thearena | There's ice in your heart [closed]

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There's ice in your heart [closed]

Who| Bucky and Thor, with Steve arriving late to the party
What| Bucky finally runs into brainwashed!Thor and it doesn't end well for him, then Steve shows up and the awful continues
Where| The glacial lake
When| End of week 4
Warnings/Notes| Death, violence, ptsd, brainwashing, flashbacks... all the good stuff

The cold snap lingers in the air, making Bucky's breath fog up in front of him with every exhale. He's bundled on every layer he has, with his scarf pulled up over his mouth to try and make the temperature more bearable. It reminds of a place, a time before, making his way through the deep snow. Russia, Siberia? Maybe different places at different times.

He doesn't have a rifle in his hands now, nor the comfort of a white camouflaged snow suit. Technically he probably shouldn't be out here at all, not after the mess that was the beginning of this week for him. Just the thought of it makes his right hand hurt all the more, the palm of it ruined by a bullet hole which made his fingers barely responsive. Any movement he does manage to get from them brings a horrible pain with it.

But there is a reason for him to be out here; Darcy is gone. She has been for an usual amount of time and with the recent loss of Sam at the beginning of the week in a trap laid by the Capitol (the cause for the sudden plague of jabberjays) he feels more keenly any unusual absence from any member of the group. Bucky's not the only one who feels that way either, which is why he's left the cave with Steve beside him. The two of them could cover more ground together and, hopefully, keep each other out of trouble.

At first they had tried to follow the path that Darcy had taken but even their combined tracking skills they lost the way eventually. The snow constantly floating down from the sky had made her imprints in the snow vanish. The path they followed had ended up near the edge of the glacial lake with no Darcy in sight, just an empty white expanse of ice and snow to greet them with no sign that Darcy had been here at all.

They'd split up then, for better or worse, as a last ditch attempt to find out where she'd gone. It was Bucky's suggestion, after Steve made the initial decision, for them to travel twenty minutes in the opposite direction from the other before turning back to meet at the starting point. If one of them didn't show up then at least the other would know which way to go to find them.

Now, fifteen minutes after leaving Steve's side, Bucky's feeling of pessimism is only worsening with the suspicion that Darcy is gone already and they're too late to do anything about it. Still he trudges forwards through the snow with a grim determination, counting down the seconds until he can turn back to reunite with Steve and hopes tgar his friend has had better luck than he had.

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Little do they know, they aren't far off her trail. Unfortunately, it runs cold at that point. Darcy's body is lying limp in the snow and Thor walks away from it as if it has no impact on him whatsoever.

Truthfully, there's something stirring there, but he's not sure what it is. He doesn't like it, he doesn't like the way his stomach twists or the way her voice still rings in his mind. It takes a lot not to get frantic about it, but he acts as rationally as someone in his state can.

There's a frozen lake a few paces from her body and he heads toward it, crouching beside it to peer into the frozen ice before he opts instead to bury his hands into snow and raise them to his face in an attempt to wash away those ill feelings. The crunch of snow is barely enough to give Bucky away, but Thor is on his feet and turning fast to give the soldier a wary look.

He sets off all kinds of warning signs, their last interaction is buried somewhere in Thor's mind. His alliances more than anything make Thor's blood boil, he's already mentally preparing for the fight. He cannot simply leave the scene without taking out another threat. He cannot stop until his work is done, he doesn't want to know what might happen if he stops or if he returns early as a failure. He may not come back again, or worse, he may suffer the same fate once more. Over and over again until he wins and makes penance for his action.

Edited 2015-03-03 10:51 (UTC)

Bucky stops dead at the sight of Thor.

He knows something is wrong with the Asgardian, he'd been informed of it early on in the arnea, when others had encountered Thor and his sudden turn to violence against his friends. It hadn't been something Bucky forgot for an instant as the weeks progressed, holding that information that hit close to home tightly to his chest.

Until now he has not run into Thor, he's hoped he never would. The last time they fought is still fresh in his memory, a thing he is not proud of, especially with what has happened after.

