day 49ish am; {open after initial waking}

[bracchium]

{sam + steeb}
[One moment silence echoes from the wound where Bucky’s mind should be. In the next, an explosion of frigid static unfurls from the emptiness and cascades through his links. In his room, he stumbles from his bed onto the cushions laid out beside it. The feathers braided into his hair swing about his ears and into his vision, releasing a surge of confusion alongside the static. Voices fill his head, like they’re standing inches away from him but when he raises his head from where he’s crouched on the floor, there are only two faces watching him.]


{everyone/anyone}
[The swell of static doesn't stop, but it does at least ebb quieter and quieter as the initial burst calms to a low hum. Occasional flares still rise to the surface throughout the coming days, however.]

Comments

creeps in here

[deployed]

[ The sense of static draws Bellamy's attention. He meets it with a nudge of his own mind, like a door knock. ]

precious babby

[bracchium]

[The gentle knock is met with an aggressive bolt of static, like a whip reaching to entangle Bellamy in the storm.]

[deployed]

[ How had he forgotten Bucky's mind was capable of such a strong response? Bellamy's breath stutters, and he braces himself in an attempt to keep from being pulled full-tilt into Bucky's mind. ]

( It's just me. )

[ Which would hopefully be a helpful identifier. ]

ilu eppyyyyyyyy

[bracchium]

[Bucky's mind rejects the additional presence on instinct, fortifying against the mind brushing against his. Bellamy is met with a wall of static.]

( Who are you? )

[Bucky's mind recoils and closes behind steel doors. He's not entirely sure who this "new" presence is.]

gathers you to my bosom

[deployed]

( Bellamy. )

[ He projects a mishmash of remembered interaction in the wake of his answer, as if to punctuate without going into detail. ]

u are th e pam to my jim ayyyyy

[bracchium]

[Bellamy. That's right. He's met Bellamy before in subspace and again in Bearings.]

( Bellamy. ) [Suspicious, unsure.]

always ok

[deployed]

( Do you remember? )

[ that question is gentle too. bellamy knows to tread carefully there, remembers bucky's mind spinning away from him through the link. the last thing bellamy wants to do is push him into repeating that. ]

[bracchium]

[A series of pulses fire, misfires and failed starts, before recognition lights up the link. Bellamy. That's right. Bellamy in Subspace. Bellamy here in his room as they speak quietly.]

( You asked if I read. ) [Less of a statement and more of a question.]

[deployed]

( Yes. )

[ It's one of the more benign instances in which their paths crossed. Bellamy's sure that projecting a secondhand memory of Bucky losing control of his thoughts over the mental link wouldn't be of any use right now. ]

( We met in the antiques shop. And then you were asleep. )

[ Which had to be difficult for Sam, though he hadn't said anything of it. ]

[bracchium]

[That's right. Bucky's mind fills with the memory of the shop, of meeting Bellamy's gaze through the glass.]

( Asleep. ) [Sam and Steve said something similar, but he's still not entirely sure on how.] ( Others are asleep, too? )

[deployed]

( Yes. )

[ Though he isn't clear on how many of them Bucky will remember. A small, concerned undercurrent thrums beneath Bellamy's thoughts, but he carefully suppresses it. ]

( You don't have to worry about that right now. Have you talked to anyone else? Your brood? )

[bracchium]

[Bucky gives the mental equivalent of a head nod.]

( Sam Wilson. Steve. )

[Pause and a gentle nudge of the link.] ( You. )

[deployed]

[ Bellamy meets that nudge like the clasp of hands, encouraging. ]

( Anyone make you something to eat yet? )

[decommission]

[ It's early enough that Steve's still asleep, strewn across the cushions when the force of Bucky's awakening mind snaps him back to consciousness. He lurches up, just in time to avoid getting knocked into, bleary eyes squinting in the dark. ]

Buck - [ He almost reaches out, then stops, reflexively constructing walls in his mind before anything leaks through and causes his friend to bolt. The next words come out quick: ] - it's Steve. You've been sleeping, buddy.

[ Because there's a 50/50 chance Bucky's not going to remember any of that. He waits, shoulders hunched. ]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Without Clint to trade off with him for shifts during the night, Sam's not sleeping near as much. So he's mostly awake when he feels Bucky's mind slot back into place from where it's been missing. ]

( Bucky? )

[ He's right next door - on purpose, so he could be close enough to Bucky and Steve while still watching over Clint and Rey - and it's a matter of seconds from the time he gets that burst of static to the time that he's at the door. For once, there's no polite knock at the door or waiting for permission; he just lets himself in and shuts the door behind him. Sam's gotten lax about his shields when it comes to Bucky, focused more on watching the absent connection than keeping it shut. There's a tumble of relief and warmth across the link before he catches himself and pulls back. He doesn't want to overwhelm him, and just in case, Sam moves in to stand close to Steve, so he's not between Bucky and the door. ]

You're back.

