2405/In This Together

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In This Together
Date of Scene: 10 September 2017
Location: Outside Mercy's Garage, New York
Synopsis: In the wake of his recovery from his Hydra brainwashing, a troubled Bucky Barnes receives a visit from Steve Rogers. The two reconnect, and discuss the important question: what now?
Cast of Characters: Winter Soldier, Captain America




Winter Soldier has posed:
Everyone made their own way home after the Hydra base burned. Everyone except those for whom home was no longer a certain thing.

Mercy was kind enough to put Claire up while the nurse recovered. Bucky, for his part, considered slinking off unnoticed in the confusion-- he could have done it-- but it only took one look at Claire, ravaged and abused and all his fault, to make him feel too guilty but to stay. What kind of man would he be to do this to her, and then run off?

Still, there are times he wishes he had run. He doesn't know how he's going to face... some people he once knew. It's hard enough sharing space with Mercy, whose friends he got killed. Hard enough thinking about that every time she's kinder to him than he deserves.

He's stuck around, for lack of anywhere else to go, though he's in and out, and when he's in he spends a lot of time looking out the windows, his gaze shadowed by thoughts and plans he has not spoken of to anyone. He's found different clothes, even in the very short interim of time, and he looks almost normal as he sits outside the garage's side entrance. Normal except the guarded, eye-darting way he hunches by the door, smoking his way nervously through a pack of cigarettes he got God-knows-where.

Captain America has posed:
Since their return from the Hydra base, Steve has been back and forth between the Triskelion, Avengers' mansion, and the Garage. Between the three, he's been spending far too much time on the train, to the point that he's started to sleep on it. It almost reminds him of his war years--grabbing sleep whenever and wherever possible.

Plus the ease of sleeping on the train far outweighed that of sleeping in his bed.

It doesn't change the faces he sees when he closes his eyes though. It's fortunate that the movement of the train makes his eyelids heavier.

With that sleeping schedule, it's no wonder he looks as he does. Sallow cheeks, shadowed eyes, and wearied eyebrows greet everyone at the Garage. But, despite his fatigue, Steve manages a smile--the small upward edging of his lips as he takes to the side entrance. The cigarettes are noted, and with a tick of his eyebrows, he notes, "At least they aren't Gauloises."

Winter Soldier has posed:
Bucky has somehow found ways to be absent or otherwise largely avoid Steve, when his friend cycles around to visit the garage. He knows it's not really the right thing to do, but it's the only thing that feels safe to do... up until he can be sure of how he might control his reactions. Up until he's sure he's really fixed, he's really recovered, that he isn't just dreaming this small taste of freedom. This entire life that he supposes was his real one, all along.

That he won't black out and wake up with blood on his hands. Least of all the blood of those he cares for most.

This time, though, there's no avoiding it. Steve comes and finds him-- and this time, Bucky doesn't quietly pack up and run away. Steve's opener makes him laugh, albeit a short and largely humorless one. The fragment of sound exhales a burst of smoke. "Worse, if you can believe it. They filter the shit out of cigarettes these days. Can barely taste 'em."

He offers the pack. He hasn't looked at Steve up until now, but his blue eyes cut upwards-- and he pauses noticeably to see the condition his friend is in. "You look like shit," is his familiarly gruff greeting, though he doesn't look like roses himself. "You haven't been sleeping."

Captain America has posed:
The pack is taken and Steve extracts a cigarette he presses between his lips. He hasn't smoked since waking up, but at the moment, it seems like an olive branch. "Got a light?" He issues Bucky a one shouldered shrug. The mention of the change in cigarettes though prompts his eyebrows to lift, "The future isn't all it's cracked up to be," Steve replies with a crack of a smile before sliding down to the floor to actually sit.

The mention of how he looks causes him to run a hand through his hair as a self-deprecating smile tugs at his lips. He's not about to deny it, but he won't affirm the point either. But he does follow it with a tuck of his chin in a vague nod. "Thanks." His lips quirk again as his eyes stare out the door, a much easier place to consider. "Been working a lot. That's all." With a lift of his eyebrows he adds, "The travel is insane," as if that's why he hasn't been sleeping.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Got a light? Steve asks. Bucky fishes in a pocket and takes out a cheap little plastic lighter, which he tosses over with a vague look of apology. "Haven't found any better yet," he makes excuse. "Everything we were used to... all 'vintage' now, I guess."

He looks like he wants to grin at the jab about the future not being so great, but his expression only makes it halfway to a smile. It falters and vanishes soon enough, as the silence draws on. How do best friends speak to one another, across the gulf of decades and experiences their teenaged selves could never-- in a thousand years-- have anticipated happening to them?

