c o n t a c t

[bracchium]

желание I know you are the answer, but I forgot the question.	печь There will always be a lie in believe.
один Whatever is static is dead.	рассвет The world is too quiet.

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ There's the ghost sensation of someone pulling his own hair, despite the fact that it's been a long time since it was long enough to get yanked on, but Sam shakes himself free of it. Instead, he focuses on his hand in Bucky's hair, keeping his touch gentle, fingertips scratching gently over his scalp. It' always been about changing the experience a little, taking something expected and making it new - creating a dissonance to keep Bucky here with him, open things up and let him see there's more out there.

When the memories strain, become vaguer, and the faces start surfacing - he knows, this should be the place where they're pushed away, where everything is cleared.

Not this time. There's no wipe coming, no punishment, no orders for the next mission, no more people to kill.

Just the two of them. ]

( Your memories are your own, Bucky, you can have them. ) [ He untangles his fingers from Bucky's hair to press his palm over Bucky's heart, a mirror of how he's holding Bucky's own hand to Sam's chest. The last time they did this it'd been too hard to keep themselves separate, but that -

That doesn't matter now. There's no need for them to be separate while they do this. ]

[bracchium]

[Bucky waits to be pulled up by his hair, to be shoved into the chair. He's wet, his clothes weighed down by what he can only think to be the remnants of cryo, and his heart pounds furiously in his chest as he waits for the expected to happen.

But it doesn't.

Bucky's eyelids flutter open, pupils wild as he casts his gaze around. It takes only a matter of heartbeats to establish that they aren't in Siberia, that there is no chair waiting for him.

The fingers in his hair loosen and release and Bucky blinks. Someone is here with him, but not his usual handler. He steadies his eyes and looks at Sam long and hard. His handler. Sam. Sam Wilson. If things went South, Bucky would find him first.

He's exhausted, as if he's been on a long journey with the sun leeching his energy, and the beginnings of a headache coil beneath his temples.]

Sam?

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ He lets out a slow exhale as he feels the way that Bucky's waiting for something to happen - for the chair, for the way they erased everything - and it never comes.

The programming is still laid bare and vulnerable in Bucky's mind, and it's tempting to try to dig deeper into it, to tell it that Bucky is a person and not a weapon - but he knows how risky that is, knows how ingrained a lot of the programming is and how much it'd reject a sudden change like that. It's better to go slower.

So he smoothes a hand over the cogs of the programming, a mix of gentle and commanding. Buries it back underneath the snow, strong and confident, at the same time as he knows that their broodbond has been buried just as deep. The next time the Soldier surfaces - and Sam's not naive enough to believe that it'll never happen again - they'll be written in there so deep that it'll be easier, he has to believe that. The Solider will know him. ]

I'm here, love, I'm here.

[ The term of endearment slips from his lips before he's even able to process it, but it doesn't really matter. The feelings are already there - they've been there for a long, long time. Him saying it doesn't change anything. ]

I've got you.

[bracchium]

[Bucky's first wild glance around the room does little to ease his disorientation. He doesn't remember how he got here or where 'here' is. Neither are a good sign. Sam re-buries the open gears in his head, but he can't recall why they were laid bare in the first place. His head tingles with what feels like the remains of a wipe and that is worst of all.

He shuts his eyes and swallows, afraid of the answer to the question he's about to ask.]

What did I do?

[Please tell him he didn't hurt someone. Please tell him he didn't hurt Sam. Bucky forces his eyes back open to get a better look at his broodmate, to check for open wounds.]