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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[Bucky can feel that link in the darkness that shrouds nearly everything: a single bright line that dips into deep. And then there's someone standing beside him, someone he doesn't immediately recognize. Arms curl around him as wings unfurl, further lighting the black. With the extra illumination, he can see shattered glass littering the ground. It reflects the light and causes the glass to glitter.

He's not sure he's ever seen anything like it, but regardless, he'd not sure he can carry all the different pieces, not all at once.

He can't do this.]

( Sam. ) [He looks away, unsure how to even begin.]

[ There's a dozen things that Sam wants to say, ranging from I missed you to I love you and don't you dare leave again, but his thoughts are tripping over themselves and he's too focused on trying to anchor Bucky here, trying to pull him back and help him pick up the pieces, to sort them out.

So he pushes his hand into Bucky's hair, leaning in to rest his forehead against Bucky's as he breathes, slow and even. ]

( You can do this. It's what we do, Bucky, we have each other's backs. ) [ Sam pulls Bucky in tighter, wings curling around them both. ] ( Come on, sunshine, stay with me. I can't do this without you. )

[Here, deep in Bucky's head, sam doesn't need to say those things: they echo around the cavernous space as clear as bells. Just as he's turned away, Bucky turns back to face his guest. When he makes to respond, however, more roots from overhead descend sharply into the space, twisting down toward them. Each branch is dusted with snow that shakes free and speckles the brilliant glow of the glass.

There's trees up there, Bucky thinks, trying to remember why he's not more surprised by the revelation. Sam's embrace is warm, wings warmer, and inviting in comparison to the snow gathering at a faster rate.

No this isn't right. Snow shouldn't be in here. It should be piled on the surface, not underneath because... because...

Because underneath is where they kept him, he remembers more clearly, under the tundra and permafrost. He said he'd never go back.

On the surface, Bucky's eyebrows furrow and his breath quickens; he's waking up.]

[ Sam's breath catches when Bucky turns back towards him, like he's afraid that if he breathes too hard, too loudly, he's gonna turn away again. He's gonna slip from Sam's grasp, and Sam's gonna lose him again and he can't -

But the trees are back, and suddenly Sam's breathing again. He can feel Bucky start putting the pieces together, start figuring it out - start waking up - He said he'd never go back.

Never, Sam's mind murmurs, and his fingers lace with Bucky's. ]

( Let's get out of here. )

[ He's saying it outloud, too - he thinks, maybe, it's hard to tell when he's so focused on their mental link, when he's so present inside Bucky's mind - but it doesn't matter. Sam'll pull Bucky out of there if he has to, grab him tight and carry him out, but they've always managed to do it together.

Bucky doesn't need Sam to fight his battles for him. Just to be there to lend him some strength, to get him to believe he's not alone, even if just for a moment. ]

[Sam laces his fingers with him and his mind opens up further, the floor of fragments climbing together into walls of steel and jade. He's been here before, he realizes--- even as Sam pulls on him--- he's been here many, many times. Lights flicker on as Bucky's eyes move faster under his eyelids. No. He doesn't want to see this place again, he wants to leave.

Reaching up for golden light that is their link, he looks to Sam with eyes wild with fear. Don't make him stay here. Help him.

Steel crawls over itself, bending and folding into the beginnings of a chair.]

[ Sam's there as Bucky's mind opens further, curling around him encouragingly. The desperation has faded, a little, like he's no longer quite afraid that if he doesn't hold on as tight as he can Bucky's gonna fade again - but there's still no way he's pulling back even the slightest bit.

Especially not when the scenery in Bucky's mind shifts, and becomes familiar.

No.

Their link fills with something fierce and protective, the kind of thing that Sam usually tries to curb because Bucky doesn't belong to him, but it's - he won't let anyone take Bucky, he won't, he didn't stay by Bucky's side to prevent that from happening to lose him now.

He shifts, putting himself in between Bucky and what's starting to become a chair, and wraps his wings around both of them to block it from sight. ]

( I got you, Bucky, I got you. We can get out of here; we've done it before. )

[No. No, he's never going back. Bucky's posture stiffens but he trusts Sam, trusts in the sensation of heat that accompanies the body stepping between him and the jagged sight of the chair. Leave. How did he leave before? He remembers a fight in the darkness, with a man dressed in crimson and gold. There was an overhead silo door. They need to find the door.

Snow continues to fall and Bucky looks up. That's right. The holes from the roots have created exits. ]

( Come with me? )

( Always. )

[ It's a response with no hesitation - and maybe Sam didn't even need to put it to words, with how strongly he feels that there's no where that Bucky could go that Sam wouldn't either go with him or try to pull him back, but he wanted to. He needs to, needs to make it firm in both of of their heads to remind Bucky that he's got Sam at his side, and to remind the the programming and whatever the hell it is that makes them fall asleep that Sam is always gonna fight for him.

