thearena | [Closed] And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll all live again.

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[Closed] And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll all live again.

Who| Bucky Barnes, Jane Shepard, Jet Link, Sam Wilson, & Steve Rogers
What| It's like highlander up in here, only one survives.
Where| Around the entry of the Castle, outside the Castle, slightly in the Castle too
When| Later in the Final Week
Warnings/Notes| Death, a lot of death. Violence.

The final week often seems heralded by an increase of death and destruction, making it feel as if the arena is closing around the tributes. It's like some kind of hell has slowly been creeping in and hunting those who remain, the ones who've survived, only to descend on them full force at the end, like the Capitol is finally forcing the issue for those who don't wish to kill or die. Ready to close the curtain on the final act in some sick play.

The fog has rolled in and the castle is starting to take hit after hit from the ships in the bay, making it less and less ideal for those alive to take shelter inside. It was an easy choice to leave before it buried them.

It's during their search for Jet so they can escape from the crumbling structure that Steve gets separated from Sam and Bucky, a cannonball slamming through the hall they were moving down and collapsing it, somehow leaving them mostly unharmed but separated by a wall of rubble and dust.

Unfortunately, that's only the start of today's misfortune.

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The entrance of the castle has taken some damage, but still stands strong, not threatening to buckle and collapse - not yet. The structurally important walls still stand vigilant like loyal sentries that won't abandon their posts in the face of danger. Not to say there aren't walls that have given up the ghost, crumbling from the assaults that shake the whole building, but they don't threaten to bring the roof down with them.

It's down to the four of them, now, him and Bucky and Jet and Steve, and Sam is sticking pretty hard to the friends he's got left. With so much shit going on, there's no way that this arena isn't winding down. Sam remembers the last time he was around for the end of an arena - it's not a good one, though not as terrible as it could've been without the guy he's currently making his way around the outside of what's left of the castle with - and this just screams of the gamemakers going all out.

So he's gearing himself up for the fact that he doesn't have much longer. He's just going to have to try his best to keep the other three alive as long as he can.

Which would be a hell of a lot easier if he knew where the hell they were. At least this time, he's reasonably sure that Steve and Jet are looking for them, too, and it isn't him and Bucky trying to track down someone who doesn't really want to be found.

Sam slows as he catches sight of a flash of movement off to the side.

"Six o'clock, man, you catch that?"

After the hall collapsed in on itself, Steve can't find an immediate way through, he remembers yelling for the others, but his hearing was too bad, he couldn't hear if they yelled back. He has no idea if they got caught, but he can't believe they would, if he could dodge it, sure they could. So, just in case they could hear him, he called out to them he was okay, he'd find a way around, but the more he backtracks and tries to find that other way around, the more lost and confused Steve gets.

The dust and sickness has done a number on his lungs making him cough and wheeze through every breath, but he's not about to let that slow him down, not when Bucky or Sam could be hurt. He's only just got comfortable with trusting them, with feeling some kind of warmth that wasn't clouded in fear and now he can't find them.

And those two are dumb at times, especially if they think someone they care for is hurt. They're bound to get into some hiccup, so he has to find a way to them.

Their numbers were dwindled down to Sam, Bucky, Steve and himself, everyone else who had been in their group long term had (hopefully) already gone back to the Capitol. And it was Jet's luck he got separated from them. It'd been another hallucination, one that had lured him away and by the time he realized he'd gotten lost, it was too late. Oddly (and thankfully) they hadn't come back in full force just yet. In fact, they hadn't come back in full force since his fight with Kirk a couple days ago.

He was just about to accept he'd lost his way and would likely die in the crumbling castle when he heard the coughing. Jet instantly changed directions and started heading for it, trusting his enhanced hearing to help him find his way. He turned a corner and there, at the other end of the hall, was Steve. He nearly gave a sigh of relief. Steve had been skittish if not downright flighty the whole time, but he was still a welcome sight when Jet had thought he'd lost them for good.

"Steve! Where's Sam and Bucky?" Then he noticed the dust clinging to his clothes and hair, had he been caught in this place collapsing? "What the hell happened to you?"

