[The Soldier was, perhaps, reminded in that moment that his own death had been swift. The crushing of his rib cage had left little choice for him; without the ability to breathe or have his heart beat, he was dead and nothing more could be done. Nothing could save him. He sort of understood that Rumlow had suffered in a hospital bed; there had been brief comments here and there about the matter, but it had never been something that either of them tended to bring up seriously.
He remained quiet and internalized even if he was still watching Rumlow carefully, giving his commander his piece right now and pondering why there was a throb to his temples. Like part of his world had just collapsed under a weight he had not expected. Like the foundation had been poor and rotten and now he had to try to hold it up on his own.
The problem was that Rumlow was his foundation right now. In Rumlow, there was strength because HYDRA had forced them both into a mold that was necessary for existence. Rumlow was one of the only men that he had met who understood what it was like to be pulled out from the inside, manually reprogrammed and have everything stuffed back in. Rumlow understood how the mission was everything, that it could fill the screaming emptiness that forced him to ask questions about himself, about why things were not as they seemed. Rumlow was a product of a similar machine as he was.
His jaw worked unconsciously like he was grinding his teeth even if it was silent. His eyes dropped from Rumlow's face to stare somewhere at his commander's chest but his gaze was far away.
The reasoning was sound, but a treacherous part of him thought that all Rumlow needed was to be twisted back up in the HYDRA programming again. It almost felt as if Rumlow leaving the ranks out of the man's own volition for whatever the reason was somehow also abandoning him to the programming that still held him captive. So strong was his commander that Rumlow had suffered enough to deny what they had both served so long under, and yet here he was... sitting at a table, pretending he could be normal and realizing in a single moment that he was completely and utterly alone with the propaganda that filled his head, of the programming which he couldn't escape, of the words that he instinctively knew existed but could never actually recall.
He had to come up with something though, didn't he? He understood that Rumlow would be watching, waiting for his reaction, judging how he coped with this new information even if maybe it wasn't quite so new. Just in the light where he could see it in all of its entirety. His mouth felt dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he managed to pry it loose, managed to flick his gaze to meet Rumlow's eyes.]
no subject
He remained quiet and internalized even if he was still watching Rumlow carefully, giving his commander his piece right now and pondering why there was a throb to his temples. Like part of his world had just collapsed under a weight he had not expected. Like the foundation had been poor and rotten and now he had to try to hold it up on his own.
The problem was that Rumlow was his foundation right now. In Rumlow, there was strength because HYDRA had forced them both into a mold that was necessary for existence. Rumlow was one of the only men that he had met who understood what it was like to be pulled out from the inside, manually reprogrammed and have everything stuffed back in. Rumlow understood how the mission was everything, that it could fill the screaming emptiness that forced him to ask questions about himself, about why things were not as they seemed. Rumlow was a product of a similar machine as he was.
His jaw worked unconsciously like he was grinding his teeth even if it was silent. His eyes dropped from Rumlow's face to stare somewhere at his commander's chest but his gaze was far away.
The reasoning was sound, but a treacherous part of him thought that all Rumlow needed was to be twisted back up in the HYDRA programming again. It almost felt as if Rumlow leaving the ranks out of the man's own volition for whatever the reason was somehow also abandoning him to the programming that still held him captive. So strong was his commander that Rumlow had suffered enough to deny what they had both served so long under, and yet here he was... sitting at a table, pretending he could be normal and realizing in a single moment that he was completely and utterly alone with the propaganda that filled his head, of the programming which he couldn't escape, of the words that he instinctively knew existed but could never actually recall.
He had to come up with something though, didn't he? He understood that Rumlow would be watching, waiting for his reaction, judging how he coped with this new information even if maybe it wasn't quite so new. Just in the light where he could see it in all of its entirety. His mouth felt dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he managed to pry it loose, managed to flick his gaze to meet Rumlow's eyes.]
So... you've renounced your pledge...?