3479/The Darkest Hours of the Night

The Darkest Hours of the Night
Date of Scene:	21 September 2020
Location:	Coney Island, New York City
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	James Barnes, Patsy Walker

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James Barnes has posed:
He's been coming here for nearly a century. Some things are radically different. Some things are the same, like the Cyclone. The hot dogs are more or less the same.

But the James sitting on the wooden bench on the boardwalk, looking out at the sea, bears very little resemblance to the boy who used to chase Steve down the beach, or the young soldier who brought girls here to flirt with them, after basic training. Hair still past his shoulders, those pounds of muscle mass....and that thousand yard stare. He's clearly in one of those brooding moods, as he waits for Patsy, right hand smoothing the fur between his dog's ears, as she rests her hear on his leg and looks up at him.

Patsy Walker has posed:
And no one who arrives at Coney Island can resist an elephant ear. It might not be the height of fair season anymore and some of the rides might be shut down for the season, but Patsy appears to be walking towards the bench with a rustling white paper sack holding two of the rather large pastries.

"James." She speaks just loudly enough to be heard and lifts a twiddly-fingered wave at him. In a blue plaid peacoat against the wind off the water and a pair of skinny jeans tucked into brown cavalry boots, her red hair tosses about free of any confinement. "Here, this one's for you," she says as she sits down beside him. "Lili-girl." Of course there's immediate schmoozing on the Shepherd. "None of this for you though, young lady. Too much sugar. You've got a job to do and it's not be cracked out."

It takes her another moment, but she seems to sense his reticence. "Hey. Something eating you, Buster Brown?" Her smile doesn't fade, but it does soften, closing off sight of teeth.

James Barnes has posed:
"Thanks," he says, smiling, as he accepts it. He's got his water bottle with him, and a couple of foldable, reusable cups. Lili's got her water dish, but at the moment, she's ignoring it in favor of drumming the boards with her tail, as she looks to Patsy. "Man, she likes you," Buck approves.

The smile dwindles, and he nods. "I felt like....you've been really good to me. And...." His speech is already going halting. "I...I like your company. But....I've got some things about me I haven't told you. And it's getting to the point that I feel like I'm lying by omission. And I've got this one friend who just can't handle lies in any form, so.....I thought I'd better come clean." He's looking at her sidelong, from the corner of his eye, almost shyly.

Patsy Walker has posed:
If this is a confession of love, it's the most stuttered Patsy's heard in her life. She can't keep her brows from lifting as she listens. Slowly, they begin to meet. Her hand, busy being held out for Lili to sniff, remains extended there while the other keeps her elephant ear up and away from perusing canine noses.

"Well, geez. I mean...you're sweet, James, thank you. I like your company too. I'm...I'm honored you'd care enough to figure that lying isn't a good idea. I mean, we'd better keep your other friend from ragging on you, right?" She shrugs, her smile small and still hesitant in a way. Leaning back, she reaches into the white pastry bag and plucks out a portion of the elephant ear. The scent of buttery cinnamon-sugar rises. "You go ahead, I'm listening." The red-head sticks the bite of pastry into her mouth as if to stopper it up, her cornflower-blues upon Bucky now.

James Barnes has posed:
He's afraid. It's slowly coming clear, by the way he holds himself. By the way Lili nudges against his hand, looking up at him as he looks down at her - not the fond rapport of dog and human, but like he's afraid to look directly at Patsy.

James sniffs, once. "So, I bet you looked up stuff about me online. About my serving with Steve in the war. That's all true. But....most of the stuff there says I died in the war. Which is....almost true. When I was a POW, Nazi scientists experimented on me. They were trying to find a way to replicate the experiments that made Steve what he is. Steve rescued me, but the work had already been done. So, when I fell from the train, I didn't really die. I suffered some brain damage, went into a kind of frozen torpor....but I wasn't dead all the way. I was found....and given to the same organization within the Nazi hierarchy that'd experimented on me to begin with. I was stronger, tougher, faster....but because of the damage, I couldn't remember who I was. They used me as a kind of weapon. They wanted super-soldiers that would obey without question...." His voice has started shaking, and Lili whines in sympathy. "I killed people, while I was under their control."

Patsy Walker has posed:
Suddenly, the elephant ear doesn't taste good at all. It takes like nauseating sweetness and paltry pastry dough. Patsy swallows down the bite she'd apparently been holding on her tongue while he spoke and then places the fair food aside in a quiet rattle of waxed paper.

Her lips purse and she looks down at Lili while she gathers her thoughts. "So...lemme get this straight. You fell, you were found, they took you and changed you, and then they used you to murder people." She keeps her voice even as possible and looks back at Bucky the second she's finished speaking, eyes searching his profile.

