bracchium | c o n t a c t

[ The feel of Bucky's nerves spikes Sam's own, an echo humming underneath his veins, but he pulls in a breath and lets it out, relaxing. They can do this.

There's a hum of agreement, though Sam lingers with both of the twins, letting them nip and paw at him playfully as he scratches through feathers and the downy fur on their backs. ]

Look after the others until we get back, okay?

[ Even if he's ready for it, he's not gonna let himself think about just in case.

Instead he reaches out, looking to take Bucky's hand and lace their fingers together before they start heading away from life support - though he won't push it if Bucky's not up for it. ]

[Bucky pauses to look back when Sam lingers with the twins. The sensation of soft downy fur brushes against his fingers as if he had touched them himself. In the past, a small smile might have broken out across his face, but not now. Sam reaches out for his hand and Bucky accepts without hesitation.

Sam said it himself: they're in this together, for better or worse.

And Bucky doesn't have much in the way of hope, but he clings to the idea that this just might work, that they might get an advantage over the programming and make him more safe to be around.]

They're good at that.

Edited (sorry the dog decided it was time to send the tag early) 2018-04-10 00:08 (UTC)

[ For better or worse.

Sam gives Bucky's hand a soft squeeze, letting determination chase away the last of his nerves. They're both clinging to the idea of this working - but Sam's got more than enough hope for the both of them. He's got plans, once this is done, plans to get them both cleaned up and rested.

Not the most exciting, sure, but right now, it sounds like heaven. ]

Best Christmas present I ever got, sunshine, don't know how we're gonna top it next time.

[ He doesn't really know where he's going. Away, mostly, other than that he just weaves through the hallways of the Station until the hum of his link to the others in the Nest grows a little more distant.

When they stop - he can't resist leaning in to steal a quick kiss. ]

( Ready? )

[Bucky welcomes that squeeze of their linked fingers, helps to draw his focus away from his thoughts. The twins were a pretty good idea, he supposes, a last minute idea but a good one. They give him a little more life at the end of a long mission like Hyrypia, when he feels entirely drained.

As they walk, Bucky silently counts their steps. It's not that he's afraid of getting lost, but more that he knows how fast the Soldier can move, how quickly miles can disappear underneath a machine's feet. By the time they stop, he feels satisfied with the distance and even more so with the quick kiss pressed to his lips.

He doesn't want this to be the last time that happens.

With a nod, he pulls his hand free of Sam's and stands a few feet away- enough to hear Sam, but not within arm's reach.]

( Ready. )

[ Proof that Bucky can have good ideas, as far as Sam's concerned. He'll have to remember to tease him about that, when they're done with this.

There's a faint flair of reluctance when Bucky pulls away, but he doesn't protest. He'd have stepped away himself if Bucky didn't - it doesn't make sense to stay close to him, as much as he wants to do this still holding his hand.

Sam nods, inhaling and exhaling slowly and making sure he's got his connection to the rest of the Nest narrowed as much as he possibly can before he starts speaking. ]

желание. ржaвый. Семнадцать. Рассвет. Печь. Девять.

[Bucky sucks in one last breath of free air before Sam begins because as soon as the first word leaves his broodmate’s lips, the programming clamors to life. His limbs twitch, neck popping as it jerks to the side. The words sound so wrong in Sam’s voice, but so right at the same time. The second and thir words follow and Bucky finds himself fighting a losing battle against the white-hot gears churning to life. The jade tower erupts with lava, devouring the paper-thin internal guards and Bucky with them.

By the sixth word, Bucky is nearly gone, his twitching more violent as the Soldier begins to emerge. Four more left.]

[ They feel wrong in his mouth, like acid dripping off his tongue and burning the air around him. He hates this, hates himself a little for saying them - but not as much as he would have if they hadn't been preparing for this, if he didn't believe in why they were doing this.

But that only makes it a little better when he feels the way Bucky gets swept away, and he has to pull back a little from their connection to keep himself from going after him.

To force himself to keep saying them. ]

добросердечный. возвращение на родину. Один. грузовой вагон.

[Underneath Bucky's skin, the programming burns with life, tearing through ice and snow alike. Bright orange gears rip through the earth and boil the mud into steaming muck. Within two more words, Bucky is transparent and fragile, pieces of him ripped away, but by the last, he shatters into a million different pieces, swept away into the sun that is the programming.

