worthallthis | The Last Voyages: IC Inbox

"I don't know what to do. Can I. Can I say no?" The whole metal arm ripples and ratchets noisily, even under his coat sleeve, like it wants to fight that whole comment. Or the whole situation. "It's not fair. To her. It's. Not a mission I can. Complete."

There's the jerkiness. He's distantly amazed he managed to say that much before things started to fragment.

"I don't... think so," Steve says carefully, racking his brain for what he knows about being paired and unpaired, but he comes up with nothing. Not helpful, he knows.

Because it's not fair.

"What do you - " he starts to ask, but then he stops, shakes his head. Makes a decision. "Come with me," he says, instead, and makes for the door. He hopes the no-nonsense tone of voice helps, rather than hurts.

Oh thank god. Somebody has direction. He turns back around and stalks after Rogers, ready to go wherever he's thinking about, and just... letting the fear run circles in his head behind his flattened expression.

Steve takes them down three levels, stepping out of the stairwell onto Level 4 and striding down the hallway, counting doors until he comes to cabin 8 - empty, with empty cabins on either side and empty cabins across from it.

Because it's empty, the door isn't locked; it's just a nice, nondescript blank-slate Barge cabin, complete with a bed, small dresser, table, chair, looking for all the world like an empty hotel room.

Once they're inside, Steve shuts the door, and says, "I'm gonna take that side of the room," and points to one side, "and you're gonna take the other. And we're gonna see who can tear it down faster."

Because Bucky won't hit Steve - which means he won't spar with him - and just hitting a bag in the gym isn't going to cut it. They can't get into the Enclosure without asking, and the cabin Steve previously used to tear up when he felt too cooped up is now occupied. (The Barge is getting awfully full, he thinks.) Plus, Bucky's cabin is way too nice now for him to go hitting the walls in there. So, this one will do.

Mission accepted. This one, he can actually do. He stops long enough to take off his very nice coat, so he doesn't damage it, and then he gets to it. There's a tiny bit of expression, and that is grim determination, as he prowls right over to the dresser and smashes his metal fist right through it.

It really won't take too long to demolish things, even if, as he's starting to do now, he actively starts yanking drawers apart rather than just punching them. It's satisfying. It hurts to do, but that's kind of satisfying, too.

This time, if Steve's cheating, it's in the way he's not moving at top speed. He's also letting Bucky's "half" get bigger and bigger the longer he goes on.

Oh, Steve's certainly doing his part, tearing up whatever he can get his hands on and ripping chunks out of the wall, because he's always got some bottled-up frustration to take out. But Bucky needs this more than he does. So Bucky gets the lion's share of the room, if that's what he needs.

It's only a temporary fix, but it's the best one Steve's got.

By the time the room is full of splinters and torn blankets and chunks of drywall, the Asset is exhausted, aching, and feeling maybe vaguely ashamed at resorting to pure destruction for the better part of an hour, but at least he's not panicking anymore. He has, in fact, torn apart probably two thirds of the room, and the metal arm is making some unhappy noises like it needs to cool down. It's shredded the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing, on that side.

He sags back against one of the still-solid stud beams in the wall, letting his hair hang in his face for a moment while he catches his breath and tries to bring back words.

Steve... maybe kind of feels bad about that shirt; he'll have to find something to give Bucky to replace it later.

Right now, he almost goes to brush Bucky's hair out of his face on instinct - and then remembers just how bad an idea that is and aborts, turning it at the almost-to-last second into a weird, awkward motion to run his fingers through his own hair. When he goes to lean against the wall - what's left of it - next to Bucky a moment later, it's close enough that Bucky can probably feel his body heat. But very deliberately not touching.

"It sucks," is what he says, into the empty, demolished cabin. "I'm sorry."

Even if he's still glad that it's Ellie. Bucky's not. And that's what matters.

The hand makes him twitch his head to one side just a little, until it's clear it's not coming for him. Even with Rogers, his first instinct is to expect pain rather than comfort.

He's silent for a long moment more before he can finally manage to say something. It comes out low and hoarse. "There's gonna be. A file. She's gonna have to read it." It's possible she already has. He doesn't know if that's going to make her hate him, or pity him, or realize how fruitless this whole graduation thing actually is.

Steve grimaces a little at the twitch; when he does settle next to Bucky, he shoves his hands into his pockets. A peace offering.

"She does't have to," he says quickly. "I didn't read my inmate's. There's no rule. You could ask her not to. Or - I could." If Bucky wouldn't feel comfortable asking.

