooperative. He's standing there bare foot, in scrub bottom and t-shirt. "That's an idea," he says, but he looks faintly nauseous. "But maybe you shouldn't say stuff like that in front of me. Sometimes it's like I can feel the other guy listening in."
*
Carol enters the first half of the chamber of the cell, joining Bobbi there as she looks over at Bucky, "Hey there. Remember me?" Which could be from either a decade ago, or just the other day. Then she looks over at Bobbi, "Outside the box, you?" She then grins a little, and looks back to Bucky.
*
Sofia, on the other hand, is able to walk with a fair amount of haste. She removes her coa as she enters as well, the petite Filipino woman currently dressed in a mid shin length navy blue skirt and a white blouse, buttoned up to the collar. She hasa bag over her left shoulder and her sidearm holstered appropriately to her side. "Good evening, Director. What do we have so far?"
*
A shrug followed as Bobbi eyed Barnes from her position. "Well, considering that you're aware of it, then that's progress. And it didn't cause you to lose yourself, so now we know that. It's important to learn." She offered with glance over him, at once critical and sharp in studying him and his posture.
She seemed content with something she saw or didn't see and glanced back to Carol.
"Hey, there was the Tunisian incident that was particularly creative on my part." She shot back, catching sight of the Director and Sofia immediately after. She nodded, offering Peggy a two fingered salute.
*
Not quite entering the cell yet, she lets Bobbi and Carol have their time with the soldier, Peggy gives Sofia a firmly respectful nod. There is an exhaustion behind her eyes, a wariness of a woman who has to do something she very much doesn't want to, but sees little other options. She exhales one of those shallow breaths, no room left in her torso for a deep one, and starts quietly, "He's got programming in his head… we know this. We need it out. Or reprogrammed. Or deactivated and *confirmed* deactive. I don't know if you can do any or all of that… and how much it would hurt you, but I also don't want to contract this to an outsider telepath and that's my…only other choice right now." Peggy gives Bobbi a quiet nod of greeting, but doesn't move closer yet.
*
So, the appearance of Carol and Sofia almost together is enough to startle Buck into dismayed silence. "From the other day," he says, in that monotone that means he's trying to suppress or hide emotion, "Yes." Then that blue gaze goes to Sofia. "You," he says. It should be the kind of melodramatic exclamation one expects from a villain. Instead, he just sounds gobsmacked. "You're the one who can touch my memories…." All of a sudden, it's a lot of people, relatively speaking….all of whom are enemy agents, or so says that part of his mind that isn't entirely silenced, for all his apparent clarity. He takes a step back from the divider, then another, not quite backing up to the rear wall.
*
Carol glances back towards Peggy, and nods slightly, "Director." She doesn't say Peggy since, well, other agents present and all that. However, she does take a half-step back and to the side, making sure she's between Bucky and Peggy. Just in case.
*
"I can manage," Sofia responds quietly, canting her head slightly to the left. She is focusing her brown eyes on Bucky as he turns in her direction and then woman gives a single nod. "Well. It wouldn't do to contract this out, no. I will see about getting this corrected… As for how much it will hurt me, I imagine it will hurt about as much as it hurt him. No sense wasting time then." Sofia starts forward slowly, taking a deep breath as she does so.
"Yes. My name is Sofia. I don't want to hurt you… But I think you know that. I can help you remember ." Sofia is entering the room now, licking her lips slightly as she does. "We should give him a bit of room. It's… A lot of people." And then to Bucky, "I know it hurts. I felt it too and I- well. Will you help me help you figure it all out? I think we can. Together."
Sofia removes her sidearm now and holds it out for someone to take from her. "What do you think?"
*
Bobbi noted the change immediately, and for her part, kept her posture relaxed and at ease. Even if she stepped away slowly and easily with a small nod toward Bucky. A glance was cast toward Sofia and then toward Peggy, and Carol. She made to swipe the gun that Sofia held out in offer, dangling it easily from her fingers.
"I already promised to read to him dirty mags, Director. So really, if I go to the trouble to find some, he should at least be coherent for that. At the very least save it for his last request you know." She drawled, arching a brow. Her humor painted easily over her features as she continued her path down the hall.
