station72 | it slows down;

Entry tags:

it slows down;

CHARACTERS: Bucky, you!
WHERE: The Red Coast!
WHEN: Day 026 morning and evening
SUMMARY: the bucket wakes up from his long nap
WARNINGS: mentions of violence, etc

[For Sam]

[Where there was once silence on Bucky’s end of the link, a slow, piercing scream takes its place. The shriek cuts in and out like static on a bad radio, but soon becomes steady and constant. Accompanied by gusting snow and biting wind, the noise grows and doubles before falling into disorganized static once more. Silence threatens to take hold, to swallow up all the discordant pieces. The brush of fir and pine sweep through the snow, but do little to provide structure to the quickly tumbling sections of awareness.

What’s happening? he doesn’t think out loud, but for some reason he doesn’t think he has to speak out loud. His lips are numb, dry, and stuck shut. He can’t seem to get them to move. Or perhaps they aren’t his lips after all.

His body is off balance, he considers. One side is heavier than the other, but he doesn’t know why.

Or who he is.

Who… who is he? Why does he feel like he’s drowning?]

[OTA; day]

[Bucky is never far from Sam, that much has not changed, but Bucky is quieter than before. Not only does the change in scenery make his head hurt, but there’s still too many missing pieces of his head right now. Still, he wants to check in on those he speaks with the most, even if that conversation might be one-sided. Being up and about also eases the bone-deep unease that he could fall asleep again at any instant.]

[OTA; evening]

By the evening, Bucky has remembered most of the events of the mission, at least those he was awake for. So the quiet, if dazed, friendliness of before has dimmed into something much sharper. He takes up a location near the edges of the camp and watches his fellow Nestmates which a great deal more apprehension. However, he at least has taken a stationary position, to watch over his broodmate’s tent.]

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(It's okay.)

[It's okay to take a while. It's okay that it's not immediate. He's not going to judge. He's never fallen into one of those comas. Maybe he'd be the same. Given how much alike they are. Their memory problems, their trauma. He's in no place to make judgments.]

[Instead, he accepts it. Offers up a mental image of himself. White hair, the tired expression. Metal arm.]

[The real hand holding out Bucky's coin. Giving it back to him. Like he promised he would, back on the station. Back before this mission even started.]

[Friends. It's a good word for it right now.]

(Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.)

[It's okay.

Bucky feels like he's heard that so many times already; people are so willing to give him a pass on his memory issues that it makes him wonder what might be lurking in them. Of course, he really has no choice but to accept that small forgiveness, considering they're apparently on a high-stakes mission with a tight margin of error. He's still not entirely certain what caused his four or five-day sleep, but it can't be anything nice.

However, the images provided by Shiro offer a scaffold to build Bucky's fragmented memories on, help to jog his memories. That's right. They're friends. He gave Shiro his coin after Shiro's broodmate fell asleep. Another burst follow: Shiro leaning on him as they move through a crowd, Shiro pale and confused in a hangar, and low conversations in the dark of the night.

Friends.]

( Where are you? ) [As he's kind of just gotten Sam to let him out of his sight for five seconds and it might be nice to back up the mental image with a real one.]

[It's because you're his friend, Bucky. That's why it's okay. Because they are friends. Because his own brain is faulty on the memory front too. He doesn't know the extent of what's happened to the other man -- gets the impression Bucky doesn't know the whole of it, either. And that's okay.]

[Because neither of them really do. Do they?]

[How can he be anything but forgiving, when that connection is so similar? When he gets it. He offers up the image of himself on a bench in their supplied housing. Watching the skies. The feeling of starlight and cloud cover in the imagery -- me.]

(Here. I'll wait.)

[The scenery offered by Shiro isn't inherently familiar; Bucky's not been awake for long. However, he follows their connection, moving through the barracks like a blind man until he comes across both the bench and Shiro. Seeing Shiro in person sets more memories in motion, easing some of the nerves that had bundled around reaching out toward nestmates. This is someone he's trusted in the past, someone he was and is friends with.

Bucky makes his way down to the bench and carefully takes a seat beside Shiro.]

( Sam said it's been a few days. )

(He's right.)

