[The Soldier lacks in hesitation. Doubt. Fear. All things can be set aside. All things have, and are.
Very few people use that name.
He can hear the clock on the wall two rooms over ticking over a cacophony of absolute silence. No one uses that name because everyone who knew it, save two, are dead. When Sam Wilson asked what he'd like to be called, he'd told him, whatever you want. But he knows familiarity. He knows anguish. He heard it in Bucky's voice, catching on the same syllables like a soldier tangled up in razor wire ten feet away from a trench.
His expression flickers. He is still a compassionate man, for all that it's buried beneath ice and choked out by winter's grasp. But his fingers twitch like they're closing on a throat, and he doesn't do well trusting people that bleed around him. Evenly,]
no subject
Very few people use that name.
He can hear the clock on the wall two rooms over ticking over a cacophony of absolute silence. No one uses that name because everyone who knew it, save two, are dead. When Sam Wilson asked what he'd like to be called, he'd told him, whatever you want. But he knows familiarity. He knows anguish. He heard it in Bucky's voice, catching on the same syllables like a soldier tangled up in razor wire ten feet away from a trench.
His expression flickers. He is still a compassionate man, for all that it's buried beneath ice and choked out by winter's grasp. But his fingers twitch like they're closing on a throat, and he doesn't do well trusting people that bleed around him. Evenly,]
Who are you?
[Why do you know that name?]