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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[bracchium]

[Bucky watches Steve take in the state of his 'safehouse,' but doesn't react. It's safe and that's all he needs. From the medical kit, he produces a cold compress that he activates by breaking the solution inside over his knee.

He doesn't answer and instead offers the compress in silence.]

[decommission]

[ He sucks in a breath, scanning his friend's face and ignoring the compress held out to him. ]

Bucky. [ Say something. ]

[bracchium]

[That, at least, seems to start bringing Bucky back into his head. He blinks slowly at Steve, processing what he's seeing in pieces.]

My name is Bucky. [He furrows his brows as more pieces click into place.]

[decommission]

[ He holds Bucky's gaze, unease settling over him. ]

You sure you don't need that? [ Nodding at the compress, the humor in his tone is forced. A beat, then, carefully he ventures: ] You remember how we got here?

[bracchium]

[It's slow coming back, but Bucky continues to hold the compress out for Steve. Climbing out from under the blizzard of static in his head is easier with Steve's presence, once more like a beacon.

He swallows again, blinking at Steve.] No.

[Last he remembered, he was leaving, but he didn't know why or the source of the blossoming bruise on the side of Steve's head.] I know you.

[decommission]

[ That slow, creeping horror from yesterday is returning, settling in the pit of his stomach.

It's another few seconds before he's finally able to take the compress, pressing the cold plastic against his face with a wince. ] You remember the Station? The trip to the city?

[ He's hoping the answers to both of those are going to be yes. ]

[bracchium]

[That's right. The Station. They were here on a mission. This was Steve sitting in front of him and they talked yesterday. Steve knows.]

We were supposed to practice. [And then he's finally wrapping his head around the empty space in his head. Blank spaces only mean one thing and his furrowed brows deepen as he takes in Steve's appearance.

Oh god. His voice drops as morbid need to know takes over.] What'd I do?

[decommission]

[ Relief sweeps over him again, tension let out with a breath - only to return to his expression at the question. His mouth clamps shut, eyebrow knitting together. Every conversation is whiplash. ]

Nothing - [ He starts slowly, letting the compress lower from his face. ] - you were brawling with three guys on the corner. We tased them, I think you... hit one in the throat with a pen, broke another guy's nose on the pavement. [ pause ] Probably deserved it.

[ If they were the same three tailing him, they weren't up to any good. A trip to the hospital for them means no one else'll be bothered by them tonight. But there's uncertainty in his voice, recalling the end of the fight when it seemed as though Bucky wasn't done with them. His mouth twists down at one side. ] You really don't remember?

[bracchium]

[Brawling with three guys doesn't sound familiar at all to Bucky and his heart creeps up into his throat. He doesn't remember hearing codewords to trigger the hole in his memory. Steve's summary and reaction doesn't improve his memory either and instead a sense of utter defeat settles heavy on his shoulders.

He's dangerous. He always will be, even without an arm. There's no escaping HYDRA, not really, and now he's here with how many breakable people, with Steve looking so small and vulnerable. He drops his gaze to the floor as guilt seeps under his skin.]

No.

[decommission]

[ He stares down at the compress in his hands, tension running through his shoulders. ]

Could be a bad reaction, something going on with the symbiote. [ Hosts have been falling into comas left and right ever since the first day on the Station, and the Prince hadn't offered any real specifics as to what caused it. Might be that the symbiote is interacting to whatever else HYDRA put in Bucky's system.

That's enough to make him antsy. He glances over at the closed door, his frown deepening. ] We oughta head back to the hotel.

[bracchium]

[Dammit. He should've known. He shouldn't have come to the Nest and endanger all of the other hosts. The mention of the hotel receives a slow shake of Bucky's head in response. If nothing else, this experience has reinforced that he shouldn't be around people. Until he can get HYDRA out of him, he needs to stay away.]

Can't. It's best for everyone if I stay out here.

[decommission]

It's not. [ Not best for the rest of them, and not best for Bucky. He's pretty adamant about that, letting his gaze settle on him again. ] We'll figure it out.

[ Whatever's going on. ]

[bracchium]

Steve. [Bucky shakes his head again and curls in on himself a little. He can't go back. Not when he can't trust his own head.]

[decommission]

[ Another glance at the door. This is usually the part where he'd keep arguing.

Harder to do now. ]

You got a spare cot? [ As though there's space for one. ]

[bracchium]

[ There's not nearly enough room for another cot, but Bucky wouldn't be mad about sleeping on the floor. What he's more worried about, though, is Steve electing to stay in a very small shack with a killing machine with nightmares. He glances up at Steve, brows furrowed, but silent.]

[decommission]

[ By now he's seen enough to, at the very least, understand that there's some risk involved in staying with Bucky in close quarters like this while his head's not on straight - but it's a distant concern, still not enough to make Steve believe leaving him here alone with those thoughts is the better option.

He turns his head, meeting Bucky's gaze long enough to offer a faint, lopsided smile and stands to set the compress down on the table, briefly scanning the notes there as he shucks off his light coat and balls it up into something like a pillow for himself. ]

What're these? [ Nodding at the papers. ]

[bracchium]

[Bucky stares in silence a little longer before following Steve's gaze to the notes on the table. Oh. Those. He picks up the closest bunch of them and fans them out across the table. On the papers are names and extremely sketchy faces, accompanied by descriptors. In the corners are a few series of numbers but scribbled scribbled out enough times that he gave up on trying to give them a concrete timeframe.

