Bucky Barnes ☆ 32557038 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tookthewheel) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2015-06-02 12:58 pm
tookthewheel) wrote in thearena2015-06-02 12:58 pm
Entry tags:
One way or another I'm gonna find ya [closed]
Who| Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, later Bucky, Steve and Kurt
What| First Bucky finally tracks Steve down after the worlds worst game of hide and seek, then later on Kurt pops in to try and steal the food Bucky means to give to Steve
Where| The forest
When| Early week 2
Warnings/Notes| all the stupid
It's been a long week for Bucky. A long frustrating week.
He's been on Steve's heels since the Cornucopia but never managed to get more than the barest glimpse of him before he vanishes. The guy may have never run from a fight no matter his size but sure seems good at putting distance between himself and his friends now. The worst part is Bucky doesn't even know why Steve is so determined to flee from him, but it leads him to believe the Capitol did more than take the serum away when he was in their hands.
What doesn't help is that Bucky has a fucking beacon for all to see sitting above his head and in the sky. It slows him down to have take extra care not to attract unwanted attention Steve's way, and outpace any trouble that does come looking for him. He's not looking for fights right now, too busy trying to catch up to his friend; plus he's seen what happens to those who try to use their powers here and isn't sure he can trust himself to refrain in the middle of combat. Better he avoid it than accidentally summon down a lightning bolt on his head.
It's time to change tactics. This can't go on forever, he knows exactly how much danger Steve is in trying to make it on his own, especially now.
This time when he spots Steve ahead, entering the forest, Bucky doesn't directly follow. He makes a choice based on the direction he see's his progressing in and picks up his pace, intending to make a long loop round to get ahead of him. Hopefully the tree's will stop the beacon over his head from alerting Steve of his presence.
The stench that has invaded the arena is no better in the forest and the cloth Bucky has fastened over his nose and mouth isn't doing anything to stop it. He steels himself to push onwards though, jogging at a steady pace until he believes he is in the right spot. Then Bucky settles down to hide and wait for Steve to come to him.
What| First Bucky finally tracks Steve down after the worlds worst game of hide and seek, then later on Kurt pops in to try and steal the food Bucky means to give to Steve
Where| The forest
When| Early week 2
Warnings/Notes| all the stupid
It's been a long week for Bucky. A long frustrating week.
He's been on Steve's heels since the Cornucopia but never managed to get more than the barest glimpse of him before he vanishes. The guy may have never run from a fight no matter his size but sure seems good at putting distance between himself and his friends now. The worst part is Bucky doesn't even know why Steve is so determined to flee from him, but it leads him to believe the Capitol did more than take the serum away when he was in their hands.
What doesn't help is that Bucky has a fucking beacon for all to see sitting above his head and in the sky. It slows him down to have take extra care not to attract unwanted attention Steve's way, and outpace any trouble that does come looking for him. He's not looking for fights right now, too busy trying to catch up to his friend; plus he's seen what happens to those who try to use their powers here and isn't sure he can trust himself to refrain in the middle of combat. Better he avoid it than accidentally summon down a lightning bolt on his head.
It's time to change tactics. This can't go on forever, he knows exactly how much danger Steve is in trying to make it on his own, especially now.
This time when he spots Steve ahead, entering the forest, Bucky doesn't directly follow. He makes a choice based on the direction he see's his progressing in and picks up his pace, intending to make a long loop round to get ahead of him. Hopefully the tree's will stop the beacon over his head from alerting Steve of his presence.
The stench that has invaded the arena is no better in the forest and the cloth Bucky has fastened over his nose and mouth isn't doing anything to stop it. He steels himself to push onwards though, jogging at a steady pace until he believes he is in the right spot. Then Bucky settles down to hide and wait for Steve to come to him.
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The week would have been stressful in it's own right, knowing he can't trust anyone, that everyone is out to win, to kill, and he's just an obstacle in the way of their victory. That he needs to push his abused body and tattered mind past their limits so he can put distance between himself and them. To get away from the diseased fields that will just as surely kill him. To avoid the beast in the forest. That he can't die, he needs to win, that he needs it more than most, because he knows what's in store for him.
