imfollowinghim | thirty ✪ text

[Bucky's been avoiding announcing that he's back, and that he remembers. He's still uncomfortable being out in public with people staring at him, even though he has been out more than he had been when he first got back. Morgana cut his hair, and he's showering and shaving regularly, so he looks a little more like himself (except he's not wearing combat uniforms, and he's still covering up his left arm with long sleeves and a glove), but there's still something tense and on edge about him, something hollow and dead in his expression.

But something about Arthas' announcement, his manifesto, that because he's been wronged he's allowed to take this ship and everyone on it down with him makes something stir in him, something that sounds like Zola's saw and the hiss of the cryo pod and Pierce slapping him in the face, and it's hot and cold and angry, and he doesn't want to keep hiding. But he also doesn't know how to reconcile the idea that this is happening because wardens failed, because the system failed, and those people are long gone.

There's a lot he should probably say about himself, too, but Steve's already covered it. Everyone knows what happened, and there's a part of him that's still angry about that.]

i'm back. dillon and jean made me remember.

i'm still a warden. [Even if he's not sure he should be.] it's been a long time, for me.

[A really, really long time.]

[Filtered to Mickey, Jimmy, Stiles, Kira, Mason, Ben, Lydia, and Motorcycle Boy]

sorry.

[For not remembering, or weirding them out. He probably owes them more of an explanation as well, but he can't find the words of it any more than he could for the rest of the ship.]

[Private to Dillon and Jean]

thanks.

[Warden Filter]

who's taking responsibility for arthas?

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Has everyone wanted something from you?

you sound like you're looking for something.

I'm not. There's plenty to see without looking.

Are you?

no.

Then it's a good thing you're not an inmate.

probably.

Oh, those bastards. Me dad fought them, way back when.

[The next reply is a long time coming- he's not sure what to say anymore, and he wouldn't even try, but Steve had said 'he could use a friend like you'. He feels strangely responsible, now.]

You ever need a drink outside of the bar, I have some in my cabin.

i can't get drunk.

[This is not a rejection, even if it probably reads that way. It's actually a lot more like a desperate, maybe even slightly relieved admission, because this is a secret he's been carrying with him for a while, and he doesn't have to anymore.]

Getting drunk's only half the reason people drink.

i guess not

but you don't have to worry on my account, at least

yeah that makes sense.

[Still. He knows better than most that it means Bucky's only feeling better about things in one small way, and much worse in the rest of the ways possible.]

you want to go for a walk on the deck?

Yes.

[And she is, mostly. She's been using that old pleasurable crutch of hers more often than not lately, going to sleep with her back bloody, waking up to stained sheets. The sweet sting of open wounds is solid, reliable where other things aren't, and even with Bucky back now - changed, yes, but still Bucky - she's clinging to its comfort.

But other than that, yes. She's okay.]

Are you?

better than i was.

ok.

What happens now, serzhant?

i don't know.

how were things while i was gone?

I missed you.

[In case that wasn't obvious.]

i'm sorry.

Do you still--

[But no, she stops and doesn't finish. Do you care about me? Do you still want to help me?]

what?

[There's a long silence, then finally, in a voice that sounds like a child's:]

Do you want to be here?

[He feels like he should turn on the audio, or video, but he just... he can't. This is so much harder than he'd realized it would be, even if he's really only had a couple days to think about it.]

i'm not leaving again.

not if i get a choice.

You didn't want to go.

[Her voice wavers at the end, an almost-question; she wants to ask it but can't quite force it into the right shape. (What if some part of him wanted to go?) Trust is hard and it hurt when he was gone.]

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