The Pen is Mightier! (penismightier) wrote in chaotic_library, @ 2014-11-04 00:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | bucky barnes, maria hill, marvel, multi-parter, natasha romanov, novel, r-rated, sharon carter, steve rogers, tony stark, yuuo, yuuo: marvel |
[Bucky Barnes, Cast; R] In Derelict Sidings The Poppies Entwine
Character/Series: Bucky Barnes, Cast; Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: R
Notes: Tony has yet more news for Bucky, and Bucky still doesn't know if he wants to choke Tony or hug him for it. He'll probably settle on neither.
Title: In Derelict Sidings The Poppies Entwine: Chapter 3
Author: yuuo
Word Count: 3738
Summary: "This is like watching paint dry," Bucky complained, slumping down in his seat to rest his head on his folded arms on the table.
"This is like watching paint dry," Bucky complained, slumping down in his seat to rest his head on his folded arms on the table.
"The press conference isn't even supposed to start for another minute or two, Bucky," Steve said, reaching over and patting Bucky on the head in a distinctly condescending manner.
Bucky lifted his head enough to glare at Steve. "What're you going to do next, scratch me behind my ears? Do I get a bone to chew on while I wait for the president to decide to show up and start talking?"
One corner of Steve's lips quirked upwards. "If it'll keep you from complaining."
Bucky sniffed, still trying to breathe out of the side of his nose that had bled earlier. "I could complain about the fact that you gave me a goddamn bloody nose," he said. "I still can't breathe."
Steve sighed. "Bucky, it was an accident. I said I was sorry."
"I know," Bucky said, sniffing again. "And I forgave you. I'm just pointing out that I could complain about something you'd like even less."
"How about you not complain at all?" Steve said.
"Because it's more fun to drive you nutty," Bucky said, glancing at the video broadcast on his tablet's 3D display. The podium with the sigil of POTUS took up the middle of the screen, flanked by a lot of nothing. There was the sound of people talking quietly in the background, but nothing distinguishable. Normally, he'd be patient when waiting for the president to make his entrance, but given the subject that was going to be addressed, he felt more nervous with every second that ticked by.
"Bucky?"
Bucky looked back over at Steve. "What?"
"Stop that."
Bucky stared at him in confusion. "Stop what?"
Steve motioned towards Bucky's left hand. "You're tapping your finger and it's very obnoxious."
Having it pointed out, Bucky realized he had been tapping his finger on the table. He looked at his hand like it'd betrayed him, then lifted it to rest his chin on it to keep himself from doing that again. "Sorry."
"Relax," Steve said. "This isn't going to be anything bad. You're not standing in line at the executioner's block."
"Easy for you to say," Bucky, looking back at the video.
Anything that Steve might've been about to say got cut off as President Ellis appeared from behind the curtains that sectioned off the news room from the rest of the White House. Bucky had to force himself to keep breathing, air trying to catch in his throat with nerves.
The president shuffled a couple of note cards on the podium, studying them, before looking up at the various cameras. "Good evening. We received news today that a national hero has been living among us in secrecy. We have confirmed that the identity of Captain America's partner, the Winter Soldier, is former Sergeant James Barnes, of Captain America's Howling Commandos."
Cameras clicked and Bucky had to admire President Ellis's ability to not go completely blind with those flashes on his face. "We do not yet know why or how he has survived. We will be launching a full investigation, pending his cooperation. In recognition of his courageous service in World War II, I am granting him an honorable discharge. I am also asking the press and my fellow Americans to give him privacy until he is ready and willing to say something."
There wasn't much more to say before questions were opened, and naturally, the first question was, "Mister President, why wouldn't Sergeant Barnes be willing to cooperate with an investigation?" Bucky made a face at the video, wishing death on all the reporters.
The president looked like he was taking a moment to very carefully consider his words. "I spoke with him and Captain Rogers this morning, and Sergeant Barnes said that he remembers very little between the time of his death in 1945 and when Captain Rogers found him two years ago. I believe it's less a lack of cooperation, and more an inability to give us any answers."
More camera clicks. Another reporter spoke up. "Mister President, any thoughts on how Sergeant Barnes may have survived?"
"I cannot speculate on that right now," President Ellis said. "I believe we will find out in due time."
