riverviewlogs | It only hurts when I'm breathing

Entry tags:

It only hurts when I'm breathing

who: Ivar and OTA
what: Catch-all for the month
when: Last week of June
where: All over the city
warnings: Drunk teenager. Fighting monsters in animal form. Ivar being Ivar.

A. Numb the feelings

In the past three months, Ivar had lost four people he cared about. Two he was in love with or maybe he would have been if he thought himself capable of being in love with anyone. It had hurt to lose Letha and Marco, but he thought he'd be able to work past it with enough time. People came, people went. That was life.

To lose his father and Athelstan was worse. They were family and he'd not realized how much he'd come to rely on them during his time here. He and Ragnar had butted heads a lot, but Ivar had finally gotten close to him in a way he'd never gotten the chance to back home. The priest had likewise managed to get his way past the teen's defenses and become a close confidant. They had told him they were leaving. Despite his usual stoicism, Ivar had managed to finally tell them he loved them just before they were gone.

He was unable to really cope with the emotions that had come afterwards. Really, Ivar was only equipped to handle one at a time, so dealing with sadness, loss, grief, and regret altogether was too much for him. So he did the only thing a true Viking would to numb the pain: he went out and got drunk every night for a week. He'd just sit at the bar and drink until he either passed out or was tossed out for causing a ruckus. Though the expression on his face wouldn't suggest it, he could really use some company during these outings.

B. The animal side of things

The other way he found to get rid of feelings was by shifting into an entirely different form. He'd become a dog, or cat, or any number of the other forms that he could take. He just let his mind sink under the instincts and roam the city for an hour at a time. Anyone who encountered him in these forms would find an animal willing to be pet and cuddled for any length of time. Being in animal form was the only way Ivar could allow himself any sort of positive contact with other people.

Of course, that wasn't to say all his forms were sunshine and light. He'd go out beyond the wall and transform into the giant alien form that resembled a cross between a bull and a lion, allowing the predatory instincts to lead him to fight monsters out in the trees. It didn't matter how battered he got from these bouts, morphing back to his human form always took care of any injuries. He wouldn't mind company during these outings, just so long as he got to wreck havoc.

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"They did." It was the only reason Ivar has managed to even get out of bed the last few days. They'd made sure to let him know they were leaving. It hurt, knowing both of them would die back in their own timelines, but he couldn't make them stay. "My father, he's always never been content being in one spot for too long. He's always got to push limits and go further than any other Norseman. Athelstan would never let him go by himself. He's been loyal to him for so long that he's bound to go where my father does."

He looks down instead of meeting Bucky's eyes. "At least this time I got to say goodbye." Then so soft it's barely audible, he adds on. "And tell them I loved them both."

"That's something, it's more than most people get in their lives. We often have to cope with not getting closure, not getting to know the reasons."

He reached out and very lightly, very briefly, touched a hand to Ivar's shoulder in comfort. There's a part of him that's envious, because not even Steve had talked to him when he left the other times, but he doesn't let it show.

"Still, sorry they're gone."

He noted the touch more than he might have. Bucky rarely showed any signs of physical affection. Indeed, the only times they ever seemed to really touch each other was when they were fighting. Perhaps that said something about their relationship, but Ivar didn't want to think that deeply right now.

"Will you tell me if you decide to go?" His voice was small and betrayed how young he still was. Ivar would have hated to just wake up one day and find Bucky gone without a word, no trace he had been there other than a few deserted hideouts.

If he were a better man, he might promise not to go and stick to it. But he can't, because he doesn't know what the future holds, and he's never going to stick in a place that gets infested with HYDRA just for one kid. But he gives the request proper consideration, not just dismissing it out of hand.

"Yeah, unless it would put either of our lives at risk, I'll tell you if I need to go."

"Good. I would hate to not get the chance to say goodbye to you." Bucky had become very important to Ivar over the time that they'd come to know each other. He was one of only two people that Ivar would really listen to in the Quarantine because of how much he respected them.

"What happened with the concerns you had a while ago? You hid yourself away for some time." Ivar had done what Bucky asked and not sought him out for a while. If he wanted to deal with things on his own, Ivar would let him.

He still hesitates in telling Ivar what happened, even with Pierce demonstrably not in Quarantine any more, it's a lingering paranoia that whispers that he could have left agents here to be his eyes and ears when he's gone. But he has to conquer that, he can't live his whole life in terror, and Ivar has shared enough with him that he deserves some trust in return.

It's still a long few moments of weighing silence before he answers, where it's clear that he's considering just not.

"There was a man here that it was important not find me, Alexander Pierce, but he's gone now."

"That old man?" Ivar had met him on a few occasions. Pierce seemed sharp for someone as old as he was, but otherwise harmless to Ivar's eyes. "That's who you were afraid of?" It was definitely a cultural difference right there.

For Vikings, if you were too old to swing a sword or axe properly, then you weren't much of a threat. It was a rare Viking who lived past their fifties. Anyone older than that was a source of fascination and pity both, for they were an oddity in how old they had gotten, but were doomed to likely never reach Valhalla.

He tenses from head to foot when he realises that Ivar actually met Pierce, knows who he's talking about without needing to ask for clarification. Just for a moment, he nearly bolts, his mind screaming at him that Ivar has been compromised and can't be trusted any longer.

Or, worse, to interrogate him and dig out every last thing that he and Pierce ever talked about, just to be sure.

He pushes both reflexes down, though his muscles remain tensed, and nods jerkily. "If he found me, a lot of people could have died."

Ivar still doesn't really get it, how an old man like that could cause such an extreme reaction in Bucky, but then, he hadn't known the old man all that well. Perhaps there was more to him than met the eye.

