Slowly, without much thought to it, he was drawn from staring out the window to watching her, listening as she told a tale that he had never heard before. It drew up things though, little bits and pieces to a past that was before the war, a time when he had been something even more different. He listened intently, his eyes settled more on the bed as he processed the information, dwelt on it enough and tried to fit the pieces together into a streamline of events. It didn't work, too many times sneaking around, too many little winks and smiles to cover up for his prying. It was horridly frustrating.

He was drawn from his boiling frustration when she mentioned the file, but he made no move to take it. He could read the front of it, the Russian words that told him that the file was about him. He knew in his own way it would detail dark secrets that would maybe not fill in blanks but tie in the smiling charming man to the deadly killer he was now. Did he dare read it?

He loitered at the window, indecisive long after she had gone. Finally, he moved slowly towards the file, seating himself on the bed next to it and flipping it open, only to freeze at the two images on the left hand side. Him, as he was now and as he was then. "...Bucky..." he muttered softly, tasting the nickname. Slowly, grudgingly really, he picked up the file and began to read it, watching parts of the story of his life in Hydra unfold.