station72 | semi-open;

Entry tags:

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CHARACTERS: Bucky, Sam, Steve, and guests
WHERE: The Gardens
WHEN: Backdated to D040-idk 45ish?
SUMMARY: After another death in the nest, Bucky feels the need to run.
WARNINGS: Nightmares, talk of violence, etc.

[Death in the Nest never comes easy. Anakin's had been so violent and sudden and now Aoba's seemingly the opposite. Something planned and slow and when the pain of the loss surges through the Nest, Bucky's left shuddering in its wake. He can't stay here, that's all he knows in the moment as he surges from his quarters. His backpack is heavier than he remembers as he hefts it over his shoulder. However, he's only a dozen feet down the hall before a conversation with Sam springs to his mind. Over shared drinks, he agreed to think about not running, about camping, about seeking offered help when this urge rises.

But he can't bring himself to search for help directly. Not when all he can focus on is the pain of a purposeful death rocking through his nerves.

And yet his feet bring him to the Gardens, to dirt crunching under his boots instead of the darkness of the farthest corners of the Station. He's reminded again of Sam, of their talk of camping, and he quietly sends up a ping of his location to both his broodmate and Steve. The impression of his panic colors the leaves of the trees around him, burning incandescent over the link.]

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[Bucky turns away from Sam, but his center of gravity swings and he finds himself on his knees in the dirt before he can realize what's happened. All he knows now is the heat surging through his body, making him soft and malleable and obedient. Be a good soldier. Go be frozen for your insubordination. Almost distantly, he can feel the sensation of someone else in his mind and the programming sets about pushing that additional presence out while continuing to burn Bucky from the inside out. He doesn't struggle against the pain or even think of fighting back.

But he wants cold, wants it so bad, and the additional mind against his eases the fever clouding his senses.]

'm sorry. [He mumbles, unsure who he's talking to: the programming or Sam.]

[ Sam drops to his knees when Bucky does. It's not exactly a conscious movement, but he takes advantage of it anyway, leaning in close to take Bucky's hand and hold on tight. ]

( You got nothing to apologize for right now, sunshine, not to me and sure as hell not to what's doing this to you. )

[ He eases himself more into Bucky's mind, slowly at first, until the searing heat fighting him makes him take a more determined approach. Sam throws himself into it, anchoring himself in Bucky's mind the way he's done before when they fought the programming together.

Only this time - this time there's something more behind it. Whatever training Sam's been doing with the symbiote's paid off, and there's a boost of strength behind the way he grabs hold of what he can sense of Bucky amidst the rolling heat of the programming and hangs on, holding them together.

Until it's less that Sam's in Bucky's head and more that he can't tell what's his brain space and what's Bucky's. Until he's not even sure there is any separation, not at the moment.

He thinks - he thinks come on sunshine and we can do this and I got you, but he doesn't have to say any of it. Instead he gives his strength to Bucky, focuses on cold. ]

[ Sam knows who it is even before the sound echoes out - he and Clint can barely hide their presence from each other even when they try, after all - but he doesn't quite make it back from his walk around the edge of the trees in time to warn Bucky before Clint's close enough to make noise.

Still, Sam comes to stand next to Bucky, the feathers of his mind reaching out absently to brush across his. ]

It's just Clint. He's not as sneaky as he thinks he is.

[ Or, more likely, he knows how stupid sneaking up on soldiers and ex-assassins would be and isn't even trying to be sneaky, but still. ]

Edited 2017-06-25 01:06 (UTC)

[Sam's presence eases the raised hackles in Bucky's mind. He hasn't spent as much time around Clint, but the glimpses he's seen through Sam give him a good impression. Still, he's not ready to talk to much of anyone outside of Sam and Steve. Between the nightmares and the continued aching from the death of a nestmate, the urge to run spikes through his nerves.]

[ It's hard to hide his presence from Sam, but really -- Clint rarely tries anyway. With Barnes, it's different. Mind a blip, footsteps purposefully placed to offer a heads up. He's well aware of how stupid sneaking up on ex-assassins is. ]

You're just jealous, man.

[ A joke, not quite an ice breaker but definitely meant to diffuse some of the tension. Whether it works or not is debatable. Still, Clint's gaze slots over, and he offers a nod, lazy acknowledgement. ]

Barnes.

[In the back of his mind, Bucky can hear the Steve's questions, feel the filtered anger and confusion. While Steve tries to open their bond wider, Bucky attempts to close his tighter, to hide away behind the billowing snow drifts and barbed wire fences. How is he still walking and alive when a child who deserved so much more died? He remembers the confusion surrounding his escape from HYDRA, how the nightmares lay just behind his eyelids, how every bite of food felt like one bite too many when guilt stuffed his throat.

It's a lot like now, how he wants to sever the thread holding him to the rest of the others, to finally ease them of the burden of a drowning man threatening to pull them under with him.

But Steve is at his side, preventing Bucky from doing anything overt at the moment.] Yeah.

[He reminds himself to run slower as he starts a jog.]

