the truth remains lethal, a lie made by man.

[dislocked]

Who: Bucky Barnes and YOU
When: Throughout all of May.
Where: Pretty much just in front of Steve's cryotube.
What: Steve goes into cryofreeze, Bucky chills in front of it like a particularly scruffy guard dog.
Warnings: Well, aside from the standard PTSD, trauma, brainwashing, and all the horrors that come with experimented on, nothing much. Will update as necessary.



[ Good things are transient, like soap bubbles that shimmer and catch the rays of the sun before they disappear, taking their beauty (and, perhaps, a measure of hope) along with it.

This is a lesson children don't learn; this is a lesson Bucky Barnes understands better than most. He doesn't need hope or happiness to stay alive, in fact, the latter seems obscene in the wake of all that he has done, the pain and tragedy he has wrought upon far too many people for too long. But when Steve Rogers is taken from him, this small, small shimmer of hope, this little bubble that he refuses to allow himself to touch until it's gone, the loss of it still hurts.

He realizes something's wrong when there are no texts, no updates from Steve, who sends them to him without hoping for a response (or maybe he did each time he sent it, but it's children and bubbles all over again). Radio silence for twelve hours, the longest Steve has ever gone, and when Bucky finds him, Steve is asleep, frozen over in the cryotube in an obscene echo of his own history under the Atlantic and Bucky's.

The world (his world) bleeds out the last vestige of something that resembles warmth; things had not been perfect between them -- there are tensions, distance, with Bucky often vacillating between distance and drawing close, the shining moments of reprieve when nothing else matters but the present, the birthday celebrated in an empty cafeteria with a small cake, candle, and Steve's quiet determination, the way they seem drawn into each other's orbit time and time again. The look on Steve's face when Bucky turns up for the mission to the prison colony, when they sit together after the terrible illusions, the scream throttled in his chest like all the others that had come before it.

Bucky lies, when he pretends he doesn't remember. He remembers everything.

Steve is youthful in repose, but Bucky knows the look on his face -- it's the same look that made him jump in after him as the helicarrier burned and rained down debris all around them. It's the same look that made him grip him tight and haul him to the surface (Rogers doesn't die today), the clarity of that powerful purpose blindsiding the Winter Soldier because he had been created to sanction and exterminate, not protect and preserve.

It's the look that makes him punch the cryotube again and again, metal slamming into unyielding glass in his overwhelming desire to rescue him from his prison (not today, he doesn't die today either, and sleeping is a lot like dying). He tries all ways and means to break him out, but that was hours ago; and when panic loses its iron grip on Bucky's throat, he retrieves Steve's shield, a fresh set of clothes (because Steve will need them when he wakes, please let him wake), his own rifle, and he settles down before his tube, keeping vigil, silently keeping him company and guarding him from anyone who'd try to exploit this moment to their advantage. After all, there still are unknown elements in this ship, and Bucky would rather not take chances.

His knees are drawn up to his chest, Steve's shield propped by his side (with the rifle on the opposite side) like there's nothing more precious to Bucky Barnes in the world than this, than the man who sleeps behind him and refuses to open his eyes no matter how Bucky tries.

He waits, and thinks of bubbles on a sunny day.

Wake up. ]

Comments

[ventifact]

[Exploring the ship is still a top priority for Rey, right after finding her way back to her own galaxy. She's seen the gardens and the aft, and crept into the engines to take a look and poke around when nobody else was around. The suspicion that someone will try to sneak up and steal what's hers is still embedded deep in her psyche, so she keeps all of her possessions with her. Even the helmet that had arrived this month is stowed in her makeshift pack, close to her side along with her lightsaber and portions.

But instead of one of her portions, she's munching on a roll from the mess hall. There are a few more stowed in her bag, which almost makes her feel giddy. Nobody tells her not to take food with her when she leaves, nobody tries to question her or extort her. It's entirely new, and she doesn't think she'll ever get tired of it.

It's in the midst of her smugness when she finds where the cryotubes are, and along with them a familiar face. James, he'd said his name was. He and his friend had helped her escape the prison planet, had kept her from being trapped there. She rips off another bit of roll as she approaches him, only taking in the setting as she draws closer.

He's sitting on the floor, which isn't abnormal to her, but it's the way he's sitting that catches her attention. He's pulled into himself, guarded, brooding. She's done that a time or two herself, and knows the look. Her chewing slows, as do her steps. She notes the shield beside him, uncertain of its meaning but knowing it's clearly important to him. For some reason.

Only once she's close enough does she see that he seems to be sitting vigil for someone. The blonde man she recognizes from the prison ship as well. Rey swallows, and does the only thing a scavenger knows how to do.

She offers the rest of her half-eaten roll.]

Hungry?

[dislocked]

[ Rey had saved their asses too -- he won't be forgetting the hum of her weapon in a hurry, the buzz-crackle of electric blue, cutting through the prisoners like a hot knife through butter. She's brusque but straightforward, the hard look in her eyes and the stubborn set of her jaw a familiar one: she's a survivor.