Bucky's eyes track over him, then briefly flit down to the trail Thor has left in the snow, following it back and a cold and heavy feeling settles into his stomach. Immediately he snaps his gaze back to the man in front of him.

"Thor," he breaks the silence first, shifting his body subtly to hide how his left hand moves to find the hilt of his machete. Bucky doesn't want to fight Thor again, for many reasons but he may not have a choice. "what happened?"

Thor has the good sense to know that word will spread fast where he is concerned, he knows all of the Avengers are eager to sink their claws back into him and had been from the start. As such, he's had to take extra care and extra lengths to avoid them. Time would thin the heard, but he knew what they could be capable of, the better.

He doesn't answer, at first, and he doesn't try to hide the fact that he's reaching for his weapon. His eyes remain locked on Bucky, but there's a tired quality to his overall expression for the moment, as if he's resigned to what he needs to do.

"Many things have happened. None of which are your concern." He points out coldly, starting to circle rather than step forward. "Have you come to kill me?" The question seems abrupt, but it entered Thor's mind the moment he saw Bucky. It's all he can think whenever he catches a glimpse of any of the Avengers and their ilk. He's not one of them, it's only a matter of time until they turn on him.

"I came to find Darcy." he says plainly, dismissing Thor's claim immediately. In their time knowing each other Bucky has never heard the Asgardian talk in that tone to him before, not even when they fought over the right to kill Tom in the last arena. "I don't want to fight you."

When Thor starts to circle him Bucky follows, keeping himself facing the larger man who is spoiling for a fight. His mind is buzzing with calculations, remembering what it was like to fight Thor before. Thor won't be as strong this time but then again, neither will he, and Bucky is injured, his right hand nearly useless. It doesn't paint the outcome in a good light.

"What did they do to you?"the questions spills out of him impulsively, his eyes trying to find the answers in Thor's face. It's not the same.

"She is dead." He states, an emotionless quality to his voice, reminiscent of a tone Bucky used liberally in their first encounters. "I had to kill her. I have to kill you." He warns, and he's not sure why he feels he ought to. He makes it sound like a favor, but it's a duty and it's a burden and it's all he can do to free himself from their manipulations.

He's desperate and compromised to the point of mindless murder to protect himself from a fate that feels worse than a thousand deaths. He circles back toward the lake, hesitating when Bucky presents the question and biting back all sorts of honest words in lieu of ones the Capitol has put there.

"I was broken. They.. fixed me." He spits out, fists clenching at his sides. "It is better this way. And I will be better for it when I send all of you to your graves." He meets Bucky's eyes with anger, finally making his move forward. He moves fast for a big guy, hand snapping behind him for his hunting knife so he can try to get in close and plunge it into Bucky's flesh.

He killed Darcy and for a second Bucky can't breathe, can't think.

"They hurt you." Bucky shakes his head when he's able to find words again, pulling out from a base of familiarity that's painfully close. "They always hurt you, they take you away and put themselves in your place." the Capitol, HYDRA, what did the name's matter? One is like the other. "You don't want to do this, they do."

His reasoning could fall on deaf ears. He and Thor are not he and Steve, he doesn't know if he can get through to the Asgardian but Bucky knows he has to try, even if he fully intends to fight for his life in the next few minutes. If he has to kill Thor then that will be, but first he has to try.

He wonders if Darcy tried, if she got the chance to.

Thor lunges forwards and Bucky jumps backwards, pulling out his machete in the same motion. He swings the blade forwards to meet Thor's stroke, trying to knock the hunting knife from the other man's hand.

If Bucky can't think, Thor can barely stand to either. His mind is full of piercing sirens and static, it flashes through ominous images and reminders of his own pain and suffering. The more he talks, the louder it gets. It's as if he's pressing his ear to the worst conch in the world and he visibly strains.

He can't afford to close his eyes, so his brows just furrow. Everything Bucky says is striking chords with him. He knows that, he knows he's right. He's betraying himself on both sides and it's making him frantic. He needs to shut Bucky up before he dooms them both. Before the pain starts again.

"Be silent." He hisses, his voice hoarse and tired.

Thor's knife falls to the ground, so his leg lashes a fast and brutal kick toward the weaker points of Bucky's leg from the side. If he can knock him to the ground, he can have the advantage.

