riverviewlogs | [OPEN] back home for the holidays

Entry tags:

[OPEN] back home for the holidays

who: Bucky Barnes and OPEN
what: Catch-all log for the month, including Search and Rescue stuff.
when: December
where: Around the Quarantine and beyond the fences.
warnings: Possibly some monster fighting or something.

[A. Early Dec., Around Town, OPEN]
[Bucky slips back into town like a ghost, almost. One minute he's gone, the next he's back. It's easy to lose himself in the Hygge shuffle, though he doesn't participate much in any of the local traditions. What family he has, is small, and he's still not sure if he's on any of their good lists; he did sort of bail on everything last month.

He's easy to find if you know where to look for him, though, or he's easy enough to bump into if you're not. Bucky browses shops some afternoons, looking for gifts to make it up to the people he cares about, hands in his pockets and a little too quiet to be holiday-cheerful. Or he drops by the skating rink once in a while, to watch Yuri practice. He does the household grocery shopping to take the task off Steve and Ava.

After the time he's had, though, he also frequents his favorite bar in the evenings. He never gets sloppy drunk, it would take a lot to break his careful control, but some nights see more empty glasses on the counter in front of him than others.]

[B. Early Dec., Perimeter Guard/Gym, OPEN]
[Bucky is a little bit 'on notice' at work. While some of his time spent out in the jungle in November was in an official capacity, mapping some trails and checking out some potential dangers, for a lot of it he was incommunicado. Needless to say, the higher ups were a little tetchy with him upon his return. Part of his so-called punishment is mandatory time spent in the Perimeter Guard gym, available as a sparring partner to both new and seasoned recruits.

He's on the mats, barefoot and in loose workout clothes, moving through a series of almost-painful looking stretches when he glances up at whoever might approach,] Need a partner?

[C. Mid-Dec., Winter Rescue, OPEN]
[As a Squad Captain with Search and Rescue, the moment the blizzard starts and traps a bunch of cadets in their camps outside the walls of the inhabited city, Bucky is called in. His experience in Siberia certainly helps with something like this; snow is a pain in the ass, but he knows how to work through it. He's checking the equipment, a small sled with emergency supplies - first aid, battery powered heaters, blankets, and his own cold-weather gear when someone else approaches.]

You about ready to head out? The faster we get these kids home, the better.

[D. Mid-Dec., Snowed In, OPEN]
[He's on his way back home, taking the path along the riverbanks, when the snow gets bad, kicking up flurries and dumping white powder from the sky like a dumptruck. Visibility shrinks to nil, and it's just by luck that Bucky manages to fight his way through the flurries to one of the Hygge cabins. Stumbling through the door, snow falling off his head and shoulders, he curses loudly, not totally dressed for weather quite THIS bad. He barely seems to notice the other person who has taken up shelter here.]

Shit. I hate snow.

[E. Wildcard]
[Either ping me at

nekky for a custom prompt or throw something else at me! Bucky is actually around this month and trying to be a little more cheerful, but he also hits up the bar more than usual.]

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[ Natasha doesn't feel the cold, or at least, that is something they say about her. Carved from ice, they say, or sculpted in marble. When she was younger, she cultivated that reputation, hard and perfect, and if she regrets it now, it is too late— she has nothing else to put on.

She had come to the cabin seeking quiet— she liked to read on days like this, when the outside is blanketed with white. Russian novels are long, the way winter is. But she hadn't been looking at the sky, and didn't see the signs of more snow coming. Until of course, it does.

Natasha is thinking about the supplies she has left, what her next move should be, when James comes charging in. He hates snow, he says. Her voice is quiet, from the corner: ]

White was never your color.

[Weather comes on suddenly here, it seems, too sudden to really make predictions. Bucky still feels like an idiot for getting caught in it. He could be back at the apartment by now making coffee and thawing out his five fingers, stewing in his own melancholy and seasonal reflection. Instead...

Well. Instead.

He tenses imperceptibly when he hears Natasha's voice, and then forces himself to relax. It's not like they're fighting. They can share a cabin until the snow lets up. He stamps the snow off his boots in the entryway, slips them off to let them dry out some.]

Don't I know it. [A brief pause.] Sorry if I'm intruding. Sky dumped about three feet of snow on me at once.

[ Her voice isn't warm, exactly, but there's humor in it. ]

Wouldn't the window be more traditional?

[ She remembers that: how he snuck into her room, in those terrible concrete bunkers, hiding from their superiors, although not very well. It had been snowing then, too, enough for the white to cover his tracks.

