[ The pool doesn't affect Bucky Barnes very much, doesn't put things in his head that weren't there before -- that constant desire to end things, the despair that he grapples with, heavy and cold; the bone-deep depression that's been his constant companion ever since he broke free from HYDRA. You don't have to be happy to continue living, you don't even have to be anything resembling all right and put together, and Bucky is the living embodiment of that; Sisyphus and his rock, except what powers him is the grim desire to keep going, that his punishment is his to bear.
So he notices, when people go in the pool and don't quite seem to want to come out, when they seem to give in to all the things that creep up around them in their darkest, loneliest moments. He notices, because he's been there all the while; he knows what despair looks like on another person's face, he knows what it means to want to give up and go under -- he's fantasized about it a hundred million times, in many more different ways.
And so when the stranger doesn't come up, Bucky wades into the pool and hauls him up, the strength in his metal arm making for an easy time despite the weight. He knows the horror of hopelessness, of being hunted and used like an animal, experimented on with all sense of self ripped away -- he'd spent more of his life as a thing than an actual person, and he understands. ]
Don't give in to it. [ He says gruffly, reaching for the towel and handing it to him once they're out, and it looks like he'd probably recover from almost drowning. He makes a note to keep him on his side, to cough the water out if he needed it. ] There's something in the water. It's not you.
pool; it cool bb bucky can't go any lower
So he notices, when people go in the pool and don't quite seem to want to come out, when they seem to give in to all the things that creep up around them in their darkest, loneliest moments. He notices, because he's been there all the while; he knows what despair looks like on another person's face, he knows what it means to want to give up and go under -- he's fantasized about it a hundred million times, in many more different ways.
And so when the stranger doesn't come up, Bucky wades into the pool and hauls him up, the strength in his metal arm making for an easy time despite the weight. He knows the horror of hopelessness, of being hunted and used like an animal, experimented on with all sense of self ripped away -- he'd spent more of his life as a thing than an actual person, and he understands. ]
Don't give in to it. [ He says gruffly, reaching for the towel and handing it to him once they're out, and it looks like he'd probably recover from almost drowning. He makes a note to keep him on his side, to cough the water out if he needed it. ] There's something in the water. It's not you.