sixwordstories | (no subject)

Unless they're good memories.

[There's definitely a dry/wry tone to her voice.]

Tell me about it.

[ there's a dry snort at that, almost human sounding. how strange.]

I fail to comprehend this 'good'.

[ barnes stiffens a bit, hand clenching as he casts hill a glance.

he tries for amiable.]

I feel like I don't need to tell you at all. Though, Fury's messes are probably a close second.

Friendship. Dinners that go well, dates that go better. Sunsets, or looking at the stars at night. The firsts for children. A warm drink by a fire on a cold day.

Do you want me to go on?

[She goes for an expression a little less intimidating than her usual icy poker face, and something that might be considered a smile curves her lips upwards.]

Compared to Hydra's? It's still not quite as bad as cleaning up after an alien incursion.

You're wrong. There are things heavier than memories.

[Water from the boiling kettle is poured over tea leaves. While the leaves steep, Laura retrieved two mugs from the cupboard. Sugar is already on the table, so a pint of milk fresh from the goats this morning, strained and chilled is set on the table. She moves in her space quietly, waiting to hear what he will say next, no judgments, just listening.]

Only if you let them. [Though the small girl doesn't seem to believe the words she's saying.]

And what do you do when you don't have those?

[ or many of them. there are a few, blurred around the edges and swift to sink beneath the red haze he is working to clear from his mind.]

[ the metal arm whirrs at the mention of hydra, nearly a flinch from the soldier. he brushes it off and focuses on less shaky ground.]

I suppose alien forces have little need to pretend they are anything other than what they are; no lies and lives to untangle there. [ his eyebrow twitches, but his posture relaxes a fraction. ] Buildings certainly weigh more than bodies.

Abstract concepts were not a prerogative for you, were they. [ there's a flicker there, something less asset and more barnes]

[ it feels strange (it is strange) to be here and talking to a civvie of all things, but--

barnes blinked a few times, clearing the memories from the forefront of his mind as laura goes through the calming ritual of tea.

he could do this. talking. he could--]

How-- Do yo-- [ he stalls, tongue searching for the right words, before he all but whispers:] I think I might break under the weight of them. So many lives...

I think that's what I deserve. [ if he's startled by her wisdom, he doesn't let it show.]

[ his smile is wry, though perhaps a bit pained. nice shot.]

I got my EMT training right here in Metropolis. Abstracts got out of my price range pretty quick.

[ he's moving as he talks, unpacking what he needs from his medical bag like this is just an everyday thing for him, setting an injured fugitive's leg kinda sorta at gunpoint.]

You know a thing or two about how that goes, I'm guessing.

[Tea and buttermilk biscuits, still warm from the oven, a jar of homemade raspberry jam, a jar of clover honey come to the table a little at a time. Silences and half spoken words say as much or more as what comes out whole and just as valuable.]

[Everyone needs a retreat, everyone need a place to heal and right now she is that place. Everyone needs a place they can unburden themselves, to feel safe, even those who may be bigger than life. Laura has provided a haven for so many, whether they just need a mindless activity, or the pride of creation, or a child to read to, or just a cup of tea and a place to sleep. Those who need the comfort and chaos of family, come for family gatherings, those who want quiet can have that during the hours school is in session, hiding out in soundproofed bedrooms if they stay overnight.]

[This isn't the first time she's heard a story like this. Nick's gruff confessions, straight to the point. The harsh words Natasha says are blunt weapons aimed to hurt, to cause the listener to take as much damage as she has. Bruce likes to tinker with her recipes for mead, cider. fruit brandies, and beer. They never quite come out like he expects and the surprise months later rewards his patience. Even Tony has come out a time or two, shucking his suits, metal or fine cloth, to crawl under the tractor or fiddle with the windmill run pump. In addition to wind, he's outfitted the house with solar because he recognizes her need to be independent out here in the middle of nowhere farm country.]

[This maybe the Barton Farm, but it is Laura's kingdom.]

You make them, and if you have trouble remembering... write them down and take pictures. The world isn't all bad.

[She gives him a half smile. She believes the world isn't bad, but knows that it's harder for others]

They're like any weapon. What you do with them is what matters. [Harm or protect, injure or save. Memories were dangerous things in the wrong hands. But at least he was starting to find his again.]

No one deserves to only carry the heavy weight of their memories alone. [She shifts a little on her feet.] Besides pretty sure there are at least a few people that would disagree with you.

One I swear is more stubborn than the prince.

[ the noise that escapes him might be a snort. or will be one day.]

I have seen too much of it to believe that.

[ or maybe he's just jaded, because there is brightness amongst the memories, and it's hard not to think of redwhiteblue when you think of 'good'.]

But... maybe they can be made.

[ there is a hum in response to that, perhaps there is amusement in the lines of his mouth, but it can be hard to tell what with the pain and something else warring to contort his face.

it almost makes him feel bad for the situation.

almost.

(considering other's 'feelings' were non compliant with the mission)]

And what gave that away, the metal arm or the gun?

[ definitely more barnes than asset this time.]

[ barnes raises a brow at that, processing.] I'm not as proficient with these weapons as I would like to be, they aren't nearly as useful as knives.

[ there's a pause, then:] Though It is a weight I deserve to carry, I think.

[ barnes blinks, regarding her a little more closely. though at the stubborn, she knows who he's talking about. ]

Steve's a damned idiot, 'specially when it comes to seeing good in people. [ there's a twinge of his old accent hanging onto steve's name.]

[She chuckles a little at his comment, she's seen bits of this conversation already, and that outburst always will amuse her.]

So you're saying you're not a good person? Because I see the same from you as he does. Just because you were made to do bad things doesn't make you that way. You were just trying to survive.