*
A slightly deeper frown crosses Peggy's lips as she watches Sofia, "…Be gentle. Take your time. If it requires many… Sessions, that is fine. Do not push or break yourself or him. You are both too valuable." Peggy murmurs gently, but she doesn't stop the woman from going forward. She steps forward a few more feet herself, just to the edge of that outer cell. She will watch tonight, but she doesn't yet intrude. She gives Bobbi a tired, sideways smile, "Your American smut is so… unoriginal. I'll get some sent over from France. He'll really enjoy those."
*
Carol moves over towards Peggy, staying between her and the glass, "You know, if you want me to bodyguard you here… you're not making it /that/ easy." She grins wryly, "Just because you can gloat at me doesn't mean you can ignore me here."
*
He's gone pale. Paler, even - lips thinning out, pressed into that grim line. But he doesn't recoil further, standing his ground….for all that his ground is a few feet of reinforced concrete. Bobbi's parting gibe about the magazines makes him snort, but his gaze is fixed on Sofia, for the most part….though those desperate little flickers to the side take in Carol and Peggy. "I know I'm on camera all the time. What kind of perverts are you?" he demands, but it lacks real ire. Even teasing is a form of inclusion….and a diversion from what Sofia's offering. More seriously, he says, "….I'll take it. If you think you can do it. Anything to break this. Whatever it takes."
*
"I'll be careful," Sofia promises Peggy with a brief nod. She takes another of those deep breaths and closes her eyes for a second before smiling wryly. "I did complain that I hadn't really exercised my talents yet. I got my wish, I suppose." Then she adds, for Bucky's benefit, "Okay. I'm going to come inside there with you now. I'm not going to lie and say this will be easy. We're going to be reliving some of your memories. But- together this time. I'll be there to help you. I…" She hesitates for a second before finishing sheepishly with, "We're going to become very well-acquainted. But I think it will help." Sofie is a little pale too now, though her skin tone hides it fairly well. "Just tell me if you need to stop." Now Sofia is removing her gloves. It's time to join Bucky in the enclosure.
*
One last, quiet nod towards Sofia, Peggy giving her blessing, then the director smirks a bit more at Carol, "This isn't the time… but yes, I told you so." Peggy clips out, unable to help but gloat a LITTLE about all of it, her eyes amused, though it doesn't reach deep. Deep down, she's so very worried now. She watches the quiet interchange in the cell, the pallor of Bucky's skin, and her frown returns. Then, a heartbeat later, it turns into the quietest, most tense sort of grimace. She makes no sound, but she stops breathing for just a few moments. One hand goes out to the wall to steady herself. She has been in pain before. She knows how to hide it. It's no different this time. She stays there, leaning, just a few moments, waiting for it to pass.
*
"Wait," he says, desperately, lifting up his hands as if to ward her off, putting his back against the wall. "If you have to touch me to do this, you're gonna wanna restrain me. I don't know how conscious I have to be to let you in, either - but you might want to drug me, too, if you can. The conditioning's all been to one end, right? To make me into an efficient killer. Don't be my last victim, please." He adds, after a beat, "I'm sorry for what you're gonna see."
*
Carol blinks at the accusation of perversity, then looks at Peggy, "You told him who I'm dating, didn't you." She does notice Peggy's discomfort, but at Bucky's words, she nods, "Well, I can restrain you easily enough. As long as you don't break yourself trying to get loose." She sounds pretty confident of that, "Or, we can find something that'll work, I'm sure."
*
Peggy really cannot speak for a few moments, because then she'll make a sound, and then people will KNOW. More than just Carol, who might not even realize. She keeps a slightly white knuckled grasp against the wall, forcing herself to breath through her nose a moment or two while she waits for it all to pass. Bucky and Sofia could probably be at each other's throats in the cell and she may very well have missed it. She breathes out raggedly after another moment, adding in a quieter, slightly strained voice, "…there are… tested straps, on his bed…"
*
"We can start with physical restraints then and see how it goes. If we do this right we won't need any restraints. But one step at a time. So!" Sofia offers Bucky a smile as she approaches his bed, her hands free of her gloves for what might be the first time in the SHIELD building. "I don't have to touch you bit it makes it- easier. Okay. Lay down on the bed and I'll get you strapped down. Just tell me if it's too… tight…? Ah- hmm." Sofia looks back then, briefly scanning Peggy. She frowns briefly but soon returns to her work. Once Bucky is strapped down Sofia sits on the edge of the bed. "Okay. Can you think of somewhere you'd like to start. An event you don't remember… Or want to remember better. When you're ready just take my hand." She delicately rests her fingertips on Bucky's wrist. The real one.
