After a moment, Bucky let his hand drop back to his lap. His shoulders slumped a little, and he became slightly more animated as he reached up to rub a hand over his face. What could he say to that? He wasn't okay, and he'd only been in Zola's tender care for two weeks. Finally, he licked his lips, the only sign of nervousness about him, and still staring into the forest, away from her, he said with only slightly-forced teasing, "I didn' say you'd be okay right away." Despite the teasing, his tone was still gentle. He tried to make it clear that he was trying to lighten the mood, but not make light of her situation.
"Is gonna take years, to be okay with this," he finally murmured, humor leeched from his voice. "But i's gonna end eventually. An' then... Someday, we'll be okay." He knew it wasn't true. Even if they survived, he'd seen his father's generation, survivors of the Great War; drunks or wife beaters, or some just plain crazy, too unstable to hold down a job, forced to beg on the street for money nobody had to spare. But some of them, some of them had been okay. And if he and Rogue could survive torture, and still speak coherently, he thought they'd be okay, too.
Steve couldn't bare to listen to any more. Rolling over, he stretched his arms over his head, then sat up, swiftly standing and turning toward the tree-line, opposite where Rogue and Bucky were sitting.
Bucky didn't seem surprised at Rogue mentioning being studied for three years. He didn't think Bucky couldn't read between the lines to realize what that actually meant. Steve certainly could, and now he wondered if she'd told Philips and the other COs, and he just hadn't been informed, or if she'd kept it hidden. He didn't like either option, just like he didn't appreciate her telling Bucky, but not him.
Steve stopped behind a tree, a little way outside of the firelight's reach, and pressed his back against the trunk, staring up through the canopy of leaves to the few patches of inky black sky that he could see. He'd been briefed on Rogue, before Philips had assigned her to the unit - the only member he'd insisted Steve accept. Steve understood his reasons, but the brief really had been that - brief. Just her name, what they knew about her short imprisonment by Zola, and her powers.
Looking back, he wondered if Philips hadn't had another reason for assigning her to Steve, besides the fact the other soldiers were wary of her. He'd given Steve a look, which at the time had seemed a bit odd, because of it's kindness, which wasn't really Philips' MO at all, but he hadn't thought much of it. He knew Philips respected him now, and they understood each other.
They did understand each other. And Philips knew that Steve had resented being a glorified chorus boy, being used for propaganda by Senator Brandt. The operative word there being 'used.' What would have happened to Rogue, if she hadn't come with them? Philips couldn't put her with any of the regular army units, but there were others, he knew, a lot like the Commandos, strike teams, interrogation experts... Who would have ended up using Rogue's powers to further the war's agenda, if she hadn't been assigned to him?
Steve let out a soft sigh. He'd watch Rogue, to make sure she was doing as well as she could. He'd keep an eye on her and Bucky's friendship, to make sure both of them were handling things.
Straightening away from the tree, Steve adjusted his field tunic, squared his shoulders, and turned back toward camp. When he reached the fireside again, it was as Captain America.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2016-09-02 07:04 am (UTC)"Is gonna take years, to be okay with this," he finally murmured, humor leeched from his voice. "But i's gonna end eventually. An' then... Someday, we'll be okay." He knew it wasn't true. Even if they survived, he'd seen his father's generation, survivors of the Great War; drunks or wife beaters, or some just plain crazy, too unstable to hold down a job, forced to beg on the street for money nobody had to spare. But some of them, some of them had been okay. And if he and Rogue could survive torture, and still speak coherently, he thought they'd be okay, too.
Steve couldn't bare to listen to any more. Rolling over, he stretched his arms over his head, then sat up, swiftly standing and turning toward the tree-line, opposite where Rogue and Bucky were sitting.
Bucky didn't seem surprised at Rogue mentioning being studied for three years. He didn't think Bucky couldn't read between the lines to realize what that actually meant. Steve certainly could, and now he wondered if she'd told Philips and the other COs, and he just hadn't been informed, or if she'd kept it hidden. He didn't like either option, just like he didn't appreciate her telling Bucky, but not him.
Steve stopped behind a tree, a little way outside of the firelight's reach, and pressed his back against the trunk, staring up through the canopy of leaves to the few patches of inky black sky that he could see. He'd been briefed on Rogue, before Philips had assigned her to the unit - the only member he'd insisted Steve accept. Steve understood his reasons, but the brief really had been that - brief. Just her name, what they knew about her short imprisonment by Zola, and her powers.
Looking back, he wondered if Philips hadn't had another reason for assigning her to Steve, besides the fact the other soldiers were wary of her. He'd given Steve a look, which at the time had seemed a bit odd, because of it's kindness, which wasn't really Philips' MO at all, but he hadn't thought much of it. He knew Philips respected him now, and they understood each other.
They did understand each other. And Philips knew that Steve had resented being a glorified chorus boy, being used for propaganda by Senator Brandt. The operative word there being 'used.' What would have happened to Rogue, if she hadn't come with them? Philips couldn't put her with any of the regular army units, but there were others, he knew, a lot like the Commandos, strike teams, interrogation experts... Who would have ended up using Rogue's powers to further the war's agenda, if she hadn't been assigned to him?
Steve let out a soft sigh. He'd watch Rogue, to make sure she was doing as well as she could. He'd keep an eye on her and Bucky's friendship, to make sure both of them were handling things.
Straightening away from the tree, Steve adjusted his field tunic, squared his shoulders, and turned back toward camp. When he reached the fireside again, it was as Captain America.