All that alone was enough to make his week long and stressful, he didn't need the added pressure of someone hunting him down.
It didn't take long for Steve to realize the beacon of light behind him was always there in the distance, on his trail. That no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't put enough distance between him and it to shake it off completely. They were always behind him, closing the distance each time Steve had to risk sleep and rest or die of exhaustion. He was starting to realize there was no escape, that he was becoming more trapped by the day, knowing the arena wasn't infinite, that he'd hit a wall sooner or later.
And it's not like he ever wanted to sit still and let them to get close enough for his poor eyesight to tell him who it is - though his mind does plenty to supply a list of names, one of which seems most likely, but a part of hims refuses to believe it. No, whenever that beacon got too close, Steve ran for it and used his small frame to his advantage to lose them long enough to get distance. Only to have to rest again, his feet screaming, lungs protesting, his body threatening to shut down.
Then the stench came, so powerful and fast that it overwhelmed Steve's senses til he passed out. He couldn't risk that again, he needed to find a place without the smell, something to mask it since the layers of fabric around his mouth and nose do nothing. Passing out again could mean the hunter will finally catch him and Steve cannot lose. He can't.
The forest is a risk, for many reasons, he knows that, but he rather look there before venturing to the castle or village in hopes of some fresher air. One last time, he casts a look for the beacon, it's more distant than he remembers, but he doesn't think on it, moving forward before the hunter finds his scent again. And it's there he finds salvation from the stench, in a rose, a gift from the Capitol. While he trusts and distrusts the Capitol in equal measures, he's more willing to chance picking his than not. The pay off is almost immediate as the wonderful scent of the rose quickly overlaps the rotten stench filling the air, making it easier to breathe again.
The scent and relief is so distracting, he doesn't even bother to look around as he sets off away from the roses, unaware that his hunter has finally outsmarted him.
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He hunkers down further behind the thick trunk of the tree he's hidden behind. Part of him considers laying a hand on his knife or the sword he was able to take from the blacksmith's shop, then decides against it. The chance it might be an enemy rather than Steve is one he'll take, trusting that he can hold them off with hand to hand, because he doesn't want to startle his friend while holding weapons.
Steve is already running from him for some reason, he doesn't want to risk making that worse.
Bucky mouths to himself as those footsteps get closer and closer, trying to run over what to say and do, he has no clear ideas on either except to get Steve to stop and talk to him. Finally there's no more time to hesitate and he has to go ahead and seize the chance, trusting he can get through to his friend.
After taking a steadying breath Bucky stands up and steps around the tree, just in time to meet Steve. Relief floods him that his ploy has paid off. Reaching up he yanks the cloth, which has done nothing to halt the stink in the air, down off his face, "Steve!"
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He visibly startles as he shoves his arms out against the other man, hoping to push him away while also stumbling a few steps back himself. It was purely reaction to the danger sprung on him, but distance was good, he needed distance if he stood any chance. So, his hunter finally caught up to him, will attempt to kill him. His luck had finally run out, he's not surprised, but he'd hoped it would last longer than this.
Pain blossoms in his chest as his heart begins to race, panic rising. He fights to keep his breathing under control, he's already skirted too many asthma attacks, he can't risk having one now, it would leave him vulnerable. And he needs to survive. Run if he has to, but he can't die here. So, without any hesitation, he puts up his fists, ready to fight if his attacker comes for him, his gaze lifting to the other man's face.
And who he sees makes his chest seize with a pain that's not just from his irregular heartbeat.
Bucky was his hunter?
Part of him had guessed, known, but he had refused to believe it, his heart denying that Bucky would want to kill him. No, it still doesn't believe it, but his mind speaks of another truth, one that is fed by the fear and abused thinking, one that takes the facts and twists them. That Bucky had hunted him down, had laid in wait, and was now taking his chance. And Steve knows he doesn't stand a chance against him, he was going to be killed by Bucky again.
No, that wasn't right, but his thoughts race as they become more conflicted with his feelings. In the end, there's one thing his mind and heart can agree on: he'd been right to run from them, all of them.
