proudlywehailed | Drift Fleet: IC Inbox

[just like that, everything in orion's head comes to a full stop. the conditioning kicks in, his sense of morality kicks in, and he tenses up. clarity always comes too quickly.

I got no right to do any less than them.

orion closes his eyes and grimaces. then he reaches up, clutching the side of his head.]

[ Soft, ]

You okay?

... fine. [not fine.

he's in pain from the sudden headache, but he doesn't know what to do about it. he wants... rumlow? no.

.... no? that's not right.]

[ Still soft, ]

Orion.

I'm fine, Buck.

[as if he'd never called him any other name.]

[ If you're not him don't use his name. He could. It's right there, and he's never claimed not to be angry, or bitter, or hurting. ]

It's Jim.

... What'd I say?

[he's confused. he opens his eyes and looks at the pie. is it the smell? is it jim?]

You called me a name no one uses.

... James?

[quick as it came, it's gone. was it residual from seeing jim's memory? probably.]</small

[ Not unused, only private. His mother, and Steve's, and Natasha say James. ]

Buck.

... [the look on his face says it all.

Why did I say that?]

[ He raises an eyebrow. Well? ]

... sorry.

[it's muttered, and he's still in his head.]

[ Soft, ]

Don't do it again.

[ Because it belongs to someone dead — maybe not dead, but gone, and someone Jim grieves for. ]

[for some reason, that stings more than he thinks it should. but he just shakes his head to try to clear it.]

I won't.

[ Pause. He exhales. ]

Thanks.

[he's quiet for a long time, not really sure how to respond to that. when he speaks up, he's quiet, hesitant, and his eyes are stuck on the pie.]

... Can you tell me about him?

[ It's not a shot, not a balm. ]

Sure. What do you want to know?

Did he draw often?

[he remembers the paintings.]

All the time.

[ Art was Steve's domain: never mind that he was colourblind. They used to wash the ink off newspapers carefully, and Jim hid pencils around the house, or slipped them into his coat pockets to make him think he had more than he did. It fooled no one, but they pretended. ]

We used to joke he could draw through an earthquake, he was so absorbed. Later it was that he could sit through shelling.

... Colorblind...

[he narrows his eyes.]

He looked like the wind could knock him over.

Yeah. He had just about every illness that wouldn't kill ya.

How'd he manage to...

[he makes eye contact with jim when he starts that sentence and stops himself. the reason he made it that far is sitting there.

[he looks back to the pie.]

... I'm sorry.

Sorry for?

Being a reminder. I don't want to do that to you.

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