Seeing Jet is both a relief and not. They had been looking for the other man, not wanting to leave him behind in the castle, but as things became worse they had hoped the other man had left ahead of them. Yet, now seeing the man, it makes Steve hesitate, because he barely knows him, he doesn't trust him - Sam and Bucky did - and now here alone with him, his mind whirls around the very real chance Jet will take his chance to kill Steve when he's so close to the end- No. Steve is going to focus all he can on the relief in the other man's safety, someone who can help.

"Wall collapsed," he says it through a cough as he points back the direction he thinks he came from, stifling his lungs protest to clear the air from them, what he needs to say is too urgent to stop to cough up a lung. "I was behind them when it came down," he clears his throat, trying to keep from coughing more, but he continually gets interrupted by half aborted coughs, "I don't think they got caught in it, but-"

He looks at Jet, expecting the other man to understand his urgency, "I don't know where they are."

"Damn." He needed Francoise's hearing and sight right about now, finding them wasn't going to be easy with the Castle being bombarded. Steve's inability to catch his breath makes Jet want to take him outside for air that wasn't laden with dust, but they'd hardly be safer out there. Besides, they couldn't leave Sam and Bucky.

The Castle shook with another explosion, further away at least, and Jet moved closer to Steve, ready to protect the shorter man from crumbling stone.

"We'll find them, but we've got to move fast, faster than what you can do on your own legs. Sorry."

That was his only warning as he grabbed Steve to him and ignited the jets in his feet. He didn't want to scare his friend or alarm him, but they didn't have time for Jet to be nice about it either. Maybe if they could find the cave-in, Jet could find a way to break through it. Plus, the air moving so fast around them would surely be better than the stagnant stuff they'd been standing in.

"Hold on and if you see anything familiar, speak up." Otherwise, he'd be relying on the HUD in his vision to lead them through the castle. In a burst of momentary heat, the took off down the halls.

In which Bucky lures away Shep to save the others.

There's something to be said for the simple things in life. Strategies in warfare don't have to be big, bombastic and complicated, sometimes all you need is a time honoured strategy to get what you want.

Bucky wants Shepard's attention on him and away from his friends, this he does by the simple method of throwing a rock at her head. There's plenty of them to be found and since he's lacking ammo of any other sort he's quick to take advantage.

No later has the first attack flown before he's hefting and tossing another, taking one step back after another. He needs her to follow him. "Over here, Shepard! You want a fight?! I'm waiting!"

Shepard too was a fan of simple; big bombs and big pushes and big explosions. Now, more than ever, she could think of nothing more. The sword's influence had been a pressure at the back of her mind for a while now, like a too-large meal lodged in your guts. She was starving, rail-thin and crazed, and the wave of inexplicable madness that had rolled through the arena not long before she arrived had only exacerbated it. Pressure built, and eventually it would burst. Bold tactics, big explosions.

Even Shepard had a breaking point-- when the right time had come, and it was now, for surely this was the end. Even if it wasn't, she'd certainly found the end of her impressively long rope. The rock bounced off her shoulder, and then the second cut a gash into the upraised arm. It couldn't be helped: Shepard took the bait.

Run, boy, run. If she catches you...

Bucky stills, waits, just long enough to be sure she's going to come for him and not get distracted by anything else.

Then he runs.

Not too fast, he tells himself, don't outrun her, don't leave her behind. He needs her on his tail until they're far enough away for him to turn round and bring hell back upon Shepard. Bucky's fresher than she is, though he too is worn down by starvation, and the adrenaline is singing in his veins. Wear her down and then go in for the kill.

Bucky takes off down the road from the castle, away from the constraints of stone and walls and into the open.

The pain Steve is experiencing is so secondary to everything else going on around him. The stabbing sharpness in his torso and ribs barely register next to the way his heart pounds in panic as he looks up to see Bucky gone and Shepard off to follow him. The yell for Bucky to come help him dying in his throat, unwilling to draw Shepard back, unwilling to risk drawing other people.

His eyes dart across the destruction of the area, looking for any help, across the scarred earth and structures, hesitating on Jet's body. He admits, he doesn't know the man as well as he probably should, but he knows he deserved more than this, more than being a broken bodied hero in a losing battle. But Jet is gone, cannon already fired, unable to help anymore. No, his eyes dart down to Sam, where he was able to drag the man away from the initial battle some, as he feels the man's chest rise under his hands, he's on his own until Bucky gets back. Because Bucky will be back.