His eyes are scared, but accusatory, his body already taking more steps away, ready to run. His voice is questioning because he doesn't know what to think anymore, what to believe, "Bucky?"
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"Steve." his hands fly up, palms out in front of him in what he hopes is a non-threatening gesture. All of his weapons are sheathed, there is nothing in his stance to suggest aggression.
So why is Steve looking at him like that?
It shakes him. The realisation that the reason why Steve has been running might not have been, as he first reasoned, some means of attempting to protect his friends but out of fear sends a bolt of sickness to his stomach that has nothing to do with the stench in the air. Not even when Steve had reason to be afraid of him had he ever looked at Bucky like that.
"It's okay, you don't need to run away from me."
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The man's next words draw his attention up to his face again. He so badly wants to believe that, but he can't - not when his mind recalls what Bucky has done before, that he's hunted him down, tried to trap him. The facts are stacked against anything his heart has to say about the matter. And Steve doesn't want to fight Bucky, even knowing how much of a threat the man is to him right now, the idea of seeing Bucky hurt cuts through the fear light a knife, he can't stand the thought.
"I-" no, that's part of the reason he needed to stay away. Bucky is a weakness, he'll let the man kill him if it comes to it. He'll let a part of the reason he wants to live kill him.
"Just stay back, I don't want any trouble," just leave me alone but the words can't seem to cross his lips.
The next step back and away almost trips him, having to lose his defensive stance to catch his balance. He's about to run and it's obvious, even if he knows that Bucky could catch him in two steps, but it's the only chance.
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He feels like he's looking into a distorted mirror. Go back almost a year ago and their places were switched. It had been Steve trying to approach him, telling Bucky he didn't have to run, that he was his friend. Bucky remembers how deeply his own distrust had run then, with only a name, a face and a feeling to go on. Nothing had made sense.
Is that what Steve is feeling now? He hopes not, he'd pray not if he had any sense of religion left in him. Thinking back to that time is like a nightmare for Bucky after he's come this far.
"Steve," Bucky can see it, and his hand shoots out automatically to reach for Steve to steady him when he stumbles but doesn't quite reach. "Don't run, please. I'm not going to hurt you."
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But he doesn't see that in himself, not yet, right now he just knows he needs to survive and Bucky is a threat to that. Every move the man makes his heart races harder, skipping beats to keep up with the demands of the panic sitting in his chest. The way his lungs are beginning to burn as he does all he can to keep them from heaving and choking.
And for all the honeyed words Bucky is saying, Steve doesn't believe them.
No, after Bucky reaches out at him, after Steve recoils, after the rush of adrenaline spikes his blood, he runs. He turns tail and bolts.
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If he'd have thought about it first he would have realised what he's doing now wasn't the smartest choice but in the moment there is no forethought, just instinct and impulse ruling him. Bucky see's Steve turning to run, calls his denial and is lunging forwards before he knows it.
His hand grasps Steve by the shoulder before he'd made five steps, pulling him back in towards Bucky and turning him around. "Please!"
Bucky's voice rings naked with desperation when he calls that final word. It strikes him he should be more cautious with an audience watching, then a moment later he knows that as ridiculous. The audience already knows all about his and Steve's typical dedication to each other; the Capitols knows, which is why they are where they are now. He just can't lose Steve again after he only just managed to catch up with him.
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"Don't!" He's going to die. This is it.
Except Bucky's Please! cuts him right to the core, it shakes everything that he has been so sure of just now. Why would he say that? Why isn't he just knocking Steve to the ground and beating him to death? Breaking his neck? All the things he keeps expecting, but Bucky is practically begging him to stay, not run. And the part of Steve that has been more and more suffocated by the fear in his mind finally can breath and he knows why now, but it's not- he can't bring himself to believe it.
The thoughts push him that little bit more than his lungs can handle. The panic, the stress, the adrenaline, the days of exertion, the confusion, he can't forcibly keep his breathing under control anymore. He begins to gasp for air, each breath a wheeze as his airways begin to constrict, one of his hands moving to clutch at his chest while the other continues to try and keep distance between them.
He's done for, if Bucky was waiting for his chance, this is it.