"I would have killed him if you asked me to, had I known he was the one causing you such grief." That is possibly the nicest thing he's ever offered to do for Bucky. Ivar didn't offer to kill just anyone for people that were his friends.

The offer, for what it is, is something he can see is meant kindly but it still makes him shake his head vigorously. Pierce has made him put enough blood on his own hands, he'd never have let that spread to someone else.

"...I used to belong to him," he says, the admission quiet and heavy and wary. He's giving Ivar something very secret here, a weakness that could be exploited, and he hopes his trust in the boy is warranted. "I was his weapon, his Asset. Where he pointed, I killed."

It sinks into Ivar then, just what the seriousness that this man was required to be taken with. Ivar knows what Bucky has gone through, has seen a small part of it with his own eyes. To know that Pierce had been the one to do that caused a rage to build inside of him.

His blue eyes are filled with an icy fury as he thinks about just why Bucky had hidden himself and tried to push Ivar away. His hand grips the almost-forgotten gun tightly. He turns and takes out his rage on the target, his anger making his aim erratic. "That's why you tried to make sure I wasn't around. You thought he'd hurt me. Or that I would kill him if I knew the truth."

It still hits him in a strange way sometimes, that people care about him. Watching Ivar fire wildly down the range is one of those times, and oddly it undoes a small knot of tension between his shoulder blades.

"I didn't want him to know who my friends were, that would have made them targets. And if he--" Used the words. Used his power. Used Bucky. "--found me, he could've had me snap your neck and I wouldn't have even hesitated. Wouldn't have even known who you were to hesitate. It was better to keep a distance."

It's a sobering reminder that part of Bucky is still that brainwashed weapon. Ivar tends to let his guard down around him because he knows him so well, especially knowing how far he's come since then, but his friend is right. One wrong move and Bucky could end his life.

Still, there's something touching in knowing Bucky cares enough about him to want him to be safe. Of course, safe is a relative term for a Viking that's always putting himself in dangerous situations, but at least the peril wouldn't come from Bucky's end.

"Now that he's gone, will you go back to just being a hermit instead of a complete ghost?" There's just a hint of gentle teasing in his tone. Bucky will never be a social butterfly. At least Ivar always seems to be able to seek him out when he wants to find him.

Sometimes Ivar pushes at the most inopportune moments or at just the wrong spots, but they've come a long way in the last couple of years, and he has come to appreciate that there are situations like this one where Ivar will know to back down and move onto a different and less disturbing topic.

It brings a tiny smile to his lips, and he shrugs. "I guess so, but I don't know if he managed to recruit while he was here."

And the idea of walking down the street and some random person he's never even met before muttering dangerous words at him, that's frightening.

"Want me to find out?" It's best not to ask just how Ivar would find that out. He knows the power of discretion, especially with something as dangerous as this. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't threaten someone with an axe, especially when it came to helping out one of his friends here.

Bucky's done a lot for him and Ivar feels it's only right for him to do the same

"No."

He kind of wants Ivar to find out, but he's capable of doing that sort of infiltration and information gathering himself. He doesn't want Ivar's hands to get any dirtier, or for him to be in danger.

"I still don't want you on their radar, if there are any here."

"Alright." If Bucky wants to play things this way, then Ivar would let him.

"But you do know you don't have to do this entirely on your own, right?" Bucky could be amazingly stubborn when it came to trying to do everything himself, even when he had friends willing to help him out. Ivar had learned a long time ago that no matter how much he wanted to be independent, there were certain things he was always going to need help on.

He can hear an echo of his own voice long ago in those words. Standing outside Steve's drafty little tenement apartment, chiding him that he didn't have to do all of it alone, didn't have to shoulder the grief of Sarah dying without anyone helping him through it. Til the end of the line, pal.

His expression softens and, after a moment, he nods. "I know. But I don't have many friends, I can't afford to lose them so easy."

"You mean you've actually got more than just me looking out for you? I'm shocked." More sarcasm from the teen. He knew fully well Bucky had a few people here looking out for him. For all that he tried to keep people at arm's length, it appeared there was some here who would always get past his defenses.

At least if Ivar was getting smart-mouthed again, it meant he wasn't dwelling on his losses. It felt good to know he had at least a few friends here who weren't going to abandon him. It was something he would likely never get used to no matter how old he got. The scars of his childhood ran deep.

"Yeah, seems like there's not a shortage on stubborn idiots who don't have any self preservation instincts."

But it felt good to not be forgotten and shunted aside, even if his common sense told him that it might be better for everyone's health if that did happen. It was oddly human in a way that he hadn't been even a year ago, and that's enough to make him smile.

"I'll find out if there are any HYDRA around, you don't need to get involved."

The description of those that keep Bucky's company amuses Ivar. It certainly describes him quite well. What else would you call a Viking teen who kept the company of a dangerous ex-assassin who could have snapped his neck at any moment? At least that'd be one way he'd get to Valhalla.

"I think I'm done here," he says, referring to both the gun range, and to his state of mind. Ivar's sadness and grief at losing his two family members has abated, if only for the moment. He'll bounce back eventually. He always does. Nothing ever keeps the tough Viking warrior down forever.

"I'll see you soon." They always ended up running into each other, whether it was Bucky spying on him or Ivar seeking him out in one of his hideouts.

This might be the first time in their relatively long acquaintance that Ivar has been the one to call time on the conversation and leave, usually it's Bucky disappearing mid conversation because something has spooked him.

At least Ivar is better at it, gives him a proper goodbye, and Bucky just nods to let him go.

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It only hurts when I'm breathing

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