twenty eight ✪ voice & spam

[imfollowinghim]

[Voice, backdated to March 17]

[Bucky leaves T'Pol's body where it is. He wipes his knife on his pants, an automatic gesture that leaves another green smear of blood on his soaked uniform, and after staring at her for a moment, he walks downstairs to sit with Steve's corpse. And sits.

Maybe ten minutes later, he clicks on his communicator.]

Steve's dead.

[Bucky's voice is hollow. There's anger there, but it's smothered by the numbness he feels, the strange unreality of it all.

(It's being instinctively self protective, withdrawing instead of thinking about it. He doesn't want to think about what she'd tried to do to him, or what happened to Steve, so shutting down helps him focus. Keeps him from just staying sitting on the floor next to Steve.)]

So's T'Pol.

[The silence stretches for several seconds, even though he doesn't kill the connection.]

I need someone to take her to the infirmary. She's on deck. [I stabbed her, he thinks but doesn't say, because he can still feel her hands on his face and her thoughts on his, and he's got Steve's blood on his clothes and even though it's a more than familiar sensation, he thinks he's going to be sick.] I've got him.

[Open Spam, March 17th through 19th]

[The first thing Bucky does after bringing Steve to the infirmary is go to the inmate showers, strip off his bloody combat uniform, and stand under water that's so hot, it's almost scalding. He's practically catatonic, mouth drawn into a thin line as he just stands motionless under the hot, steaming water.

He turns up in the infirmary an hour or so later, sitting similarly motionlessly by Steve's bedside in a fresh uniform. He's got the shield next to him, clean now and leaning against the chair he's rooted himself to. He's largely unresponsive, even if people talk to him - or more accurately, his responses are just delayed, like he's shut out pretty much everything but the person in the bed in front of him - and he's got a mean five o'clock shadow going at some point. Hunger starts gnawing at him at some point, but for the first time in a really long time - maybe since the last time Steve was really, really sick - he totally ignores it. Even after the late shift starts, he doesn't move to leave. He doesn't even sleep.

(His thoughts feel sharp and brittle, like they had after Zola had been finished with him for the day and he'd been thrown back into a cell to sleep. Or try to sleep. It feels like what T'Pol had tried to do ripped a bandage off a wound that hadn't healed, and he doesn't want to fucking deal with it.)

But once Steve's up and around, Bucky vanishes. He's not in any of his usual haunts, not on the network, nowhere really.

(Thank god he's still got C-Rations in his room. 8v)]

Comments

[Spam]

[americasdirtiest]

[Mickey doesn't miss the broadcast, exactly, but at first he just sort of... lets it go by. He's got enough problems of his own, and he's so worked up about those that he's basically just living full time in a state that's half-helpless fury and half-exhausted inertia, pinned to his cabin by alcohol and angry misanthropy.

But even he has to shower at some point, and he no longer has the luxury of doing it alone. His is cold where Bucky's is hot, but it's in much the same state -- standing under the water, letting it stream down over him -- that he starts to come around. Steve Rogers. T'Pol. Jerry. The last one had felt like a victory, and he barely knows the other two, but... fuck. This is his neighborhood now, this is his place until he makes it out of here again, and he's sick and tired of watching his life get fucked up around him again and again. The anger, so aimless and so tiring before, narrows to a laser point.

Mira had wanted him to get interested in this. He's interested. He catches Bucky getting dressed outside and barely even bothers to tug his boxers on before approaching him, eyes sharp and alive for the first time in days.]

Hey. What the fuck happened?

[His voice is low; the tight anger in it isn't meant for Bucky.]

[Spam]

[imfollowinghim]

[Even if it was, there's a good chance Bucky wouldn't have responded to it initially. Where Mickey's eyes are sharp and focused, Bucky's are dead and stare right on through him as he mechanically keeps buttoning up his uniform jacket, and for a second or two, it probably looks like Bucky hasn't heard him, or isn't going to answer.]

Found Steve in the hallway, saw her taking the shield with her. I caught up, she put her hand on my face and- [His expression twists, like he's swallowing back discomfort or nausea, maybe both.] She was in my head.

[And it had felt violating and terrifying, and he'd panicked. Bucky looks away from Mickey to find a towel, rubbing it distractedly - almost violently - over his damp hair.]

I panicked and I stabbed her. [And he's not sorry about it, for a number of reasons, but maybe there's something like guilt gnawing at him somewhere.] Brought Steve to the infirmary and showered.

[Spam]

[americasdirtiest]

[It's fine. He recognizes the expression on Bucky's face: it's the same one that's been on his since he got back. It's hard to contain himself now that he finally feels awake again, but he forces himself to, even if he's practically fucking vibrating while he waits for Bucky to get his shit together enough to talk.]