[Bucky can hardly feel Sam's fingers entwined with his, but the spread of frozen wings over boiling water makes his presence more obvious. Those feathers dig into the fragments of ice and hum as snow re-freezes and offers relief from the searing heat. Bucky knows how it's supposed to be, how cold his mind usually is and provides the mental scaffolding. The chemical burn in his veins lessens, even as the programming shrieks like torn metal at this subversion of its power.

Physically, Bucky struggles into a sitting position so he can connect their bodies in more places: shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, cheek to cheek. Each provides more anchoring, more strength to the shielding keeping him from the heat.]

[ The programming shrieks, and Sam gives it the proverbial middle finger as he winds himself around Bucky's scaffolding. It hasn't been on purpose, going in this deep, not like the last times he's gone into Bucky's head or pulled Bucky into his own, but it's working. The programming never belonged in Bucky's head, no matter how much it's worked its hooks into it, but it sure as hell doesn't belong in Sam's. And right now there's not a whole lot of difference between their minds.

Last time they his, waited it out, but this time they can fight it.

When Bucky struggles to press closer, to bring them into more physical contact, Sam goes with it. He sits as well, hauling Bucky in until he's practically in Sam's lap, chests pressed together and a hand tangled in Bucky's hair. ]

[ The ice permeates, but in Steve's mind it transforms into a memories of mid-autumn, when the chill of coming winter first began to set in the apartment. He always liked the crisp air, just before the real cold forced everyone to bundle up in heavy layers and boiler heat dried out the air in the tenement.

Steve focuses on those memories, times when he was alone (keeps his mind clear of the clean-cut version of his friend), for no other specific reason than that they're what's come to mind first. When he catches Bucky running a bit slower than normal he extends his gait, starting to pull ahead at a slightly more taxing pace.

Cocks an eyebrow. ]

That's all you got, gramps? [ Bucky doesn't have to hold back for his sake, jogging or otherwise. ]

[Through the brood bond, Bucky can sense Sam stopping, giving him distance and it takes him a moment to remember that he asked for Steve and Sam to come, that he doesn't want to be alone. No matter how difficult it might be, he needs them here to help with the open wound in the Nest, and the questions that accompany it.

Sucking in a breath through his nose, he forces himself to count slowly, to anchor himself, to reach out again instead of running. Ahead of him, there is a small grove of what might be willow trees, if not for the strange purple bark.]

( The willow grove. )

[As Sam pulls him bodily closer, the frozen wings surrounding them burst with additional strength, chilling him to the point that he can hardly feel the heat at all. He breathes in and finds Sam all around, inside his mind and out, humming alongside the programming as if he was meant to be there. The waiting game starts, but Bucky doesn't mind this time around. Sam has eased the worst of the searing heat, given him respite and the cold he so needs right now.]

[For all that he tries to shield from Steve, Bucky still finds himself lost in thoughts of the past, stuck in the inky dark of pleading cries and useless tears of mercy. They all end the same, but he watches them all the same. Since Aoba's death, they rise at the smallest prompting. Handling a knife reminds him of Australia, of a woman with cobalt blue eyes wide and blank with a knife in her chest.

Beside him, Steve speaks and Bucky blinks before realizing that Steve's pulling ahead. Frowning, he picks up his pace to match Steve but not faster. He's not here to outpace anyone, no other soldiers to defeat or prove himself to.]

[ Sam shifts a little, just enough that the back of his knuckles brush against Bucky's - an offer, just in case he wants something to ground him a little more. He knows that Bucky's not all that up for company right now, but he also knows that Clint's... got some things in common with him, and they might have a pretty unique understanding.

And selfishly, he's glad to see Clint. He chuckles, shooting Clint a tiny smirk. ]

Dunno, man, what's there to be jealous of? [ Sam reaches out with his other hand, making a grabby motion. ] Did you at least bring the feather twins?

[ He'd had to leave the pair of alien birdlings that Bucky got him when he came running to answer Bucky's call - he trusts Clint to look after them, of course, but he misses them.

And it might not be a bad thing for Bucky to see them. ]

( We'll be right there. )

[ It helps, in a way, that his connection to the pair of them is lesser outside the brood. The benefit to not feeling everything as strongly is that it keeps him a half step removed from being swept up in outside panic - and it's a bit easier to keep his own fears buried just beneath the surface of what's visible to the others. Barely.

He spots Sam's back first, slowing to a walk as he approaches them. ]

[ Sam closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Bucky's as he breaths, nice and slow. The chill of the wind ruffles through his feathers, calm and soothing, and it's - almost comfortable, sitting like this. Like they belong.

Maybe it should concern Sam, how close together they are, but it doesn't. He made his choice ages ago, and there's nothing that makes him regret it now.

His fingers pet through Bucky's hair, as much as they can with the feathers and the braids, his other hand sprawled against Bucky's back, as he settles in to wait it out. ]

[Bucky stares over at Clint with hooded eyes before sending a glare Sam's way. He's not ready for this, he's not fit company for anyone not already knee-deep in his issues. On his bad days, Bucky barely spares a word for Sam and Steve, much less a relative stranger. The brush against his knuckles offers little comfort with the humming of anxiety in his throat. The mention of the birds catches his attention, but he tries to hide it behind a furrowed brow. He misses them too, the little bastards, and someone must have been caring for them while Sam's been away attending to the walking disaster. Guilt quickly silences the annoyance and anger that briefly springs up. He was the one who had to drag Sam out here.]

