[The reel in Bucky's head replays Berlin in the bits he can remember: throwing Sam, speaking with the doctor, choking Steve. No, that wasn't the order. His mind rewinds. Speaking with the doctor, throwing Sam, choking Steve and then falling? No wind in his ears this time, only a sudden stop.]
(You...) [Something that might be a chuckle in real life brushes some warmth into his side of the connection.] (You wouldn't move your seat up.)
[The concept of earning your way is infinitely familiar to Bucky, more so than to the Soldier. He lived it in Brooklyn, in the army, and even in Berlin. Actions speak louder than words in nearly every field, but the most in the arena of trust and a budding friendship that Bucky himself is starting to believe in, though tentatively.
The follow-up question fields a sense of reluctance; this isn't something he wants to talk about.]
(They're all I have.) [It's a sentiment he simply can't hide from Sam. Almost all of his memories are derived from flashbacks, from calls to the past he answers.]
[ Something he and Barnes have in common, there - only for Sam it was Harlem and the air force and later at the VA. Words are real pretty and sometimes they can help, but most of what you are is what you do.
And he knows that means that all he can do here is, well. Keep doing what he's doing. Treat Barnes like a person, keep on trying to show him that he's got options. That he's got a choice. ]
(You got this. You and me talking right now. And you're gonna have a lot more of those, you can make new memories. You don't have to rely on who you used to be.)
[ But Sam knows what it's like when flashbacks and memories are all you have of something, even if it hurts. ]
(There's things you can do when they happen to help, so you can remember it without it feeling like it's happening again and without letting the memory control you.)
[The mental equivalent of a sigh echoes through the connection. Everything is eventually a memory, even the here and now; the present doesn't last and memories are so easily tampered like glass. It doesn't feel like there's much of an option but to cling to what shards he can hold together.]
(How?)
[He doesn't know how to break through the programming when it devours him, when it turns him into the Soldier again.]
(Don't you sigh at me when I'm over here imparting words of wisdom on you, Fla-Vor-Ice. You wanna focus on the past and not look for things to enjoy about what you got now, you go ahead.)
[ He's teasing, though, and there's more than a touch of warmth through the connection, for all that he does mean his words. ]
(You know when we first got here, and we got caught up in each other's memories and I yanked myself out? Or like it was back when I found you in Subspace? Stuff like that. I can show you what I know and try to help when it happens - but look, only if it's something you're comfortable with.)
[What the hell is a"Fla-Vor-Ice"? The ice part he can figure out is a joke to his whole being frozen and unfrozen for seventy years--- he can't escape, he can't es but the rest is confusing. The warmth is met with a desperate, clinging focus. He's trying to brush off the bubbling memories that seem to come up no matter what he does.]
[ That is a tragedy, man, and Sam's a second away from teasing him about that and maybe even offering to remedy the fact that Barnes has never had one before - except he can feel the desperate way that Barnes tries to cling to the warmth Sam's offering up as a focus, and he can't deny that this is a pretty good teachable moment here.
He lets his shields down a little more, just enough to let more of that warmth bleed through, and probably now is where he should just go ahead and admit that he actually likes this guy, but nah. He'll just let the warmth speak for itself as adjusts his own breathing. ]
(Just breath with me, all right? In for the count of five, hold for five, out for five, and repeat. Keep doing that and list off five things you can physically see around you right now.)
[The warmth washes through the connection and Bucky drinks it up like a man in a desert. It's familiar and comforting in a way that pushes out the arctic chill ghosting along his neck. He remembers this, from Subspace, from the first day on the station, from nearly every single time Bucky's been sucked up into his memories. It's like comfort food in mental form, or lazy Saturday mornings filled with sunshine and crisp, clean sheets with the windows open and the sounds of Brooklyn all around him.
That's right. Breathing. The breathing. In one-two-three-four-five. Out one-two-three-four-five.]
(The notebook Steve gave me is sitting on the desk. The walls are painted. The desk has four legs. The blinds are pulled. The light's off.)
[ Sam's gotta say it's almost a relief that Barnes isn't pushing him away, that what Sam's got to give is actually working. He's not fooling himself enough to believe that it's an instant fix - that any of it will be - or even that it'll work every time, but they've done pretty good so far. Whatever this connection is between them, Sam holds on tight to it, letting himself shut out anything that isn't him and Barnes and the sound of his own breathing.
And if he's got any feelings about actually being able to be a source of something good in Barnes' life, well, at least those are warm, too, and he can quietly bury them for now. ]
(Good, man, that's great. Keep up your breathing, and give me four things you can touch and feel, three things you can hear - and your thoughts don't count, it's gotta be in the room with you - two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.)