She's the one that killed him?

[It could be -- it's not like he knows her -- but he's not sure. The guy is Captain America, after all. He knows that much. He knows it would take a hell of a lot. And there's Jerry, too, and Mickey knows that had to have taken something major, because he's been on the other end of Jerry's wrath.

Besides, if it was her, that means Bucky's already closed the loop on this, and Mickey's not ready for that. He chews his lip, shaking his head.]

Well-- What was she trying to do to you?

[youwillgotohell]

[She doesn't bother him in the infirmary, not at first. She doesn't want to take him away from his vigil at Steve's side.

But when she next sees him hours late and unmoved, she can't stop herself from approaching and laying a hand gently on his shoulder.]

Bucky?

[imfollowinghim]

[He startles a little - he hadn't even realized she was there - but some of the instinctive tension bleeds out when he realizes who it is.]

Morgana. [His voice is croaky, and his eyes are dull, but it could be worse. At least Steve's going to be okay.]

[youwillgotohell]

[It could be so much worse. She squeezes his shoulder gently before turning to grab a cup of water.]

Here. Drink something.

[thelastbullet]

[It's not that he's come to consider Bucky a friend, exactly-- Jimmy doesn't make friends easily, and there's still something uneven about where they both stand on the barge. But he's a soldier, and that's something Jimmy can understand better than friendship. A buddy, then, maybe.

He's in the infirmary every so often to get painkillers for his leg, and he's there now, too. He hadn't hear the message yet, and so it's a shock, mostly, to see Captain Rogers lying in a hospital bed; to see Bucky next to him, dead-eyed. You don't ignore a buddy when he looks like that, so he doesn't.

He comes up to the bed, his limp less pronounced than usual thanks to the painkillers Kylar had gotten him, and looks at Steve when he speaks.]

What the fuck happened?

[imfollowinghim]

[Buddy's a good way of putting it, probably. It's easy to feel a sense of companionship with other people who have a background like theirs, especially here where there aren't as many former soldiers or marines or whatever else as there would be back home. It means Bucky's more likely to respond to Jimmy being here even before the other guy says anything to him.

Of course, that doesn't really mean he's going to look any less miserable or lifeless when Jimmy does ask his question.]

I found Steve in the hallway. T'Pol took his shield, I chased her, she tried to jump me, so I stabbed her.

[He's not sorry about it.]

[thelastbullet]

[He takes a few steps closer, but stays far enough away that he's not crowding Bucky. The guy needs his space; he understands. If it had been Richard in that bed... well, he wouldn't want anyone getting too close.

There's no judgement there; he understands. Still, though, after what Steve had told him about how he'd gotten that strong... He has to ask.]

How the fuck do you kill a guy like that?

[maced_eggs]

Not another bloody death.

[imfollowinghim]

Yeah.

[maced_eggs]

Steve. Stevennn.

Liked him, I did. Didn't know the other one.

[godsays]

T'pol? Was this all her?

[ He sounds a little dubious. ]

I knew Vulcans were strong, and - they have psychic powers, don't they?

[imfollowinghim]

Yeah. [Bucky's voice doesn't change, but on the other end of the line, he's thinking about the first question, the one he hasn't answered. There are only a handful of people on board who would be capable of something like that, and Zane's one of them, but...

Bucky's fought him before, and this was different. Looked different.]

I don't know if she did it, but I doubt it. I'm gonna ask him when he wakes up.

[godsays]

I hope he saw something.

[ Zane hopes the opposite. Steve was a risk. But taking that risk had an ephemeral, dangerous beauty. It felt perfect. Steve was someone worthy of being fought. ]

I'm sorry I wasn't there. He and I have been allies before. I should have - I should have been listening harder.

[strangehistorian]

What happened?

[imfollowinghim]

[Hollowly, like he's just reciting details for a report:] I found Steve in the hallway. Someone [At first he'd thought it was T'Pol, but if she was strong enough to do that, he'd be dead too, wouldn't he?] shoved his shield through his chest. T'Pol took it, I ran after her, she attacked me and I stabbed her. That's all I know.

[strangehistorian]

Someone very strong, then. I don't think a normal human could do that...

Are you alright?

[voice (backdated)]

[rhapsody_in]

How?

[The word's a hiss between Bleu's teeth. She's already up, heading toward the infirmary -- T'Pol's not her problem, barely even registers as a problem.]

[voice (backdated)]

[imfollowinghim]

I don't know. [Which is just part of his insane frustration with this whole thing, he doesn't know. He feels like he fucked up.]