His wings unfurl a little, ready to move as soon as Bucky does. ]

[That sense of devotion is both familiar and not. There are glimpses of time together: fights, braiding, sleeping, and laughing. Overhead, the roots break away more of the ceiling, raining chunks around them. Time to go, if ever.]

( C'mon. ) [Bucky reaches up for one of the roots and it contracts, pulling him up toward the light and far, far away from the dark.

In Sam's grip, Bucky's eyelids flutter and then flick open as he blinks at the space around him. Someone's here with him.]

...Sam? [His voice is rough and heavy with confusion.]

[ Time to go. Sam's wings spread out, beating down with a force strong enough to launch him into the air - it's not quite like that in the physical world, of course, but in the physical world Sam's wings are metal and not flesh and feather, and the physical world doesn't matter when Sam just wants to fly up fast enough to keep pace with Bucky, so he doesn't have to let go of him until they're both back.

Relief washes over him when Bucky opens his eyes, and he's shifting in even before Bucky speaks. ]

Bucky.

[ And it hits him that Bucky said his name, that Bucky knows him. Sam'd been ready to run through who they both are, but Bucky remembers him. The sudden feeling of being closer to complete, his mind feeling almost whole after days of being a ripped, fragmented mess is already almost too much. Bucky managing to hold onto something of Sam, of them, even while asleep, is...

It's overwhelming. He swallows roughly, and suddenly everything he can think to say doesn't feel fight.

Sam's fingers are in Bucky's hair before he even makes the conscious decision to tangle them there, and he leans in closer to kiss him. ]

[Everything is too bright as the sun overhead blazes into his eyes, but that same light is quickly blocked by Sam as he leans in closer. Blinking becomes easier with the shade and he refocuses his gaze on the familiar face greeting him. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Sam’s lips occupy his own and the gesture is both familiar and not. In the back of his mind, pieces and prickles slide around, voices murmur, but the strongest feeling is that overwhelming relief.

Part of him knows it doesn’t belong to him, that it’s Sam, but he’s still not entirely sure what’s happening.

Sam is here. Sam is okay. That’s the most important, he thinks.

His lips move clumsily against Sam’s until he carefully pulls back enough to ask,] Sam, what happened?

[ Sam's usually better about easing Bucky into things when he first wakes up, when he first starts coming back to himself - but this is the first time it's happened since they actually acknowledged that what they've got between them is a hell of a lot deeper than friendship.

It's the first time that Sam'd felt so damn empty without Bucky there.

For a moment, their thoughts parallel each other almost exactly, as he thinks Bucky's here, Bucky's okay. That's what's important.

He pulls back as well, though he keeps his fingers in Bucky's hair, tangled in the mix of feathers and flowers. ]

We were on the way back from the desert when you went into a coma. I couldn't figure out what was happening in time, I... almost went with you. But I didn't, I - [ Sam huffs out a little laugh at himself, shaking his head. ] I kept reaching out for you. I don't know if it even helped.

[Bucky blinks again when Sam moves away and the sun washes back into his face. He doesn't remember any of that. He doesn't really know where they are or why they were in the desert. A lot of things confuse him, like the flowers and feathers in his hair and the second-hand sensation of running fingers through them.

But he knows Sam. Sam was with him in the darkness.]

You were there. [He murmurs as he tries to grasp what's happening. There should be a blonde here, a skinny blonde with a name. He likes to draw.]

Where's...? [Despite searching his memory, Bucky can't seem to produce a name for the lopsided smile at the borders of his memories.]

[ Warmth curls around them both as Sam settles carefully back into their brood bond - he can't stop focusing on it, tangling himself in it like he's getting used to the feel of it being back - but now it's more purposeful, supportive.

It's confusing now, but it'll come back. Sam's not going anywhere; they can do this together.

You were there, Bucky says, and Sam's just so damn grateful that he was able to do something. There's no where that they can take Bucky that Sam won't try to come after him, to bring him back. ] Can't get right of me that easy.

[ Except Bucky's right - there should be someone else here, and for a moment Sam feels the absence heavily, the distant gap where their connection with him should be.

Steve. ]

He's asleep. Has been since we first got on this planet.

[Underneath everything, Sam provides a good foundation, better than the bitter cold chill of the programming. For the first time, it feels as if both Sam and the programming hum beneath his roots, beneath the jade tower in the frozen tundra. Maybe he should be more weirded out or unsettled by how deeply Sam has bonded with him, but for now he's content to blink and frown up at the sun.

He's not surprised that Sam could help. If anyone, Sam would find a way to break him free of his sleep.

As for the missing person, though, Bucky latches onto the name immediately. Steve. The man on the bridge. The man who knew his name. Asleep. He shuts his eyes, trying to remember through the fog. Steve in a tiny apartment, crouching down with Bucky until he felt safe to move. Steve and Sam greeting him in the garden. Sam in a different colored tent underneath him, staring up from the dust.

They can't have all happened at once.

Asleep.]

Is he...?

[Gone? He remembers faces behind glass.]