Natasha had been very young, then, and still arrogant enough to believe that the rules didn't apply to her, that her orders and training was something she could outwit, or outrun. She'd been cocky. And James had been cocky too, though she hadn't seen it then. (He hadn't really been James, either.)

Everything is different now. She isn't sure why the memory occurs to her, why she mentions it in the first place. They aren't fighting, but the distance hasn't closed between them either. Even in such a small space. ]

[There is a hesitancy to their interactions these days, an unsureness that Bucky doesn't know how to shake. It's like he's still finding his footing after the (second, for her) break-up. The comment she makes cuts deep, in a way; he remembers it too, the stolen nights together, the sneaking around, the heated glances during sparring. She was the only good thing in his life back then.

The corners of his lips turn up, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.] Was that an invitation? [It wasn't and he knows it. He doesn't have the right to sneak into her window anymore. That was then, and this is now.] I'll go as soon as the blizzard clears enough.

[ It's strange, how hard he is to read, now. He might have had expert training, he might be very very good, but James was never particularly subtle. Especially not to her. But there's a distance they're both brushing up against, now, even in the close quarters of this otherwordly cabin.

(If her memories had come back, they hadn't put her back together.) ]

You don't have to leave. [ She means— she won't chase him out. It isn't an intrusion, him being here. But that isn't what she says. And maybe it isn't all she means, either. ]

Do you want an invitation?

[ Natasha wants him to be an ally, at least. A friend. Someone in this place she can count on. At least that.

But she didn't know what he wanted. Maybe it was space. ]

[Bucky is just as uncertain, unsure what she wants, unsure where they stand. He doesn't want to invade her space if she doesn't want him around after everything she'd apparently been through. The tense set of his shoulders relaxes slightly as she says he doesn't have to leave, and he pulls up a chair to sit, a few snowflakes still melting in his hair as he starts to warm up.]

Maybe. [He admits, a little softer. Sometimes it feels like everything he knew is completely backward now. He isn't used to feeling like this around Natasha, who had always been a constant, since they found each other again in a fight over a shield. Even if they aren't together anymore, he misses her being part of his life.]

How have you been? [He's not sure where to start, to get themselves into a better place where they can go back to at least being friends, but he wants it.]

[ "Maybe," he says. The biggest word in the English language. But she answers his question honestly, leaning forward, just an inch. ]

Alone.

[ It's an honest answer. She gestures to the rest of the tiny cabin. A small thing, hardly a shrug. ]

I had a cat, you know. Back… [ Natasha still doesn't want to dignify this alternate universe situation with spelling it all out. It's ridiculous. ]

Or maybe I should say the cat had me?

[Alone. He exhales a slow breath.] You don't have to be, you know. Alone. [He thinks for just a moment about saying that she's always welcome around the apartment, but... Steve is there. Steve, who... Maybe it's best not to include Steve in any welcomes just yet.] I've missed you. [And Bucky has, more than he cares to admit.

That curves his lips into a smile. A cat, huh?] I can see it.

Yuri keeps trying to get me to come around to play with his cats. He's got a few.

[ "You don't have to be," he says. There was a time when she'd believed that, when she'd given very much to make sure it was true. She'd built herself a life, again and again, carved it out from the white flags and red memories bequeathed to her. But lately, she'd wondered if it was worth it. To keep building.

She didn't even have the cat, anymore. ]

Mmmm. Liho didn't like other cats. Sometimes a stray would wander too close, and… [ Her voice drifts off. She's struck by how easy it is to talk, and then suddenly it isn't easy anymore. ]

[Doesn't like other cats. He wonders wryly where the cat gets it. It reminds him of her, the way she rarely lets other people in. She'd let him in, before. How they used to be is still a wound in his chest, like a fresh bullet hole that he has to keep from poking at, to stop himself from making it worse.]

D'you miss her?

I think so.

[ Her gaze moves downward— she looks at her own hands. What a ridiculous question. ]

It's hard to tell. She's a cat, James.

[ James, she thinks, is probably a dog person. ]

Edited 2018-01-27 18:03 (UTC)

The fact that you took in a cat means you liked the cat at least a little. [He points out, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He's not really an anything person, as it stands. Bucky never had the time or ability to keep a pet, though he used to want a dog when he was little. He vaguely remembers feeding a stray or two around Camp Lehigh, but that was about it.

His expression falls just slightly.] I feel like I don't know much about you these days.