Steve's hands shake almost uncontrollably from sickness and injury and panic, they're slick with blood as he presses against the one of the worst of Sam's injuries, trying to stop the blood flow, ignoring his own pain that laces through him from the effort of it. He stares at the blood bubbling up around his fingers and tries to remain calm, tries to breathe and do what needs to be done to save Sam this time.

“Just keep those eyes open and that heart beating, Wilson, you're not allowed to give up on me,” words come out shaky with wrecked emotion, but he tries to sound sure, sound commanding. On the battle field, Steve had learned to say them so confidently, but here with Sam, he can't muster it.

Yeah, Sam knows he's pretty much done for. He helps as much as he can, getting away from the battle, but he can't stand, can barely even get up enough strength to push himself a little.

Jet's gone, and that knowledge fills him with terror - but he can't remember why right now, can't focus long enough to pin down why he's so damn worried about what's waiting for Jet. It hurts, trying to think that hard, and Sam's in enough pain right now that he's not looking to cause himself more. He lets it go, focuses on Steve-

Steve's okay. He's gonna be okay, he's gotta be, him and Bucky. They're the only two left now. They'll look after each other. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, and maybe if Sam just keeps repeating that to himself, it'll be true.

Sam huffs out a chuckle, ignoring the way it brings the taste of blood to his tongue. It's not the first time and it won't be the last, not as long as he was entertaining enough to bring back after this. And goddamn he hopes he was entertaining enough.

"Nah, Rogers, I'm never giving up on you." He covers Steve's hands with his own, pressing down a little - but it's more for the contact than for helping out in trying to keep his blood in his body where it belongs. "Shoulda stalked a different runner if you didn't want to be stuck with me, man, you ain't the only stubborn jackass in this relationship."

Sam's words cause Steve to huff a wet sound that was meant to be a laugh but comes out more like an aborted sob. He tries to smile, but it crumbles into something broken and doesn't reach his eyes. Because he knows. Even if he can't admit it, he knows Sam is probably a goner and there's so little Steve has to offer to make it better, to save him, to fix this. He's useless to keep his friend alive.

"Good, wouldn't want to've wasted all that time stalking you just to have you give up the ghost now," Steve's voice tries for humor, but it's weak, shaken, filtering through wheezing breaths and coughs. His body has been ready to give up for weeks now and he knows it's his own stubborn will that's kept him alive, so maybe Sam's can too. "Besides, I have enough ghosts, I don't need you adding to it."

He presses down more on the wound, trying to get the bleeding to stop, feeling Sam's hand on top of his, a reassuring pressure there that keeps his hands from shaking as much.

"I know it hurts, but just-" he says it softly, more to himself, because he doesn't want to hurt Sam, but he's willing to right now if it saves him.

Edited 2015-08-04 01:16 (UTC)

Sam lifts one of his hands to cup the side of Steve’s face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. All he’s really doing is spreading around more blood and dirt, yeah, but it makes him feel better anyway. He really just wants to get Steve’s smile to reach his eyes, even though he knows that’s pretty unlikely at this point.

But he swallows when Steve mentions ghosts, giving his head a small shake before he winces and thinks better of it. He honestly hadn’t considered that his death might add to the ghosts that Steve carries with him. “I’m not looking to be anyone’s ghost. I got too much of my own shit to do to worry about haunting you, man.” He can’t help but try to make it something of a joke, even when he’s actually a little worried that he’s only going to add to the weight on Steve’s shoulders.

“I’ve had worse.” But he pushes down hard on Steve’s hand over his wound, because Steve wants him to. “Steve. It’s okay, all right, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Sam was gone. The body Steve cradled to his chest was empty and still, the rise of his chest long stopped, the soft thump of a heart halted, the blood no longer pushing for escape. He had failed to save his friend, to stop the bleeding, to keep him alive, and now he was gone, dead. And maybe he should be glad he said goodbye, but he's suddenly not sure goodbye made it any easier, if it gave Sam any closure, if it offered any solace, because Steve feels none of that right now.