[Every breath that passes from Bucky's lips is shared with Sam, every pulse of his heart sends blood through both of them, the sweat that sticks their foreheads together belongs to them both. Here is where he belongs, where he was meant to be all along. And now waiting doesn't seem so tough. In fact, it feels right to wait here with Sam until the programming blows over.]

[ It doesn't seem to take as long this time - or maybe Sam isn't as conscious of the passage of time when he's not carrying Bucky across a crowd or curled up on the floor next to his couch. Maybe it's just that he doesn't care how long it's been, when he's happy to be like this. But eventually he notices that the programming isn't actively attempting to hurt them anymore, eventually he notices that things are more or less quiet, except the intermingling of his and Bucky's thoughts.

He means to say something, but the intent behind it makes across before he can - a wordless question, checking in on Bucky's mind, love-support-contentment-determination. He makes no move to untangle himself either physically or mentally, and it's obvious that this is the most comfortable he's been in a while. ]

[ Steve's unconscious mind is most affected by the flashes of violence in Bucky's memory. During the day he can banish them, or take them in and transfigure them into something less threatening, like now. During the night his mind is vulnerable, though he can't always remember the faces.

Horrible as they are, he'll take those nightmares over the ones where he wakes up to find Sam curled over a body -

The gardens are humid, which means he's already sweating again. He matches pace with Bucky now, caught between trying to come up with something to say and coming up empty. After a minute he opts to keep the silence, the only sound that comes from him are even breaths, nothing like the rasping sound he used to make when they were kids. Even months later Steve still experiences a kind of high when he's exercising like this, the sensation bubbling in his bloodstream all the way to his head - and through the link. ]

Edited 2017-06-27 01:55 (UTC)

[Bucky is half-asleep from exhaustion once the programming finally quiets down. His body is drenched with sweat, his limbs heavy as Sam's presence pings in his mind. The frozen wings unfold from around them to reveal the scorched landscape, a sure sign that the programming has been through. Bucky lets his head sag onto Sam's shoulder, allowing the lead in his bones speak for itself. Nuzzling in closer to Sam's throat, Bucky silently asks to stay like this, to let him sleep.]

[ Despite the lingering sense of Bucky's panic, something like relief settles in his chest as the three of them find each other. There's a low, distant ache of guilt and grief from everything going on since they got back from Waypoint, and he - he has to remind himself that it's not selfish to want them close.

To feel better with the two of them there. With how bad Bucky wants to run, he knows he's keeping the promise he made to let Sam and Steve help him when things get bad, and a faint hint of gratitude and pride curls out around them. ]

Sounds like now's a good time for a camping trip. Few days out here, just us?

[ Sam shifts, just enough that he can prop himself up against the nearest tree and lean back a little. Yeah, yeah, he's good here, and there's a soft mental hum of contentment in response. He holds Bucky close, hand stroking soothingly - and breathes out, stretching his wings over that scorched landscape. Sam's not sure what part of it is Bucky and what's from the programming bleeding over into him and trying to leave scars - but he can shape his own mind enough, try to let its vibrancy pour out and linger.

Try to encourage growth in its wake, to give Bucky something lasting to hold onto. But Sam himself is exhausted, and he falls asleep with their minds still just as interconnected as they are. ]

[Bucky blinks when he realizes Steve is keeping pace. Sure, Bucky still isn't going full-speed, but something feels off. Digging through the layers in his head doesn't reveal anything immediately, leaving him confused as they continue to run, dirt crunching under their feet. How *is* Steve keeping up with him? The high spreads through the link, though Bucky tries to shake it free.

Something's wrong.

He ran like this. Steve ran like this, up over curved metal as Bucky raised a pistol in both hands and emptied three rounds into red, white, and blue. Or down on the glass, when he thrust his knife into Steve's shoulder.

No, no he got out. He doesn't do that anymore. He doesn't---

Bucky stumbles, long limbs stretching out as he falls and catching one of Steve's heels on accident.]

[As the other two approach, Bucky keeps to the shadows, more out of habit than necessity. Once it becomes well and clear that Sam and Steve are indeed the only other two here, he moves to acknowledge them with a nod. Camping might be nice. He remembers telling Sam about doing that after escaping HYDRA, how he liked getting fresh air, and how he promised to do something other than run and hide.

So Bucky offers a short nod, still keeping to himself as best he can.]

[Bucky is quietly happy that Sam obliges him, that he doesn't have to move when his head feels like one gaping, raw wound. Growth will return in due time, the ground will re-freeze--- perhaps faster with Sam's presence--- but for now the necessary sleep rules over fostering that rebuilding.

Moments after Sam gives permission, Bucky falls into a deep slumber right then and there, not bothering to untangle them mentally or physically. That would take far too much effort that Bucky simply doesn't have the energy for.]

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{clint; guest starring sam}

o7

slinks over here

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lmk if this isn't ok!

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