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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[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.]

[ There's a swirl of gratitude when Bucky helps stabilize him, a soft affection and something like always trying to look out for me, huh?

He'd say he'd never expected it - but even back in their fight with the spider kid, Bucky was watching his six. It's been a hell of a road from that to this, when Bucky's one of the only people that Sam trusts with everything he's got, but right now he's just so damn grateful to be able to let himself relax into the bed, rest his arm on Bucky's waist and press his knees against his, let his eyes slide shut.

For maybe a moment too long before he opens them up again, quirking a little smile. ]

Had a little trouble sleeping without you. I spent most of my time making sure nothing was gonna get at you, but - we left the desert, traveled by airship to the coast. Two of the locals were murdered; we think the leader of their own envoy was behind it, think he found out they were conspiring with another envoy. Lot of people are distracted with that.

[ His voice comes and goes as he talks, dropping down and trailing off, slipping into mental communication sometimes. He's distracted, with the rise and fall of Bucky's chest, with the sound of his heartbeat - with the vibrancy of his mind, strong and present when it's been so damn distant for the last few days. ]

[Bucky lifts his arm to curl it about Sam's waist in return, to keep him tucked safe and sound against him. It makes sense that Sam would have difficulty sleeping without him, as much as Bucky doesn't like admitting it. They're so deep in each others' heads it would be akin to having a piece of them surgically removed and expected to continue like nothing happened.

He remembers stumbling in the sand, his gait uneven as his vision dims. Don't let them-

Sam of course took that seriously, kept him from any who might want to poke around in his head. The talk of murder brings up a sting of anxiety, the question of what did I do? lingering just under his skin. He shuts his eyes to breathe- seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven- before refocusing on Sam.]

Get some sleep.

[That much is obvious: that Sam is exhausted and in need of rest more than Bucky.]

[ There's a barely a flicker of a muted denial when he feels Bucky's anxiety spike up, fading quickly into affection and appreciation when the breathing and counting settles into Sam as well.

He doesn't want to sleep, even though he can reluctantly admit that he needs it. He wants to stay here like this, with Bucky alive and conscious and remembering him, wants to bury himself into their brood bond until the memory of it aching and empty fades.

Sam grumbles a protest with the mental impression of a bird fluffing up its feathers disgruntledly, even as he shifts closer to Bucky to rest his forehead against Bucky's, eyes closed. ]

Thank you. For coming back.

[ For everything, really, but especially for that. For never giving up on either of them, despite a hell of a lot of reasons to and the programming that still shrieks in Bucky's mind and whispers in Sam's. ]

[Bucky doesn't mind the fluffing of feathers or the small burst of affection. Sam seems exhausted and Bucky's more than willing to give Sam what he wants right now. Some nice sleep and emotions would do his broodmate well.]

Always.

[Because he made a promise and he keeps his promises.]

[ Always.

Sam lets the promise wash over him, and the last of the tension he's been carrying for the last few days eases. He echoes the feeling back, twisting himself into their bond like a blanket, but he can't help but say it out loud, too. ]

Me too, baby. [ He'd meant to say Bucky, but that's definitely not what comes out. He's not exhausted enough not to notice, but honestly, he doesn't care. ] Love you.

[Bucky's eyebrows rise at the new nickname. He's never heard that in his life. Maybe he's said it, a long time ago, but can't remember. He curls tighter around Sam with an affectionate hum.

Him too, Sam. Him too.]

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