[Breathe in. One-two-three-four-five. Breathe out. One-two-three-four-five. Warmth pours through the link, scrubbing away at the caked-on chill, barricading against the programming that, too, hums in his head. Orders. Report.]
(The sheets're too soft. Left arm's gone.) [Bucky pauses as he mentally tallies: one, two--- breathe in. One-two-three-four-five.] (My boots--- they're laced up and I've got wool socks on.
[Static crashes through the mental barrier, a tidal wave of programming washing through him.]
[ It's... different, doing this mentally. Coaching someone in the skills he'd used himself, breathing with them to show them how to do it, he's done it all before, but never when he could feel the things they were struggling with in their heads. It makes things easier, knowing exactly what to react to, but harder when he experiences it, too.
He'd expected the static returning, though, and he's prepared enough that there's only the slightest hitch in chest before his breathing evens out again. Same as he'd do if it was his own shit, he takes in the static and lets it wash over him, fading beneath the cloud layer he uses as a visualization. ]
(I got you, Bucky, you're okay. Just keep breathing with me, you got this.) [ In, out, just slightly out of sync with Barnes, and he focuses on that for a few moments. ] (Three things you can physically hear?)
[The flood of static releases the quiet panic held behind closed doors, that he feels when he wakes up with more bruises and fewer memories. No. No, he won't go back to doing that. He doesn't do that anymore. He won't kill. He's drowning, can't keep his head above the static---]
(Don't let me---)
[He's trying--- onetwothreefourfive--- to tread water and keep breathing, but his focus is slipping to something darker and inevitable. The Soldier. Sam promised. He promised if it happened, he would---]
(Ain't how this works, man, we're gonna stop it together. Can't do it for you.)
[ Despite his words, Sam drops his shields even more, tugging on the thread of their connection and throwing it out like a lifeline, ready to pull Barnes back if he'll let him. There's been times in the past where he told people to ride it through, that it took a hell of a lot of practice to successfully use their skills and sometimes the greatest successes were holding off a panic attack or shortening a flashback by just a few seconds - but this is different, this is decades of brainwashing.
Besides, they have the brood link. This caught up in each other, Sam'd have to try harder not to let Barnes feel what he's doing. Sam treats it like it's his own focus slipping, pulling him under, and he breathes. Changes it up from square breathing to 7-11, pulling a breath in to the count of seven and letting it out while counting to eleven. Curls his fingers around the air force challenge coin in his pocket, thumbs over the familiar grooves and bumps, lets it ground him in right now.
And he pulls, gentle but firm, staying in his own mind as best he can while trying to hold tight to their link. Stay with me. ]
[Bucky feels the connection buckle for a moment before intensifying, curled about him like a lasso and pulling him from the ocean of static. Inch by inch, he's dragged free until he can breathe--- seven eight nine ten eleven. There's something in his pocket and the familiar grooves offer a comfort he's never known. Beneath him, behind him, the static roils and crackles without restraint, but it's somehow more distant, almost like he's watching through a window.
He breathes. Seven eight nine ten eleven.
He thinks he can feel his left arm again, but it isn't cold.]
[ Sam keeps up his breathing, calm and steady, as they work together to pull Barnes' mind from the static that threatens to overwhelm him and back to the present. The warmth that curls around them is tinged with affection while Sam isn't paying attention, focused on keeping them both grounded. He turns the coin over in his fingers, exploring over surface of the front and back. ]
(Tell me what you can feel?)
[ Technically Sam's the one with the grounding object, but the principle is the same. Besides, he's already decided he's going to give Barnes one of his coins when they're done here. ]
[Seven eight nine ten eleven. His heart pulses and echoes in sync with another and his left arm grows more and more real, warm and present and here. The grooves and edges of the coin's insignia rough his fingertips and the static begins to quiet.]
(Wings.)
[His mind builds the image, piece by piece. Wings. Letters. Air... Air Force.]
(You got this, man. Just keep breathing, all right, keep your focus on the coin.)
[ He keeps it up, measured breathing and fingers tracing over the coin, as he gently loosens his grip on their mental connection. It stays open, presence warm and steady, but with the static going quieter, he doesn't think he needs to keep holding onto it like it's a lifeline. ]
[Bucky loosens his vice grip on their connection bit by bit as his fingers run over the coin again and again. Wings. Boot. The sensation in his left arm quiets and fades into the bedroom around him as he becomes more aware of his surroundings. Four legs on the desk. Sketchbook with ruffled pages sits on the desk. Steve gave him that.]
(Yeah. Think so.)
[He's toeing back into his head like a kid and the deep end of the pool.]