"No." he won't, he can't. Bucky's been silent too long in his life, his voice stolen and crushed beneath jackbooted feet. He can't let it happen to someone else too. "You have to stop, you'll regret--"

He cuts off as Thor lashes out at him, trying to get out of the way again rather than outright attack. Bucky's not used to playing the defensive when the Soldier was always the one on the attack, he moves a touch too slow, the snow hindering him enough that he doesn't completely manage to get out of the way. He does manage to turn the direct hit into a glancing blow.

As he tries to get distance between them, backing closer to the lake and stumbling from the kick, he realises he may not have any choice but to kill Thor if he wants to get out of here alive. More than that, the fact that Steve will come looking for him is ticking in the back of his mind...

One last time he tries but with the machete held ready in front of him, "Thor, stop!"

Thor doesn't verbalise his thoughts now, he doesn't dare to. If he did, he'd tell Bucky that he would regret walking away more than anything. It would drive his stubborn soul mad, it would fill him with fear of failure and it would make the men who invested so much time in torturing him see that he is easily lead by traitors.

The fight is intensifying quickly and Thor is increasingly lost in the motions of it. He tenses when the machete is drawn, seeing his only advantage in the positioning. With Bucky so close to the hard, slippery surface of the lake, his best bet is to shove him backward onto it.

So, he chances the risk of being stabbed and tries to use surprise to his advantage. He springs at Bucky like a big cat mowing down prey, using his force and his weight in an attempt to knock him down and pin him. The knife in his hand is frantically being plunged at the arm holding the machete in an attempt to render it useless.

The metal arm is powerful, dexterous to a point, but there is a reason he often leads with using his right arm in an attack unless he needs that sheer strength for defence or attack. It puts him at a slight disadvantage to have to favour it.

Not as much of a disadvantage as he, belatedly, realises his footing presents him. Snow, ice and water are pretty much the worst combination to be on, especially with a taller heavier opponent bearing down on him. So Bucky strikes out with the machete, taking his only chance to plant his feet and hope for the best, he knows he weighs no insignificant amount with muscle and metal but that metal also makes him heavier on one side. It's a toss up as to whether Thor's charge or Bucky's footing will win out.

The machete's blade cuts towards Thor's chest at the moment the Asgardian's arm comes down with the knife at Bucky, the knife's blade scraping along the metal with a terribly high screech of sound. Then in the next moment the bigger man impacts with Bucky and Bucky -- Bucky slips.

He goes down and maybe Thor goes down with him, tumbling and rolling backwards to the outer ice of the lake's surface. Bucky reaches out with his right, hand, forgetting his injury as he scrabbles for purchase. He feels the wound tear itself open anew and start to soak the bandage with blood, leaving a messy streak on the ice. It's hard to tell if his own strike injured Thor in the moment.

Thor barrels forward blindly, on a better angle to brace himself when his feet slide through snow and ice. Unfortunately, his desire to remain upright keeps him in line with the aim of Bucky's blade. It tears down his chest and he growls in barely concealed pain.

His eyes widen, but he doesn't stray from the fight even as he begins to bleed out from his wound. When Bucky tumbles, he throws himself down onto his knees and scrambles over the other man quickly. Everything from here on out is raw, fast and savage. He grabs at Bucky's hair, threading his fingers into it and wrenching it upward only so he can slam it down against the ice. He repeats this motion over and over, almost detached from any care or consideration as to whether Bucky is actually dead yet.

Bucky fights, of course he does. His hands lash back at Thor, both of them, blood and pain in the right. He lost the machete when he fell, the weapon skittering away across the surface of the lake and out of reach.

The first blow against the ice leaves him dazed, the second cracks the ice and the skin on the back of his head. Bucky lurches, his punch with the metal fist swinging drunkenly as his vision blurs and doubles. The third slam downwards breaks through the ice, the freezing water an instant shock to the Soldier's system.

He's going to die.

The fight was lost the moment he slipped. Thor is too big and too strong. He can barely see anymore, barely think between pain and cold. He's going to die.

