[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)]

[Bucky's on deck, in the snow, wearing his Howling Commandos uniform and looking cold, but not miserably uncomfortable. His rifle's slung over one shoulder - you can see the strap - and he runs a hand through his hair briefly before speaking, shaking the snow out.]

You know, this is my fourth Christmas away from home. [And while there's definitely something kind of wistful in his expression and voice as he says it, he also doesn't seem especially broken up by it. This is more an observation than whining.] Three years ago I was in Africa, two years ago I was in London while we were putting together the Commandos, and last year, I was freezing my ass off in Bastogne.

[It comes out a little like a joke, but obviously it's not quite actually funny. You had to be there? Humor's the only way to really deal with some of this fucked up shit?]

Most everyone thought we'd whip the Germans in a couple weeks after D-Day, and we'd definitely be home by Christmas, but they broke out in the Ardennes on December 16th, caught everyone with their pants down. The 101st and a couple other units got cut off at this little Belgian town called Bastogne outnumbered five to one, with no supplies, no reinforcements, no way to get out. The Commandos were in the area anyway, so we snuck in to get them some stuff as an early Christmas present. Day after Christmas, the Third Army broke through the German line so more supplies could come in and the wounded could get evacuated, but the guys would've said they didn't need anyone coming to their rescue, and I kinda believe 'em.

I'd been through a lot of rough shit in the Army, but those guys were something else. Sitting in those foxholes, I was the coldest I've ever been, and I had gear that was designed to hold up to bad weather. They didn't, so they got trenchfoot and frostbite even if they were being careful. Hot food was a joke, the medics had to keep bottles of plasma shoved under their armpits to keep them from freezing...

[He trails off, expression caught somewhere between that same not-quite-amused look from before and just empty distance. It's not quite wistfulness, not by a long shot, but maybe something like it.]

It's nice to know that those guys won't be somewhere like that their next Christmas. Maybe they're even gonna get to be with their families. [And then Bucky just grimaces a little, mouth turning down in an unhappy frown.] The ones who got out anyway.

[Private to the Admiral]

( gifts for steve, helena, morgana, scott, stiles, isaac, ben, lydia, kira, allison, mason, stephen, mickey, jean, babs, dillon, luna, ian, snafu and souji + everyone in boot camp )

So, I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess Steve ratted me out.

[Says Bucky, now wearing a standard issue US Army combat uniform circa 1943, looking completely nonplussed (this time meaning totally not bothered by what's going on around him, English, you're a weird language) as he broadcasts from- hey, is that Steve's room?

It totally is. He might have claimed it for his own and kicked Steve out, because this place is a lot nicer than the underground bunker or whatever the other Bucky's apparently been living in. He's sitting on the couch with his feet propped on a coffee table, not that you can see it from the angle of the camera, and he definitely looks like he's made himself at home.]

Which means it goes without saying that boot camp's off. I couldn't really give less of a shit if any of you know how to dig a trench or get through an hour of combat. Anyone who's still interested is on their own until your fearless leader comes back.

If he comes back.

[Because who knows? Time's ticking on, and things still haven't righted themselves. This is either a really long fuck up, or they're stranded. Either way, it's not really looking so good, is it?

The sort of lazy, bored smirk he's been sporting up until this point fades for a moment, before stretching a little wider, almost like he's disbelievingly amused.]

So, out of curiosity, what's he like? Your "Bucky Barnes."

[There's a little more teeth in his expression now, and it's not exactly in a good way. His eyes look pretty dead.]

Don't tell me you're not curious about what you'd be like if things were totally different.

[Bucky's taken a day, and he knows a few things:

1. He's an inmate here, so no weapons, limited boost from the serum, no warden areas and no asking the Admiral for any supplies.
2. People here are just as gullible and easy to fool as they had been on the normal Barge.
3. Steve is going to be a fucking problem.

So they'll still find out who he is eventually, but he's going to try to bide his time as long as possible. He's already seen himself mentioned as unaffected on Arthas' list, and he's not surprised, but he's also feeling more than a little self satisfied. He's done his homework.

He's in his cabin when he clicks on the video feed, wearing the blue Commandos jacket just like his counterpart usually seems to and smirks a little lazily at the camera.]