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He knows the instant Steve's panicked breathing turns into something worse, something familiar. Terrifyingly familiar as a matter of face, and worse here than anywhere else. "No..."
It's not here, it's an alleyway in Brooklyn; it's the yard of their school, their dimly lit apartment, it's -- Bucky bites down on the memories that threaten to well up, physically biting down on his lip until he tastes blood to do so. The pain helps snap him back into focus, putting him into the here and now and the present version of Steve who is starting to have a very real asthma attack.
Bucky lets go of him, holds his hands out again as he starts to work, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he can think them. "Steve, Stevie, it's alright. Just breathe, c'mon, you're going to be fine. Deep breathes."
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This was something he has no missed.
Then Bucky is speaking kind words to him, trying to calm him down, trying to help him, and it confuses him more, because isn't he supposed to be trying to kill him? Taking advantage as Steve is reduced to a helpless shaking mass, when all he can do it wheeze and lock his knees to keep from falling? But Bucky has let him go and is calling him Stevie, is trying to help him gain control again, and-
Steve doesn't know what to think anymore and it scares him more than the certainty of Bucky planning to kill him. It makes the panic in him reach another new height and become a full blown attack. His heart feels like it's about to give out on him, his body shakes almost violently as he chokes on air. Even if Bucky doesn't kill him right now, this might.
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Keep talking, keep him calm. but in this case is it making things better or worse? There's no time to think it over and the alternative, leaving Steve to calm himself down, is unthinkable anyway.
He does the only other thing he can think of to reduce his threat level and gets down on his knees in front of Steve, continuing to talk all the while. "Slow and steady, you can do it, I know you can do it. You always come through, every time." The words, more words than he can ever remember saying in one go, keep on flowing. "Watch me, breathe with me, okay?"
There's nothing else to do. He's got a first aid kit but it didn't come with any asthma treatment included, not a damn thing. He's gotta talk Steve through this the same way he did when they were young and too poor a lot of the time to afford what treatments did exist back then anyway.
Bucky starts to breath, slow and steady, hoping Steve is listening.
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Had this been another time, another situation, maybe Steve wouldn't be controlled by this terror, he would be able to focus, calm himself, but after all that's happened, the fear has too much of a grip on him. And it was never that he was immune to fear before now, he's been scared plenty of times in his life, but it never controlled him. He learned early on in life to use his fear to push himself that extra mile, to confront it or to accept it - he didn't let it stop him from rescuing Bucky when he was captured 30 miles behind enemy lines, he didn't let it prevent him from putting the plane down and save lives. No, fear was a motivation, but the Capitol has taken it and turned it on it's head. Made it a part of his every breath, his every waking and sleeping moment, filled him with this unnatural fear and let it control and consume him whole, made him find threats in everything, made him run from it.
And now he's terrified of his own body, but he can't run from it, he can't escape it, he can only let it kill him or fight and he feels helpless against it.
Bucky's words finally cut through the muddled mess in his head, making his eyes blink open, his vision blurred with unshed tears as he looks at the other man, the kneeling man. He'd almost forgotten he was there, but with the fear so focused inwards, Steve has a moment of clarity and knows that Bucky will help him, that he won't die with his friend here to aid him. That there's no one he trusts more while like this.
The fear is still deeply set in his eyes, but the way he reaches out and clutches at Bucky's shoulders like he's a life line says more than that, shows that fear isn't directed at him for once.
He tries to mimic the man, to breathe with him, but his breathing is hiccuped, wheezing gasps as he tries to force air in, but it's not getting better, the panic in him is making it harder to breathe, causing him to become more lightheaded as it continues.
"Bu--" the words come out choppy and quiet, barely able to put the force of wind behind them to make them form, "Bu--cky, plea--ease. Hel--" he shakes his head, still trying to mimic the man but it's quickly becoming more difficult.
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"I need you to focus on me, not whatever bad thing you think is going to happen. It won't, nothing bad's going to happen to you around me." Not now, not ever again. "The only thing that's important is you keep breathing."
Bucky takes one of Steve's hand, infinitely more gently than the force he's capable of producing but still firm, and places it directly on his own chest. "With me."