The fight is expected, but Thor doesn't even flinch for every time a hand lashes against him and aims true. He can hardly feel it at this point, he's cold and numb and there are things more painful than a haphazard strike to the face.

Once he has slammed Bucky's head an adequate amount, he shoves his head further downward into the water. The chill of the water bites at his hand painfully, but again it's a small price to pay when he's so close to victory. He hardly needs to do it at this point, but he needs to be sure Bucky is dead.

His hands press in deeper, careful not to tip himself in when he does, waiting for Bucky to go limp before he starts to push him into the water.

Bucky's head is plunged under the water and there is ice, ice in his mouth and his nose and in his lungs. He chokes on it, sputters, fights the ever losing battle to stay awake, stay aware as the chamber fills.

No, that's not right.

His eyes force themselves open for a moment, water stained pink by the blood from his head and hand muddles his vision above. For a moment he can make out Thor above him before his eyes squeeze closed again against the stinging cold.

The feeling of choking, freezing, is all too familiar and in the end it's easy to let go, to stop fighting as his limbs go slow and sluggish. His body numbs, he couldn't open his eyes again if he wanted to and then, as it has so many times before, everything finally just stops.

There's something about the sight in front of him that makes his heart just stop. Locked in a second between beats, frozen, ready to shatter at a single tap. It feels like a weight that seizes his entire being, a moment trapped in time.

And time has never been his friend.

He had only waited a short time at the meeting place before moving forward to find Bucky, the cold and worry too much for him to linger uncertain. They lost one person today, he can't lose Bucky too. He can't. Not after Sam, Natasha.

But the image before him, it says he still waited too long.

His actions next all blur in his mind, he can feel himself run, then slide across the ice, using the it to throw his weight into speed. The circular sled he carries makes it there first, aiming to hit Thor's head, knock him off balance so Steve's next attack is harder to avoid. A knee to the side, something to knock the Asgardian off and away from his all too still friend, the one he's trying to push further into the ice.

"Bucky!" All that matters is getting Bucky out of the ice, ignoring the threat he knows Thor to be right now in his altered state. Steve is incapable of caring for his own safety, all he knows right now is if there's a chance, any chance to save Bucky, he will.

"Come on, please, just-" his trembling fingers can't find a pulse. Nothing.

Too late. Always too late.

Given Thor's already precarious balance, Steve's attempt to knock him off kilter works perfectly. The sled generally wouldn't do a lot to daze him, but it knocks him to his knees and forces him to brace his hands against the hard ice. Briefly, just briefly, it feels like the fog has cleared as he looks into his own reflection. He sees the blood on his face, he feels the pain in his head and the fog starts to seep in again.

No amount of blinking clears it and he shakes his head in frustration, scrunching his eyes shut as he groans in pain. The Arena is taking its toll slowly, but for every injury he gains he cares less about himself and more about the simple idea of victory. Some faint glimmer of freedom is on the horizon and it's all he wants.

He raises his head slowly and pushes himself up carefully, surprisingly skillful on the slippery surface and more light footed than he generally cares to be. He approaches the scene carefully, hesitant and uncertain about disturbing it. The hesitation doesn't last long and he steps in from the back, aiming a kick to the side of Steve's head.

When Thor gets up again, Steve can't bring himself to notice, let alone care. Not in that moment, not when Bucky's lifeless body is in his arms. His grip on the body is crushing, pulling the man to his chest. There's an almost imperceptible warmth coming through from the ice soaked clothing, something that tells him of just how marginally late he was. If he got here sooner, even a little sooner, maybe Bucky would be alive.

Steve failed him. Again. Always over and over, Bucky will keep dying and Steve can't do anything, fingers that brush as he falls away.

A sound of anguish escapes his throat before he can think to stop it, something quiet and personal.

But quickly interrupted as he feels the airshift with movement and is thrown back into action before he thinks better of it. Letting go of Bucky's body, he's already pushing himself to move with the kick, unable to dodge it, but attempting to lessen the impact. It's too last minute, still sending him tumbling to the side, pain exploding behind his eyes.

