When she offered to stay close, he nodded almost immediately. He had only just met this woman, but there was something about her that pulled him strongly toward her. Steve Rogers had called her "his best friend's girl" and it felt strange... but at the same time, James couldn't deny the possessiveness that answered inside him when he looked down at her. It wasn't right. She wasn't his to keep. He wanted very much to keep her, and to keep her safe even more. If he had to pick between the two, he'd keep her safe. But he wanted both - despite the enforced push not to desire anything but the mission and the death of his marks. Despite the embedded knowledge that he wasn't allowed such things in the first place. She broke through all his conditioning. He wanted her.
When her first question came, spoken as she turned large, innocent eyes up at him, he couldn't help the sinking, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. But he obeyed immediately when she asked to see, taking a step back and stripping off the tac vest, the shirt beneath it, the gloves - everything, until he was bare from the waist up, with only the splint and bandage that Rogers had put on his flesh hand. Despite the fact that he'd seen her in less, James felt exposed and naked -- and raw. He couldn't look at her.
"I don't remember much. I learned just recently that Steve Rogers and I grew up together. We were friends. Close friends. We fought in the war together, in a special unit. I don't remember... I don't remember any of it, except sometimes, in ... in flashes. I was hurt - hurt bad. There was... snow." And pain. He remembered the pain had burned so hot, he hadn't noticed the bite of the Alpine winter. It'd gotten worse. He caught the amputation in flashes, sometimes, too - the pain through that as they'd sliced through healthy tendon and bone had fueled his nightmares. He couldn't tell her this. "They replaced my arm with this. It's stronger and more durable." And it made him a weapon, not a person. He knew that it made him inhuman. Everything they did to him made him inhuman. And he was telling her this, revealing this to her because she'd asked.
"I don't know... don't remember... They trained me, they must have. I was their weapon for years. Between missions there was... nothing... just cold. Just... cold, and stillness." James winced. His head was killing him. He tried, for her, he did. But it was really starting to hurt.