*
He's not going to argue….but he's sufficiently off balance to not notice the proceedings begin with Madame Peggy. IF she has the kid here, she has to name it James Barnes JR. Jamesina if it's a girl. Buck submits without protest, only testing the restraints once he's buckled in. He's still pale - that sensation's enough to start prodding at memories in and of itself. "I guess….the beginning of the conditioning…."
*
A slight clearing of her throat, before anything else noticeable happens, and Peggy calls into the cell. "I will leave you both to it. Sofia, I expect a report on my desk in the morning." Of course, there are other guards, but Peggy had no wish to make a mess of this or distract them further. So, with that, she turns on the ball of her foot and heads back down the hall to her office.
*
"Alright…" Sofia is shifting her weight slightly from left to right on the bed. The brunette closes her eyes, her small hand clasping Bucky's tightly and more or less disappearing into it. "Okay. If you can tell me anything about it, go ahead…" He might not even realize that she is prodding at his mind at first. From the moment they touch she is reaching out to touch Buckys's thoughts and access the memories he is recalling. They'd be vivid, moreso than usual… Easier to recall. "Don't worry if you don't see me. I'm here. You're safe." At some point Sofia stops speaking aloud. It isn't needed.
*
The ease with which he accepts her mental presence might be the first thing that's disconcerting. On some level, he's far, far too used to people rearranging that particular mental furniture.
That memory itself…..he doesn't know where it is. It doesn't obediently bubble up for scrutiny. There's a lot of wading through darkness and blood and confusion before she finds it, tracing those terrible branching paths down, down, down to the root.
It's cold. Like that other memory, cold so deep it's like burning, slowing thought and reaction, darkness turning to white light. He's blank, a page untouched by words. But there's a voice, speaking in Russian, muffled by something that isn't mere distance, repeating itself with a nearly mechanical evenness. "Wake up. Wake up, soldier." Nothing behind him but a vast opaque wall, no memories of anything else. His eyes open on a circle of faces - they're looking up at him, arrayed like surgeons in something like scrubs, masked and anonymous. From his perspective, he's strung up, somehow, hung above them….until whatever's holding him releases with a hiss, and he topples forward. No one catches him, and he's limp on an icy floor, until hands lift him, drag him towards something that looks like some nightmare version of a dentist's chair. "What?" is all he can get out, before he's strapped in - no wonder being buckled down is such a seed of panic. And then there's pain in earnest, like lightning from temple to temple. He can't scream after the first few instants, because he can't get enough air into his lungs.
*
Sofia's pulse quickens. Bucky can feel it dimly, through their mutual cotact, as she is delving deeper into memories slicked with crimson and half hidden in darkness. She continues with him, however, the physical contact mirroring a certain intimacy that comes with visiting the innermost thoughts and memories of one's mind with another. Sofia's hand tightens on Bucky's slightly. Not enough to cause him discomfort, of course. She isn't strong enough for that.
For a split second Sofia can't remember who she is when that voice speaks. She understands Russian, so it is easy to slot herself in Bucky's place, to recall the feeling of being awakened, strung up and restained to a wall. Then they are strapping Bucky in and he screams. She screams as well for a moment, and for a second the pain is mutual and their voices are paired… But then it is less, somehow. Sofia takes part of the agony with her, providing a reassuring presence in the back of Bucky's mind, a way to keep some part of himself separate from the memory if he reaches out to her.
I'm here. You're okay. There wasn't once, but if you feel overwhelmed reach out to me. Okay? I'll- do whatever I can. Are… Are you okay?
*
Poor Sofia. Because the moment there's that sense of presence, something separate from himself, he's turning and latching on to her with absolute desperation. Like a drowning man dragging down his would-be rescuer. But then there's enough detachment to realize….this is an ally. Someone not part of the pain.
It ebbs, after a moment, leaving him sobbing with the aftereffects, animal whimpers. And then there's a voice again, in Russian, murmuring. What he's for. Who he is - the Winter Soldier. The glory of the Motherland. It's rank propaganda, but for a mind adrift with no facts to moor it….he's just absorbing it. But she's there, that little bit that doesn't match…and it's enough to carve out a space for him, as the words wash past them.