"Not if I have a say, you won't," Bucky grumbled.
Steve reached over and patted Bucky's arm. "Nobody's going to find that file. We've got it safe." Steve's laptop on the other side of the table from Bucky's tablet pinged with an incoming call. Steve looked over. "Tony's calling."
Bucky muted the video on his tablet. "If he's delivering more bad news, I'm flying out there and hitting him."
Tony's face appeared on screen as soon as Steve accepted the call. "Hey, old guys," he greeted.
"Tony, the press conference is going on, why are you calling right this minute?" Steve asked.
"Yeah, I've got it playing in the background," Tony said, glancing off screen. "But I found something that you might find interesting, especially you, Bucky."
Bucky scowled. "What now?"
"Well, if you're going to have that attitude, I won't tell you," Tony said, looking like he was having fun dangling a secret over someone's head.
"Tony." Bucky gave him a vaguely threatening look.
Tony held that smug face for another second, then let it go. "Have you heard of someone named Peter William Barnes, born June 12th, 1929?"
"You know I have," Bucky said. "Tony, you'd better have a good reason for dragging my family up like this."
"That's your little brother, right?" Tony asked, clearly not sorry for dredging up a sore subject. "The one whose shoes you stuffed with crickets?"
Bucky sighed. "Yes, that one. What's the damn point?"
"Well, this may or may not interest you, but he's alive and looking for you."
Bucky felt his heart stop and his lungs stop taking in air for what felt like forever, and he had to pretend that his eyes weren't getting wet. "Peter's alive?" He swallowed tightly. "What about Paul and Rebecca?" That was probably too much to hope for. Paul had already been on the downhill slide to thirty when Bucky died, that'd put him well into his nineties. Rebecca hadn't been far behind him.
Tony shook his head. "According to the records, they passed away some time ago. Paul died in '91 from a heart attack, and Rebecca died back in 2004 from lung cancer. But Peter is apparently still alive and kicking. He's made it a long time, it looks like."
Bucky had to stare down at the table a moment, breathing unsteadily. He'd known that he'd long-since outlived his siblings, but hearing it was a bit more difficult than just theorizing it. Once he was sure he could talk again, he looked back up at Tony. "Where is Peter?"
"He's living in Annapolis," Tony said. "Transferring the address and route from your place now."
The program pinged, a map showing up in the corner, with a clear route between their place and Annapolis, with Peter's current address under it. That was only an hour drive, hour and fifteen, if traffic was awful. Close. He'd been living an hour away from his little brother for the last two years and never knew it. Two years he could've spent with his brother. Two years he'd never get back.
Hell. It wasn't like he didn't have a million other regrets, what was one more? He shoved that one aside.
"Save that to my tablet, Steve," he said, turning off the video of the press release. It was basically over, anyway. While Steve did that, the map and address taking the press release's place on his 3D imaging over the network, Bucky looked at Tony. "How did you find out about this?"
"He sent in a photograph and a statement to the major news sites," Tony said. "Here, here's CNN's run on it." An article popped up over Tony's face. Bucky minimized the map and address, setting it aside to access later, and motioned for Steve to move the article over to his tablet. A few clicks later, and he pulled the article back up on his tablet, Tony's face no longer obscured by it on Steve's laptop.
The first thing Bucky noticed was the picture of an elderly man, presumably still in his eighties, if he was Peter. He still looked strong and much younger than that. He looked in his sixties, at oldest. He was holding an old photograph, one that Bucky recognized of himself and a twelve-year-old Peter, taken the day before Bucky shipped out for England. If it wasn't for that photo, he wouldn't have recognized the man as Peter at all. But the eyes were the same.
Peter. Peter had gotten old. Bucky had trouble reconciling that old man with the boy in that photo, the boy he remembered. Peter hadn't even been an adult when Bucky last saw him, and now he was old enough to be a grandfather, possibly a great-grandfather. He was old. He wasn't the same.
He forced himself to read the article instead of focusing on that, not really wanting to cry in front of Tony. Steve had seen him cry, that was fine, but Tony didn't get to see that, not yet.
"Is that him?" Tony asked.
Bucky nodded mutely, not trusting his voice.
