The actual moments of being rescued from that horrible room were still a bit of fuzzy blur in her memory, but once Rogue had learned who it was who had found her, who had risked his life to get her out... Well, she'd taken an interest in this Sgt Barnes. Bucky. She'd watched him back at the SSR camp, observed how he was with the other soldiers, and she'd looked for signs of how he was handling everything. She'd heard his screams back in the compound, knew that what they'd done to him had been no better than what she'd endured. But she could tell that he didn't talk about it with anyone, and she didn't blame him for it, even though she knew his friends worried about him. That was the hardest part, facing the other people who didn't understand.

She hadn't expected him to approach her that night, though she wasn't really surprised. They hadn't spoken much, but their shared experiences meant there was a connection between them. An understanding that didn't need elaboration, not between them. A small smile was her answer as she peered up at him in the dim firelight, though it faded as he sat close but not too close.

"You dream about what happened back there, don't you?" she asked him quietly after he'd settled, the crackling of the fire filling the silence around them. She glanced at him for just a moment before looking back at the flames. "I do. Every time I close my eyes." It was an opening. He didn't have to take it, but if he did... there would be no judgment or pity from her. Only acceptance and understanding.