wintern | (no subject)

(no subject)

Her dreams, her memories... they're getting worse. Where before, she remembered fragments - an alley, a bright bloom of blood on someone's chest, a scream - images, mostly detached from anything too intense. But they're longer, harder to tell from reality. Instead of quick flashes, she's getting lost in them, forgetting where she is for minutes at a time before her past deposits her back into the present.

It's terrifying. Terror is not a feeling she's supposed to have context for. She thinks, for the first time in weeks, that she really is just breaking down, fracturing without Hydra to fit the pieces of her mind back together into their mold.

The third time it happens is worse than anything before. She's keeping an eye on Wilson, hidden comfortably in a crowd, and someone puts their hand on her shoulder, and she's just not there anymore. She's in a room instead, brightly lit in a way that makes her head hurt to see, and someone's gripping her shoulders, holding her in place. She's terrified, she knows what's coming and it hurts and words keep falling out of her mouth, words like no and please over and over again, a mantra that doesn't do her any good because they strap her down anyway and give her another injection.

- And then she's in the crowd again, people with their hands on her, asking if she's all right, saying they've called 911 and can she breathe okay? She just tears through them, shaking and lost and barely holding onto her knowledge of where she is (2014, it's 2014 and she is not the Winter Soldier, not Hydra's test subject anymore).

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Bucky was supposed to be meeting Sam. Supposed to, because then he gets a text from his friend and spots movement through a crowd of confused looking people, and he's off. Sam will understand - Sam's probably rooting for him to catch up with her - and hopefully he'll stick by long enough in case he- in case they need back up.

"Steph!"

Bucky dodges and weaves through people, almost gets hit by a car trying to cross the street and barely manages an apology before he keeps going, focused only on getting to her before someone calls the cops or really tries to hold her down.

She can't get locked up again. She can't hurt anyone else who doesn't deserve it. Bucky won't let it happen.

Somehow, he manages to cut her off, and the two super soldiers nearly wind up crashing into each other. Bucky wants to reach out and grab her, pull her away from prying eyes and tell her everything's going to be okay, but he steps backwards to put some space between them, holds his hands up to show he's not reaching for her or planning anything, just in case she's not really herself.

God, this is hard.

It's probably not going to stop being hard, maybe not ever, and he'll deal with it and accept whatever this new version of his best friend, his sister, the only family he's got left was like, but it's still hard. He wishes he still knew instinctively how to help her, like when he'd used to sleep sitting upright with her so she could breathe easier, but she's unpredictable and skittish and he's still terrified she'll bolt without warning and just vanish.

"Steph, it's me, it's Bucky. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Bucky. He's not Bucky, because Bucky's dead. It's, it's 2014 around her but she was just there, just in that room getting strapped down for another treatment, and Bucky's dead - sometimes she forgets, because it's so hard to think, but they remind her, like it's happening all over again and she hurts until she's not sure what not hurting feelings like anymore -

It's 2014. It's 2014, and Bucky's in front of her, and she lets out a terrified whimpering noise that the Winter Soldier would never make and backs away so he can't touch her, because one of them is a ghost and she thinks it might be her. The ghost of Stephanie Rogers from 1950, and if she lets him touch her, he'll know she's not real and she'll have to go away, wake up in 1950 so they can rip her mind away again or in 2014 in the thing Hydra made her into, and she can't, she can't.

She doesn't even realize that she's even capable of expressing any of this out loud but she is, or trying, saying things like no and please and I don't want to go back, begging and pleading like he can make this all disappear if she just asks enough.

That noise cuts through him more than the knife she'd shoved into his shoulder on the helicarrier had, because it's Steph, of course it's Steph, but it's easily the most vulnerable and hurt he's ever heard her sound. Steph isn't someone who shows how bad she's hurting unless it's bad, and that's still true now. That hadn't changed at all, so that officially means this is bad.

God, it feels like he can't breathe, and he's pretty sure he's a couple seconds away from actually crying, which is just. Awful. Everything about this is awful, and he hates that there's no bully he can just beat into submission to fix this, no medicine he can give her or doctor to take her to that can guarantee she'll be fine, she'll get better.

"Steph, it's okay. It's okay, no one's gonna make you go back there."

Bucky hesitates for a moment longer before taking a couple steps closer and reaches over to touch her shoulder.