[ It should probably weird both of them out, honestly. There was a time when it would have, but Sam's consciously anchored Bucky into his own mind, wound himself deep into Bucky's. Even if he didn't mean for them to become so entangled that Sam runs alongside the programming in Bucky's mind, that Sam'd had to fight every day not to get pulled under without Bucky in his -

He doesn't care. He's Bucky's in a way he never planned, never thought possible, but Bucky is his right back, and Sam doesn't want to take any of it back.

He's quiet as Bucky starts getting snippets of memory back, threading the fingers of his free hand absently with Bucky's. ]

He's not gone, not like that. He's back up on the Station, and he woke up again before; he just... hasn't yet this time.

[ It's just you and me for now, he doesn't say, but it's there in his thoughts anyway, a tangle of self-deprecation and a hint of self-doubt overshadowed by a steady confidence, a certainty in their bond and the knowledge that they're good together, him and Bucky.

Besides, it's not just them, not really. ]

You've got other friends here. Shiro, Katie.

[More memories come pouring in the longer he closes his eyes. Sam pressing his hand to a shivering Bucky's forehead, lashes frosted over. Steve looking at him in fear and disgust as he looks upon a pile of loose pages thicker than his arm. Both of them bringing him back after the databank with blood crusted to his brow.

Fingers tangle in his and Bucky blinks his eyes rapidly, blinded once again by the sun. He's here, he's present.

Steve hasn't woken up yet this time. There are numerous other hosts who have fallen asleep and never opened their eyes again. He remembers. Faces behind clear glass instead of amber.

Smoking bullet holes revealing bloodied silhouettes within. Fresh. Too late. Steve's heavy jaw overlaid with emerald light.

But that's not the Steve here and Bucky breathes through the brief spike in nerves. They're here. They're present.

Sam mentions friends, but the names draw blanks.] ... don't know them.

( I'm here. )

[ It's a promise as well as a reassurance, something to keep him grounded in the now as his memories come back and a reminder that he's not alone.

He breathes with Bucky as he calms himself down through that spike, and there's a swirl of love and admiration - the sensation of wings wrapped around them both, warm and insulating, the press of a palm over Bucky's heart. Sam's maybe on a little bit of a high from the fact that Bucky remembers him, from the sheer relief of no longer feeling hollow and aching, from Bucky breathing through this and keeping himself grounded.

He squeezes Bucky's hand when he says he doesn't know them. ]

They'll be there for you anyway. Last time this happened, it took a few days for everything to get settled again.

[Sam's here. They're both here and not far away in that emerald room that smells of permafrost and death. Between Sam's presence and the breathing, Bucky's nerves calm. He knew Sam, but he doesn't know his other friends.]

This happened before? [He does feel a bit like he's caught in a loop, seeing something different alongside something familiar. Has he slept like this before?

Has Steve slept like this before?]

[ He runs his thumb over the back of Bucky's knuckles, a familiar, absent gesture. ]

Yeah. Yeah, it has. Couple of times - but you always come back. I, uh. [ He ducks his head, briefly, before he looks back up to meet Bucky's eyes. ] I told you once how much it meant to me, that you always come back. Hasn't happened a lot, for me.

[ Sam exhales, slow and steady, and can't help bringing Bucky's hand up to press a quick kiss to the back of it. ]

You remembered me this time.

[At first, Bucky's nerves spike; he doesn't remember all the other times he's apparently slept and woke up with little to no memories. However, the thumb rubbing over his knuckles soothes the roughened edges. As long as he has Sam, he should always wake up.

He thinks. He hopes.

The kiss to his knuckles brings a quiet smile to the edges of Bucky's cheeks.]

Said I would.

[ Sam keeps holding Bucky's hand through that spike of nerves, waiting - just being here. It's been a while since they've done this, but he just sees that as progress.

They've come a long way, him and Bucky, and he doesn't care if that means he's all but lost without him.

He huffs out a little laugh at that, voice hoarse, as he presses his cheek against Bucky's hand. ]

Yeah. You're pretty damn good at keeping your promises. You want an update on what's going on? I don't know much cause it hasn't been a priority, but I can fill you in, grab you some food if you're hungry. [ Or he could just climb on the bed next to Bucky and never leave, but that's not quite as productive. ]

Update.

[Since he doesn't really know where he is or what he's doing other than sleeping. Hunger can come later, though his stomach growls at the mention of food.]

Update.

[ It's agreement, but it also doesn't stop Sam from reaching over with his free hand to grab the lunch someone'd brought him earlier - bread and cheese and some fruit.

His mind is already starting to shift back through everything he knows of what happened while Bucky was out as he leans back over the bed to give him the plate. But he stops as a rush of dizziness makes him catch himself, the lack of sleep of the last few days catching up at him. ]

Can I get in?

[When Sam reaches over him, Bucky watches and that spell of dizziness brings him to raise his hand to support his broodmate. Shit.]

Yeah, c'mon.

[He shifts onto his side, gaze locked onto Sam as he keeps an eye out for another dizzy spell.]

it slows down;

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