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.]

Threaded | Flat

If she has powers, being in her room is probably a better choice. I hated Zero.

[Well damn.

He wants to help, but he's got no idea how. And he doesn't want to undermine Bucky's authority here, anyway. So he settles for,] If you need a hand, you know where I am.

I knew they were clones, but I did not know Helena would move so quickly. I apologize.

Anything I can assist you with, I will.

...damn. I should've seen this. I'm sorry.

[ When she does come to, it's with a kind of muscle memory - she gasps, very suddenly grasping for her throat with both hands, her eyes wide. Christ. Christ, she can't breathe.

She sucks in deep gasps of air, her chest rising in panic, but she is breathing - it's through a sore throat, throbbing as though there was an arm still tight against it, but she's actually breathing. She's actually doing the alive thing. That hadn't been in the brochure.

Well, technically it had. But there was a whole 'preparing for it' section left out.

Cosima's lips tighten and she looks over, hands soothing at her throat still, the hands that aren't there anymore. It's just her own and there's that man, the guy who tried to disengage. "Disengage," she thinks, like it was some kind of cat fight in the high school halls.

With a roll of her head back into place on the pillow, she digs the heels of her hands into her eyes. She's trying really, really hard not to cry in front of soldier boy. ]

Hey.

[ She croaks. Miserably. ]

The fuck do you mean, she killed her? Who the fuck reaped her, then?!

[Helena's cabin is the poorly-lit, metal interior of a rusted out, abandoned ship. There's little in the way of comfort - no furnishings save for the metal camp bed and a few boxes and crates. There's packets of sugar, candy wrappers and some fruit and cans of food, papers and a Bible, a couple of other books and some toys on the ground. Since she's been on the Barge, she's decorated a little. There are prayer cards, folded paper fortune tellers and drawings, some done on paper, some drawn in chalk and pen and charcoal on the walls and the metal support struts throughout the room. They show repeating figures, stick figure girls: some tall, some short, some grouped in threes - two tall and one short, some alone. Some have curly hair; some have question marks where their faces should be.

Helena's lying on the bed, her head on her hands, hair falling in front of her face. She doesn't move when he comes in, just shifts her eyes to watch him.]

[Bond doesn't see the network post right away. He's jogging on the treadmill in the gym - largely because it was raining in the CES when he went there first - and it's not until he slows to a cool down walk that he checks the network, sees the message. It's not long after that that he notices Bucky behind him, pounding away at a punching bag.

Turning the machine off, Bond grabs a towel to wipe his face on and slings it over his shoulder as he heads toward Bucky. He approaches in the soldier's line of sight, so that he'll be seen as he steps behind the punching bag, bracing himself as he holds it steady. Bucky is stronger than he expected.]

Careful, [he jokes lightly.] Might tear it off the hinges.

[Well, crap. There's stunned horror on Jean's face; she knows Helena is unstable, suspected that she could be dangerous, but dammit.

She takes a breath, schools her features into something calmer, doesn't let her voice waver. It's over and done, and now they deal with it.]

I might be able to help you with that. If Helena is okay with it, I mean.

Threaded | Flat

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