Now only the Soldier stands before Sam, the programming clanging and screaming free of locks Bucky keeps on it. His eyes are empty of everything except that same cold that usually runs rampant across the surface of Bucky's mind, that keeps the programming sealed away.

But now it's free and the cold migrates to the Soldier's gaze, waiting for the final call and response.]

[ His fists clench, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough that there's the faint taste of copper as he struggles not to grab hold of every last bit of Bucky he can. As he lets him go, and promises both of them that he'll bring him back.

No matter what it takes.

When the Soldier stands in front of him, Sam lets himself straighten up, forcing himself to uncurl his hands. ]

Good morning Soldier. [ He pauses, waiting for the response and gathering his own thoughts - trying to steel himself, more accurately. He wants to launch right into trying to change the programming, to give Bucky his own leash, but he promised. What happened on Hyrypia isn't going to happen again. ] There's been an update in mission parameters.

[The Soldier straightens, too, though more of standing upright instead of Bucky’s usual slouch. When the call is initiated, he responds in kind, smooth and calm as if four years didn’t sit between him and HYDRA.] Ready to comply.

[He says nothing more, nothing less, and makes no eye contact with his handler. New parameters are not unheard of, but unusual enough that the programming skips a gear where it churns away under the soldier’s skin. Be ready for anything, it clamors.]

[ Breathe, Sam reminds himself. Breathe.

It's easy not to be afraid, to hold himself confident and steady with just the slightest bit of wariness for someone as dangerous as the Soldier. It's the way he's always been, and he doesn't have to try not to be afraid of the Soldier.

It's harder not to let this affect him, to be distant and casual and emotionless.

To not be just a little bit disgusted with himself. ]

Covert. Don't draw attention to yourself [ no excessive violence ] - there's no extraction point to get to. If you lose sight of your objective, return to - [ And here he hesitates, because he can't do it, he can't call himself a handler. ] Me.

[The programming hums beneath the surface, its chaotic screeches calming as it continues to hold full control over the Soldier. The prisoner isn’t fighting back and there are no foreign entities attempting to rip its steely claws away. An ambush is expected, but so far none has come.

The handler standing a few feet away shows no fear in his posture as he speaks. No handler ever should have fear for the Soldier, only those without complete control over the weapon should ever fear its destructive power. The first order is easy to digest, one gear slotting out and another shifting into its place. Covert mission. Do not bring attention to himself is priority one. The second comes less easily, but a termination protocol was an inevitability. No extraction means termination. Return to handler for failure conditions and punishment. If unable to, terminate.

All weapons have a shelf life and the Soldier has his.]

[ So far so good. The first bit seems to go okay, and Sam - Sam waits. The programming's used to him attacking, and it chafes at him not to fight, but he knows he has to play it smart.

He stays in Bucky's mind, buried deep where the tendrils of their brood bond have taken root, hiding in the foundation. Quiet, nonthreatening, because he has to focus.

It's when he feels that reluctant inevitably, when the programming hums with termination that everything screeches to a halt. That Sam can't hold back his emotion, can't contain the kneejerk no. ]

Termination is not an option, termination is never - [ It's not never. It's an option Sam promised he'd take himself, but only in extreme circumstances, and it's not an option he can ever let the programming write in. ]

You're essential in this mission. If you lose sight of the objective, find me so I can remind you of it. No decisions about termination can be made alone.

[That spike of emotion sets off the programming almost instantly. There is no place for emotion in HYDRA, no room for decisions based on them. To do so would betray the very essence of their being: one head chopped off becomes the spawn of three more. The Soldier is no different than a rifle, a weapon, albeit expensive, that is no more than a piece to be thrown into the fray. Not even the atomic bombs were considered essential; redundancies were built into every weapon built, every one of them replaceable. For a handler- no, an imposter- to posit otherwise is downright heresy.

The gears refuse the orders, spit out the pieces it already digested, and sets to burning the earth. Already the foundation of Bucky’s mind is cracking, but the programming digs deeper, claws sharpened to fine edges and white hot as it attempts to dig for the alien presence.

On the surface, the Soldier’s posture shifts back before he launches into an assault, pushing forward into Sam in an effort to knock him off his feet.]

[ Shit.