See, they're not ghosts. They just feel like it sometimes, and right now, Bucky wants to pull her into a hug and pretend like there aren't a whole bunch of civilians staring at them right now.

"It's okay. I promise. I've got you, you're gonna be okay."

Her eyes are open but she's not really seeing anything, trying to block it all out or at least make it resolve so she knows where she is. She cries out and stumbles backwards when his fingers brush her shoulder, but it works, it's real. Bucky's in front of her, and she's still shaking like a leaf in a storm but that's certain enough that she launches herself forward and latches onto him in something that's less like a hug and more like desperately holding onto a life preserver.

"I can't, I can't keep going, please - "

Bucky's got his arms around her practically before he's processed that she's hanging onto him like he's the only thing keeping her from drowning, and it's really easy to stand there and hold her tightly against his chest, shield her from the onlookers and whatever phantoms she's afraid of even if his eyes are kind of wet. Even if there's a desperate, tired, deeply wounded part of himself that wants to lean on her as much as she's leaning on him right now.

"It's okay. It's okay, I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. I got you."

He thinks he can hear Sam talking to the crowd, coming up with some story. Bucky doesn't care what he says so long as they get some privacy, because he can feel people still staring at them, and he really hopes no one called the cops.

It's easier to rub her back and keep his breathing calm, falling back on old habits of helping her through a coughing fit or asthma attack. He doesn't know what else to do, but he tries to keep his voice steady and comforting instead of choked, and hopefully, that helps a little.

She doesn't say anything else after that, just holds onto him until she feels like she can breathe again, until she can remember what year it is and who she is (even if it still feels like there's a hole blown in her now, like a black hole that's threatening to pull her back through).

She pulls away from him just enough that she can look at him, still terrified and lost. There aren't words to tell him what just happened, let him know that he had his friend back but she was too broken to hold onto Stephanie Rogers for him. "I..."

The thing is? She doesn't have to. She could still be the confused, desperately broken person who'd first broken into his apartment and almost seemed like she was planning on beating his face in again, and he'd still want to be here right now helping her. Even if it meant winding up in the hospital again, but man, he is definitely glad it doesn't look like that's going to happen.

So Bucky smiles, and it's a little frayed around the edges and his eyes are still a little wet, but. It's a smile. He doesn't let go when she pulls away, but his grip's gentler, like he's trying not to make her feel trapped.

"Hey. You back with us?"

She stays still, doesn't try to run away. There's nowhere to run to, no one she'd rather be with right now. "I remembered. Some of what they..." Her voice trails off, flat and far away, without finishing the sentence. She's still shivering even though it's perfectly warm out, but she breathes in and out through it.

Something clenches in his chest, because he's read the files, he's seen some of the equipment they'd used to brainwash her, and he can imagine how awful it was, but that's just it: he can imagine, he didn't live through it. And it kills him that he wasn't there to protect her from this.

He never should have left. If he'd just stayed home to keep watching her back, none of this would've happened. They could have lived a totally normal life.

He lets go long enough to take off his jacket and drape it over her shoulders, something he's done a million times before what feels like a lifetime ago.

"You want to go somewhere to talk? Or just-" He glances back over his shoulder to check on the crowd, and winds up making eye contact with Sam, who looks worried, but like he's got stuff under control. God, where would he even be without him? "Somewhere quiet?"

She gives a stiff nod and absently tugs his jacket closer around her shoulders, another familiar gesture she doesn't quite remember. She doesn't want to talk about it, not really; it's still too raw and new, and she's half-terrified just talking about it in any detail will bring it all crashing back again.

But she desperately does not want to leave his side even if he expects her to explain herself to him, so she just nods and stumbles against him a little as all the panicked energy she had minutes ago dissipates, leaving her uncoordinated and exhausted.

Bucky puts an arm around her again, and even though the angles are all different now that she's not way shorter than him, it still feels normal, right, like he's actually home for the first time in seventy years. He's here if she needs to lean on him, or to hang on to him, hell, he'd carry her wherever she wanted to go. He's not going anywhere unless she wants him too.

With one last look passed between him and Sam, Bucky carefully guides Steph away from the dissipating crowd of curious and concerned onlookers, trying to walk calmly and let her pick the pace of their retreat. He's not entirely sure of where they're going, but anywhere's better than here. There's a park nearby, which seems good enough if they're looking for somewhere to sit down and talk, or not talk, so he vaguely starts heading in that direction.

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