"Working what?" he says. "I was never... told much about you. What you were doing. How you -- /lived/. Was never much sent to America at all, unless for desperate measures." He stares at the sky. "I guess they thought I would remember too much. I did remember enough to run away, the last time I was here."

He takes a nervous drag of his cigarette. "You know what I've been doing."

Captain America has posed:
The plastic lighter is caught and wins another smirk. "Everything's plastic now," Steve's eyebrows lift at that. He plays with the mechanism, rolling his thumb over it twice to get it to light. The flame catches the end of the cigarette and Steve takes a puff. His mind wanders as he inhales, remembering his last cigarette decades ago. It was shortly before he went down over the Atlantic.

He frowns at the memory but offers, "These are terrible," to mask any negative perceptions. The question earns a small tick of a smile though. "I don't even know." His lips press together momentarily and then he offers, "SHIELD for one," as he looks towards Bucky momentarily.

With another puff of smoke, he ponders what he's been doing and how he's even here, prompting his eyes to find the space outside once again. "I was frozen. At the tail end of the war--" his lips twitch "--or, at least, I think it was the tail end, I had to sink a plane into the ocean. It was heading for New York." He finally turns to face Bucky, "A massive weapon that would've caused the city to go up in flames." His hand lifts as if to suggest it's something that just happens. "I ended up frozen in ice for... well. Awhile." He shrugs again. "I'm still getting my bearings. SHIELD woke me up." There's more to that thought, but he leaves it alone.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Even the goddamn razors are plastic," Bucky grumbles. "That's going on the list. A proper razor."

It's good that he's even thinking of lists at all. Thinking about lists of items to get, to resume some sense of familiarity in his life, is better than 'running off and killing as much of Hydra he can find, and probably flaming out in a suicide bombing to top it all off.'

Not that he's not still considering that, in his darker moments. The thought crosses his eyes briefly, in the wake of his wryness as he thinks about how everything is so different than how he remembers it...

Then Steve speaks, and Buck comes back from wherever his mind went. His eyes focus again with thought as Steve says: SHIELD. As Steve explains how he 'died,' and how he came to live again. The implication is that he was only reawoken recently, something that brings Bucky to comment with dry humor, "You in SHIELD. Me with Hydra. We'd have wound up coming to blows, this went on too much longer."

He shakes his head. "Good thing you only woke up recently. Though you always did like to sleep in unless I gave your ass a kick."

Bucky is silent for some time. The only thing about him that moves is the smoke drifting from the end of his cigarette. "I killed a lot of people, Steve," he finally says, very quietly.

Captain America has posed:
The mention of their potential coming-to-blows causes Steve's cheeks to puff out with a huff of air that emits smoke. He hums softly with the notion. "Yeah," he agrees softly. Good thing it all ended and he didn't wake up earlier. He manages a laugh, but there's nothing humoured about it. The hollow noise that he offers sounds less emptier than he feels. His eyes lid lightly.

There's so much in the space that he wants to say, so much he wants to offer, but there's something else begging to be said. But Bucky breaks the silence instead. Steve can feel his jaw tighten and he allows his eyes to train on the ground in front of them. "...I know," he says quietly. There's no judgment in the words, but all the heaviness of the moment--a heaviness worn in Cap's shoulders, expression, and even his hands as they hold onto the cigarette.

But the tension isn't judgment. It's something quite different. His head turns towards his friend annd then with all the earnestness that Bucky has likely come to expect from Steve, he offers, too-sincerely "I'm sorry, Buck."

Winter Soldier has posed:
His literal inability to face Steve is obvious in these moments. Bucky actually turns away from Steve physically, his body language tightening up, his hand curling about his cigarette. It's the posture of a beaten wolf trying to decide whether to make itself even smaller, or lash out and bite.

In the end, he does neither. Just holds still in that limbo between the two options, hunched and silent, with eyes that stare off a thousand miles away. Hearing 'sorry' from Steve just seems to hurt worse. "You didn't know," he says. "And then you were frozen."

For the first time, his left arm -- covered up under his long-sleeved shirt -- makes itself known. Its familiar clacking, steely grind advertises its lethal presence.

"I'm going to see them destroyed," he says. "Don't know how. Don't know how fast. But I will. Once Claire is recovered, and I can go." It sounds like a vow. It is one.

Captain America has posed:
It's easy to excuse a man frozen in the ice. But it's so much more than that. The remark has Steve's eyes training on Bucky, even if Bucky will avoid him at all costs. "I.." he almost chokes on the thought "...didn't catch you. I didn't go back. I didn't think anyone could--" his eyebrows knit together tightly and he cuts himself off. "I'm sorry. I am." It's so much more than the not knowing.