James Barnes has posed:
She can all but hear him winding himself up....but Bucky forces himself to look her in the eyes. "Yes," he says, tightly. "That's exactly what I'm saying. The project was called 'Winter Soldier'. But since, as far as I know, I'm the only one they ever got anywhere close to succeeding....I'm *the* Winter Soldier."

Then he's left of petting Lili, in favor of using that hand to draw the glove off his left hand. She can see, even in the relative dimness of the boardwalk lights, the gleam of the fine metal plates that make it up.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Oh...my god," breathes the red-head, blinking at the silvery hand now revealed from the glove she's seen covering it all this time. She'd been thinking it was some habit or weird stance he'd taken, the wearing of the glove, and not wanted to ask for the sake of privacy.

"Wait. Oh my //god//." Her wide eyes meet his. "You're //the// Winter Soldier?! Oh my god. Oh my god. Uh. Oh my god." It seems her record track is broken, the needle skipping as surprise momentarily derails what she's trying to say. "Sorry, wait -- oh my god." Patsy presses her fingertips to her mouth and squints at him. She's not mad nor does she appear to be scared, but concerned? Yes. "Okay, so, I've heard about you. You...you did some pretty bad stuff. But you're also sitting here, telling me the truth. I...kind of want to hug you for it. I know, it's messed up, I'm sorry," and she winces. "But really, you look like you need a hug. Can I?"

James Barnes has posed:
"You- you heard about me?" James asks. His voice is hoarse. "R-really?" Then what she's asking sinks in. "You....you wanna give me a *hug*?" It's clearly boggling him. But he mulls it over, and then nods. Holding himself carefully still.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Word travels through the grapevine around here with us vigilante types." Patsy grimaces unhelped. "You have a reputation and I know you know it now. Well, I now know that you know it -- and...y'know, it's..."

She rakes some loose hairs behind her ear nearest to him, briefly looking away. "Look, here." Making very certain to telegraph her motions, she then leans in. One arm is wrapped around his shoulders and the other about his front, hands curling around the left shoulder. She feels the lack of give of the metal and does her best not to flinch at it.

Instead, her temple rests against his as she whispers, "I once had somebody take away my freedom. I didn't come out of it the same. I still have nightmares and my writing helps, but not all of the time. I may not exactly understand, but I do still understand."

James Barnes has posed:
To his own horror....he's begun to shake. But he doesn't flinch away. Doesn't raise a hand to her. There's no knee-jerk reaction. He actually yields, slowly, to the embrace. "I knew there were people out there who'd heard of the Soldier. I just....didn't always know how far the word had gone."

James is trembling, hard....and Lili gets up to put her paws on his end of the bench, so she can lean in and lick his face. It makes him chuckle, but it's a watery sound. "I get a lot of nightmares," he confesses.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"And they're the absolute pits. Garbage pits. Reeking, godawful, stupid pits, those dreams, and nobody understands how bad because you're stuck in your own head." Even if she too wants to reach out and pet the dog, Patsy refrains. With how hard the man in her arms is rattling, she knows Lili must do her job without distraction or interference.

"And I didn't know everything. I just knew you were one of the ultimate boogie-men. Don't tangle with the Soldier, I've been told." She doesn't go on to explain why because both of them are more than aware of why, one made aware more recently than the original. "You were brave telling me this. Thank you, James," she adds barely louder than a whisper.

James Barnes has posed:
She's hugging him. Her hair smells nice. Some part of his brain observes this in bemusement, even as he trembles like a leaf in her arms. There are tears on his face which Lili is trying to wash off with her tongue in a businesslike manner, like a brusque but kindly nanny. "Yeah," he says. "The pits is right." A beat, where he's clearly trying to steady his breathing. Then, ".....you believe me. You're the first person I've talked to that wasn't...either someone who knew me from the war or part of the organization I work with. I get....I get therapy? But I've never told someone I just know. Honestly, you're one of the only people I really talk to at all...."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"And you're super brave to talk to me in the first place." Her hair does smell nice: coconut and camellia flower, something floral and not overly sweet. Her perfume is warmer yet, golden vanilla and caramel. It might be a bit much to a sensitive nose up close, but it seems she takes her own senses into account for the intensity of it.

"Because it took me a long time to talk to a therapist about my stuff, much less somebody I didn't know," Patsy continues, trying hard to keep her voice gentle. "I didn't tell anybody because I didn't think they'd believe me either. Like, they'd either think I was acting out and asking for attention or just plain bugfuck nuts. I don't think you're bugfuck nuts." Not so unlike Lili's manner, her tone. "I've got a good sense for it. It comes in handy when I'm out doing my thing."