A survivor of what, he doesn't yet know, but he's very rapidly forming his own conclusions when he spots what she carries, an assortment of different things he doesn't know if she wants to throw out or keep. He even spots the barest glimpse of a bread roll or two in her bag -- and something flickers in his memory, an instinctive understanding of that particular behavior.

He looks up at her offer, and if he's surprised he doesn't let on. Rey reminds him of a boy from Brooklyn so long ago; sharing his food with another even if there isn't a solid promise of another meal coming along. It's on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but he hadn't been in the mood to eat for the past twenty or so hours, and without regulation his stomach's been growling. ]

You sure?

[ventifact]

[Using the lightsaber on the prison ship might've been the most terrifying thing she'd done since her duel with Kylo Ren. She hadn't even been sure the weapon would work, but it at definitely slowed the prisoners down more than her staff. But using the weapon still left a sour taste in her mouth, as if she isn't really supposed to use it. Even though it had called to her in Maz Kanata's castle, even though it had come to her and not Kylo when she had called to it with the Force, it still seemed off somehow.

Maybe she should've given it back to Luke when he'd told her it was his.

The question lets her know that yes, he really is hungry. In one fluid movement, Rey descends to sit cross-legged in front of him, still offering the roll forward.]

Yeah.

[She isn't exactly insistent, but her tone lets him know that she wouldn't offer if she wasn't sure. Food is as important to her as clean drinking water, even if both those things are in abundance on this ship. With her free hand, she swings her pack from her shoulder, various odds and ends clanging on the metal floor through the thin cloth. The Rebel helmet gives its own solid thunk and she rolls it a bit to the side to make it fit in the pack better. Hazel eyes stay on Bucky for a second before moving up to the man in the cryotube. She's never seen one in person, but she knows about the tech and how it works. She jerks her chin upwards, eyes drifting back to the man sitting across from her.

The glass on the tube looks a bit roughed up.]

What's that about?

[dislocked]

[ 'A bit roughed up' is a relative understatement, but no one's looking to quibble over it. He glances over at where she's gesturing before he takes the roll with quiet gratitude, her kindness an unexpected but welcome gesture. She sits across him, and he notes the various sounds issuing from her thin cloth pack, the misshapen general form of it making him wonder if those were all her personal belongings after all, and that she's carrying all of them around for reasons unknown to him.

Or, at least, he could guess at them. ]

I was trying to get him out.

[ A confession, an unpleasant reminder of Bucky's earlier panic and the ever-present question of who put him in there and why. He can crack heads later once he finds clues, but for now he stands guard, keeping Steve company and waiting for the perpetrator (if any) to return. He meets her gaze after a few moments, biting into the half-eaten roll and chewing, swallowing -- he hasn't had anything in nearly twenty-four hours, his desire to stay with Steve overriding nearly everything else. ]

You're carrying a lot of things in there. [ He gestures, leaving the statement open-ended, not wanting to back her into a corner answer-wise. ]

[ventifact]

[Trying to get him out? Rey frowns up at the tube, thinking. The only time she's really heard of anyone being put in a cryo is for their own health. But as far as she was aware, James' friend hadn't suffered any injuries recently. She can't think of any other reason for him to be there, but she isn't about to ask. Prying isn't really her thing.]

Ah.

[A simple acknowledgement seems best for this situation. She isn't really the best at reading social cues, but well. She doesn't think he's very good at giving them.

There's a certain sense of satisfaction from watching him eat. Rey doesn't often share, but it actually feels good to see the gesture appreciated. Since she had taken in BB-8, helping people was becoming a habit. Besides that, she knows what it's like to starve. There had been more than a few times when she'd been younger that she simply hadn't been able to find enough to trade for portions. And she had learned quickly that the desert didn't hold many other sources of food, unless you were a good hunter. And hunting generally required some kind of blaster, which was an entirely separate issue.

Needless to say, she had gotten very good at her job over the past several years.

Rey pulls a replacement roll from the pack, not even looking into it as she does. She knows exactly where everything is in it anyway. She rips out a chunk, chews and swallows. Her response is prompt, matter-of-fact.]

I'm carrying everything in here.

[dislocked]

[ She's right, he's not very good at giving social cues; it evens out. She's easy to be around, and there's no pressure to come up with conversation topics, which immediately puts Bucky at ease -- he might be the consummate survivor, but he's definitely not up for the strain of being social.

There's some common ground here, he knows. Beyond her kindness, there is a sharpness that speaks volumes, an edge to her that he finds oddly kindred. He's silent for a few moments, gauging her answer as the pieces start to fall into place. ]

Why?

