bucky barnes (
dislocked) wrote in
thisavrou_log2016-05-02 10:16 am
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Entry tags:
the truth remains lethal, a lie made by man.
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. ]
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. ]
no subject
So he does it the only way he knows how. With a lopsided grin, a bit of optimisim, and an armful of animals.
Sneaking into the medbay with JB and the kittens isn't so bad, not when he's got them all tucked into the jacket he's wearing, arms wrapped around them carefully. It's probably obvious as fuck, but nobody stops him, so he counts that as a win.]
Hey, bruv. Hope you're wantin' some company, cause you're gettin' it.
[He pulls up a chair, flush to Bucky's, too close but that's the point.]
Lean closer, yeah?
[Eggsy unzips his jacket, looking around him before leaning over to show Bucky who he's brought with him.]
They missed ya. Especially that one. [JB of course.]
no subject
Eggsy had more or less accepted him from the get-go, becoming one of the first friends Bucky had made for himself ever since he'd ended up here. His presence had been no imposition, and the man's tactful reticence in regards to Bucky's irregular hours and the aftereffects of his nightmares had been a welcome change. JB, the kittens, and Stark had of course been a wonderful bonus, and he can't help but reach in to carry JB out for a surreptitious cuddle (don't tell anyone that he's got a soft spot for small animals). ]
And here I thought you meant you. [ Bucky tells him dryly, grateful nonetheless for the reprieve and the company -- it's impossible to brood when Eggsy and his animal pets are around. He pulls JB close, happy to be licked by the pug that he serves as a willing armchair for. Bucky's quiet for a few moments before he adds, ]
I'm sorry if I worried you.
no subject
[Eggsy makes sure Bucky's got JB, mouth curved in amusement as the little pug makes himself at home in Bucky's lap. He'd feel betrayed by how quickly JB had taken a shine to his roommate if it weren't for that fact that Eggsy knew why. Bucky was good to him, held him whenever he demanded it, and JB could tell that he wouldn't hurt him.]
Nah, it's alright. Figured it was somethin' important if you hadn't come back round.
[He settles back in his chair, scooping the kittens up and setting them on his chest.]
What's wrong with him? Didn't get to meet him properly, least not this version of him, but any friend of yours, is a friend of mine.
no subject
[ Bucky admits quietly. JB is a warm, comforting presence -- another living thing in his arms that he could protect and care for. He's taken a shine to the pug and to his easygoing owner; of course it helps that Eggsy's grounded for a guy who's died a painful death. Common ground, he supposes, goes a long way when it comes to bonding, and Bucky's surprised at how easily Eggsy's taken to him, too.
Eggsy wouldn't, Bucky thinks, when he finds out all the things he's done; the people he's killed. Good people, people who would have made a vastly positive difference in the world if they'd lived. Inspired more to follow in their footsteps. He tries to shake off the feeling that he's an impostor, playing at being a man. Bucky's just not sure if he should tell him -- especially not when it feels... not so bad to have someone who isn't trying to kill him. ]
Someone must have caught him and put him in here. [ His shoulders are tense, brows knitting. ] They haven't come back around yet. I don't know if they've wiped him. Made him into something else.
[ Because this is the only frame of reference he knows, the only thing he understands. Why else put someone in cryosleep? ]
no subject
[Eggsy shrugs, placating one of the kittens by dangling his fingers in front of its face. He glances up at the cryo bed, then over at Bucky.]
Maybe they're just givin' him more muscles. Christ knows he needs 'em, scrawny guy like that.
[Then, because it's a little more serious than how Eggsy's acting, and he can tell that something's wrong, he tucks the kittens into the top of his jacket to settle them down. Eggsy leans closer, voice low, brows furrowed.]
That somethin' you know about? Putting people in boxes and wiping them. [Cause it's not the first thing he'd have thought of.] Cause if he comes out not knowin' who he is or somethin's wrong with him, we'll fix it. Together.
[A short pause.] Bet he'll come out of there just fine, yeah?
no subject
He wakes up in a different age every time, and each time a new horror is descended before it ends and begins all over again -- and Eggsy's presence here is what anchors him to the present, JB's warm weight and the fact that the dog's licking his chin another reminder that he doesn't belong to his memories. His anxiety settles, and he meets Eggsy's eyes squarely. The man shows him more kindness than he knows what to do with, and for that, Bucky's grateful. ]
Did he tell you how old he is?