ever marching as to war

[onlyapassenger]

Bucky hadn't been anywhere near Pearl Harbor when the Japanese attacked. In fact, he'd been on the other side of the world, escorting Winston Churchill on a transatlantic flight to D.C. to meet with President Roosevelt the next morning. But Bucky'd seen action that day regardless; the Axis had planned a two-front attack, with the Japanese expected

Comments

[honestlyrubbish]

Strangely enough, the onslaught of snow has been comforting to Hermione. England had just been hanging on to the last fringes of winter, frost in the morning giving way to puddles and revived marshes, grasses rustling underfoot as, and as much as Hermione had experience with leaping and fading through time, coming suddenly to a tropical paradise had still thrown her for a significant loop. The start of winter, although a slight step back, fits more with Hermione's mood. Numb. Chilled. And it gives her the excuse to huddle in the corners with a warm mug of cocoa, made the non-magical way, the way her parents had prepared it for years. She carries a large mug of it with her as she steps into the Rec Room, thinking that she might be able to curl up on the couch while most people are still so enamored with the snow outside, maybe pick out a few books to peruse

[onlyapassenger]

The danger of doing anything in the Rec Room is that it's public property; anyone and everyone is perfectly within their right to waltz through and state their opinion, and Bucky knows with utmost certainty that if this reel had been of anything else, had been about the Winter Soldier, he never would've risked playing it where any old stranger could see. That's a part of his life he's only just started to come grips with back in the real world. This footage, though, is different. This life, he's used to seeing played out both on the screen and on the page, edited to hell and back, so perfectly cartoonish in its straightforwardness that he can relax for a few minutes; yes, this battle was real, and good men died outside of the purview of the camera's lens, but that doesn't change the fact that he's watched this very same reel in a crowded movie theater while sharing a bag of popcorn with Steve

[honestlyrubbish]

Easier for people to swallow. That makes a wry smile tug at Hermione's lips, one bitter and tinged a bit more acrid than it really should be, than she's accustomed to being. Of course, that realization makes it fracture and fade right away as she casts an uncertain glance over at the man; a few days on the island without Ron, without Harry, and Hermione's definitely starting to feel the wear for it. She trusts Luna, she trusts Bill, but both of them have been on the island for so long that Hermione can't help but notice what she doesn't trust at all is time. She's not sure how to cope with the idea that there are people in her life who have seen years that she'll never get to see herself, who'll never be able to make her really understand the experiences of theirs that she's missed. If Harry and Ron were around, either of them, this process would be easier, but instead Hermione finds herself second-guessing every person she meets, unable to find calm sleep. But she has chocolate, and a wise teacher of hers once did point out that

[onlyapassenger]

She's observant; it's a trait Bucky admires in others, if only because he knows how damn useful it is in the field. The last thing you want in a firefight is for the guy watching your back to miss out on some critical detail. Turning to look at her more carefully, it's easy to see she's bright, her intelligence written plainly on her face. She's undoubtedly young, but there's something about her words that makes him wonder if she hasn't seen war up close and personal herself. Again he wonders if he shouldn't just shut off the projector, but same as the last time, he stays put, too curious by her answer to want the conversation cut short just yet, even as he's starting to wonder if this whole damn island isn't populated by teenage girls

[slowspeedster]

Bart had just been planning to pop by the rec room for something to read. He didn't want to be out in the snow, but there wasn't much he could do about that. The long trek out to Titans Treehouse would have been worse if he didn't have hot water and other amenities out there. It just wasn't exactly built for the cold, even with magical renovations

[onlyapassenger]

The problem with watching anything in the Rec Room is that it's public property; anyone and everyone is perfectly within their right to come in here with their own attitudes and opinions, and state whatever they damn well please. It's the double-edged sword of free speech, and while it's only a kid who's exercising that right for the moment, there's something about his tone that doesn't sit well with Bucky regardless. War's not for everyone, he knows, even the sanitized version of events, and much as he's been itching for a fight lately, he's got enough self-control to pack up instead of entertain whatever this guy's issues are.

