[There was no rebellion from him as Rumlow's hand settled on his wrist, perhaps assessing the danger that a class shard could create while in his possession. He didn't relinquish it from his grip, but he neither moved to put it to use as a weapon either. No, he simply turned it in his fingers, giving something repetitive to do with himself. It was an attempt at a calm gesture, to settle down the swirl of emotions and thoughts that waged their continued war in his head. Over and over it turned, catching the light of the room to reflect back at where they sat.

With Rumlow pressing closer, the resistance to remain at a distance decreased as well. He had no idea what else to do with himself, the sheer idea that Rumlow had outgrown HYDRA, had left it behind was still rattling around in his head, disturbing the attempt at happiness that they had so far managed to cultivate together. Things had been rough before; a part of him knew that it would be rough again eventually. Right now, it just felt as if the rug had been pulled right out from under his feet, and the only person who was going to keep him from falling away completely was the same person that had started this cascade in the first place.]

But it's in my head. I can feel it, and I can't get rid of it. There's nothing in there but what HYDRA put inside of me, is there? Bucky Barnes is gone or whatever he was is so buried he may as well be dead.

[Slowly, he leaned his head forward, bringing it to rest against Rumlow's temple where he could close his eyes, and he could do little more than force himself to breathe. He didn't need to being dead, but it was yet another repetitive motion that gave him the attempt to find calm.]

Why does the truth always hurt so much? Shouldn't it be good and just? Isn't that what we're fighting for? Order. Truth. A end to the fighting....