[There's no real way to deny that Shiro perks up at seeing Bucky enter the room. Trusted -- a friend -- someone he knows, someone he can be at ease around. He feels his face relax, feels himself smile, almost rising before Bucky sits beside him. The feelings of relief and the general warmth of seeing someone you care for on their feet again, ever present in his mind.]

[He shifts a little. So his shoulder is pressing against the other man's.]

(I'm... really glad to see you're still with us.)

[Bucky offers a small smile in return for those feelings of warmth and relief. He's still not entirely used to people wanting him around, but it's nice all the same. The press to his shoulder reminds him of the night of the funeral, of how they clung to each other in the dark as they watched their fellow Nestmates with a barely-constrained grief.]

( Anything happen? ) [Besides the obvious change of scenery.]

(Some of the locals turned up dead.)

[The last few days were such a blur, it's hard to remember when exactly they lost contact with Bucky. At least for him, anyway. Maybe Bucky remembers that. But if not, he might as well update him.]

[He doesn't move away. Or pull back. The smile is encouragement, the lack of recoil. He really, genuinely is glad to see Bucky's face again. Feel the weight of his general presence.]

[... He hadn't realized he'd missed it. As much as he had.]

(We're sticking around this place for a while. Until they get something or other ready. Pretty quiet here -- there's even a beach, if you like watching waves.)

[Damn. That's not good at all. Wasn't there something following them? Bucky's not entirely sure of anything right now. But here, sitting next to Shiro, he feels more at ease than by himself in this strange place. He supposes he'll have time to get used to their new quarters, if they stay for a while.

In regards to the beach, though, Bucky's less sure. He can't remember the waves. Part of him knows he's been to the beach, in Brooklyn, but he can't remember the waves.]

( Where are we? )

(They call it the 'Red Coast'.)

[The weight of Bucky up against his side is a comfort to himself. Selfishly, he thinks. But also thinks nothing of gently putting a hand on his shoulder. Carefully, the move flickering in his thoughts before he does so.]

[Along with the imagery of red waves. Water the color of familiar red metal -- it's not blood, not in his thoughts. Nothing so morbid.]

[Just weird water. Alien water.]

[The Red Coast. Bucky's never heard of a place like it, but Shiro's mental image of scarlet waves reminds him a little of an afternoon, once upon a time, in Brooklyn. The memory flickers, details lost at the edges, but a familiar face sits beside him, just like this. They kick their legs on a brick wall, the river beneath them burned red with the sunset.

The contact on his shoulder is telegraphed long out, but Bucky still flinches. It's okay. It's alright. Shiro is a friend.

He forces himself to relax.]

( Where'd the desert go? ) [Because the last thing he remembers is being told to return to camp.]

[He waits, keeping the contact light. Just in case Bucky wants to duck away. He's a little relieved when he doesn't, though. Maybe it's selfish. But oh well. It's a nice reminder they're both alive and awake again.]

[His friend is all right.]

(They put us on a ship. Flew us out of there. You missed a pretty fancy party.)

[A ship flew them out of the desert. Oh. Yes, he definitely missed that part. Bucky exhales heavily, directing his gaze to the wall. This isn't the first time he's slept through something important. His symbiote seems to have more problems than not, what with it activating the Soldier and randomly putting Bucky to sleep.

He doesn't mind the contact at his shoulder. On the contrary, the hand helps anchor him.]

( Party? )

(Yeah. There was... all kinds of entertainment sort of things up there. Maybe trying to keep us distracted? I don't know.)

[He hadn't really taken part in most of it. Just the hot springs, but uh. What happened there probably doesn't need to be spread around. As... much as you can keep your private activities private in this place.]

[His hand stays at Bucky's shoulder. Though his weight leans slightly more against him.]

[Oh, that's alright. Bucky doesn't mind missing a party. He missed one on Concordia as well and he's not one for festivities anyway. The brush of heat from the hot springs results in a raised eyebrow but nothing more; he hasn't gotten much from Sam on the hot springs either. Suspicious, but honestly none of Bucky's business.

There's one more pressing question, but he's not sure how to phrase it.]

( Anything else about... Lavellan? )

[He's not sure how matters ended, considering how abruptly he and Sam left the funeral proceedings and Bucky's sleep didn't help either.]