He shouldn't have pushed, shouldn't have - the programming was already on guard, ready for something, it wasn't quite the blank slate that Sam'd been both dreading and expecting. Something was missing, he just -

Doesn't have time to figure out what at the moment. He at least had a plan for what to do to protect them mentally. All right, to protect Bucky mentally, but same thing as far as Sam's concerned. He throws up shields around the places in Bucky's mind that feel like home, the parts of Bucky that are his and the parts of Sam that belong to Bucky - as though he could separate them out like that, as though they weren't all mixed together and twisted deep - but it doesn't matter when he can protect them. At the same time, he draws attention to himself, rearing up like he's gonna fight to give the programming something to attack.

It means he leaves himself more open than he should for a physical attack, and he doesn't manage to dodge when the Soldier lunges at him. He shifts as he's knocked to the ground, trying to get away more than trying to land so he doesn't hurt anything.

He scrambles up to try to get into a position more defensible, but it takes longer than he'd like with the way his knee protests. ]

[This imposter knows the words, the programming processes as it digs in deep. Soon enough Sam shows and the claws go straight for Sam, attempting to uproot him, to drag him free of the blistering earth. Acid drips from them, leaving scalding pits where it touches Bucky’s foundation.

On Sam’s cue, Bucky tries to rise up as well, to gather the pieces of himself scattered to the wind, but globs of acid burn through him,
hollow him, as the Soldier attacks on the surface.

The imposter is rolling away from him but the Soldier is on him in less than a heartbeat, going straight for the jaw. Knock out or kill then extract. Extraction is everything. Get away from the imposter.]

[ The times in the past when the programming's reacted to his presence and turned on him, Sam's had to fight to stay, dig in and maintain his ground. But now - it's not a conscious decision to stay in Bucky's mind anymore, and being there isn't anything that requires effort.

The programming tries to uproot him and he can't leave, can't do anything but flare up his wings as the programming's claws rip at them, feeling the metal flex and bend and sizzle. The struggle is holding on to who he is, grabbing every piece of Bucky - of himself - of them both that he can and -

He can't remember how to separate, can't feel out what's him and what's Bucky and what's the shared space that's neither and both of them, where they connect and where they're distinct.

Sam doesn't fight back. The Soldier's hit connects with his jaw and pain flares through him, enough that it probably would have knocked him out with out the symbiote's boosts. And even though his ability activates immediately, seeking to transfer the injury, it might as well have knocked him out.

He's too caught up in the mental confusion to react physically, not when his ability is ready to take care of it. ]

[The programming screeches in anger when the alien presence doesn’t immediately separate from the weapon’s piecemeal foundation. So it changes its strategy. Instead of exacting strokes, it tears into everything, scorching every tract of earth it sees. Pieces of Bucky get caught and instantly burn into ash, even as he scrambles for the cover of Sam’s wings. There are too many pieces spread too far and with the programming’s wide reach, nothing can escape.

The Soldier follows up the first hit with a second, cracking his fist across the imposter’s jaw. He’ll break out a third if needed to knock his opponent down.]

[ The second hit knocks Sam down, and only then does he react more than with his symbiote ability - but it's only instinct, to control the way he falls so he doesn't crack his head on the floor. The same instinct screams at him to get up, and there's a twitch of movement like he might be trying to push himself up, but he can't sort out what's physical and what's mental, which fight is which.

The programming changes its tactics, scorching down everything and Sam screams. It echoes across their - Bucky's - mind, but it gives Sam something to focus on. He shifts tactics, too, stretching out across everything to try to sink into the places he belongs.

There's somewhere they slip into so they can hide, so they can wait where it can't touch them, he knows. But the pieces of Bucky that it sends scattering feel like pieces of himself, and it's just as disorienting. He fractures a little, fissures of ice frosting over his wings. ]

[In an instant, the programming re-orients to the physical, to push the Soldier to extraction. It continues to set fires, to burn through everything it can get its claws on, but putting distance between him and the imposter is priority one. The Soldier gathers himself, straightening, before turning to leave. Feet become yards and yards become rooms as the Soldier takes full strides.

The corridors blur around him as he moves, doorways warp and open when they didn't before, but he pays little attention. There's a hangar on the Station and the programming knows that, directing the Soldier to make specific turns.]

