imfollowinghim | thirteen ✪ voice & spam

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thirteen ✪ voice & spam

[Bucky sounds somewhere between pissed off and totally burnt out and hollow when he clicks on the comm, because boy, does he have an announcement for you.]

Helena just killed Cosima Niehaus. She jumped her in an empty cabin, she knows her from back home. Sort of.

[It's a little confusing and definitely private, so Bucky doesn't feel like getting into it on a public feed like this.]

I'm bringing Cosima to the infirmary, and I'm not putting Helena in Zero, [Because he's been down there and he's not sure how he feels about it - had he stuck Ben in there? He thinks maybe he did, and it makes him feel a little sick to his stomach - especially given Helena's been locked up before and he doesn't want her thinking this is like that.] But she's on house arrest in her room until I figure out how to get her to cut this shit out.

[Private to Ben]

Can I pick your brain about something?

[Three guesses what it's about.]

[Open Spam]

[After Bucky's brought Cosima to the infirmary and made sure Helena's still in her room, he knows he needs some space. He can't go right into talking to Helena while he's somewhere between furious and emotionally flatlining, because he's mad, but he knows this isn't entirely her fault, and he doesn't know what to do with it, or how to move forward.

Funny, but he thinks he remembers something like this happening forever ago. That might have been part of the reason he'd bothered Ben.

He's pissed. At himself, mostly, so it's easy to head down to the gym, pull off his uniform jacket, wrap his hands and start focusing on beating the shit out of a punching bag instead of thinking about anything else. He'd learned how to box young - his dad had taught him some, and then he'd learned more as he'd got older, partly out of necessity (he could earn money for winning fights, and it never hurt to know how to throw a mean punch when your best friend was hell bent on taking on every bully in New York, let alone Brooklyn) and partly because he'd just been good at it.

So he attacks the bag like he knows what he's doing, because he does, and there's something almost mechanical and vicious about it, not to mention the look on his face. The bag's not in danger of getting ripped out of the ceiling, but it still swings forcefully, maybe even a little more than it probably should.

After a while, he heads back to his room to hose himself off, and hits up the dining hall. He's changed into his Commandos jacket, and slips a couple things into his jacket pockets - an apple, a roll wrapped in a paper napkin - before heading on his way. He doesn't really have time to sit and eat enough lunch for two people today.

Because he does, after all, have two other stops he needs to make:]

[Spam for Helena]

[Once he's calmed down enough to do this the right way, instead of just scowling at her and hoping that did something marginally productive, Bucky heads back to Helena's room. It's part of the reason he'd stopped by the dining hall first, besides just being hungry - maybe the food can act as some kind of peace offering for sticking her in here in the first place.

Even if the reason it'd happened was because she killed someone.

He takes a breath before knocking on the door, just to give her a head's up someone's outside.]

It's Bucky. I'm coming in. [And then he's pushing open the door, not entirely certain of what he's stepping into.]

[Spam for Cosima]

[And after that's done, it's time for the harder part of this messy little operation: apologizing to the person your inmate attacked and killed within like, a couple hours of them showing up here in the first place.

This is made worse by the fact that it doesn't seem like she's awake when he first gets there, which means he's just. Going to awkwardly loiter around trying not to look too out of place or uncomfortable just waiting around here for signs of life or movement. Maybe he should've waited a while longer - he remembers the death toll and how bad it sucks - but he kind of feels like this shouldn't wait, even if it's just a short visit. It's not like either one of them's going anywhere for a while, although she's a little more stuck than he is.

So, hi. There's a stranger sort of awkwardly hanging around your hospital bed, wearing a uniform that might not look entirely unfamiliar to you.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He doesn't really have an answer for that, and it's his fault for heading down this path. He could've said something else, but, well, here we are.

Fuck.

Bucky shrugs and slides his hands into his pockets.]

I know he helps people. Hurts us, too, but I remember what Ben used to be like. [Violent. Scared. Volatile.] No one gave him a chance back home. Being here changed that.

He pays his wardens to help people. [There's a difference, Bucky.] But he does the hurting himself.

He could've let us die. [If nothing else, you've got to give him that much.] I don't know how much else he's actually responsible for, but would you rather be dead?

[Okay, maybe you've got a point there, but she's not going to actually come out and say it. You've reached the stubborn childish side of her. So there's silence for a few moments while she finishes off the Power Bar and shifts position on the bed, curling her legs up under herself. That done, she switches back to his earlier point.]

She's not my sister.

[That's some small relief, because he's really not sure he can successfully explain the Admiral, or justify his behavior. God knows he hates him, too, hates that he can't just be back home doing his goddamn job.

(Even though if Steve still crashes into the Arctic, Bucky would have come here anyway. So.)

He doesn't get up or move at all, still with his hands in his pockets. There's another Power Bar and a D-Ration chocolate bar, too - he might actually like them. Don't tell anyone.]

Alright, so she's not your sister. But she's still a person.

[She looks away, eyes skating over the drawings again, following them up the metal struts, the girls repeating and repeating and repeating. All the same. The pause before she speaks is drawn out.]

She should not exist.

[Maybe Helena herself shouldn't either.]

[Bucky follows her gaze, and his eyes track over the drawings. They're like something a kid would do (or him, he's always sucked at drawing, always), and he wonders vaguely if she'll draw them again if he gets her a room that's less like a friggin' dungeon.

He kind of hopes not, but knows that might be stupid to think.]

Do you think that, or are you just saying it because that's what they told you?

[Yes, he is still on this track.]

