roses and reunions | frennedy
"As far as I know."
As much as they’d tell him. And if military records were to be believed. (But he watched TV; he knew about Black Ops and deep cover and the bad things soldiers sometimes had to do). And if the Purple Heart stashed up in his closet was genuine. Not that he was ashamed of it. He just felt a little guilty. He didn’t even remember the actions that he took to earn it. Surely that was part of the honor. Remembering the honorable act. Or in his case, the honorable building that came down on his head when he went back for God knew what.
He looked up again, sharply and a little wide-eyed. He didn’t get asked what he wanted very often. His opinion was highly valued, but only as it pertained to threats and precautions.
"I…I don’t think…it matters? Whichever…whichever. Both?"
After all, it was the cold-heart that had shot him that first caught his attention. The wry smirks and eyerolls when he coughed on whiskey. But this new side of her made him laugh.
"I think it’s okay, though," he said to the Operation board. "That you don’t know."
He’d spent nearly the first year out of the hospital experimenting. Figuring out which foods he liked. Which he didn’t. That he preferred techno-y pop music and sugary cereal to booze and classic rock. That he was good at weapons things. And security things. And had a strange, deep-seated urge to keep people safe.
"I... can be both," Winifred shrugged. She couldn't honestly say she'd... ever been both. She'd been protecting herself for so long that she'd forgotten who she was trying to keep safe. People said that alcohol made you honest, didn't they? She wasn't smothering smiles or laughs, so that had to be some kind of sign. It just wasn't something she thought about very often. Didn't come up in conversation. Probably because she was so against chatter in the first place. But Kennedy had worked his way in somehow. Maybe that's what happened when you shot a guy in the arm and he still smiled at you afterwards. Or maybe because he'd seen her kill. He'd helped her kill-- went against everything he stood for and, when that was over, saved her life.
Weirdo.
"Some days I wish I knew. Other days... I don't really care. Shit... happened. I'm here now. I did what I had to do to keep myself alive. And then I... started doing what I had to do to keep other people alive. I... don't know." She scratched the back of her head with her good hand and then let it sag forward for a moment. "I don't know when I became... this. Or that. It just happened."