"I've got eyes," he says dryly, though he's already getting to his feet. Within a matter of seconds, he has the projector shut off, the last of the sound and images fading into nothing. "Fortunately, I got legs, too."

[slowspeedster]

Bart couldn't help rubbing his arms as if cold. "But war isn't like that. Did people actually believe that kind of thing?" he responded, uncertain.

Apocalips was clear in his mind. The destruction of Washington when the Amazons invaded. "I don't get it."

[onlyapassenger]

Despite one girl's thoughts to the contrary, Bucky Barnes is hardly a psychic. What he is, however, is observant, and now that he's getting a closer look at the kid, now that he's looking past his own short temper, he wonders if he shouldn't've been so quick to dismiss him.

Forcing out a sigh, Bucky shifts his weight, and with a vague gesture, he says, "People believed what they wanted to believe, but this kind of thing... It was for morale, more than anything else. To let people know we weren't losing out there."

[chasinghumanity]

Mitchell didn't like war. In fact, he really hated it. But life was long and full of wars, and at some point he had disconnected himself from it in a way. No, the snow didn't bring back any cheerful reminders and the sound of real gunfire still reverberated along his bones, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from enjoying pieces of life. Like movies and comics, as terrible as the memories they were attached to were. Life, as a vampire, was just too long.

He came into the rec room with wide eyes and a cup of coffee. The reel looked half familiar, like something he actually had seen half a century and more ago. But the strapping figure of Captain America featured front and center assured him that it wasn't. "I always liked him," Mitchell said, coming up alongside the occupied chair and the man seated in it. "Dunno about the rest of America sometimes but you do know how to make your heroes right."

[onlyapassenger]

"That makes two of us," says Bucky with a cough of laughter. He's sure Sam would be on him for a comment like that, but wearing the flag had never been meant as an excuse to turn a blind eyes towards his country's faults; Steve had taught him that much, both during the War and after. Tearing his gaze away from the screen long enough to get a quick look at his company, Bucky leans forward in the chair, his hands clasped together, and his elbows pressing down onto his thighs. The footage cuts to his teenage self letting loose with a torrent of gunfire, a grin stretched across his painfully young face from ear to ear, his features half-obscured by a domino mask.

"But no, you're right," he adds, nodding. "Not that the Brits don't have their fair share, too, but it's pretty frigging hard to beat Cap."

[chasinghumanity]

"Ah, I wouldn't say that," Mitchell chuckled, grinning slyly as he looked to the bloke. "You put that much fanfare and pomp behind something non-royal and the English'll think it's indecent." He could just imagine trying to explain the concept of Captain Britain to George and the ridiculous reaction he would get. Sputtering or staring, it didn't matter. Mitchell felt sure it would be negative in some way.

"But he always just made ya feel good, didn't he?" Mitchell said with a thoughtful wrinkle to his brow. "I didn't read his stuff after I left America, but I remember that."

[onlyapassenger]

Bucky can only laugh again at that, his head ducking forward as he stifles a snort, the corners of his mouth pulling outward in a wider grin. All things considered, it's as good an explanation as any for why the Brits tend to keep their heroes out of the headlines when possible; MI:13 doesn't exactly having the best marketing department in the world, after all, though being a government-run agency, that's of little surprise.

"Yeah? When abouts are you from?" he asks, openly curious. On first glance, he would've pegged the guy as from the modern era, given his dress, but upon closer inspection, there's something worldly-wise about him seems at odds with his youthful features, more like the men of Bucky's time, when people grew up fast, and didn't waste away as perpetual man-children.

[wishesandsmoke]

Eden's been outside long enough that, though the weather's mild enough, coming into the exaggerated warmth of the Compound is more of a shock than the snow. It's the sound of gunfire that really takes her by surprise, though, as she heads into the rec room via the kitchen (she's in no mood to take her chances with getting stuck under the mistletoe, not with Grigg so recently gone). Even now, so far removed from her death, it makes her freeze a moment, not at all the same as that last shot but too real to ignore.

