You’re a stranger to me (open);

[bracchium]

CHARACTERS: bucky barnes and you!
WHERE: bellatrix brood pods + dark corners
WHEN: once he wakes up idk which day
SUMMARY: bucky has a good nap
WARNINGS: mentions of violence, sad super soldiers etc



{bellatrix brood pods}

Bucky doesn’t remember going to sleep in a tube, but it’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened. When he opens his eyes, deja vu sours his stomach, leaving him with familiar nausea. The sense of belonging that follows immediately in its wake, though, further upsets the bile crawling up his throat. He doesn’t belong here, though he’s not immediately sure of where ‘here’ is; the Soldier is nothing but a danger to those around him.

He sinks to his knees, blinking around at his surroundings, and waits for firm hands to drag him upright before he can take his first breath. But, instead, of the hollow darkness of Siberia, the glow of the Station welcomes him in a way that grows more sickening. There are penalties for getting sick, and he swallows down the acid burning his mouth.

He waits. He waits, jaw clenched and gaze down.

——

{dark corners}

After a chance to re-orient himself with his surroundings and companions, Bucky ducks away to the relative quiet of the far corners of the Station. His head throbs with the chorus of minds connected to his own, but the hollow burn in his chest bites deeper. He had gone to sleep again and in that time, he hadn’t attacked anyone else in the Station, in direct contrast to the majority of his life, both on the Station and off. Thinking back to his arrival on the Station reminded him of something Sam had said about a ‘Sleeping Beauty act.’ Did he choose to go to sleep back on Earth? Was such a thing possible? Could he do the same here on the Station?

For now, though, he needed the space to think. No place on the Station was truly private, but the farther from his fellows, the better.

——

{wildcard???}

Comments

{wildcard i guess?? mental probably leading into action}

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ It's not that Sam's been keeping an eye on Bucky, mental or otherwise. Sure, he's come by the nesting deck enough to sit by his pod a few times, to draw some faces on it and write a couple of messages - to wonder if maybe he should just break Bucky out of the damn thing rather than have him have to deal with waking up in it.

But he doesn't have to be keeping an eye on him to know when Bucky's woken up. The empty ache that'd come from the distance of their mental connection, the faded sense of where Bucky should be, of course he'd been all too aware of it the whole time Bucky was out. He's just as aware of the connection coming back like being able to breathe a little easier, as Bucky's mental presence grows stronger in Sam's own mind. It's not just tucked there in the back any more - if Sam'd ever been fooling himself that he could keep them neatly segmented, there's no way he can now.

With how many times they've grounded Bucky here, with how much of Bucky is in Sam's head - he doesn't even have to reach out to feel Bucky's presence. He's there without thinking about it, like a warm breeze tugging at Bucky's hair, trying to call attention to itself. ]

( Bucky. You with me? )

o7

[bracchium]

[Bucky senses the tug at his mind almost before it happens. A hundred voices have connected to his head, but a few are particularly loud. The warmth is met with static and confusion and the same nausea creeping up his own throat. His head swims in and out of focus as he tries to shake the sense of someone watching, someone here. HYDRA always had eyes on him, but never quite this intense. He expects to look up and see a figure watching through frozen lashes, but neither is true. He’s alone in the nesting deck and instead of chills, he feels quite overheated.

There’s so many voices, so many empty pods.

Are they Soldiers like him? That was an army of massive proportion, more than enough to take down any government in the world. Where were their handlers? Where is his?]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Not with him, then, not yet. All right, they can do this.

Sam shifts his focus, adjusting his breathing slow and even, in to the count of seven and out to eleven. He doesn’t try to press more into Bucky’s mind, just - curls around it, like wings wrapping around his mind. Supporting him to block out the voices of the rest of the Nest, until he can come back enough to do it himself. ]

( Your name is Bucky Barnes. It’s 2017. You’re on the station, you’re not with HYDRA. My name is Sam Wilson. You’re not the soldier anymore. ) [ There’s a pause, very brief, and then Sam just kind of shrugs and goes for it. ] ( You’re Bucky with the good hair. Do you have your coin with you? )

[bracchium]

[The presence of someone else in his mind, the weight of another wrapped around his head, dampens the chorus of clamoring voices. The Station. The Nest. Not HYDRA, but still it feels so much like HYDRA. He was sleeping in his pod, surrounded by others, like Siberia, but there are no handlers to drag him to his feet. There is no chair to wipe him clean. Bucky Barnes. Bucky with the good hair. Codenames?