The vow though merits a small nod of Steve's head. His teeth toy at his bottom lip and he quietly adds, "Me too."

His blue eyes sweep across the room and he inhales a long breath. "SHIELD has resources. Hydra is still in operation. We were supposed to stop them; that's what the War was. But here they are. Changing history, engaging in strange practices, up to the same tricks," he struggles to give it words. "We... //I// didn't finish the mission."

And then, almost as if it was decades before, he admits, "I don't belong here. I know I don't. This time, this place, I'm struggling, but this I know to be right. Hydra needs to go. We can do this together, you know... come join SHIELD..."

Winter Soldier has posed:
Bucky can feel Steve's eyes on him. He doesn't try to meet them, resolutely staring at a spot on the ground as if it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. The emotion in Steve's voice tightens his own expression, until finally he reaches over-- with his right hand-- and grips firmly on the other man's forearm. It's both a quelling and a forgiving gesture.

"Steve," he says softly. "There was a mission. You had to finish it. We all knew that, going in." He shakes his head. "The snow was so deep you wouldn't have found me before the Soviets, anyway."

He falls silent as Steve admits the mission wasn't finished at all. Perhaps that one was, but the greater mission, the overarching goal of it all... "No," he says. "We didn't stop them, in the end." His features reflect a profound bitterness. "I just wound up being one of their best tools. I did so much for them, over the years. So much of what you must have been told about the last eighty years... was me."

He laughs bleakly. "If you failed, then I was worse. A turncoat."

He goes silent again as Steve admits he doesn't belong here. Neither does he, he thinks, and he might have said something to that effect, but Steve saying they could do it together-- that he could join SHIELD-- "I'd be joining you," he says. "Told you it was the skinny kid, who I first met with his face in the concrete, that I'd be following."

He looks down. "You're still the same, in that way. Me..." He tenses tellingly, before instead of giving voice to whatever he was thinking about, he just shakes his head and goes silent.

Captain America has posed:
The hand at his forearm steadies Steve, and it reminds him of a very different time. One where things felt a lot more straightforward. Even if they weren't, they definitely felt that way. But then Bucky describes himself as //a turncoat//. "Not by choice," Steve replies quietly.

There's a long pause that follows, the kind of silence where Steve isn't sure whether what he's doing is the right thing or not. But then, it feels right. "Then join //me//." He can feel the weight of it on him, "People have this idea about me... they don't know me." He actually laughs at that, "They expect something that I'm not. That I've never been." His eyebrows draw together tightly. "But I'm just that kid from Brooklyn getting pummelled. I still have no idea when to run away from a fight."

He swallows hard around the growing lump in his throat. "So I hope," his eyebrows lift again, "you believe me. We'll take them down. All of them. And we won't be done until the last is gone."

Winter Soldier has posed:
The physical contact seems to have a similar steadying effect on Bucky. This is familiar-- the two of them being one another's support when there was no one else in the world to be their support for them. Two orphans, with nothing in the world but one another. Perhaps that fact-- the way they grew up depending on one another-- is the reason why Bucky keeps avoiding Steve's eyes. Afraid of what the other man might see if he's allowed to look in them too long.

The silence stretches on, and he doesn't interrupt it. Not until Steve entreats him to join him... and speaks, with a rare vulnerability, of that great schism between Captain America and Steve Rogers. "The symbol you are..." he says, "that's built off what you always were. A guy who'd never give up. I'm with that guy. Wherever he chooses to be." If that is SHIELD, it will be SHIELD.

He finally meets Steve's eyes. Only briefly, but for a few seconds, blue meets blue. We'll take them down, Steve says, and for the first time Bucky's brief smile seems genuine. "We started a job, and it's time to finish it."

Bucky just hopes that Steve doesn't see him for who he truly is -- for who he's become -- before then. He thinks the last thing that could break his spirit would be to have Steve Rogers look at him and see the monster he has become.

Captain America has posed:
The eye contact and Bucky's smile earn a hint of Steve's former warmth in return. His pale skin actually gains some of its lustre while the warmth returns colour to his cheeks. Agreement comes easily through a nod, slow, but purposive, and Steve can't help but smile in return. It's enough. The thought of regaining something in all of this grants him a sense of renewed confidence despite the fatigue.

"Alright. We're in this together," again. And then, more solemnly he responds to the remarks about the symbol, "Thanks," for seeing him. But he leaves that much unspoken, choosing to finish the incredibly filtered cigarette instead.

Bucky's hopes seem to be safe for the time being. Where others see a monster, Steve only sees his friend.