[ Sam waits a few breaths more, feeling Barnes settle back into his own head, and then grins. There's a faint swirl of affection and respect mixed in with the warmth he's still putting into the connection, but he doesn't bother trying to untangle it enough to filter it out. ]
(You did it, man, hell yeah. Where are you, huh? I think this'll do more good with you than with me right now.)
[Bucky is more than a little uncertain, but the warmth bubbling alongside respect in the link fills in some of the cracks in his foundation. It's nice, feeling a touch more stable on his feet.]
[ He doesn't cut the connection off, even as he heads for the room Barnes is in. It's nice, the sense of camaraderie drifting between them. Like running together back in the airport, taking on the spider kid - only on a mental level, and at least on Sam's end, a hell of a lot less tentative. Sam could get used to this.
He raps his knuckles on the door when he gets there, pushing it on open and leaning in the doorway with a smile. ]
Hey, man. [ Sam rolls the coin over his fingers, then settles it in the palm of his right hand and holds his hand out like he's going for a handshake. ] Humor me?
[The bauble of light that is Sam Wilson curls closer and Bucky can feel him at the door before he knocks. It's bizarre, but also comforting in its own way. More surprising to Bucky is that he accepts that comfort and doesn't shy away. Bucky glances up at the knock and offers an inkling of a smile, though edged with the cold sweat that follows these episodes; he never quite knows how long he'll be him, if the him is even real.]
Hey. [Bucky blinks at the sudden formality of the handshake but nods and stretches out his hand.]
[ The smile is returned, small and warm, an echo of Sam's mental touch. This is a hell of a lot more than the flashbacks Sam used to get but he still remembers how shaky he felt coming back from one. Right about now, he'll give Bucky as much support as he'll take.
Doesn't stop his smile from widening a little when Bucky goes along with it, a brief flash of amusement and gratitude as he takes Bucky's hand. His grip is firm and friendly, but he holds on longer than a normal handshake as he tips the coin from the palm of his hand into Bucky's. The curl of his fingers around Bucky's lingers, becomes just about touch. Sam'd found it grounding, back in his bad days, and he smooths his thumb reassuringly over the back of Bucky's hand before he pulls away, leaving the coin behind. ]
It's how we passed 'em from one person to another, back in the Air Force. [ Well, aside from the last bit of touching, but that's beside the point. ]
[Bucky accepts the handshake and freezes for a moment when he feels metal press against his palm, but the comforting warmth of Sam's fingers on his own chase away the burst of chill. Before Bucky can stop himself, he finds himself curling around the link like a warm fire in a blizzard and his smile widens, piqued with a touch of curiosity.]
Wouldn't know. [He turns the coin over in his hand, deja vu thrumming through his nerves.] Army.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sizeofyourbaggage) wrote2016-05-22 03:26 pm
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( You... ) [Something that might be a chuckle in real life brushes some warmth into his side of the connection.] ( You wouldn't move your seat up. )
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( Hell yeah I wouldn't. Where I come from you gotta earn leg room. 'Course after the spider kid, I might lean my seat forward a little. )
[ But only a little. The hint of teasing fades from his thoughts at his next question, though. ]
( Does it bother you, when you get stuck in memory like that? I learned to call them flashbacks, back when I started going to the VA. )
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The follow-up question fields a sense of reluctance; this isn't something he wants to talk about.]
( They're all I have. ) [It's a sentiment he simply can't hide from Sam. Almost all of his memories are derived from flashbacks, from calls to the past he answers.]
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And he knows that means that all he can do here is, well. Keep doing what he's doing. Treat Barnes like a person, keep on trying to show him that he's got options. That he's got a choice. ]
( You got this. You and me talking right now. And you're gonna have a lot more of those, you can make new memories. You don't have to rely on who you used to be. )
[ But Sam knows what it's like when flashbacks and memories are all you have of something, even if it hurts. ]
( There's things you can do when they happen to help, so you can remember it without it feeling like it's happening again and without letting the memory control you. )
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( How? )
[He doesn't know how to break through the programming when it devours him, when it turns him into the Soldier again.]
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[ He's teasing, though, and there's more than a touch of warmth through the connection, for all that he does mean his words. ]
( You know when we first got here, and we got caught up in each other's memories and I yanked myself out? Or like it was back when I found you in Subspace? Stuff like that. I can show you what I know and try to help when it happens - but look, only if it's something you're comfortable with. )
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( I'm comfortable. )
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He lets his shields down a little more, just enough to let more of that warmth bleed through, and probably now is where he should just go ahead and admit that he actually likes this guy, but nah. He'll just let the warmth speak for itself as adjusts his own breathing. ]
( Just breath with me, all right? In for the count of five, hold for five, out for five, and repeat. Keep doing that and list off five things you can physically see around you right now. )
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That's right. Breathing. The breathing. In one-two-three-four-five. Out one-two-three-four-five.]