He keeps his eyes screwed tightly shut to keep tears from escaping, though his wheezing breathing is interrupted often enough with sobs and hiccups that it's no question of how deeply he's hurting over this. That months of torture and survival and starvation and death and fear have finally taken their toll on Steve and he's breaking apart at the seams with emotion he is trying so hard to control.

But each sob, each hiccup, hell each breath, hurts more than the last, feels like he's shoving a knife further into his chest. The pain is quickly becoming less bearable, his abdomen feels tight with pressure, his ribs scream protest at every movement, every heartbeat, and his breathing becomes steadily more difficult with every intake of air. And Steve's pretty sure he's figured out that he's dying, taken too much internal damage. And for all that Steve was trying to win, needed to win, he can't seem to mind that it's no longer an option.

The cannon sounds and Steve doesn't look up, not until he hears movement nearby, finally looking up from where he's tucked his face against Sam's shoulder, already knowing who the steps belonged too. He knew Bucky would come back, had been confident of that, but it's still a soul shaking relief he feels at seeing the other man again.

Taking a shuddered breath, Steve covered in blood that's not his own, he whispers brokenly, “I'm sorry, I couldn't- I tried, but I-” he shakes his head and looks down again at Sam again.

After being sure she was -- she was dead, Bucky high tailed it back to where he'd last left his friends. He's not in great shape, taking Shepard down had been no easy task but he'd done it. He'd won.

Now he wonders if there was any point in it, when for all his efforts he still comes back to ruin.

"Steve..." his eyes track to Sam's still form, slumped against his small friend. Steve's covered with blood and Bucky squeezes the fingers of his right hand into a fist to hide any shaking. He was too late, too--

No, Steve's still alive. Steve's still breathing and there's still a chance he can get this right.

Bucky sinks down onto his knees in front of him, of them, his pants soaking in mud and no small amount of blood. "It's not your fault. It's not." he reaches out a hand to Steve.

"I know, I just-" he just what? Could have tried harder with the nothing he has to offer? He did all he could and it wasn't enough, he knew it wouldn't be enough, but he tried anyway, just for the off chance it would be. That this wasn't over, that Sam could pull through, somehow.

He meets Bucky's hand half way, gently grabbing it with a hand that shakes violently not out of fear but more out of pain and grief. All arena he's been so scared of everyone, especially Bucky and Sam, but right now, knowing he's about to die, he doesn't care, he's done being scared, he's done being afraid of the people he loves. So he just laces his fingers with Bucky's and and cradles their joined hands to his chest like Bucky's a life line.

"I'm tired of this," it's quiet as he looks down at Sam, before squeezing his eyes shut again, his words come out as small sounds between gasps and wheezes, "I'm so goddamned tired dying, of watching the people I love die, watching everyone suffer and being useless to do anything," Steve has to bite his lip hard to keep from saying more, from voicing what he really thinks of the Capitol, it's like a flood that wants to break through and drown every rational thought that says to keep his mouth shut.

He tastes blood now, hopefully just from his teeth sinking into his lip, but he can't tell, he's in so much pain that the pinch of his teeth breaking skin is nothing in comparison.

"Me too." Bucky admits with a pained whisper. He's not going to hide it, pretend that he's coping any better than Steve with the vicious circle their lives have become; he'd see right through it. "But we gotta keep going."

His fingers hold as tight to Steve's as he dares let them, wary of his own strength and the fragility of Steve's bones when he's like this. Carefully he moves his left arm forward, the machinery inside making low humming noises as it cools down from his recent exertion.

Exertion, right. Killing Shepard, he hoped it'd been the mercy for her that he'd hoped it would be.

"C'mere." he's got one hand laced with Steve's and the other on his shoulder, giving a gentle tug to try and pull him into motion. He needs to Steve to let go of Sam, needs to get a good look at him to tell what patches of blood belonged to who -- and he really wants to give Steve a hug right now if he'll let him.

He hates himself for having to be the one pushing him into motion already.

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[Closed] And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll all live again.

Main Fight

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Jet & Steve - meeting before they join the fight

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Bucky & Shepard - Lure Fight

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Goodbye Sam Wilson

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Goodbye Bucky Barnes

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