He rifles through his pockets without question, programming humming through his veins. In one of his chest pockets is a coin, but he's not sure if it's his coin. Air Force. Wings.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ For the most part, Sam hovers on the outside, shielding Bucky's mind from everything else and slowly, slowly settling himself back into their brood connection. It's hard, now that Bucky's awake, not to flood back into his mind and reestablish their bond, to make up for missing it over the past week or so - but he doesn't want to overwhelm Bucky, and he doesn't want the programming to notice someone else suddenly in Bucky's head and try to shut him out before they can pull Bucky back. ]

( Focus on your coin, okay? Breathe with me, we got this. No rush, I'm here long as you need. )

[bracchium]

[Bucky rubs his thumb over the engravings in the coin and it's almost like threading his fingers through another's. Each groove is more familiar than the last. Wings. Air Force. But was he Air Force? He remembers shooting, remembers killing people. Sometimes with pistols, other times with his bare hands. He flew. Helicopters, planes, all sorts.

But someone else was Air Force. Someone was Army. He remembers a short, blonde guy.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ At least Sam hasn't shown up at the nesting deck yet, or he'd probably be actually threading his fingers with Bucky's. He'll do this one step at a time; ease him back in mentally before dealing with physical proximity, too. ]

( There you go. Come on back, sunshine, me and Steve've been missing you. I'll even give you a free shot on hassling me for being in the Air Force. )

[bracchium]

[Steve. Steve. The man on the bridge. The man who called him Bucky. The image of a sketchbook rises along with the name. Caricatures of a noodle-armed man with "Steve" and then a rather detailed depiction of Sam. Sam. Sam Wilson. Sam Wilson who called him Sunshine and braided his hair. Memories flit through his mind like butterflies. Each time he goes under, they seem to get smaller, the pieces more crooked and dispersed because he's done this before, he realizes. Sam and Steve bring him back.

Back to what, though?]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam can feel the memories coming back, slowly filling into place, but he doesn't try to interfere. He keeps breathing, in and out, steady and calm, giving Bucky whatever support he needs.

As far as Sam's concerned - this is progress. Feels like every time they do this, it gets easier. That Sam has more of a sense of who Bucky's becoming to draw on, that they're slowly learning what works and what doesn't. ]

( You with me again? )

[bracchium]

[Bucky starts to put pieces together under the support of Sam's mental wings, reveling in the shade from the heat of a hundred other voices. There are still a handful that are louder than the others- Bellatrix- but each moment he's awake gets easier to deal with.]

( Sam. ) [The mental equivalent of a sigh resonates over their link. Despite his long sleep, Bucky is tired, exhausted even. ]

brood pods

[greentech]

Katie's not exactly keeping track of Bucky. She just knows that there's been a familiar tug and hum that's been sort of absent lately. Something missing that's occasionally kept her up at night, tugging at the edges of her senses and making her feel vaguely hollow inside. The tug comes back, though. And she follows it without too much thought. Despite herself. Despite trying to hold back on the thing in her head, she's too comfortable with it. With the ebb and flow of thoughts and memories that swirl through her head and that aren't hers.

She doesn't like it.

She still follows it down to the pods. There's something sour and harsh that comes echoing through her head that she can't place. A taste of bile that isn't her own. There's an unnerving edge that sets her on pins and needles, as if she's waiting for the rollercoaster to hit the top of the slope before it drops. What's with that? It's only when she turns into the pod room that she understands. Sort of.

Katie still doesn't fully get Bucky. Just that he's a bit strange, that there's damage there that she doesn't understand, and that they share a link now. She doesn't always know what to make of it.

"Hey. You OK?"

There's concern and a little bit of guilt that permeates the emotional space around her. Should she have been a better broodmate?

[bracchium]

There are voices, what feels like hundreds of them, twisting and curling around his mind like a crown. One draws nearer, bobbing like a bead on a string. When he raises his head, he recognizes the bob of auburn hair, but doesn't immediately draw a name. Not one of his targets, but someone still so infinitely familiar. Her sensations feed back into him, doubling his sour stomach and the nausea that rides hot on its heels.

The guilt isn't unusual, either, and tastes far more familiar than he likes.

"You're..." He begins, unsure. He's met her before. Her face draws up memories, but the conversations are stilted and broken, like a film assembled out of order.

[greentech]

Wow, he doesn't... look good at all. He doesn't feel good, either. There's a jumble of memories and emotions running through her head and she tries to lock it down, find something that she can latch onto. She bites her lip and then raises a hand.

"Uh. Katie. I'm Katie. You remember, right?"

Or maybe he doesn't. It's all pretty fractured, from what she can tell.

