002 ✪ audio + action

[redactions]

Who: Jim Barnes
Broadcast: Fleetwide audio.
Action: On the moon.
When: Sept. 20th.

Good morning. This is Captain James Barnes. By now we've assessed the damage to the ships — seems like it only slowed us down some, and whoever the enemy was they don't seem to have followed us. That's not why I'm here.

[ a half-beat of pause, then, ]

We can't guarantee there'll always be shields or weapons aboard our ships at any given time. That doesn't mean we can't work out a system to make sure we're covering for each other in a fight. If we can form groups of two or three ships, at least one with weapons, and coordinate a few flying formations, we stand a much better chance.

As for communications, if they're taken offline like that again we are going to need a solution. We used manual signalling in my War; I'm open to options that don't have us scrambling blind during a crisis like that.

[ a beat ]

We got lucky, this time. We might not be again.

Barnes out.




→ shooting range

[ You know. This is simple. The pistols take getting used to, but it's a matter of practice. Assembly. Disassembly. Ready, aim, fire. One end of the shooting range is devoted entirely to Jim trying out all the variants he can get his hands on. They are laid on the table in front of him neatly. ]

[ All the shots hit the centre ring of the target, if not, damned closed. He's not concentrating too hard or scowling, just seems perfectly placid, and steady. When he feels eyes on him, ]

Sorry, did you want [ gesturing to the row of pistols ] one a'these?

→ some seedy bar

[ This alcohol is completely algae-free and that might be the entire reason he's even bothering with it. This place doesn't look quite as ripe for sudden violence either; but there's still murmuring in the background and a card game that looks like it might be heating up. ]

[ He's sitting alone, in the corner, nursing a glass. Another one sits beside him, completely untouched. It's always been for Steve. ]

Comments

[reconstitution]

I'm fine.

[ While he knows it's probably fine, the paranoia is still taking precedent to his new found autonomy. Better safe than someone slipping cyanide into his drink somehow.

There are just enough people in the saloon that he doesn't want to lose the awareness he has. There were enough unsavory civilians.. ]

[redactions]

All right.

[ Jim tips his glass in a cheers gesture and sips, rolling it around in his mouth before he swallows. It has no effect on him, will never make him drowsy or sick, but the burn down the throat is the same. ]

[ He taps the untouched glass next to him. ]

This is for Steve. It's what soldiers do when they've lost a friend. Buy one. Some folks fill it with the same s'what they're drinking. I don't.

[reconstitution]

[ He takes his attention away from the crowd to regard the empty glass in front of him. He doesn't touch it. ]

It's a tribute. [ He nods in understanding, gaze flicking back out to the other patrons, though he's not paying attention. He's unfocused.

Five men are sitting around a dusty table, beaten glasses in their hands. Their clothes are tattered and dirty, shoulders hunched in, protecting their drinks.

Their faces are blurred- almost as though they've no features. The words are garbled.

There is an empty glass sitting in the middle of the table. Six glasses raise and clink together.

Winter's attention snaps back like a jolt of electricity and he looks back to Jim, blinking owlishly.

What the hell was that? ]

[redactions]

[ He tenses up like he's prepared for some assault — it may as well be, from the Winter Soldier's ghosts, and like hell Jim's leaving him in a fight all by himself. ]

What's the matter?

[ He snaps his fingers in front of Winter's face to get him to focus on the sound. ]

Pal?

[reconstitution]

[ His eyes snap toward the sound, and he finally looks back at Jim with clarity. It takes him another silent moment to process, tongue darting out to wet his lips. ]

...Where was it? [ It's mostly to himself, and his focus goes away from Jim, though his eyes dart over the wall past his shoulder. He chases it, trying to come up with an answer. When he doesn't get one, he looks to his counterpart for clarification. ]

One.. he-- had an accent. French, I think.. I don't know what he said. Couldn't--

[ Couldn't really focus, there was too much to process. ]

[redactions]

[ Where was wha — oh. Understanding, perhaps, dawns on him, followed by worry. He glances around at the other patrons immediately; none of them seem to have noticed. ]

Shh. It's all right. Keep talking. Come on, let's go somewhere with less eyes'n ears.

[reconstitution]

[ He shakes his head, eyes focusing back on Jim. This is fine. What if it was situational and left once they'd gone?

Really not possible, but this is something, and he's determined to keep it. He reaches out to pick up the glass in front of him, turning it over in his hand almost reverently.]

We knew him-- young.. first week out? It was raining.. We were supposed to watch him..

[redactions]

Yeah. He had a Luger he scored from a small mortar post we took — playin' with it, shot himself in the leg and bled to death. Damn stupid way to go. What d'you tell 'em? All of those idiots... who just lie on their forms and think they're set for glory.