[Is both an answer? It's pretty much both.]

If they told me, does this mean it's not true?

They didn't exactly have your best interests at heart. [Which he says wryly, but.]

You do know that, right?

[There's a long, long pause before she says, still looking at the stick figures and not at him:] They made me this way. It was what they needed, what God needed.

[Part of her knows. There's something wrong inside her and she knows where the blame for that lies. But there's a disconnect between her anger about that knowledge and the things that were taught to her and beaten into her for so long. She has no other way of thinking yet, just the slight glimpse of a chance for another way that Sarah gives her. She's rebuilding her own lens through which to see the world one tiny glass shard at a time, with the good people around her and the bad people gone, but until it's done she only has old habits to fall back on.]

Not what you needed. [Because there is a difference, and that's what's important.

Plus it feels safer than talking about God, or trying to really rip holes in the lies people have been telling her her whole life. He's never bitching about the nuns in the orphanage ever again, that's for damn sure.

Bucky keeps watching her, because staring plaintively or glaring or whatever else had usually made Steve budge at least a little. Sometimes. Once in a blue moon.]

Look, I know this is hard. Ben's talked with me a little about what it's like, to not really understand what it's like to have options, or a say in what's going on, and I don't get it, because it's never been like that for me. Not really. [Not like it was for them, anyway.] But I know whatever you figure out here's gonna give you a lot better options for when you go home.

[Options at home? It's definitely an interesting idea to her. Even if the concept of options is a strange and foreign thing she's only just starting to understand. But she glances back over at him anyway, so that's a start.]

What kind of options do you think there would be for me there, serzhant?

I don't know. I mean obviously some stuff's off the table- [She's never going to be President of the United States or anything.] But you can have a life. Maybe not a normal one, but something that's better than just being some asshole's weapon.

[It's involuntary, the tiny shake of her head at that, not a no but simply disbelief. She plays pretend sometimes, imagines herself with a job, with a husband, with children and her sister and a life, but it's a game she plays with herself. She has no real idea how she's supposed to have a life in practice or what that would even look like. Without a handler, without a mission, what is she?

She doesn't answer. What can she say?]

[Bucky misinterprets the head shake a bit, because, well, he's not a mind reader, and he doesn't know exactly what's going on up there.]

It's better. And we're gonna figure this out, alright? You don't have to trust me yet, but I mean it.

[Assuming he doesn't get sent home against his will again. But apparently, that had worked out okay for Ben anyway. She'll be okay, whether or not he's here.

He frowns a little, looking more serious than angry as he continues.]

This can't happen again, though. You know that, right?

[She's quiet for a few moments, a frown on her face. Her fingers tangle in the sheets, curling into fists. There's resignation in her voice.]

She would only come back again.

[Of course, whether she means that in a 'and so what does it matter if I do it again' or a 'and so it's pointless to do it again' way isn't exactly clear. It's probably closer to the former than the latter right now.

But she's not furious or full of religious fervor, she's not going to go off right this minute and try to attack Cosima again. Not right now. Even if she wasn't in a guarded room, she's still processing the encounter, everything about it that hadn't gone the way she had expected: that hand in her hair; the breath leaving the body; how she could feel it all so closely.]

Edited 2014-07-25 01:53 (UTC)

Right. [He's taking all that as a very good sign, because she absolutely could be running for the infirmary right now to go strangle her again, or choke her with an IV line, or God knows what else.

Whatever thing that's keeping her here, Bucky is choosing to interpret as a good thing.]

What do you want your room to look like?

[Because you're not staying here.]

[She tilts her head to look over at him, a frown on her face. She doesn't quite get the question.]

What do you mean?

[You're probably sick of these questions, and he's probably giving her too many options instead of sort of slowly introducing the idea of free will and choice, but. Well. He's never done this before.]

Do you want to sleep somewhere else? This does have to be what it looks like.

It doesn't? [She's honestly confused. This is her room. This is familiar. That is how it is. She doesn't know what else to ask for (the scent of the bed linen in Sarah's bed, the one she borrowed from Elizabeth Child's life), can't even think where to start.]

No. I just have to ask the Admiral, and he can change it to whatever you want it to be. [Although later on, he might realize that's a not great thing to offer. Living in Beth's apartment just because Sarah had lived there isn't exactly healthy, all things considered. It's not really her building her own life or safe space.

Says the person basically living in his best friend's room these days.]

Steve keeps trying to get me to change mine. He hates those military cots.

Edited 2014-08-04 02:08 (UTC)

Your cots are comfortable enough.

[It's said absently, distractedly. She has to think. There's a connection to this room, a familiarity. But she could have a life like her twin, a room that is her own - or Sarah's, which is what she wants to be - without Tomas's memory lingering in its corners. But this is what she knows, maybe not this exact room but still all she's known since she was a child. The choice is paralyzing.]

I... I need to think first.

That's okay. Offer's on the table, whenever you want it.

[She deserves to feel comfortable, and safe, and if she feels that way here, well. He'll try to get behind that.

But a better cabin might be a good thing to have.]

You know Jean?

[She's glad when he lets it go, doesn't push. It's a lot to think about, a lot of choice, which she's never had before. The new topic of conversation is welcome. She nods.]

I know her. [Jean is nice, even if the power she has is almost terrifying.]

She had an idea she wanted me to run by you. And if this is all too much for one day or whatever, lemme know, okay? [Because she's got a lot to think about and process, and he doesn't want to totally overwhelm her.]

But she- you know what she can do?

thirteen ✪ voice & spam

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