'End of the line' meant something different now than before. Neither of them had a true understanding of what it was to be at the end of the line. They had both died in their own ways only to come up alive again. It'd been what it had been. For each of them. The most either of them knew was they weren't who they were before.
A strange feeling passed through him at the thought there would be no end to their line. They would simply continue to exist forever. Each of them wandering forward, never backward, only they couldn't see beyond themselves, each other, everyone else was a subjective means to an end.
Not their end.
Only an end.
"I don't think there is an end. For us. Ever."
It was a confession on his part as much as a concession to the man he'd obviously hurt. Steve Rogers had been a sensitive young man. Tears. Barnes remembered him crying. He hadn't cried after beatings as he recalled. There had been many beatings. His ability to handle pain had been beautiful to see. It was a beautiful memory to have for him: such perfect suffering held in behind such glorious strength.
Fortitude of spirit.
Someone had said that about Steve once. Had it been him? Had he said that? His ma? Was he really Irish? Was 'ma' an Irish name for mother? It felt Irish. They weren't happy people were they? Irish people? Why couldn't he remember?
"I'm sorry I'm ugly now. I don't think they did much to my face. I just wasn't better than average even before. After? It's not something I think about. How I look. I can walk with you. What were you heading here to get? I was thinking I needed more clothes. I have my armor. It isn't what I think I should wear though. Not here. I could scare someone. Make them angry. I fight back. Even when I don't want to. It's instinct."
He shrugged, pulled his hand free of his pocket to stop fondling the knife. There wasn't anything smart about him touching a weapon when talking to Steve. That was bad. It was all bad. There was a lot of pain he could inflict on Steve. If he had to see the man, the least he could do was try to stay ahead of the game. Stop hurting him.
Steve was a good man. Always had been. He could stop hurting him.
"I'm tired of hurting people. I just want to stop. I can't. So. I'm trying to go on easy. If it makes it easier for you to have me walk with you? I can walk with you. It's not hard for me. Walking. I don't get tired often."
He had slept enough for ten lifetimes. It made sense why he shouldn't have to sleep now.