Bianca. Blonde. Blue eyes. 5'6". Ukraine. 1970s?

People he killed. People he should never forget.

Art was never his thing, but it's the least he can do.

With a sigh, he carefully sits on the floor beside the table and leans his back against the wall. He's almost knee-to-knee with Steve from how narrow the dwelling is.]

Targets.

[decommission]

[ He sucks in a breath, the impulse to sort through the notes suddenly gone. ]

All of them?

[bracchium]

[Bucky nods, once more looking away. Seventy years of kills builds up very quickly. Steve's own sheet is a few underneath Bianca's, right after Nicholas Fury.

He could say he doesn't do that anymore, but he's already got evidence to the contrary that he can't ignore. ]

[decommission]

[ He leaves them where they are, taken aback by the number of them rather than specific faces. After a moment he steps back, bumping into the cot and sitting down, rubbing he heels of his palms into his eyes again. He's noticing again that his head never stopped throbbing. ]

[bracchium]

[Awkward. Bucky sits still and silent for a beat or two before he collects the compress from the table and offers it to Steve again. He can't tell if the weight Steve's wearing is due to grief or pain. Guilt boils through him again. He can't make this right, he shouldn't be allowed to either. Almost every single face on the papers didn't get the chance to do much more than beg or scream, yet here he is with a Steve so small he can't hardly hold himself up.]

You should go back.

[decommission]

[ He stares at the compress. Right. ]

You should come back with me. [ Brick wall. He's not going otherwise, no amount of arguing is going to change that. But he does accept the compress again, pressing it against his face. ] We'll talk about it tomorrow.

[bracchium]

[Bucky swallows down the brief surge of frustration, but silently admits that Steve hasn't changed from what he remembers. Tomorrow. We'll practice tomorrow. Tomorrow means sleeping and sleeping means nightmares.

Maybe he can fake it.

With another sigh, he slides off his jacket and stuffs it in his pack to use as a pillow.]

[decommission]

[ The frustration rolls past Steve. Tomorrow. More time to think too much - more time to let this stop feeling like he's about to wake up. It's difficult for him to fall asleep on the thin cot, first lying on his back, then his stomach (he'd argue that he should take the floor, but he's picking his battles for now).

The sounds of the city outside are a comfort, the lack of it on the Station had been so noticeable at first. Eventually, he drifts off. ]

hope u like novels

[bracchium]

[Ever since he emerged from cryo for good two years ago, Bucky's not been much for sleeping. Even in the first few days on his own, nightmares haunted him. He certainly didn't deserve restful sleep after all he's done and the same holds true now as he stares up at the wall, listening to Steve tossing and turning on the cot. With half a mind to run again, Bucky pushes his eyes open when they start to droop, but soon he can't fend off sleep anymore than his friend.

They begin the same as always: with a rising curtain of glass. Steam billows out onto the floor and cuts between moments of clarity. He falls, always falling, and then he's seated in the chair. Electricity sparks around him and his head goes fuzzy with agony. His fists clench but they can't pull at the manacles closed tight about his wrists. Everything he remembers is disappearing again, slipping down into the vortex. Russian fills the Siberian air and then his mind is crystal clear.

'Good morning, soldier.'

'Ready to comply,' rumbles from his own mouth in reply.

'I have a mission for you. Confirmed kill in ten hours. Steve Rogers, Captain America.'

He stands on the catwalk overlooking the glass belly of the hellicarrier, target across from him. The pistol slides out from his holster first, short raps accompanying each shot until the gun is knocked out of his hand by a shield. A knife follows but that, too, is rebuffed by the shield. Without options, his fury pushes through him as he tackles his target over the metal railing separating them from a ten foot drop onto support columns. They brawl closer and closer to the edge and he knocks his target down. He presses his limited advantage and finds himself crashing against the glass below.

He's found his pistol and he's shooting at the shield again, then the knife makes a return appearance, this time biting into his target's shoulder until he knocks the latter away. He dives for a tiny chip on the glass but is picked up by the throat.

'Drop it' a familiar voice fills his ears as his fingers clench tighter around silicon and aluminum.

His fleshy arm snaps and white hot fire burns through him. Bones break and his throat creaks at the pressure applied to his neck. Stay awake stay awake stay----

He's up again and pulls the trigger at his target, who stops and stumbles and his mission isn't complete yet. Not until... not until...

Steel rains from above, trapping him, but his target returns to his side, does his best to lift the column trapping him to the glass. Blood oozes from his target's wounds, but he strains all the same.

As soon as he's free, he attacks his target again. Fire dances around them, sparks fly, and he's launching assault after assault.

'You've known me your whole life.'

Metal demolishes bones, breaks blood vessels, cleaves tissue.

'Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.'

Another hit, broken eye socket, and his target stumbles back to pull off the blue helmet adorned with an A. Blonde hair is matted and his face swollen.

'I'm not going to fight you.'

It's not his choice, really. Bucky charges and fist after fist rains down upon the face so familiar and yet so distant.

'Then finish it. Cause I'm with you to the end of the line.'

Fire takes both of them.

Bucky awakes with a soft sound of distress, but his knees are scraping the floor, boots catch on one leg of the cot and jostles the occupant. He sees Steve's face, thinner, less swollen, less broken and bruised and purple and oh god oh god oh god.

He has to get out of here, he has to run.]