I know we're steal dealing with some pretty rough shit, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good to be back in my right mind again. [He's seen the conversation with the Emperor. Pathetic.]

While we're still figuring out who's who, anyone who's interested and not currently a psycho: boot camp's starting up again first thing tomorrow. You guys all know what to expect by now.

Anyone got any questions, you know how to find me.

[He's going to need to figure out a way for someone to get him into the CES...]

[Spam, September 30 - October 3]

[This is a different part from what he's had to play before, but unlike his counterpart struggling to keep up a mask of indifference to the suffering of others, this Bucky's finding it incredibly easy to pretend like he cares about these people. He smiles, makes smalltalk, delicately probes for more information, and they just spill. There haven't been too many who have looked at him with anything but trust, and those who have viewed him with suspicion apparently haven't put two and two together yet.

So Bucky seemingly goes about life as usual, even if there's something maybe a little bit off about him. He's quick to brush it off as being bitter about his trip through the door, at losing a month to being out of his mind and terrified of everything, but it's still... a little odd.

Feel free to catch him in the dining hall, the gym, heading back to his room, or conveniently carrying too many things - books, usually, but sometimes equipment for boot camp - to be able to open the lock on a warden area by himself, and if you could grab the door, he'd really appreciate it, thanks. Boot camp starts up again, and is virtually identical to the routine that people had been running before Bucky had gotten too incoherent to continue, except sometimes his motivational barbs sound more like direct insults. But that's what a drill sergeant does, right?

The only thing that's really different is that he doesn't seem to be gravitationally pulled back into orbiting around Steve as much as he usually does. They don't not spend time together, but Bucky seems off on his own for most of the day, or talking with other people like nothing's wrong. Because it isn't. Everything's fine.]

[ooc: Tags will be coming from shieldcatchesyou! Steve is going to officially out him on Friday. :|b]

[Hello, Barge. Did you think you were done with coma announcements today?

You were wrong.]

Helena's in a coma. [Which explains why she wasn't at Basic this morning, at least. Bucky had checked on her right after and found her sleeping in her room, so now here we are.]

I'm not bringing her to the infirmary, but I'll keep an eye on her until she wakes up.

[He lets out a tired sigh, and though you can't see it, he's definitely running his hands through his hair, digging his fingernails into his scalp.]

Are we missing anyone else?

[Open Spam]

[This has not been a good week.

Of course, it's not really the worst week he's ever had, so he sort of feels stupid for being irritated by it. This could be worse. This could be a lot worse, but it's still hard to get excited about yelling at people in the pouring rain in the CES while they run up and down a hill at five in the morning when you've gotten maybe an hour or two of sleep the night before, especially when you know you don't have to.

He's not at war anymore. He knows that.

But his nightmares are getting worse, not better. Instead of the familiar blend of memories and horrible possibilities, he wakes up feeling terrified beyond belief, and with no memory as to why. It's bad enough some nights that he spends the rest of it awake and miserable in his own room so he's not keeping Steve up (even though he knows his friend probably isn't sleeping), and sometimes, he's been in the CES running for hours before his "recruits" are up and out of bed.

And he feels cold all the time, even huddled in his Commandos jacket and one of the flannel shirts Stiles got him, plus a t-shirt, no matter where he is on the Barge.

Maybe he's just getting sick.

Whatever's happening, he does his best to just ignore it. If he focuses on the task at hand, he can get through this the way he's gotten through everything, even though on Monday, he calls Lydia Oswalt (a kid who'd been killed by shrapnel not ten minutes after they'd gotten off the landing craft in Anzio) when he's yelling at her to keep up, and then he can't remember the name of a movie he's seen sixteen times on Tuesday, and he has an entire conversation with Mason before realizing wait, he's not Dernier.

They're caught out in a thunderstorm during Basic on Wednesday, and when lightning strikes a little too close to where they are, for a good ten seconds, he's back in Italy, because that's not lightning, it's a shell, and if they don't take cover, they're all getting blown to hell.

Bucky realizes where he is and who he's with moments later, and it leaves him shaky and uncomfortable, so the session gets cut short, and he hauls himself back to Steve's room to borrow his shower, since the water actually stays one temperature.

