The memory doesn't come full fledged. It's a feeling of gut fear, of resignation, doing something for -- James Barnes died falling from a train, so the history books said. It wasn't the only train he'd ridden in his life but he has that feeling, the one of information trailing just beyond his reach as he tries pull it to surface.
"Sorry." he can't do this. The words are on his tongue to tell him, to warn him of what's coming but he just doesn't think it would do any good, can't get them out. He's here now isn't he? The Soldier has never been a sadist, just a weapon following orders. "I'm sorry."
He thinks he should leave, takes a step backwards.
no subject
The memory doesn't come full fledged. It's a feeling of gut fear, of resignation, doing something for -- James Barnes died falling from a train, so the history books said. It wasn't the only train he'd ridden in his life but he has that feeling, the one of information trailing just beyond his reach as he tries pull it to surface.
"Sorry." he can't do this. The words are on his tongue to tell him, to warn him of what's coming but he just doesn't think it would do any good, can't get them out. He's here now isn't he? The Soldier has never been a sadist, just a weapon following orders. "I'm sorry."
He thinks he should leave, takes a step backwards.