[bracchium]

[Bucky's heart pounds in his ears, accompanying the dyn in his head as he blinks at the two figures in the room with him. Steve. And... and there's another voice in his head, brushed with warmth and relief that tastes distinctly foreign in his mouth. However, the moment he recognizes its presence, it pulls away and disappears.

His head buzzes as he glances around the room, feathers scratching against his face. This is different, new, not like the other times he's woken up. There isn't frost melting from his lashes or the heavy grip dragging him across metal grating.

They don't seem like they're coming near him.]

Where am I? [The words come out in Russian and a voice rough from disuse.]

[decommission]

[ A glance at the doorway and there's a deep pulse of relief when Sam enters the room. Steve remains kneeling on the cushions, back leaning against the wall. The question comes in two parts - he knows Bucky's speaking a different language, but his mind translates it - there's a twist in his chest and something like faint resignation that slips through the link with Sam. It's buried not long after, pushed down by the stronger sense of persisting relief. Brow furrowing he starts to open his mouth to answer, then closes it. Better to let one person talk to start. He trusts Sam. ]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Talking is better than throwing punches - though he can't help but echo that sense of quiet resignation he gets from Steve. The determination is strong, though, and Sam pulls in a breath before reaching back out for the brood link between him and Bucky.

Sam's missed it, more than he realized, but he tries not to focus on that as he lets warmth trickle back through, the same nudging invitation to come here that he's used before. ]

You're in the Bearings, city of Concordia. It's 2016. [ Not that he knows what year it is in Concordia, but that's not the point. The point is facts to help Bucky orient himself. ] Your name is Bucky Barnes, this is Steve Rogers and I'm Sam Wilson. Sometimes shit happens and things get confusing, but it's okay. You've got us.

[bracchium]

[Bucky looks from Steve to Sam and furrows his brow when the response comes in a different language. That's... different. The nudging in his mind is familiar, though, and though he glances around for a third person, the cogs in his head gain speed. Gentle warmth overcomes a storm of static. Memories come in pieces: following a beacon in Subspace, days of frustration in a narrow-walled hovel, seeing these two faces in front of him time and time again, sketches in a notebook, searching for a hot dog, the jet engine that has left scars along the edges of his mind.

2016. He was brought in for a bombing. They went to Siberia and he lost his arm.

He blinks at Steve for a beat longer.] You got small. [In English this time.]

[decommission]

[ He lets out the breath he started holding as Sam spoke and shoots Bucky a look that goes you wanna say that again, pal?, any insult to be read from it ruined by the way one side of his mouth quirks into a small smile. ]

Never got big. The Station picked me up early.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ He gives a quiet, amused snort before he can help himself. ] All right, next time you can be the one listing off facts, I'd love to see what you'd go with. But it doesn't matter who remembers what, we've still got each other's backs.

[ There's a pulse against his and Bucky's mental link, a brief flicker of memories - not enough to shove them on him, but enough to let him know that they're if he wants them. He's gotten pretty good about offering without pushing. ]

You can look through, if you want, see if there's anything that jumpstarts something. You've been in here before, I don't mind.

[bracchium]

[Blinking between the two of them again, more pieces collect and arrange themselves in his head. The sketchbook on the desk comes to mind and the contrasting images between noodle-armed Steve and 2016 Steve. That's right. Steve didn't go to war, didn't know what happened beyond... 1943, was it? Before he can answer his own question Sam brushes against his mind again and Bucky pauses before realizing it's coming from Sam.

That's right. Broodmates. He declines the mental slideshow as his walls start to slowly assemble, barbed wire twining up from the steel cracks in his head.]

What's with the feathers? [He reaches up to brush his fingers over the braids.]

[decommission]

[ Can't be wishful thinking that this recovery seems to be going faster. He shakes his head at Sam, posture relaxing some more as he leans his back against the wall. ]

That's on this guy. [ Another wry grin, gentle ribbing as he tilts his head at Sam, adding: ] They don't look half bad.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ There's another rush of warmth, a wordless I'm glad you're back, and then Sam draws back again as Bucky starts to pull his walls back up. And then Bucky asks that, and Sam's face breaks into a slightly smug beam.

He nudges Steve's foot with his, a tiny, playful kick as he grins at him. ]

They look fantastic, thank you. I missed my calling as a hairstylist. [ Sam turns his smile onto Bucky, tilting his head consideringly. ] Definitely an improvement.

[bracchium]

[Wow ouch on his previous look as hobo of the year

Bucky sends the mental equivalent of an acknowledging nod over the link, still not quite sure how to do the full on communicating at the moment. For now, he'll just take in the sight of Steve and Sam smiling. Most of his memories contain images of frowns and concern edging their faces, so it's a nice contrast.

As for the braids and the feathers, he takes the compliments with a furrowed brow. He wasn't exactly that aware of his appearance, nor was he concerned about it, but he has his doubts regarding his new regalia. For now, however, he's not going to address it further.]

You said I was sleeping?