He's distant and strange for most of the rest of the day, and while he doesn't try to avoid anyone who was there this morning, he doesn't make an effort to seek them out, either.]

[ooc: Bucky's door to the bridge related symptoms are starting to rear their head more noticeably. Right now, he's mostly having night terrors and suffering from general confusion, which means he's often starting to look like he's having something similar to a bad PTSD flashback or just suffering from memory loss, so consider this a blanket warning for something that might come up in his threads. Feel free to encounter him whenever, whenever, and old/new cr, multiples and fuzzy time are all appreciated. c:]

For anyone who's confused, I'm still here, not twelve years old, [Somewhere, other Bucky is indignantly pointing out that he's sixteen, asshole.] And not wearing red and blue pajamas.

Anyone else got a clone bothering people?

[He smirks, somewhere between irritated and genuinely amused by the whole thing. He's back in his room in all its spartan, World War II vintage glory, and he's wearing his Commandos jacket.]

This is Sergeant James Barnes. Everyone else's already done the explaining, so if you're out there and you wanna talk, you know how to find me.

[There are a handful of people out there he'd like to talk to - Peggy, Howard, the other Commandos, but he knows better than to get his hopes up about them actually answering back.

Still.]

And Dum Dum, if you're out there, you still owe me five bucks.

[ooc: No Winter Soldier related spoilers please, but everything else is totally fair game. c8]

['Sup, Barge. Bucky has apparently made his way onto the planet's surface, and has somehow got his hands on what looks like a sniper rifle - it's a Walther Gewehr 43, in case we've got any weapons experts around. Not an American gun. He's dressed in a heavy looking jacket Stiles might recognize except it's black instead of blue, and-

Hey. What's that patch on his arm?

Oh.

About that.

Did he forget to mention?]

You know, for a group of hyper paranoid, beaten down wrecks of human beings, you're all pretty easy to dupe. Come up with some sob story, get those doe eyes going, and you'll believe anything, won't you? [He grins, and there are too many teeth in it to look friendly.]

I've got some bad news.

[Bad news for some, anyway. Bucky certainly doesn't seem to think it's bad news. It's sort of refreshing, to go back to showing your true colors after playing the kicked puppy for a couple days.]

Ned's planning a break out tomorrow during dinner. Crichton's in on it, too, and they're trying to organize anyone else who's willing to come with. If anyone wants to go after 'em, now might be a good time.

My good pal Cassel's another one of the stowaways from that other Barge. I don't know what his game plan is, but you might wanna make sure that doesn't get too far out of hand before he gets a chance to make his move.

[And with that all said, he starts loading the rifle almost lazily, like he's got all the time in the world.]

See, back where I'm from? My bosses have an expression: cut off one head, two more'll take its place. [You've heard him talk about HYDRA before, what they were planning and how they were going about doing it. He just lied about his involvement.] I figure the Barge isn't all that different.

[When he looks back at the camera, there's a viciousness in his eyes and expression that makes him look like a predator] You can run, you can hide, but we're always gonna be here to catch you. You can think the ship's dying all you want, but that doesn't change that you're still gonna be here tomorrow, and so are we. And we're not going anywhere.

[He finishes loading the weapon, clicks off the safety like he's making a point.]

Anyone who's interested in heading out and getting supplies to fix the damn ship can come with me. Anyone who's pissed off their friends were dumb enough to trust the new guy gets a bullet between the eyes. I don't miss.

[It's not said as a challenge. It's a fact.

There's a beat of hesitation when he reaches to kill the feed, and then chuckles darkly.]

Oh, yeah.

Hail HYDRA.

[Slightly Backdated Spam for Morgana]

[He's known since he got the idea that this game was never going to last forever. Eventually, people would find out who and what he is, and there's no point in hiding it.

The disturbance just pushed the date up a little, and the crash on the planet? Well. We can't have people running off, can we?

So he's already planning on outing himself and the others when he steps out onto the alien planet in his jacket, rifle slung over his shoulder, gun at his hip. He's not planning on sticking around for the fallout, because he's got other work to do, more important things to discuss.

And then he spots Morgana, looking like she's apparently planning on investigating where exactly they'd wound up, too.

There's some small part of him that almost feels badly about what's going to have to happen.]

Where are you going?