[ So maybe he's curious, after all. Maybe her answer is like his own, why he holds on so tightly to his own pack before he'd lost it in the Ingress. ]

[ventifact]

[He reminds her of the other scavengers back on Jakku: his brusque manner, the fierce loyalty to those he considers allies, that look in his eye that tells her he's seen some horrible things. It's all familiar, and it comforts her as much as it puts her on edge. Other scavengers usually wanted to take your scrap. That isn't an issue here, but the latent apprehension is still there.

Caution is the only thing that's kept her alive for nineteen years. Some scavengers were long dead by then. Only the smart ones (or the worst ones) grew old.

The question makes her pause because back home, the answer was obvious. But she can allow a bit of explanation. It'll distract him from his friend's current fate, maybe.]

To keep it safe.

[The worst thieves on Jakku were the Teedo. They didn't respect many people, but she had made sure to earn her way on to that list. It kept them from bothering her too much. That, and the fact that they knew exactly how skilled she was with her staff.

Rey reaches into her pack to pull out another roll, grabbing a portion as well. She might as well share one now. After tossing the roll to him, she grabs her canteen and a little plate. She rips open the packet and dumps the powder on to the plate and then adds a small bit of water. In seconds, the concoction sizzles and rises up into what looks like another roll. She offers him the plate.]

It isn't a Corellian pear, but it's got more protein than a happabore steak.

[dislocked]

[ She doesn't entirely trust him, he knows it -- and he doesn't fault her for it. He doesn't trust himself, too; no one who knows what he's done would. A set of words, the things that Hydra's put in his head can so easily undo what he's spent so long clawing back for himself. He wonders if he's living on borrowed time sometimes, but now's not the occasion to think about it.

Her words are another reminder that she's very much like him, the way she clings to what little she has. He understands it, the desire to keep close the few things that matter the most, the fear that someone might come and take it all away. To keep it safe, she says. He knows.

He catches the roll with a little nod, but is almost immediately distracted by what she does with the packet and how it becomes something else entirely in a matter of seconds. His brows raise in surprise as he takes it as well, the strange terms practically flying over his head.

She's not from Earth, this much he knows. Another world? ]

What world are you from? Is this what you eat there?

[ventifact]

[On Jakku, sharing portions was about as close as someone could get to telling another person they were friends. Or allies, really. Rey didn't believe friends could exist on a planet like Jakku. The only two she'd ever thought she'd had betrayed her as soon as they'd gotten the chance. Since then, isolation had been what kept her safe and sane.

But in this moment, when she sees someone suffering because they'd lost someone they did consider a friend--well, it stirs something in her that she'd thought dead. Finn had caused the same reaction, and it makes her want to reach out in the only way she really knows how. A way she hadn't been able to with Finn, with the rush they'd been in to save the galaxy.

Rey tears a large bite out of another roll, giving herself time to think on how to answer. Most of the people she'd spoken with knew something of Jakku, and had used all the common terms to describe it: backwater, dying, a wasteland. All were accurate, and Rey would use them herself. But maybe she can frame it differently. Her gaze drifts from the cryotube to his face and then to the portion in his hand. It's not much to look at, but she knows exactly how much it's worth and exactly how vital it is to her. Was to her. Things are different here, she reminds herself. She doesn't have to ration herself anymore, she doesn't have to spend days surviving off half a portion.

She doesn't have to want to take back what she's just given.]

Yeah. Jakku is a desert planet. This is pretty much all there is unless you've got something the junkboss really wants.

[She realizes she hasn't tried very hard to deviate from the normal descriptors, and backpedals.]

There are better things on other planets. But I never had them.

[At least she tried.]

[dislocked]

[ Bucky is slowly and steadily getting a fuller picture of the world she's from. A desert world with scarce resources (he's still wrapping his mind around the fact that there are humans from other planets he's never heard of), which explains how she hoards but doesn't quite explain the fact that despite ostensibly harsh conditions, she still manages to be kind. It's down to her nature, he supposes -- lesser people would never have thought of sharing.

He nods; she must think he's worth hanging around, if she's here sharing her food with him. ]

Sorry to hear that. [ To be on a desert planet knowing there's better out there, it feels like another sort of torture. ] Why did you stay there, if you know there are better things on other planets?

[ventifact]

[It isn't the first time someone has said they're sorry about where she's from. Normally, she'd vehemently defend Jakku, say it isn't so bad, that there are amazing sights to see and fantastic salvage. But the defense falls flat on her tongue. It doesn't matter here, not really. The vast majority of people don't even know there are other inhabited planets besides their own, let alone where Jakku might be in the universe.

Besides that, he isn't the one who left her there when she couldn't even fend for herself. He isn't the one that needs to apologize to her.]

My family.

[She pauses. That makes it sound like they'd been there, as if they had lived and worked together. Rey isn't a liar.]

They left me there and told me to stay. [She thinks. All she really remembers is a ship flying away and Unkar Plutt holding her arm, keeping her from running after it.] I was waiting for them. [Her eyes drift towards the cryotube, more so she doesn't have to make eye contact while she's being so honest.] I waited ten years.