*
"So this… Is what it's like?" Sofia's voice wavers at first but it grows stronger ash e relaxes his grasp on her mind. For a second she nearly buckled under the pressure but then the telepath took a second to detach herself in turn. Just a little bit. Afterward it's easier to avoid sinking as he struggles. Even so it's all Sofia can do to keep herself from joining him in crying.
"You're stronger than I am," the young woman murmurs gently in Bucky's mind. She breathes a quiet sigh and soon adds, "It helps to try to remember you're not really here. If you sink into the memory entirely it's going to be hard to dig your way out. It's hard enough for me and it isn't even mine."
*
He's a mute presence next to her. Being so close to that wordless, blank self has its influences. But he's listening to her, taking comfort. This is the past, not the now. That specific memory fades into one of waiting in a cell - not clear and clean and well lit like the SHIELD facility, but somewhere dark, curled on a bed that can be felt but not seen, huddled beneath a blanket that does very little to drive away that chill. Every moment's a burden, because there's no perspective - the way every day seems so much longer to a child.
But he drags himself out of that state enough to reply. "It wasn't the worst in terms of what they did. But it felt the worst. Because my mind and my memory were gone. I wasn't anyone until I was the Winter Soldier. I had no name. I was nothing."
*
"But you're not nothing. They were just trying to torture you into forgetting that. James Buchanan Barnes. You didn't let them take that from you completely." Sofi squeezes Bucky's hand again, even if he wouldn't quite be aware she is doing it on any conscious level. The memory is allowed to continue but as it subsides from sheer trauma into waiting Sofia asserts herself a bit more. "My full name is- Sofia Ariana Mendoza y Reyes, by the way. It's a bit of a mouthful. I figure I should share a little bit if we're going to go through so much of yours. Were you named for anyone? A grandparent, maybe?"
*
"No, it was gone. Even before they tortured me. I think it's the injuries that I got….I was actually pretty much dead when they revived me. That's why it's blank - brain damage. Reyes, huh?" It's dark and chill and still, for a long while. But a good space to talk, to try and reassert something. "I don't know. Can you look further back? YOu found that memory of Steve…."
*
"Mendoza, actually. It's a Spanish thing. You take the last name of your father and then your mother's. But your father's name is first." Sofia responds to that question calmly filling the darkness with the warmth of her soft, smooth mezzo soprano voice. "Alright. Further back. Steve… Hm. We can focus on him. You were friends as kids, right? if I push I bet we can end up in a memory from when you were you were younger." So Sofia does, flexing her will to scroll through Bucky's fragmented thoughts. Searching isn't too hard normally… But she doesn't even know if they are still in chronological order.
*
It's a fight. Of course he remembers a fight. But it's far more benign than the endless litany of battlefields - this is New York in the end of the twenties. And one young James Barnes is heading home from school on a late spring day in hopes of a sandlot baseball game. Only to find some of his playground enemies tormenting a scrawny little blonde kid who is categorically refusing to cry 'uncle', despite having his face ground into the sand near home plate. James may not be the most chivalrous soul, but he wades in, and it's enough to drive the bullies off……and that is how he meets Steve Rogers.
*
Sofia chooses not to interrupt this time. She keeps enough of a grip on the scene to be sure that it continues to play out and then settles into the background, observing. In the real world Sofia's pulse is slowing, her breathing growing calmer as she starts to relax. There's something to be said for letting go of intense life altering trauma.
*
It's far calmer, more pleasant…..and the keystone. For so many aspects of fate are altered by this one meeting - Steve's, Bucky's, lives and deaths. One needn't be a magician like Strange to see what spirals out from there. And then he's sinking out of contact, exhausted. It's for her to break the link, but she can feel him turning away, sinking into true unconsciousness.
*
"Sleep well, James," Sofia whispers, a resonant thought that would probably greet him just before she loses him completely. Sofia could continue rooting through the man's mind but she stops here, forcibly severing the link. She comes to her feet then, pulling on her gloves and wiggling her fingers slightly as they settle into place. "I'll check on you tomorrow." That last part is stated aloud,even if he can't hear her, and then Sofia is exiting the room with long, careful strides. "I think we'll do this again without the restraints next time."
*