He’d been created to be what he was. There had been nothing special about him before HYDRA wrapped their tentacles around him. He had been a soldier. A friend. A brother. Just some kid from Brooklyn who was trying to do right. He’d been able to have those first few decades relatively peacefully. Compared to the chaos that followed, at least.
But for Ciri? Bucky couldn’t imagine being born with a gift like that and being hunted for it. What sort of childhood did that make?
“I hope you have friends to watch your back, at least.”
He thought she was joking when she suggested screaming off the rooftop. Bucky had already pulled himself back from the edge but he paused, the temptation already worming its way through his mind. It sounded like something he might have suggested once upon a time to Steve, didn’t it? Just give a good yell and get it all out. With a small grin, he approached the edge again.
After a deep breath, he bellowed out into the clouds. “I hate the cold!”