Soldiers usually have to do things they don't want to to survive. Some of give more than others. Like our homelands, family... It's why we feel like we carry the world on our shoulders.

[She so didn't mean to let that much slip out.]

The hurt from a memory can last a hell of a lot longer than a knife wound.

[Barton rubs his jaw. He hadn't been under Loki's control nearly as long as Barnes had under Hydra, but it is a feeling he understands.] It's a hard balance to find, to remember, to acknowledge the damage you did without it crippling you.

[ it has been a long time since there was a place that bucky could consider a safe haven. and, at any point in the past, if you had told him that he would find that here he would have shot you. several times, probably. but the fact of the matter still stood: this was a place where the weight of all the memories he had didn't seem quite as likely to drown him in guilt. they came close, but not quite.

there is the soft clink of metal on ceramic as bucky grabs the mug, eyes tracking the steam as it rises from the cup in a distracted manner. the ghosts in his head quiet as laura arranges the things on the table, the actions reminding him of a far simpler time.

the former asset watches for a moment longer, takes a sip of the liquid before reaching for a biscuit. it was still strange, this freedom when eating, but he-- well he was getting better at it.]

Steven says it's not my fault, but-- that was still... it is still me, in some sense.

The stubble, actually. But the arm helped.

[ there's hardly any tension there, in davis's words or his face. it's not a great position for him, but he can't find it in him to be that angry. lord knows he'd probably be doing the same if he were in this man's position.

he still moves slowly and carefully, though, because he's not stupid and he'd have figured out any sudden moves could be detrimental to his health even if he didn't watch the news (any channel, this guy's face is plastered on all of them.)

pulling over a stool, he squats down on his haunches and keeps his hands in view the whole time.]

I need to set your leg up on this. It's going to hurt like hell when I move it, so please don't shoot me.

Especially when they're full of civilians.

[And she had called the World Security Council a bunch of morons for trying to nuke New York.

She sighs.]

Give me battle tactics, strategy and logistics, and I'm a happy camper. That Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy shit? Not a fan.

God, tell me about it. Its like thanks brain, I totally needed a replay of the shittiest moments of my life right now. Its not like I was trying to function or anything.

[Murmured wordlessly, reassuring and understanding, while at the same time meaningless. Joining him, she slipped a butter knife into a southern biscuit opening one for herself. With honey in her tea, butter and jam were chosen to spread over the warm pocked surface that cradled the melting toppings.]

[Meals were simple things at the farmhouse, filling and good, everything as homegrown and homemade as possible. 'Left-under' soup, as the end of the week meal made from leftovers had been dubbed by a child years ago, was beginning fill the house with a tasty aroma. A bottle of something for 'the 'dolts' would be carried up from the cellar.]

[It wasn't easy, letting silence fill the kitchen. The clock ticked, water rattled a little in the copper kettle as it cooled, his chair creaked a little as weight shifted. Just let everything be, let him be prompted to speak on whatever was pressing, whatever bubbled to the surface and spilled over. Hoped he was talking to Steve as well as listening.]

[Jen shrugs.] In the figurative sense, sure, with many bad ones - if that's what you mean.

[Although she's not intending to recall back from her rough childhood up to before meeting her soul mate.]

But there are still some good ones to think about. Right?

Buildings filled with bodies, certainly heavier than most things.

[ barnes sees the logic in wanting to nuke the whole things; sees how its efficient, and clean. that isn't to say he agrees with it.

there is a snort of laughter at that, and an amused look flicking across his face.]

I hear ya on that one. I-- well tactics were always Steve's thing, even before he had the whole super soldier thing. [ there's a fond look before he continues.] But, in a way, there's less collateral with a good portion of it.

Sometimes.

[ barnes absently runs his free hand over his face and grimaces. he hasn't bothered to shave, hasn't had time to really. between running and fighting and trying to exist beyond the role hydra carved for him, there wasn't much time for personal care.]

The face of a man who hasn't seen a mirror in a while.

[ there is wryness in his voice, eyes tracking the medic's movements. he is a smart one, perceptive. sure, he probably know who barnes was, knew he was a wanted man (even if captain america did vouch for him), but not everyone managed to act all that well around him.

barnes still doesn't lower the gun though.]

Won't shoot, but I sure all hell am gonna curse.

[ usually he would do this himself, set his own damned leg, but this wasn't something he could do alone. he was tired, run down, and even with the serum in him, this injury was going to take some time to heal. he needed help.

if only he knew how to ask nicely.]

Hope yer not easily offended.

You said it, not me.

[ davis's tone is good-humored, as is his one-shouldered shrug. yeah, this guy looks like death warmed over. (smells like it, too). idly he wonders how many defense agencies would fall over themselves to charge him with aiding and abetting if they track their man to his doorstep.

if is probably being optimistic, but then, him being alive that long is probably being optimistic too. the news reports he saw didn't paint his new friend here as the type to take prisoners, much less leave survivors.]

Don't worry, there's not too many four-letter words I didn't hear growing up. Alright, on three. One--

[ he doesn't wait until three. of course he doesn't wait until three. slow and steady will only drag this out and the less movement, the better. he's quick and efficient, getting the man's leg up in place and holding it there by his thigh. what's left of the jeans leg is cut open quickly, and then he's probing it carefully with his practiced fingers.]

Simple fracture. That's good. Compound would have meant no avoiding a hospital visit and I don't even want to think about how bad that could go.

[ he's already applying traction, not waiting for permission this time. do the job, then worry about the gun at his head.]

[It's his expression that makes her relax a bit, but she's still on guard just in case the Asset takes over.]

Guess that's a hint not to try and play chess with Rogers.

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She'll be able to defend herself, when necessary. This lady's a demon-human hybrid.

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