Her arms close and loosen in a little squeeze. "I'm glad it's me you talk to, if I can be honest too. You're..." Hopefully, temple to temple, he can't see the pink on her cheeks. "You're wonderful."

James Barnes has posed:
She can feel him laugh, that rusty little chuckle. "I don't know about 'wonderful'," he replies, after a moment. Relaxing bit by bit, trying to control his breathing. "It's hard to talk about, a lot of the time," James allows. "It's hard to...to look at those memories. They did a lot to damage my memory, the guys who had me. I remember trying to remember my own name. I knew I was more than 'soldier', but I couldn't find it. Like when you've got a word on the tip of your tongue, but it won't come....but a thousand times worse. Steve kept calling me by it, that's how I eventually remembered it. Remembered who I used to be...."

Patsy Walker has posed:
As her therapist suggested, Patsy begins accenting her own breathing pattern: steady, certain, slower, deliberate. She nods against his temple, her own eyes shut as she focuses on the art of listening -- of hearing what James is saying at the root of his confessions.

"He's a good guy, that Steve Rogers," she agrees with a little smile. "I hear he's stubborn as hell. I bet he wasn't about to let you forget yourself. What did your therapist tell you about looking at those memories?" She asks to see if she can help him acknowledge this process and maybe implement it in the fraught moment they're sharing.

James Barnes has posed:
"To try and do it deliberately, a little at a time. And to do it in a place that I could feel....the word she uses is 'grounded'," James says, slowly. "Lili does a lot of that. I never had a dog before the war. I never worked with dogs. So like.....any moment that I'm holding onto a dog is 'now', not the past." He laughs again, almost soundlessly. "It's like a counterweight. Yeah, Steve is the best. Ridiculously, annoyingly, the best. He's the stubbornest man I've ever met."

Patsy Walker has posed:
Her nod brushes the soft and scented hair against his temple -- the instructions do sound familiar, though Patsy's never had a dog to hold. The way he laughs makes her heart lighten.

"The stubbornest man, huh?" Without breaking the hug, she brings her head back enough to look into his face and search it, making certain the jolts are amusement and not muted sobs. "Good thing Lili's as stubborn. I think you're covered from scalp to neck on that side with dog spit." Her smile is accompanied by a little dimple of her teeth to her lower lip, as if her own laughter at the sheen of slobber is being held back. "My therapist said the same thing, yeah. I try to be outside where it's cool and green. It works well enough," she admits quietly, cornflower-blue eyes finding his.

James Barnes has posed:
That makes him turn enough to meet her gaze...and there's that lopsided grin. "Yeah, she really is," he admits, as Lili wags her tail. Yes, she's aware she's being discussed as best dog. Then he's finally digging in to his pocket, coming out with a hankie, and scrubbing at his face. "So, you have a therapist, too?" That's apparently finally sunk in, that revelation.

Patsy Walker has posed:
His half-smile is enough to entice one of her own out of the red-headed writer. She lets her arms linger around him given she's not seen any sign of discomfort or resentment from their presence as she nods. "I do have a therapist. Like I said, it took me a while to realize how badly I needed one, but I'm glad I have her. She's worked with people like me before."

A little sigh and Patsy's eyes fall, glance away and then out towards the ocean. She seems to think for a short time, weighing something by the somberness of her profile. "I tried to save a friend and I managed it, but I was duped by her captor. I was kidnapped for a year. I got out though," she says more quickly and with a single shake of her head, looking back at Bucky with a small self-supporting smile. "And I figure I'm doing alright now. I got some cool abilities out of it which help me with my vigilante stuff. I have my silver lining."

James Barnes has posed:
By the quality of his silence, he knows just what can happen in a year in someone else's hands. "You really do understand," he says, wonderingly. "You get it. What....what can you do?" Bucky asks. The pale blue eyes are curious. "Have you ever considered working with a bigger group? Like a team?"

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Nah. I don't want to work with a team." A beat and Patsy amends with a little roll of her eyes, her gaze going away towards the sea again. "Not yet. Maybe one day, once I've figured my shit out. I think I'm still dealing with what happened to me and I kind of...like I said, I want to figure it out for myself. I think I can do it."

She glances down at Lili and smiles to herself. "You've seen me in the suit. I'm pretty athletic. But I can sense things like magic, especially demonic stuff. It makes my nose itch and my stomach twist up. It's...I guess it's also kind of hard to try and work magic on me?" Another glance at Bucky, brows quirked. "I'm not totally sure on that one. I can summon my suit with a thought though. I like that one because it saves me time. You ever try to get a cat-suit on in under a minute?" It's a deliberately ridiculous question by the way her lips quirk, almost smiling.