Deep, slow breath in, and out, in and out. Bucky keeps his gaze on Steve's eyes, holding them and resisting the urge to look down and watch Steve's narrow ribcage struggle with each breath.
"You can do this, I know you can."
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Except, wait. Whatever bad thi- Really Bucky? Whatever bad thing that he thinks if going to happen? How about the very real possibility of his lungs collapsing and him suffocating, because that's what he thinks is about to happen. And maybe the man before him can see it in how Steve briefly narrows his eyes at him before a cough ruins his look of utter exasperated disbelief that Bucky would say that - being he's unaware just how unfounded his fear of everything else is. The way that for a split second he's more like his old self again, but then it's gone.
But it's that which makes it easier to listen, to focus on the other man. Especially, now that he can feel the man breathing under his hand when Steve can't, how he spreads his fingers just enough that he catches the flutter of Bucky's heartbeat too. The confident words, the way Bucky's chest moves, the way Bucky keeps his attention so trained on Steve, it finally makes Steve feel he can get his body back under control.
That Bucky is right. They can beat this.
With a resolute nod, Steve continues to give his best to mimic Bucky's breathing, often coughing and sputtering through his deep breaths, but in time, Bucky's steadiness and confidence in him begins to calm him, begins to ease the vice grip on his chest and the coughing becomes more infrequent between each wheezing breath. The minutes it takes to get that far are long and terrible, but Steve struggles through it with Bucky.
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Keep breathing, that's all that matters. His large hand squeezes gently over Steve's birdlike fingers.
The minutes crawl past while they sit vulnerable and open among the tree's, a nightmare for Bucky's cultivated instincts that he pushes to the back of his mind. There's nothing to do but wait and have faith in the steel that is Steve's will to live. "You got it."
Relief floods over his face as the attack fades and Bucky risks a smile, small and hopeful, at his friend.
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It feels like it takes forever, but eventually his breathing evens out into a calmer wheeze, no longer struggling to fill his lungs. There's still little hiccuped gasps as if he needs to overcompensate once in a while for a lack of air, but after each one he settles back into a fairly normal breathing pattern.
When he looks up at Bucky, he's just exhausted. Weeks of abuse and torture and being stripped of the serum was bad enough, but add on it the running, the meager food, the lack of sleep, and now this? Steve is too exhausted to even fear the smiling man before him. He knows he should, or maybe he doesn't know that, maybe for a second he doesn't need to fear Bucky because there is nothing to fear. Maybe- No, he knows that Bucky is biding his time, he has to be, he has a reason to keep Steve alive before killing him. Has to be, right?
Steve shakes his head, unsure of where his mind is going or where it wants to go, but he knows enough to know Bucky helped him survive just now.
"Thank you," his tentativeness is clear in his voice, his lack of trust in Bucky's motives, yet too exhausted to feel anything as strong as fear for the moment.
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"You're welcome, pal. I'm glad you're okay." he murmurs, then speaks louder but still softly, wary of spooking his friend again now he's actually got him close and calmed down. "I have some clean water, you look like you could use a drink." he has food too but water is his first priority.
He can still see the fear in Steve's eyes when he looks at him and the question weighs yet unspoken on the tip of his tongue, what did they do to you?
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But exhaustion is bone deep and even with the small burst of energy, without his hold on the other man to keep him upright, Steve stumbles and collapses on the ground with a groan. There's something about that smile Bucky gave him though that keeps him from feeling more vulnerable like this even though he is, but he refuses to look into it, instead just letting it be as it is.
"I'm fine," he is thirsty, but he's not about to accept the offer, Bucky will need water too, he shouldn't hand it out. "Keep it for yourself."
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Steve would tell him not to be guilty about it, he's sure, but that doesn't stop him.
"Easy..." he watches Steve struggle, "You're exhausted, take a few minutes to rest." Bucky goes for the water regardless of the reassurances Steve doesn't need it, he knows him better than that. "It's fine, I got it to spare."
For Kurt
Steve, who despite Bucky's best efforts, is still resisting coming back with him to the safety of the group and the castle. As always he's a stubborn little shit, and as much as it pleases Bucky to be able remember that it's also proving incredibly frustrating in the present to put up with. Luckily for him, unluckily for Steve, Bucky is just as stubborn when it comes to trying to keep his best friend out of trouble.