I didn't have a choice. She was very stubborn. [ This is what Natasha says, but what she thinks is that sometimes, you have to let someone in. It was just much easier with cats. People could be difficult. She'd been close to James before, but it had hurt, quickly, like the cold, and slowly too, like a limb after the thaw. ]

And you know what they say James. I'm the Black Widow, unknowable, inscrutable, and I never really change. [ There's an arch to her voice, but no laughter. She knows, on some level, that he deserves more than this, but she can be self-indulgent with her feelings, when she allows herself to have them, melodramatic. Once she convinced herself that she was cursed, some ancient, foretold magic, dooming everything she touched. And really, that hadn't been too far off.

Of course, what would she tell him? What could she really tell him, about the way their world had gone? ]

[Ivar's had a lot to celebrate this month with both his sister and father showing up. While he's not a fan of the month, he's planning a Yule celebration, so overall, he's in a good mood. He's out at a bar to unwind a little bit, a big glass of ale in front of him

When he spots Bucky off by himself, he goes over.]

You look like you have a lot on your mind.

[He's draining another two fingers of whiskey, neat, when Ivar makes his way over. Despite his less than cheerful mood these days, he manages a little smile for him, and scoots over to make room.]

Pretty sure I just always look like this. [It's a weak attempt at a joke, but at least the attempt is there.] How are you doing?

Careful. That's how you get old and haggard before your time while I remain young and good-looking forever.

[Feel free to smack him on the head for that one, Bucky. Honestly, he's a terrible little troll.]

I had something very good happen to me. Part of my family showed up here. My sister and then my father.

[Y'know, the father he's repeatedly mentioned as being dead.]

I thought I was already old. [Ivar was pretty fond of saying that about him, after all. He signals to the bartender for another couple of drinks.]

Really? I didn't know you even had a sister. And your dad, that's great.

Yes, but you can always get older, and become an ancient crone.

[See, Bucky, isn't it delightful having this young companion around?]

I never got to know her. She died four years before I was born. My father seems to have come from around the same time.

[He looks happier talking about them than he's looked in months, probably since before Letha left.]

I'll take it as a compliment that you think I might survive to become an ancient crone. [Even if he knows he won't, because he has maybe a handful of years left back home before he dies, alone and possibly betrayed. La la la not thinking about that.]

It's kinda wild how this place works. It's good you get to see your family again.

Well, you could always die magnificently in battle, and then end up in Valhalla. Fighting, feasting, and drinking all day sounds nice, doesn't it? [For a Viking, there was no better way to go out than surrounded by half a dozen corpses and taking out just one more before succumbing to their fatal injuries.]

It is. [They would keep Ivar a little bit more stable than he had been. His family had always held something of a leash on him. This would last all the way up until his father inevitably did something stupid and Ivar heard about it. Then the city might see the Viking more out of control than he ever had been before.]

I'll have to ask Thor if that's a thing. Never really believed in an afterlife before. [Despite growing up in the 30s and 40s, he was never particularly religious, beyond the basics. You went to church, because that was what you did. An Army chaplain oversaw his father's funeral. He doesn't remember much of it.

He lifts his glass in a toast.] To family.

It's real enough. [Ivar's got the conviction on his side that comes from a lifetime of unshakable religious faith indoctrinated in him. He's a firm believer in the Norse gods and all that they stand for

He raises his glass in turn.] Skoal.

Maybe so. It sounds nice. [Nicer than what a traditional Christian upbringing tells him he has in store after death. A death that is too uncomfortably close, these days.] I guess I'll find out. [It just sort of comes out, but he says it casually, figures it'll come off in the 'all men must die' kind of way.]

Skoal. [His accent there was pretty bad.]

[There has been a lot on his mind lately. His own death back home isn't even at the forefront anymore; it seems like everything here has hit the fan, too. Ava disappeared a couple days ago, is keeping mum except for the bits she texts Bucky to let him know she's still alive. After a routine patrol during the festivities, he has a slight inkling of why. At least, suddenly a few things make sense, and he has a lot more pressing issues to ruminate over.

He still wonders how he's going to get a hold of the other Bucky Barnes, check in with him, maybe ask a few questions. He could talk to someone else from that timeline, maybe Tony would know something useful, and he thinks they're on good enough terms.

But Bucky also needs to speak to Steve.