"Your inmate," he says shortly, "could tell you shit." It's bad enough her trying to help him with that knowledge, but without it? Even more impossible, he's sure. Not even Rogers knows what happened to him while HYDRA had him, not even Natalia had known everything. And what he's gotten from the two of them doesn't even always feel like it's real.

She needs to read that file. Someone ought to know the truth.

"Yeah, but she got to choose whether that's what she wanted to do or not. And she got to choose when she gave me her file."

Bucky should have that choice. If that's what he wants.

Because, "Do you think she needs it?" he asks carefully.

"If there's even a slight chance. For this to work. She's gotta know." You can't reprogram a murder machine without knowing how the original programming worked, he's pretty sure.

Steve just nods; maybe not necessarily agreeing, per se, but acknowledging that that's what Bucky thinks.

"I think she can handle it," he says, quietly. "I think she won't misuse that information against you. For what it's worth."

Very little, he suspects.

It's both very easy and very hard to trust Steve Rogers' instincts about people. There's a guy somewhere in there who did that for nearly twenty years, but then there's... the rest of him, who does not trust well at all, let alone someone else's judgment.

But he is pretty sure that if anyone, Ellie included, tried to use whatever is in that file against him, he's got a bunch of people who'd try to help stop her. For some reason. "It might change what she thinks about me," is what he says.

Steve chews on that for a moment. "I don't think it will," is what he eventually says, because he knows at least some of what's in that file, and he can guess at a little more. Plus, he knows things that probably aren't in there. Things he's at least hinted at to Ellie. Things about who Bucky used to be. About the man who's in there, even if he never sees the light of day again.

"Is that what you're most worried about?"

"There's a lot of shit I'm worried about, Rogers." He glares tiredly at the floor. For the past five months, he's had to answer to wardens in some fashion, but never in a way that mattered to them. Most of them he even liked, and had done their best to help him. But it hadn't mattered because he hadn't had to worry about this actual "getting better" thing. It hadn't been related to anyone's deal.

Now it's suddenly important. And he still doesn't have any idea what he's supposed to be doing. "What kind of shit is in those files. You have one. Natalia said."

Steve smiles wryly at that; yeah, he gets that, even if it's not something he wants to hear. He's not surprised. And he won't belittle it.

And at least that's a question he can answer. "Yeah. I do." He's not entirely surprised Natasha managed to get access to it, either. Not that there's much in there she doesn't know, either. "I've seen mine. It's... honestly like a mission report," he says, trying to put it into familiar terms. "Just a straightforward account of what's happened to you, what you've done. No bias, no justification, not what you were or weren't thinking. Just facts. Like a history book."

"Mission reports." That doesn't really make him feel a lot better. He's pretty sure he was on a lot of shitty missions, if the culmination of them was the one where he had to kill Captain America.

And if it's more than just missions. If it's... before. He bows his head to grind his palms into his eyes. "I should clean up. She's going to be looking for me. Probably."

Steve had been maybe hoping that would help more that it seems to have; not that he's sorry he told the truth, but he still wishes Bucky looked a little more relieved. Sure, he was on a lot of shitty missions. But he hadn't chosen any of them.

He hums by way of acknowledgement, since Bucky's got his face in his hands. "Do you want to use Lark's shower? It's more private. I can take Libby for a walk. Leave a note on the door for Lark to keep out for a bit."

He's half expecting the offer to be turned down, but he still can't help but make it.

Are you kidding? Having somewhere private to deal with a shower? (Maybe even a bath which will spoil him for showers forever?) He is jumping on that. "Yes. Let me. Get clean clothes."

(He can definitely take a bath if that's what he prefers.)

Steve can't deny the wash of relief at being able to do something, however small, for Bucky. "Okay. Just come on up with 'em. I'll get Libby ready to go and make sure Lark's cleared out if he's back."

A bath will be an absolute joy, Rogers. He will be grumpy at ever having to use a shower again. He pushes up from the wall wearily. "As long as he doesn't come in the bathroom. I don't really care what Lark does. Or you and Libby." It's not like he's not pretty familiar with having people around.

Well, weirdly enough, you know a guy with access to a tub who'd be happy to let you use it whenever you want.

He twitches one shoulder up in a shrug, starts heading for the door so he can be the one to pull it open. "Sure, whichever. I mean, Libby's always happy to go for a walk and Lark's not even home that much anyway. But I'll make sure you don't get walked in on, either way. You can take your time. Plenty of hot water." Which is a thing he'll secretly maybe never be over.

That requires asking, Rogers.

He does follow him out, though, with a simple, tired: "Thanks. For this, too." Guy's been solid, despite everything, and this was a good idea.

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punched_hitler - 2021-01-04 00:08 (UTC) - Expand