He acts on instinct, throwing out a kick as he jumps to his feet, more to keep distance between them than to hit. The ice doesn't give him the stable footing he needs to take on Thor - not that he even wants to fight the man, though his blood boils for Bucky's death, he knows he can't blame him, only the Capitol - but part of him knows he can't leave Bucky behind. Not again.

Edited 2015-05-26 02:43 (UTC)

If there's a part of Thor that acknowledges the anguish in Steve's voice, it isn't visible now. He is momentarily pleased with the way Steve falls under his foot, but that soon dissipates when he bounces back fast. Steve is a formidable foe and the environment isn't working in his favor.

The kick works to keep him at bay for the moment. So much so that he very nearly slips whilst rearing up. Like with Bucky, he realises his advantage is in his ability to be an imposition. If he can get Steve down, keeping him down shouldn't prove difficult.

He doesn't need steady traction to make his move, though it puts a clumsy edge on it. He lurches forward fast, moving into Steve's personal space and angling to knock him down with the force of his body weight.

He wants to badly to take his grief over Bucky out on the man, but he can't. He won't. This is the Capitol's doing, not Thor's. And he knows he'll struggle more with that if he looks over at his dead friend, so he turns a blind eye to Bucky's body and his grief for now, focusing on Thor.

Thor acts before Steve can try to speak, try to talk him out of this, leaving Steve with having to defend himself instead.

He can tell Thor's intention immediately, how the man is forgoing finesse for power and speed, but as Steve tries to dodge to the side, he feels his footing give and knows he's falling before the man knocks into him. There's just enough of a breath before Thor slams into Steve to bring his knee up between them. He waits a split second after the force of their landing to use the slight bounce back to push his knee up and out against Thor, trying to kick the bigger man off him.

He knows that if Thor gets the advantage that Steve won't stand a chance, so he can't get pinned.

"I don't want to fight you Thor, you're my ally, my teammate, I know you wouldn't act like this if you had the choice," his voice is a little labored after having the wind knocked out of him, trying to sit up on the ice, get some ground to stand up before the next attack.

The next words almost freeze and shatter on his tongue, not feeling them as strongly knowing that it's Bucky's blood on the man's hands, but he gets them out anyway. "You're a good man, even if they made you forget it."

The benefit of a move like this is that even awareness of his intent doesn't mean much when the surface is slippery. His success in knocking Steve down is not enough, though. Not when the kick is enough to push him off, the ache of his collision throbbing over bruises and wounds that have been left unattended.

He lies still, just for a moment. Steve's voice is clear and it's like his words are echoing in his mind over and over. He doesn't know what they mean, he doesn't understand the implications. He doesn't understand why it makes something deep in him ache with an intensity that makes him half curl in on himself.

The sound he makes is haggard and frustrated, almost mournful before it turns to rage. He can see now that Steve is lying, that Steve is looking to get him into trouble so he can be rid of him once and for all. He won't let it happen. He needs to silence him. He pushes himself up, clawing desperately at the ice as he drags himself up slowly.

And then. He doesn't make a move. He's calm for a moment, eyes down and lips pressed into a sad line. There's an eerie still, a seeming reluctance to attack or move or even look at Steve.

The sound Thor makes cuts straight into him, making Steve almost flinch at the intensity of such a sound coming from his teammate, from someone he considers a friend in some right. It increases his hatred of the Capitol even more to have their torture and torment last so long after the deed is done. He already had hated them so much for how they altered the man, but this just adds to it even more.

He wants to approach the other man, but he thinks better of it, knowing how well that worked out for him the last two times he dealt with brainwashed people. Which was, not very well.

But it's when the other man goes still, oddly calm, that Steve goes on his guard again. Something instinctively inside him says that at this moment, Thor is completely unpredictable, he might run, he might fight, but it still puts Steve into a deep unease. It makes him hesitant to even speak, knowing making a sound could set him off, knowing the wrong words could alter the situation irreversibly, but they could also help. The right words could reach him.

Right?

"Please, more blood on your hands won't do you any good," the words are more a whisper, enough for the man to hear, something soft, more like he's talking to a wild animal that needs soothing than a man.

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There's ice in your heart [closed]

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