I know. [ He says at length. ] I think about it a lot.
[ Is it the water talking? He doesn't know. ] I don't take the easy way out.
[ To live is to continue to suffer, to atone for all the things he had done through blood, sweat and tears; to take back control and agency of himself and make it right again. It's not so much hope as it is grim determination, with a generous side of masochism, the overwhelming need to punish himself because he must, because there's no other way around it.
But now that he's seen his face, he can't help but be unnerved at what he's looking at. This man looks a spitting version of him when he'd been younger, a likeness he'd seen in museums and memoirs, a man he couldn't quite find a connection to anymore. No, the boy was buried in Brooklyn; the thing that came out in his place -- well, he still doesn't know what it is yet, and he's not sure if he'll ever find that one out. ]
Who are you? [ The ghost of what he was? Something put here just to torture him? He grimaces, finding himself unable to look at his face -- if this is another of HYDRA's creations, what will he do? What can he do? He doesn't miss the ports in his back, although he can't even begin to imagine what they're meant for. ]
no subject
[ Is it the water talking? He doesn't know. ] I don't take the easy way out.
[ To live is to continue to suffer, to atone for all the things he had done through blood, sweat and tears; to take back control and agency of himself and make it right again. It's not so much hope as it is grim determination, with a generous side of masochism, the overwhelming need to punish himself because he must, because there's no other way around it.
But now that he's seen his face, he can't help but be unnerved at what he's looking at. This man looks a spitting version of him when he'd been younger, a likeness he'd seen in museums and memoirs, a man he couldn't quite find a connection to anymore. No, the boy was buried in Brooklyn; the thing that came out in his place -- well, he still doesn't know what it is yet, and he's not sure if he'll ever find that one out. ]
Who are you? [ The ghost of what he was? Something put here just to torture him? He grimaces, finding himself unable to look at his face -- if this is another of HYDRA's creations, what will he do? What can he do? He doesn't miss the ports in his back, although he can't even begin to imagine what they're meant for. ]
Did they make you?