[Bucky's been avoiding announcing that he's back, and that he remembers. He's still uncomfortable being out in public with people staring at him, even though he has been out more than he had been when he first got back. Morgana cut his hair, and he's showering and shaving regularly, so he looks a little more like himself (except he's not wearing combat uniforms, and he's still covering up his left arm with long sleeves and a glove), but there's still something tense and on edge about him, something hollow and dead in his expression.

But something about Arthas' announcement, his manifesto, that because he's been wronged he's allowed to take this ship and everyone on it down with him makes something stir in him, something that sounds like Zola's saw and the hiss of the cryo pod and Pierce slapping him in the face, and it's hot and cold and angry, and he doesn't want to keep hiding. But he also doesn't know how to reconcile the idea that this is happening because wardens failed, because the system failed, and those people are long gone.

There's a lot he should probably say about himself, too, but Steve's already covered it. Everyone knows what happened, and there's a part of him that's still angry about that.]

i'm back. dillon and jean made me remember.

i'm still a warden. [Even if he's not sure he should be.] it's been a long time, for me.

[A really, really long time.]

[Filtered to Mickey, Jimmy, Stiles, Kira, Mason, Ben, Lydia, and Motorcycle Boy]

sorry.

[For not remembering, or weirding them out. He probably owes them more of an explanation as well, but he can't find the words of it any more than he could for the rest of the ship.]

[Private to Dillon and Jean]

thanks.

[Warden Filter]

who's taking responsibility for arthas?

[Bucky's on deck, in the snow, wearing his Howling Commandos uniform and looking cold, but not miserably uncomfortable. His rifle's slung over one shoulder - you can see the strap - and he runs a hand through his hair briefly before speaking, shaking the snow out.]

You know, this is my fourth Christmas away from home. [And while there's definitely something kind of wistful in his expression and voice as he says it, he also doesn't seem especially broken up by it. This is more an observation than whining.] Three years ago I was in Africa, two years ago I was in London while we were putting together the Commandos, and last year, I was freezing my ass off in Bastogne.

[It comes out a little like a joke, but obviously it's not quite actually funny. You had to be there? Humor's the only way to really deal with some of this fucked up shit?]

Most everyone thought we'd whip the Germans in a couple weeks after D-Day, and we'd definitely be home by Christmas, but they broke out in the Ardennes on December 16th, caught everyone with their pants down. The 101st and a couple other units got cut off at this little Belgian town called Bastogne outnumbered five to one, with no supplies, no reinforcements, no way to get out. The Commandos were in the area anyway, so we snuck in to get them some stuff as an early Christmas present. Day after Christmas, the Third Army broke through the German line so more supplies could come in and the wounded could get evacuated, but the guys would've said they didn't need anyone coming to their rescue, and I kinda believe 'em.

I'd been through a lot of rough shit in the Army, but those guys were something else. Sitting in those foxholes, I was the coldest I've ever been, and I had gear that was designed to hold up to bad weather. They didn't, so they got trenchfoot and frostbite even if they were being careful. Hot food was a joke, the medics had to keep bottles of plasma shoved under their armpits to keep them from freezing...

[He trails off, expression caught somewhere between that same not-quite-amused look from before and just empty distance. It's not quite wistfulness, not by a long shot, but maybe something like it.]

It's nice to know that those guys won't be somewhere like that their next Christmas. Maybe they're even gonna get to be with their families. [And then Bucky just grimaces a little, mouth turning down in an unhappy frown.] The ones who got out anyway.

[Private to the Admiral]

( gifts for steve, helena, morgana, scott, stiles, isaac, ben, lydia, kira, allison, mason, stephen, mickey, jean, babs, dillon, luna, ian, snafu and souji + everyone in boot camp )