[He averts his eye a little, at the raised eyebrow. Out of embarrassment -- but the topic changes. It changes into something more serious. And the averted glance turns into staring down at his hands.]

[It never really ended neatly. Did it. It was still there, lurking at the back of his mind. Like a storm threatening to brew again.]

[One hand slips away, dipping into a fold of clothing, fingers curling around a round bit of metal -- ridged along the edges. Something he'd picked up from the craftspeople around here.]

(No one sees anything wrong with what happened. Just an autopsy, to them.)

[Bucky watches as Shiro pulls back, as hands slip beneath fabric and he sees something a bit like the coin he gave Shiro. Seeing the object intensifies Bucky's concern, but he's also quietly grateful that Shiro has picked up something to help. Words like 'autopsy' make what they did to Lavellan sound... medical, necessary.

There was no reason to dig through Lavellan's skull, for any reason.

The hollow in Bucky's chest burns at the thought of Sam or Shiro asleep like he was, vulnerable to whatever their Nestmates might consider in the best interest of the whole.]

( And you? ) [Last he remembered, he and Shiro were on the same page about Lavellan, but last he remembered they were in the desert. It doesn't hurt to make sure his memories are true.]

Edited 2017-12-29 00:15 (UTC)

[It wouldn't happen again. It would never happen to anyone else he cared about. Not while they had no say in it. Not... like what happened to them.]

[His fingers tighten. Release. A slow pattern along the edges of the little metal disc. And you? flickers a few times in his head, pulsing like it has its own heartbeat.]

(I'm tired.)

[It's weird that it comes out so easily. How simply he can say that to Bucky, if no one else. He's... tired of this mission, of this place. Of all this politics and secrecy, of the confines of these disguises. Tired of living with the feeling of green lightning skittering down his spine, with nothing to anchor it.]

(I'm... really tired of fighting with people I'm supposed to be working with. Supporting.) [He shakes his head, weight listing sideways into Bucky's shoulder again.] (Sam, Pidge, Elena... you... feel like the few people I've got left to count on.)

[The names mean nothing to him, not now at least, but there's no hiding Shiro's continued concern and anxiety regarding Lavellan. That meant Bucky could still trust him, even while his memories continue to sort themselves out. He eases his arm out of the space between them to curl about Shiro's shoulder and pull him in closer. The weight on his shoulder reminds him of a night of grief, of anxiety, of hurried conversations in the dark.

Shiro's sentiment is familiar, too. Sam expressed something similar and, the more memories that return, the more Bucky feels that he's had the same experience. There's nothing really to say in response, nothing Bucky can find to somehow ease those worries, so he simply holds Shiro a bit tighter.

He's back. He's awake. So is Sam.]

[He's... honestly surprised when the arm goes around him. Surprised, but not pulling away. Not resisting, or stiffening or -- anything but leaning into it. A little more. Reaching, gingerly at first, to reciprocate. To wrap his own arm around Bucky's shoulders in turn.]

[So grateful he's awake. So grateful there isn't another hole in his chest where someone else used to be.]

[He takes a deep breath. Slowly. Steadily.]

(It's really good to see you again.)

[Bucky meant it when he said he was glad to be back, despite the obvious holes in his memory. Something happened to stress him to the point of collapse, but the depth of that fear doesn't seem to have continued. For now the anxiety remains tolerable, something he can handle. Shiro's arm around his shoulder only enforces that sense of security. He has people who will help him and watch out for him.

He's not sure he's ever had that in his life.

At least not the parts he can remember right now.]

( You too. )

[People very rarely come back. At least, in his experience. They don't just show up after leaving. After being taken away. But Bucky has. And to him, that means a lot. That means more than he can really say.]

[So he doesn't bother saying it. Just leans into him. Holds onto him. Gratitude and affection wrapped together in something he doesn't know how to name. He... cares about this person, about this man.]

[More than he thought he did, until Bucky came back.]

[He doesn't say anything, then. Maybe they don't need to. Maybe they can just sit like this for a while and be glad to see each other. That something went right.]

[Just once.]

[Sitting sounds perfectly alright with Bucky. Between the confusion and the beginnings of a headache lacing behind his eyes, he could do with a little more rest. Just a little more. Just enough to revel in being awake and not packed away on a ship, frozen again until the end of days.]

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