[And then there's that word, that name, and she's finally able to slot the pieces together. Not just of Rumlow, and the traumas of his life that ended him up in this moment, but of SHIELD. The faceless ghost that she knew existed at the edges, the shadows, but could never quite understand. The way that people like Coulson seemed to believe that SHIELD was something good when Ava had seen so much ugliness and pain. It explains why the recruits she trained didn't suffer like this. It makes sense of so many little pieces, even down to the connection to the Red Room, the way that Ivan had arranged for Natasha to be the one to rescue her.
She only knows of HYDRA from the history books, but it's fairly obvious that this is a modern incarnation. This is an organization that thrives on the trappings of family and unity offered to those most desperate for it. She hates watching the marks on his skin, but she doesn't flinch, doesn't pull away, lets his suffering settle on her skin as she watches. It makes her feel her own scars, faint and almost invisible as they are from how clean she heals most of the time. Handcuff marks on her wrists. Ava had been a stubborn child, once. Angry and almost feral, raised with orphans and treated like animals.
She's quiet for a moment, nodding, then she shifts, leaning into his chest and dragging a hand up from his shoulder to touch against the side of his face. It's still dark, even with the shadows of memories, and the last thing she'd want to do under the circumstances is catch him by surprise.] I don't- hate you, I'm not angry or anything. And I still don't think you're a bad person, not really. We're both ugly on the inside, but that is what it is.
[She quiets for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach this, but in the end there's just a slight sigh as she gives up on trying to be diplomatic. Skips trying to explain how all of this was so closely tangled up into her own experiences. And so instead she just asks the obvious thing:] What was Hydra? To you, I mean. Not out of the history books. What did it mean to you?
no subject
She only knows of HYDRA from the history books, but it's fairly obvious that this is a modern incarnation. This is an organization that thrives on the trappings of family and unity offered to those most desperate for it. She hates watching the marks on his skin, but she doesn't flinch, doesn't pull away, lets his suffering settle on her skin as she watches. It makes her feel her own scars, faint and almost invisible as they are from how clean she heals most of the time. Handcuff marks on her wrists. Ava had been a stubborn child, once. Angry and almost feral, raised with orphans and treated like animals.
She's quiet for a moment, nodding, then she shifts, leaning into his chest and dragging a hand up from his shoulder to touch against the side of his face. It's still dark, even with the shadows of memories, and the last thing she'd want to do under the circumstances is catch him by surprise.] I don't- hate you, I'm not angry or anything. And I still don't think you're a bad person, not really. We're both ugly on the inside, but that is what it is.
[She quiets for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach this, but in the end there's just a slight sigh as she gives up on trying to be diplomatic. Skips trying to explain how all of this was so closely tangled up into her own experiences. And so instead she just asks the obvious thing:] What was Hydra? To you, I mean. Not out of the history books. What did it mean to you?