IC Voicemail, Driftfleet:

[tothefly]

[There is no recording, just a few clicks and a beep.]

[Leave any IC voice messages or texts for Natasha here.]

Comments

text;

[tothefly]

[This time there's hesitation before the response. Not much, but enough.]

Probably better if he doesn't see me again.

text;

[redactions]

[ That bad? He rubs his chin, both desperately wanting to know and not wishing to push too much at what's already been given. ]

My first priority is the programming. I'll keep you updated.

I don't think he's as mindless as they tried to make him. I'm not just saying this because he looks like me. It must be how Steve got through.

text;

[tothefly]

[She doesn't exactly want to keep it from him, but being forthcoming isn't exactly her strong suit.]

Whatever's left of James Barnes is buried under half a century of conditioning and memory wipes. You might have more luck starting from scratch.

text;

[redactions]

[ This section of the reply is immediate: ]

Then I'll start from scratch.

[ It has the same air of finality as one of Steve's decisions. It's not borrowed. ]

[ Several minutes later, ]

I'm not going to know what to do with the pieces.

You know a little something about rebuilding?

text;

[tothefly]

[He may not be Steve, but he fakes it pretty well sometimes. She almost believes him.]

[Her own response is delayed a little more.]

He's not letting me anywhere near his head. Probably for the best. I'm not the kind of person you want putting Humpty Dumpty back together again.

[Who in their right mind would trust her with that?]

text;

[redactions]

[ his fingers lightly trace the words on the screen. She's a work of art herself, beautifully, terribly made, but no one else could have had her strength. Yo say this in text seems like cowardice, but nobody says he wasn't one. To say I'm only good for breaking is too honest. ]

I wish Sam was here.

text;

[tothefly]

[She's made herself what she has to be, time and again. She's in the process of it constantly, especially now, in this place. She's a weapon as much as the Soldier is, only she chose to become what she is. Chose again and again. He never had that chance.]

[She doesn't know what she'd make of him, if she were given the opportunity. That scares her, just a little. The responsibility. His words ring more true than ever because of it.]

Yours have a fondness for misfit toys, too?

text;

[redactions]

No.

He helps people heal.

[ Misfits, he can joke about. Toys, no. ]

Re: text;

[tothefly]

[Fair. All she can do is make light of it. Misdirect.]

Think he'd have a band-aid big enough for this mess?

text;

[redactions]

[ Don't think he misses the tactic, but it costs nothing to let it go. ]

If only. I think even he'd say it's out of his depth.

Can't not try anyway.

text;

[tothefly]

Noble of you. "WWSD." You can make it your new slogan.

[The S could stand for Steve or Sam, at this point. They both do the same thing. One's just a little bit slower, like Sam said.]

text;

[redactions]

Nothing noble about what's necessary.

Re: text;

[tothefly]

Practical, then.

Let me know how it goes, so I know if I need to duck.

text;

[redactions]

​​​​[ But he doesn't know what he's doing, and she always steps in. Bucky sighs. ]

I will.