[ He makes a face. ]

Dernier. He was the small one, smoked Gauloises. I couldn't stand the fucking smell. He used to make fun a'how throaty my French was. [ smiling wryly ] I could never get the vowels right on the first try.

[ the smile fades ]

It was just a few months before Operation Nordwind, I think. We were out in the country, on our way back to base.

[reconstitution]

..Careless.

[ He spins the glass once more in his palm before setting it back onto the table. ]

Short one-- He had.. dark hair. [ Directly to his left in the memory. ]

What about the tall one? He has a red hat? And the big one-- Dugan? [ Winter stops himself, takes a moment to compose and look to Jim in apology. He doesn't want to interrupt, but he wants to address everything before it goes away. ]

[redactions]

[ Gently, ] It happens. They're kids, they don't know any better.

[ a beat ]

Falsworth. He was a major, one a'the few good officers. No stuffiness t'him. Good man.

[ He nods. ]

Dugan; don't let him fool ya. He's got a heart, the big lump. Always knew how t'make somebody laugh, when there wasn't much to laugh about.

[ soft, ] Keep goin', pal. Morita? You remember him? Steady hands? We got shrapnel to the neck in enemy territory, he stuffed a belt in our mouth real quick and stitched us up.

[reconstitution]

[ He nods absently, still focusing on the memory. ]

Morita..Yeah-- [ He rubs a hand over his face. ]

Did he lose a lot at cards? There was someone else.

[ Two seats to his right. Next to Dernier. His face is too blurred for him to really connect, but he murmurs something and it's..soothing. ]

--Gabe?

[redactions]

[ He nods, smiling. ]

That's him. Smartest guy I've ever met, ain't nobody to match him.

[ Softer, ] There's one more person you're missing.

[reconstitution]

..Who? There's no one else there.

[ He consults the memory again to see who he's forgotten, but it's hard to focus upon anything that's not the men at the table.

Winter shakes his head. ]

I'm sorry.

[redactions]

[ Must've been when Steve was at HQ, for any of the myriad reasons he wasn't with them. It dulls the light in his eyes, though it does nothing to the smile. ]

You have nothing to be sorry for. You did good. The memory's real.

[ He takes a long, slow sip of the drink. ]

We've just... gotta figure out how to keep doing that. [ a beat, quickly, ] I mean. If you want to.

[reconstitution]

...I want back what was mine.

[ Wants to be whole again. He offers Jim a tight-lipped smile. ]

I don't know what was different.

[redactions]

[ Is there really a way to be whole again, after one's been burnt in the fire? He mirrors the smile; his head drops as he studies what's left of his whiskey. ]

I know, buddy. I just hope you find what you're looking for.

[ The good and the bad. Truthfully, he fears what the Winter Soldier might think of him, if he saw all of Jim. ]

I'm surprised you're not angry with me, for not telling you sooner.

[reconstitution]

I do, too.. But I know there is a price to pay.

[ It's all a matter of time, waiting for the shoe to drop. He can't have memories without giving something in return; that much he's sure of. ]

I'm not..

[ A pause, looking around the saloon. ]

I wouldn't have believed you. How could I?

[redactions]

[ The price is the guilt, and the self-loathing, knowing that he not only became the perfect soldier but killed in HYDRA's name. Still, he thinks he might have the naïveté to hope Winter's spared the worst of that. ]

Yeah. Imagine that conversation. Hi. James Barnes. I'm you from a parallel reality. How's the weather?

[reconstitution]

[ Getting his memories back will be a blessing and a curse- albeit a very slow one. He still wants them, though. Good or bad, it will be worth at least having something. ]

Very underwhelming.

[redactions]

[ He smiles, brightly. ]

I figured. [ looking back down at his drink ] You don't have to take the same name if you don't want to. God knows I haven't been Bucky for a while, either.

[reconstitution]

[ He looks down at the table, shaking his head subtly. ]

I don't know what I want. [ Doesn't really know what to want for himself aside from his memories. ]

..But I don't know if I can be him.

[redactions]

[ There's a moment where he doesn't draw breath. And then, softly, ]

Permission to speak freely?

[reconstitution]

[ He looks back up at Jim, almost taken aback at being asked, nodding his head. ]

Granted?

[redactions]

Don't try.

[ There's new lines on his face as his shoulders drop. ]

Don't make my mistake, and make yourself into him — exactly him. You'll go nuts tryin' t'be somebody you're not.

[ a beat, and the whiskey swirls in the glass ]

You figure out who you are. If it's like him, then you know, that's all right. If it ain't, then it just ain't. You've walked through hell, pal. Nobody comes out the same.

[reconstitution]

[ He wants to argue that being him is a hell of a lot better than being nothing...Which is where he still feels he is. Recovery is one monster that he's not prepared for.

But Winter gets it, and he's grateful. Enough so that he offers Jim what could poorly be passed as a smile. ]

You're fucking biased, James Barnes.