( The notebook Steve gave me is sitting on the desk. The walls are painted. The desk has four legs. The blinds are pulled. The light's off. )
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And if he's got any feelings about actually being able to be a source of something good in Barnes' life, well, at least those are warm, too, and he can quietly bury them for now. ]
( Good, man, that's great. Keep up your breathing, and give me four things you can touch and feel, three things you can hear - and your thoughts don't count, it's gotta be in the room with you - two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. )
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( The sheets're too soft. Left arm's gone. ) [Bucky pauses as he mentally tallies: one, two--- breathe in. One-two-three-four-five.] ( My boots--- they're laced up and I've got wool socks on.
[Static crashes through the mental barrier, a tidal wave of programming washing through him.]
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He'd expected the static returning, though, and he's prepared enough that there's only the slightest hitch in chest before his breathing evens out again. Same as he'd do if it was his own shit, he takes in the static and lets it wash over him, fading beneath the cloud layer he uses as a visualization. ]
( I got you, Bucky, you're okay. Just keep breathing with me, you got this. ) [ In, out, just slightly out of sync with Barnes, and he focuses on that for a few moments. ] ( Three things you can physically hear? )
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( Don't let me--- )
[He's trying--- onetwothreefourfive--- to tread water and keep breathing, but his focus is slipping to something darker and inevitable. The Soldier. Sam promised. He promised if it happened, he would---]
( ---stop it--- )
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[ Despite his words, Sam drops his shields even more, tugging on the thread of their connection and throwing it out like a lifeline, ready to pull Barnes back if he'll let him. There's been times in the past where he told people to ride it through, that it took a hell of a lot of practice to successfully use their skills and sometimes the greatest successes were holding off a panic attack or shortening a flashback by just a few seconds - but this is different, this is decades of brainwashing.
Besides, they have the brood link. This caught up in each other, Sam'd have to try harder not to let Barnes feel what he's doing. Sam treats it like it's his own focus slipping, pulling him under, and he breathes. Changes it up from square breathing to 7-11, pulling a breath in to the count of seven and letting it out while counting to eleven. Curls his fingers around the air force challenge coin in his pocket, thumbs over the familiar grooves and bumps, lets it ground him in right now.
And he pulls, gentle but firm, staying in his own mind as best he can while trying to hold tight to their link. Stay with me. ]
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He breathes. Seven eight nine ten eleven.
He thinks he can feel his left arm again, but it isn't cold.]
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( Tell me what you can feel? )
[ Technically Sam's the one with the grounding object, but the principle is the same. Besides, he's already decided he's going to give Barnes one of his coins when they're done here. ]
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( Wings. )
[His mind builds the image, piece by piece. Wings. Letters. Air... Air Force.]
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[ He keeps it up, measured breathing and fingers tracing over the coin, as he gently loosens his grip on their mental connection. It stays open, presence warm and steady, but with the static going quieter, he doesn't think he needs to keep holding onto it like it's a lifeline. ]
( Back with me? )
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( Yeah. Think so. )
[He's toeing back into his head like a kid and the deep end of the pool.]
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( You did it, man, hell yeah. Where are you, huh? I think this'll do more good with you than with me right now. )
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[Bucky is more than a little uncertain, but the warmth bubbling alongside respect in the link fills in some of the cracks in his foundation. It's nice, feeling a touch more stable on his feet.]
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[ He doesn't cut the connection off, even as he heads for the room Barnes is in. It's nice, the sense of camaraderie drifting between them. Like running together back in the airport, taking on the spider kid - only on a mental level, and at least on Sam's end, a hell of a lot less tentative. Sam could get used to this.
He raps his knuckles on the door when he gets there, pushing it on open and leaning in the doorway with a smile. ]
Hey, man. [ Sam rolls the coin over his fingers, then settles it in the palm of his right hand and holds his hand out like he's going for a handshake. ] Humor me?
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Hey. [Bucky blinks at the sudden formality of the handshake but nods and stretches out his hand.]
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Doesn't stop his smile from widening a little when Bucky goes along with it, a brief flash of amusement and gratitude as he takes Bucky's hand. His grip is firm and friendly, but he holds on longer than a normal handshake as he tips the coin from the palm of his hand into Bucky's. The curl of his fingers around Bucky's lingers, becomes just about touch. Sam'd found it grounding, back in his bad days, and he smooths his thumb reassuringly over the back of Bucky's hand before he pulls away, leaving the coin behind. ]
It's how we passed 'em from one person to another, back in the Air Force. [ Well, aside from the last bit of touching, but that's beside the point. ]
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Wouldn't know. [He turns the coin over in his hand, deja vu thrumming through his nerves.] Army.
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