imfollowinghim | twenty eight ✪ voice & spam

[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)]

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[The lights are off but her eyes are sharp: she spots his hand reaching for his sidearm and again, the thing inside her thrashes, urges her to attack before he does. She bites it back fiercely again, but her hand's in her pocket with her fingertips brushing her ceramic knife all the same. She pulls that hand out, the motion jerky, tangling her fingers into the string that dangles from her coat instead, keeping it in check.]

You've been hiding.

[There's a bit of bite to that, an accusation she can't keep from her voice. But she holds up two of the bread rolls she took from the kitchens in her free hand as she says it, stepping in and flicking on the lights before she lets the door close behind her.]

[It's easy enough to assume she's angry he's hiding from her, or from everyone, and God knows Helena doesn't exactly know how to express some stuff like that appropriately, so it doesn't great on Bucky. Not really. He blinks in the bright light and tries to force a smile when he sees the rolls - it comes out pinched and small, but at least it's there.]

Sorry.

[He is. He wouldn't be if it was plenty of other people coming by to tell him off for being reclusive, but he's sorry for her. He's supposed to be there for her, not too distracted by his own angst to do anything.]

[For a moment, she just watches him blink at the sudden light, then she's stepping forward and settling next to him on the bunk without waiting for him to invite her. She offers the food to him without talking. Her restrained fingers itch to do something more and she winds the cord tighter around them like it might cut the feeling off.

(There's something wrong with her. She doesn't know what it is, doesn't know how to say it. There's something wrong with Bucky too right now - of course there is, it's no wonder when he's just found his brother dead and killed someone for it - but it's not like the thing eating at her.)]

[Bucky doesn't shy away or shift over - he'd been expecting this, because this tends to be what happens when something goes wrong and HELENA decides to invite herself into his room - and he even accepts the food without protest, although he doesn't start eating.

Definitely a sign something's wrong, here. Maybe he'd pick up on something being different with her, too, but he's too busy feeling vaguely nauseous and miserable to focus.]

Thanks.

[She eyes him in her peripheral vision, waiting for him to start eating and narrowing her eyes a little when he doesn't. Her voice isn't cold or harsh, but her question is blunter than she would usually be with Bucky.]

Did she kill him?

Edited 2015-03-30 16:31 (UTC)

No. [The answer comes out without hesitation, because he's certain now even if he wasn't then, not exactly, and there's no reason to lie to Helena.] She took his shield. I chased her, she attacked me, I stabbed her.

[It all comes out flatly, and his expression says almost blank, certainly shut down. It's the same story he's told everyone, and it's the truth - she tried to get in his head, and he'd panicked. That's why he's left feeling sickened and brittle, not because he killed her. That, and what had happened to Steve.]

[Of course, she zeroes in on that.]

She attacked you?

She tried to get into my head. [The fact that Bucky elaborates at all and doesn't catch on to why it might not be a good idea to tell Helena this under the best of circumstances probably is a good insight into just how fucked up he is about all this. His shoulders are tense, and everything about his posture and expression begins to subtly signal discomfort, like he's relating something embarrassing and personal and deeply upsetting, because, well. He is.]

I guess she's some kind of telepath.

twenty eight ✪ voice & spam

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