Someone shoved the shield through his chest.

[voice (backdated)]

[rhapsody_in]

How cute, someone's trying to scare us.

[Her voice, brittle and humorless, suggests that "cute" means "stupid and petty". It also suggests that someone is going to die tonight.]

I'm coming to help you.

SPAM (super-late on the 19th/super-early on the 20th)

[punched_hitler]

[With no one around with the vested interest in keeping him in bed - or the sway to do it - as Bucky, Steve's already made it back to his cabin. Slowly. He's eaten something - not much, but that's okay, because he's walking that fine line between settling his stomach and upsetting it, and it's one he's quite familiar walking. In fact, he's pretty much a pro.

His chest hurts like a bitch, still, but at least it's starting to fade from a screaming fire into a throbbing burn; it's enough that this time, when he takes to the hallways, he just needs to keep a hand on the wall, and he doesn't have to stop every floor or so to take a breather.

He does stop in the dining hall, grabbing some oranges that he really doesn't want, but they're not for him. Then he keeps going, heading for Bucky's cabin, because it's the first place he can think of to look for him.

He feels a little lost, and a little scared, unsure of what to really do with the fact that Bucky just up and left from the infirmary, while Steve was dozing. On the one hand, it's made it a lot easier for him to escape. On the other... it's not much like Bucky at all. But then, Bucky has been through a lot of shit in the past 48 hours - more than Steve, at least if you're going to ask Steve's opinion - and by now, Steve doesn't need to talk. He just needs to know that his best friend is okay.

Or at least that he's not going on a murderous rampage without him.

He makes it to Bucky's door, pale and a little out of breath, but upright, and while he normally wouldn't, he tries knocking, first.

It doesn't mean he's not going to barge in, if he doesn't get an answer. But he figures some semblance of manners won't hurt. Just this once. Nevermind that it's the middle of the night. Bucky's probably not asleep. In fact, Steve would bet on it.]

SPAM

[imfollowinghim]

[He's not. He is in bed though, curled up on his side on the bottom bunk, still in his combat uniform, with his boots on, even. He doesn't need to sleep much anymore, but ever since it happened, he's been more reluctant to even try relaxing, so he's tense and falling prey to old hyper vigilant tendencies, and something in him aches for the war. After the first couple days between being rescued and getting reassigned, there hadn't been enough time to really sit and think much about what happened to him. Now, there's too much time to mull it all over, to think about it and over analyze and revisit everything, and part of him almost wishes he had died in that fall. Maybe coming here at all was a mistake, because he doesn't know how he's supposed to live like this.

Sometimes it feels like he hasn't really been living for a long time.

So he's awake when Steve knocks at the door, and he seriously considers not answering it, but considering the time of day and the likely list of people who'd be checking in on him in the first place, it's not hard to guess who it is, even if he should probably still be in the infirmary.

It's still hard to pull himself out of bed, but he does it, and even manages to look concerned when he takes in how pale and exhausted Steve looks, because of course he can. Steve, you fucking idiot.

He holds the door open and tries to push back the urge to reach out to steady him as he comes inside, knowing distantly that Steve will just resent it and not having the energy to really want to fight about it right now. He rubs a hand over his stubbly jaw, avoiding looking directly at his friend even if he's keeping him in his peripheral vision.]

How're you feeling?

backdated spam!!!

[adelphoktonos]

[Bucky may have vanished but Helena won't let him stay vanished. Not to her, anyway. The network, the rest of it, sure, but not to her. Her rage is tight within her, gnawing at her, and she waits as long as she can, fighting it down, because this isn't his fault. This is T'Pol's fault, maybe, or whoever else. Someone else. Not Bucky.

She holds onto that, because there's something strange inside her that wants to rip everything to pieces, including him, and she won't let that happen. She fights it down and stubbornly collects bread rolls and fresh fruit when the dining hall is empty, then heads to his cabin. She doesn't bother to knock, just opens the door and slips inside.]

backdated spam!!!

[imfollowinghim]

[Bucky - even though he doesn't want to, even if he'd rather he stop having these stupid reactions, even if at the same time he's grateful for them and appreciates that his senses haven't completely gone to shit since coming here - startles when the door opens without warning, sitting up on the bottom bunk and reaching for his sidearm automatically, but once he gets a clear sight of who it is, he stops. The lights are off in the room, but her silhouette would be recognizable anywhere.

He knows she's not just here for no reason - has been expecting this, honestly - but he still takes a moment to say anything, and when he does, it's a deflection. He doesn't really want to talk about what happened, not even with her.]

What's wrong?