Jason follows in his wake, stiff joints moving slowly, all but creaking when he sinks onto the bed. He slept only in snatches the night before, so sure that Bucky would appear in the doorway at any moment, and by the time he realized Bucky wouldn't, sleep was impossible.
There's something wet pressing against his hand, and Jason looks down at it, fingers sealing around the washcloth slowly. He'd held one to Bucky's face, tried to mop at the blood, but Bucky hadn't let him, had barely even let him tie his shoes, and Jason hides his crumpling face beneath the cloth, scrubbing slowly.
When he speaks, the question is seemingly unrelated, but it isn't, not at all, even if it's something Jason's wondered long before the Soviet camp. "Why did I come back to life? Do you - do you know? I never figured it out."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2011-02-27 05:54 am (UTC)There's something wet pressing against his hand, and Jason looks down at it, fingers sealing around the washcloth slowly. He'd held one to Bucky's face, tried to mop at the blood, but Bucky hadn't let him, had barely even let him tie his shoes, and Jason hides his crumpling face beneath the cloth, scrubbing slowly.
When he speaks, the question is seemingly unrelated, but it isn't, not at all, even if it's something Jason's wondered long before the Soviet camp. "Why did I come back to life? Do you - do you know? I never figured it out."