[bracchium]

Katie. They talked once, he thinks. Once or twice. The link pulling in the back of his mind provides information he doesn't need to ask for, but without context it hangs loose and fragmented in his head. From what he can tell, she doesn't seem any more sure than he is.

"The symbiotes," he replies, his voice distant. "We talked about symbiotes."

[greentech]

"Yeah, you remember that, right?" Pidge does. The awkwardness of trying to to get him to understand what she wanted to do, his reaction to some of her proposals. It hadn't been the greatest conversation, but she'd sort of felt like she was getting through to him. A little.

"How to handle them."

[bracchium]

That's right. Bucky tries to replay the memories in the right order this time, but there's still gaping holes, minutes of time, missing. He remembers wanting to connect with his broodmate.

"You wanted to experiment on them?" He asks, not entirely sure.

[greentech]

"Something like that. Run some tests so I could figure out how they actually worked..." She inches a bit closer and holds out her hand. This feels sort of ridiculous. He outweighs her b a ton and could probably benchpress her with one hand.

"You, uh, got kind of upset, I think."

[bracchium]

Bucky pauses and watches her as she reaches out a hand to him. He accepts with a blink and makes to get to his feet.

"I was experimented on," he replies, as easily as one might state the current president.

[greentech]

The touch comes as a slight surprise. She wasn't sure he'd accept, but he does and as he clambers to his feet, she gets a whiff of what's happened to him. Experimented on. Like Shiro, like so many other people. Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth to say something, then closes it, not sure of what to say or how to say it.

"I'm... sorry. That must have been awful."

sometime after Sam helps out Bucko

[decommission]

( Hey. ) [ A light touch, the faint scent of molasses and caramel and stale popcorn carries for some reason. ]

( I need a partner. ) [ It won't take much effort to locate Steve where he is in a large room within the training wing, alone. What he has in mind, on the other hand, isn't immediately clear. ]

o7

[bracchium]

[Bucky's not sure exactly what Steve means by partner, but he could never refuse Steve for much of anything. Even before Concordia, Bucky would do about anything for the man on the bridge who helped him break free of HYDRA. After, he's not sure how he would've survived without him.

Following the link, Bucky finds Steve in a matter of minutes. His hair is neatly braided back out of his face, a product of time spent with Sam Wilson.

Training.

But what kind?]

[decommission]

Nice braids. [ That Sam Wilson. He greets his friend with a half grin from where he stands in the room, idly swinging a wooden bat next to a pile of worn baseballs - or, well, most of them are baseballs. At least two are softballs, and a fair few only resemble either in shape and general size: another world's version of the sport, he figures. ]

Think you can pitch a few for me? [ Nodding at the pile. ]

[bracchium]

[Bucky's expression brightens at the compliment and even more so when he notices the baseballs. He hasn't so much as seen a baseball in forever. They were young the last time they played, he thinks, trying to bring up a sun-bleached memory slick with sweat in a fenced-in alley in Brooklyn. His arms slung over Steve's shoulders, laughing about something, maybe a runner slipped on some fresh puddles when he wasn't looking. He remembers being soaked to the bone in mud and grime and scaring some poor dame who happened upon the wild crew.

For a moment, Bucky's quiet, relishing the briny taste of the memory before he blinks and he's back.]

Aren't any girls watching.

[He offers a cheeky grin as he walks over to the mound of balls, a bit of a bounce to his step.]

[decommission]

[ A shared memory. Steve looks on from the edges, tastes the sweat and smells the hot asphalt from afar, the sound of laughter tickling his ears (red, at the time, the weight of an arm slung over his shoulder as he playfully shoves Bucky away).

Before he knows it the memory is already flickering away again, his clothes dry and clean, but the image of another Bucky is super-imposed on the one in front of him for a split second. His half grin widens a bit, and he lets out a huff at the comment. ]

Maybe you oughta warm up first before you go looking for a pretty audience. [ Teasing, like a jostle to the shoulder. He gives his bat another swing, backing up a few paces. ]

[bracchium]

[Bucky chuckles at Steve's response, feeling so much younger than he has in years. For a moment, the wear of seven decades on his body seems to disappear as he picks up the first ball from the mound. It's only when he shifts to adjust his grip when he remembers the lack of an arm on his left side. He pauses before continuing, propping the ball against his stomach to help adjust his grip, fingers moving along the seams.

Thinning his profile like a pro, he realizes how ridiculous he must look with just the one arm, but that doesn't stop him. Steve's seem in in worse and, luckily, there isn't anyone else here to comment.

The first pitch is terrible. As soon as the laces leave his fingertips, he knows it's going straight into the wall behind Steve, way over the poor kid's head. Yeah, he might be a touch rusty.]