Early in the morning before either of them have to report to work, before they would usually go for a run or to the gym or spar, Bucky is in the kitchen brewing a fresh pot of coffee, already dressed for his workout later. When Steve comes out, he wordlessly hands over a steaming mug of fresh coffee, expression grave.]

Hey. We need to talk about something.

[Steve has been restless. He's noticed the way the other Bucky, just after making a little progress and approaching him voluntarily, just vanished like he realized his mistake and fled. That in itself isn't too surprising. It's been the man's general hands off approach to dealing with him since they arrived, but it's more frustrating after what Steve saw as a reasonable step forward.

And then Ava just didn't come home. Steve is starting to sense that there is something wrong, and since the two people involved have already gone, he can't confirm that there is a problem. Really, this can only eventually end in one way for him.

When Bucky speaks up, Steve pauses, mug in hand, all the unspoken tension rippling through him. Not you too. He almost says it. Instead, he only barely manages to restrain himself and force some other words out in their place.]

All right. What are we talking about?

It's partly about Ava. [He admits, tucking one hand into the pocket of his oversized hoodie, fingers of the other hand curled around the handle of his mug. Bucky can practically feel Steve's tension, and he feels a slight pang of regret for that; it makes sense, after Bucky's own little impromptu trip last month. But hopefully Steve will find some kind of solace in the fact that Bucky hasn't even put on his uniform yet, and his bag is long-unpacked in his room. He's not planning on going anywhere except to the gym and work later.

He thinks about heading up to the roof, but everything is dusted in a layer of snow, and he doesn't want to pull on his running shoes just yet. Bucky settles for sitting down on the squishy couch cushions instead, sinking into the softness with his coffee.]

I need you to promise me that you won't fly off the handle when I tell you what's going on. [His tone is serious, but soft, carrying a slight note of pleading. Please listen to me, please hear me out first.] I'm working on a plan and I need you to stand with me on this.

[As soon as Bucky mentions Ava's name, Steve is alert. He watches Bucky sharply, like he's more convinced the man will either suddenly throw a punch at him or, worse, simple vanish right before his eyes. His fingers tighten around the curve of the mug, muscles clenching over the ceramic. The only thing that keeps him from doing more is that Bucky opts to sit rather than leave, which is at least a gesture to prove he's not going anywhere.

Yet. Or maybe he's just giving you a chance to get used to the idea. Maybe he'll go back to another world too. The one where-

Steve moves. He has to, to get away from the spot and leave those thoughts behind him. He paces the kitchen floor restlessly, slowly but with a heavy energy in his steps.]

If I knew what was going on, I wouldn't have a reason to "fly off the handle."

[Not true, but he's not willing to acknowledge that. There's a sour edge to Steve's answer, because even if Bucky is finally talking to him and giving him exactly what he asked for, Steve wonders if it's coming with a price. A small voice whispers that maybe he's been working with Fury too long, starting to suspect people he loves. He doesn't like that thought either.]

What do you mean you're working on a plan? What's going on?

[Steve is tense and restless, and he almost wonders if they should have gone up to the roof after all, but... no. It's way too fucking cold and he's tired of freezing his balls off already. Bucky can't help the line of tension in his shoulders, but he stays seated, fingers curled around his mug, right hand drawing warmth from the fresh coffee. He watches Steve pace, over the rim of his cup, taking a sip.

For half a moment, he thinks about how to soften the blow, but there's no beating around this bush.] Alexander Pierce is here. He was one of Barnes' handlers. HYDRA, I'm pretty sure. [The pieces all fit together, from what he's heard from the other Bucky and seen in his memories.] I think that's what's got Ava so squirrelly. I don't know if Barnes has seen him yet. [It's a little strange to talk about another person with his name like this.]

As much as I'd love to put a bullet between his eyes and call it done, we need an actual solid plan for this. [And here there is an edge of warning - this is what he wants Steve to not fly off the handle about.]

[It actually helps to have the explanation. At least knowing the source of the problem takes weight off of Steve's mind. But that anxiety is replaced quickly by anger as Bucky mentions HYDRA. He doesn't know who Pierce is personally, but he does recognize the name. It was a passing note, not worth thinking of, but having Bucky connect it to HYDRA, that they are very familiar with, instantly has his attention.]

His handler? Since when does HYDRA-

[The point where he remembers they are dealing with different worlds and different rules is visible on his face as he shuts his mouth. It stays tight when he closes it, jaw grinding.]

He hasn't run into him yet.

[If he had, they probably would have been called to the spot. Or at the very least caught wind of a serious incident in the city. He hopes, because the other option is that one of the two lost too quickly to fight back.]