If Steve won't come with him then Bucky's just going to have to keep following at his heels, which is what he's doing right now. For the most part he stays quiet, a silent follower that ignores any attempts by Steve to drive him off but occasionally he'll speak up, with words regarding Steve's wellbeing or his choice in direction.
"You need to eat." There's food in the bag Bucky has over his shoulder, good food scavenged from the arena as well as a sponsor gift, more than it looks like Steve has on him. He's already starting to slide the bag off his shoulder without waiting for Steve to reply.
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Not that Bucky is that hell, he's not, but he's a contributing part of a whole mess of things that are wearing him down. After what happened earlier, relying on the other man while his own body was trying to kill him? it felt right, it was so natural, and that confuses him, makes him feel deeply conflicted. He feels lost.
And that scares him more than when he had been sure Bucky would kill him.
So, he refuses Bucky's invitations, unable to bring himself to trust the man or himself when it comes to Bucky. He can trust his feet though, to put one in front of the other, to move further from the village, from the castle. And unlike Orpheus, Steve can trust Bucky to still be there with him, behind him every step of the way.
He gives a put upon sigh at Bucky's suggestion, like he usually does when the man tries to take care of him right now. It always makes his head throb with confusion again, he just wishes Bucky would be mean to him to give him relief from his own head.
"I'm fine," he's not. He is hungry, he received some food the other day, but that only goes so far and Steve knows being a dirty rebel will hurt his chances this time. So, he's rationing it harshly.
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He holds the bag in hand, undoing the knot that holds it closed to route around inside. Steve can sigh and glare at him all he likes, Bucky's not going to leave until the message gets through his thick skull that he means no harm. Well, he wouldn't leave even then, hopefully Steve wouldn't want him to leave then.
As frustrating as it is Bucky reminds himself this is the right thing to do, that Steve would do, had done, the same for him.
It's not hard to find the supply of rations a sponsor sent him. There's also food he scavenged from the farmland but given what he remembers of Steve's immune system the rations seem a safer bet. He's not going to risk Steve getting sick because of him.
Bucky picks up his pace, counting on his longer stride to catch him up to Steve, easy, "Come on, take them." he extends his hand, the ration pack he's holding openly visible to anyone who might be looking.
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Not that he should be stealing anything.
His stomach wrestles with his conscience for a long moment, long enough for Bucky to stop right under him and hold the pack out at arm's length, an easy grab if Kurt is quick. He can't teleport with it, not unless he wants another beacon floating over his head for all to see and murder him by. No, he'll have to do this the old fashioned way.
Tensing, Kurt steadies himself against his branch, takes a silent but deep breath, and leaps with arms outstretched to snatch the ration pack out of the taller man's outstretched hand, aiming to grab it and then bound away into the forest as fast as he can.
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Honestly, Steve keeps telling himself he wants Bucky to go away, that he wants to be left alone, that the man is going to kill him at anytime, but each time he is about to tell the man to go away, to leave him alone, the words freeze on his tongue. He's unable to bring himself to say them, not when a part of him so desperately wants the man to stay, to not be left alone, and it makes his head ache all over again as the noise inside it clamours to a crescendo of confusion and conflict and fear.
So, though he can't say those words, he can continue to stubbornly refuse the man's help, to not open himself up.
He tries to ignore the other man as he rifles through his bag, but when the man quickly approaches him with his hand extended, Steve recoils, turning to face him, unwilling to have his back to him now. Not after he feels threatened again, his caution taking hold of his action.
The sharp rebuff to the man's offer is on the tip of his tongue when suddenly the whole situation changes. Steve lets out a yelp as someone leaps down from above, quickly stumbling back and away from the new threat. Panic and fear takes hold of his chest, making his heart leap into his throat, it's irregular beat going wild, his abused lungs ache as his breathing picks up. Unwilling to be left so vulnerable by an asthma attack again, Steve focuses on calming himself while taking a defensive stance, watching the scene before him like a cornered animal gauging danger.