[ Sam's vision prickles and blurs; he can't tell if he's seeing the Soldier leaving or if he's feeling his broodmate's presence get more distant. Everything shifts together, pain and the staggering sense of loss - himself or Bucky or both -

But something tips, and even he's not sure if it's because the Soldier is putting distance between them or because his searching finally led him to their brood bond. Both, maybe, maybe the feeling of home called out to him more strongly when the distance started to make separation more clear.

Sam rolls into their shared link, slipping under and it's not so much that he's suddenly himself again, it's - safe, he's safe. There's room to breathe, to sort out what's here and what's not, where he is and where Bucky should be.

To feel Bucky's absence and miss it with just as much strength, but know what he needs to do to get it back.

They've been through this before. It doesn't matter how much the programming tries to burn, how hard it tries to knock them down and kick him out - they're stronger. They'll always be stronger, and Sam should have known better than to try to take it on without using their bond.

There's a surge of panic as he feels the Soldier moving even further away from him, but he pushes through it as he struggles to his feet.

He takes off, doing his best to stay out of Bucky's mind and chase the Soldier down just based on his sense of where his broodmate is - but it's hard, and he slips in and out as he tries to steady himself. ]

[The Soldier takes every turn as directed, but finds that the hallways open in different ways. When he meets a closed door, the one down the hall warps and slides open. Frowning, the Soldier has little choice but to keep moving forward, to seek all methods of extraction. A dimly-lit T intersection meets him and he moves through the left door to a dimly lit locker room. Numbers dot each metal door, but he has little time to investigate any of them.

Instead, he continues to push on, through the maze of steel to another door. Charging through the door, however, sends him sprawling. He falls upwards, onto what should have been the ceiling. However, it holds a pool, filled with water, surrounded by walkways.

The Soldier struggles to right himself, to make sense of the disorienting change in perspective. Underneath the surface, Bucky attempts to spring to life, to gather the small collection of glass to wrest control back from the programming, but with Sam so far away, his presence growing dimmer, he has no chance and he's shattered once more into the fire.]

[ Sam honestly isn't paying much attention to his surroundings, instead navigating by his sense of where Bucky is and pushing - faster, faster, beyond what should have put him out of breath and panting, but his lungs don't need as much oxygen as they used to.

Still, maybe it's his sense of the Soldier trying to make his way through a maze, but he notices, dimly, that this is a part of the Station he's never been to before.

There's a part of him that thinks come on, help us out, a part that reaches out to the Station liked he'd tried when he first learned it was alive and connected. He still can't feel whether or not the Station responds, but then, most of his focus is on Bucky anyway.

He's unwilling to push his way back into Bucky's mind and get the programming more riled up, but he pours himself into their brood bond, grabbing hold of it with everything he's got.

I'm coming. He won't let the Soldier get away, won't leave Bucky alone. ]

[The Soldier scowls as he rights himself, but the dissonance of his environment are difficult to ignore. Each step seems more dizzying than the last as he makes his way to the door on the far end of the room, far up and out of direct reach of the Soldier. He'd have to climb the diving board and then utilize as much of his horizontal jump as possible to reach it. Frustrated- infuriated- the Soldier strides over to the ladder and begins to climb.

Beneath him, the pool casts waves of aqua light around the room, bright and disorienting as he takes the rungs three at a time.

Bucky reaches out for Sam the same way Sam does to him, buried in the brood link with a brush of cedar and pine as he holds on to the tendrils.]

[ Bucky. Sam breathes in the scent of trees, feeling the trickle of sun gleaming through them and sees them stretching up, their roots spiraling down and out. He pulls Bucky in where ever he can, spilling over their broodlink and into his own mind. He doesn't care, Bucky belongs there just as much as he does, and he thinks - why the hell didn't they try this in the first place, pulling Bucky into the broodlink and letting him bury himself into Sam's own mind while they said the words? Keep part of him safe.

Sam fares... a little bit better when he crashes through the door to the upside down pool, if only because he's used to gravity messing with him. He free falls down - up? - for a moment before instinct kicks in and his wings flare out.

He tailspins, disoriented and struggling to reconcile when his body says he's flying up and his eyes say down, and then says fuck it and slams his eyes shut. He can fly blind, as far as he's concerned, and he lets himself level out before he focuses back in on his sense of where the Soldier is.

Then he opens his eyes, enough to kick his thrusters into gear and pick up the chase again. ]

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.

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lmk if this isn’t okay

works for me!

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