[Hope. He remembers when being hopeful came easier, when weighing the reality against the odds made the probable into possible. Even the war held some such moments for him. But hope is so fragile for him now, and whenever he thinks he has it, it slips from his grasp far to quickly to even truly consider. It happened that day too, when he returned to the safe house to find Steve already there, rifling through his belongings. After that, there was nothing but a dry well back on Earth. He thinks on it now and realizes that the only person who would care to know that is the exact person he can never tell it to. What a joke.

Here, Clark has been the only thing that’s given him hope. Not the simple sort that comes with surviving and making it from the day to day, the honest kind of hope that actually makes everything worth the energy put into it. Maybe it’s because his past is meaningless here, no one is the wiser, and the Red Book may as well be a fairy tale. Regardless, Bucky knows that Clark’s efforts are hardly fruitless, especially if it has already had such an affect on Bucky without the other man realizing it. And none of that came from Clark’s powers. That was all heart.

His head dips a bit, that casual front of a ego slipping back into something far more earnest as he offers a faint, sincere smile.] I think you’re more impactful than you realize. Not a lot of people would even try for me. Not that I’d blame them.