She recognizes the man in the chair, remember enjoying his company, and manages a stilted smile as she walks over to see what he's watching. "Interesting choice."

[onlyapassenger]

"Interesting day," Bucky replies, turning in his chair just enough to nod a proper greeting Eden's way. He doesn't know her all that well, but he's always been good with names and faces; acquaintances, he's found, are damn useful things to have. While he's not about to lie about his past if it's directly addressed, he's also not about to sit here and boast that that's him on the left of the Cap without some measure of prompting, having long since outgrown the desire to give people a good show for no reason. After a moment, he clarifies, "It's the 7th. Don't know if that means anything in your world, with the way things work around here..."

[wishesandsmoke]

Admittedly, it takes Eden a moment and then there's recognition in her eyes. "Pearl Harbor," she says. "Right, got it." He seems young to have fought in it, but she recognizes that as the prejudice of her own time; he could be from much earlier than her or just not look his age, or else he's from a military time or just interested in history or simply bored. "Yeah, no, it happened in my world, too. Unless you mean something else. Weird, how all that works."

[onlyapassenger]

"You're telling me," he says wryly, though he's genuinely glad for at least some degree of familiarity. It seems strange to him that there are people who've never heard about so much as Cap, given how well-known he is back home; while Bucky hopes to not be stuck on this damn island indefinitely, he doesn't know if it's something he'll ever get used to. Nodding towards the screen, he adds, "That isn't what this is, though, obviously."

[defected]

Given how his life had turned out, it felt strange to Bryce that he had never considered enlisting before being recruited, the dull and drab career of an accountant having once seemed more than good enough for him. He couldn't imagine it, now, living his life from behind a desk with only a calculator to consult. It was an inconsequential existence, in the grand scheme of things, and Bryce had ultimately become a man determined to make a difference.

Still, he had come to terms early on with the fact that he would never be recognized for it, and that was okay by him. He would never become as celebrated a hero as the ones on the screen, but his was one fought far and away from the public eye, and maybe this was a consequence of becoming accustomed to the secret life, but Bryce preferred it that way.

"I almost forgot," he said with a nod toward the other man in the room, "it's December 7th, isn't it? Are you American?"

[onlyapassenger]

Bucky Barnes has lived a not insignificant portion of his life overseas. He was first shipped off to jolly old England to train with the British S.A.S when he was all of fourteen, and since then, he's spent time the world over, including, unfortunately, a long stint in the former Soviet Union spent frozen in a damn box. In spite of all that, though, there's only one answer to give, one so obvious that the question elicits a cough of disbelieving laughter, even if he knows, logically, that this guy couldn't have had any idea who he was talking to

[defected]

"I had a feeling," Bryce admitted with a small nod toward the projector, "but I didn't want to assume. It's hard to tell here, you know?" Once could never be sure on an island, where even accents had a tendency to fail him and dialects spanned across all manner of time and space, just as the people themselves did. Or so they were told, and Bryce was both stubborn and skeptical enough to doubt it still, after nearly a year.

"I'm Bruce," he said at last, one hand outstretched in greeting.

[onlyapassenger]

It's the name that helps Bucky put two and two together; he has seen him before, sitting with Lucy at the Thanksgiving dinner at the Winchester. Granted, Bucky had been distracted with Jason at the time, thinking it odd that the kid would willingly go into an ostensibly family restaurant, but he's no less observant on the Island than he was at home, even if it took a little prompting to spark his memory. Recognition lights up his features, and he gets to his feet to extend his own hand, his grip firm, but friendly as he gives Bruce's a shake. Silently and quickly, he sizes the guy up, taking note of a million different things; only when he's satisfied a moment later does he introduce himself.

"James," he says, because in spite of the footage still playing in the background, he prefers giving out his first name to those who didn't know him during the War. "I know your girl, Lucy. She's a real pistol."