We'll arrest him. [It's his first instinct, still thinking like he's back home where that is easy to explain.]

[And here it is. He knew Steve would be angry - hell, Bucky is angry, too. But they have to be smart about this, as much as he'd love to go with his gut and break out his Dragunov.] The Winter Soldier was a Zola project, in his timeline. HYDRA. I don't know how exactly it was tied to the Red Room, but there's probably some connection there.

[That assumption makes Bucky purse his lips tightly.] We don't know that. He's not me. I don't know how he would react. [Their experiences are too different, they're at two different points in their lives.

He blows out a frustrated breath.] For what? He hasn't committed any crimes here, and we can't prove his crimes from back home. You wanna drag Barnes in to testify in front of a court? To talk about shit he's only just now remembering and probably still working through? We're stand-up guys here but they still ain't gonna take just our word for it.

[It's difficult for Steve to ignore his initial feelings. Even if he doesn't act on them, he can't ignore the rising anger and constant tension certain touchy subjects bring with them. He's never been one to divorce himself from his opinions, which can be a strength when he's fighting for his beliefs and a weakness when he needs to be objective. As the information Bucky gives him all clicks together, Steve processes it with a soft, deliberate utterance of two words.]

Arnim Zola.

[The white mug cracks in his grip, spilling hot coffee over his hand, and Steve, startled by the sudden change, hisses and moves to drop it in the sink. He quickly fetches a handful of paper towels to clean up the mess, irritable, but thankfully distracted enough not to act before hearing what Bucky has to say. Because Bucky is right, they don't know how this is going to play out.]

Then we find proof. We'll talk to Barnes, see what he can tell us about Pierce, and we watch Pierce. HYDRA always slips up eventually.

[He'd be much happier forcing the issue, but this is Steve's attempt at a compromise. Which is far from perfect. He's still learning to give ground. While he's sopping up coffee, something hits him.]

What about Ava? Do you think she knew him personally?

[There goes another mug. That's okay, this is why the cabinet is filled with the cheap white ceramic ones you'd find in a low-end diner. It's not a surprising reaction for Steve to have, though, and Bucky just silently gets up to fetch the broom and dustpan, to sweep up the shards once Steve has mopped up most of the coffee.]

We gotta play our cards right, and we can't force Barnes to talk. If it were me, if this were Karpov, or Lukin... I would be clamming up right now. I would keep myself damn well hidden. We don't know what Pierce has on him. [Bucky's head has been cleared of any trigger phrases, any leftover commands from the Russians, but has Barnes'?] We do need more information on this guy, though. I was thinkin' we should ask someone else first. See what we can get. And we watch Pierce.

[There is a steely glint to his eyes, a slight twitch in his jaw. He's angry too, but restraining himself.] I don't know. She hasn't told me anything. I ran into Pierce myself, on the beach.

[Steve's frown grows, and the stiff way he holds himself shows that he is holding back. He recognizes that Bucky is right. They can't force their friends to talk. Steve still remembers chasing him across country, trying to bring him back at any cost, and maybe... Maybe that was right, in the end, but they aren't the same. He moves to the trash to throw his wet paper towels and pieces of mug away. There's too much they don't know. And Steve hates that.]

I spoke to him too.

[He's regretting not knowing then he should just punch the guy on sight. It would have saved them some time. But he seemed harmless to him. It's hard to rationalize.]

You're sure that's him?

[Bucky still looks back with no small amount of shame that it took Steve's- his death, to bring Bucky back to the world fully. Before that, he flew under radars, stayed hidden, stayed quiet. Did some jobs for Fury and gained access to a lot of his resources. It was a dark time then and it was a dark time right after.

Right now, the thought is there, that he needs to run and take care of this on his own. But ultimately, what good is that going to do anybody? Pierce could have something on Barnes, or Ava. He's got nothing on Bucky but a name, an identity. He and Barnes are so different, too, that the bastard won't know what he's dealing with in Bucky. The bigger part of him wants to stand his ground.]

The guy in charge of fryin' the other me's brains? That's not a face you forget. I'm sure. [After seeing that memory, having that talk with Barnes, he could never forget.] I know you have the instinct to chase anybody that runs, but trust me, it's probably better for now if Barnes lays low, assuming he's rabbited.

Ava, on the other hand... if this is why she's run, we should bring her back.

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[OPEN] back home for the holidays

D

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For Steve; Mid-Decemberish

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