Steve knew Bucky well enough to know when he needed to step in. "Thanks, Tony. Any other interesting news to send us today?" Bucky silently thanked Steve for taking over. Bucky wasn't sure if he'd been able to hold his composure if he'd had to speak.
"No, that was it." There was silence, and Bucky just barely saw Tony studying him out of the corner of his eye. He sent mental daggers in Tony's direction to make him stop that. Thankfully, Tony wasn't a social dunce, far from it, so he looked back at Steve. "If JARVIS runs across anything else while I'm asleep, I'll have him buzz you."
Bucky sincerely hoped that nothing else came up. He wasn't sure he could handle any more right then.
The article had a lot of nonsense that CNN had put in, which wasn't a big surprise. He wasn't even sure if they'd included everything that Peter had said, but they'd included the important part.
"I was sixteen when my brother died," Mister Barnes said. "I've spent the last seventy years mourning the loss of a man I looked up to, wanted to be like. A man who'd been there all my life. When I saw the news this morning, I couldn't believe it. It seemed too good to be true. But I saw the pictures. I'd know my brother anywhere. I don't know how, but he's alive. And I'd give anything to see him again."
Some time while he was reading, Steve and Tony had exchanged good byes and hung up. He jumped when Steve touched his flesh arm. He stared at Steve, startled, until he realized his vision was blurring a bit, and he turned away, resting his forehead on his metal hand. "Sorry. Did you say something?" he asked weakly, reaching over with his other hand and turning off the display on his tablet, closing the article and turning off the tablet entirely.
"You know I didn't have to," Steve said.
Bucky made the mistake of looking over at Steve- Steve, who'd grown up as another member of his family, as much a brother to Peter as Bucky himself had been. He'd probably missed Peter just as much, but he was holding a brave face.
Bucky closed his eyes, letting the tears that had blurred his vision fall, ignoring them for a moment before lifting his flesh arm and rubbing his sleeve across his face to sloppily dry them. He offered Steve a weak smile. "My brother's alive," he said, then looked back towards the tablet. "And I almost couldn't recognize him."
"He got old, Buck," Steve said. "It's not your fault what happened. Honestly, if we'd both come home from the war, we'd probably be dead of old age by now. This way, he gets to have you around before he's gone."
Bucky drew in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds, then released it shakily, looking over at Steve. "I don't want him to be gone," he said, voice catching on the last two words.
Steve looked helpless, reaching over and putting a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I know," he said. "I don't either. There's a lot of people I've wished weren't gone. One came back. The others didn't. But you have a chance for some time with him now. Instead of worrying about when that time's going to be up, worry about using the time you have now. Do you want to go see him tomorrow?"
He did. He wanted to go right away, right then, right that minute, as if his brother might disappear if he didn't get there as soon as possible, as if tomorrow might be too late, but he knew that was ridiculous. And even if it wasn't, it'd be just one more thing that'd eat at Bucky's guilt. "We're supposed to be keeping our heads down," he said, not really answering either way and hating the words coming out of his mouth.
Steve gave him a stern look. "Bucky, don't lie to me, it's not nice. I'm sure people would understand a day trip to Maryland at this point. Honestly, I think people would be more surprised if we didn't go. Besides, you'll probably make him upset, the longer you put it off."
The idea of upsetting his baby brother after making him mourn for so long made his stomach do uncomfortable flip flops. He looked up at the clock. It was ten. He'd been up since four that morning. He'd gone longer, could go longer easily, when he had to. But with how the day had been, he wanted nothing more than to hide under the covers and wait for the morning before thinking again. Sleep wouldn't come that easily, he knew that, but that didn't mean he couldn't want it.
Before he could even think of a response, Steve let go of his shoulder. "Don't you dare try to hide behind the time," he said. "Do you want to go to Annapolis tomorrow or not?"
Bucky looked at him, trying to stop his mind from running in circles long enough to answer. "You know I do."
Steve smiled. "Then we'd better get some sleep. You get cranky without it, and you don't wanna get cranky at Peter when you see him for the first time in seventy years."
That made Bucky laugh, just a bit, just a half-hearted smile on his face. "He wouldn't be surprised," he said.
"Well, no, but you could be a nice big brother for once in your life." Steve gave him a shit-eating grin.
Bucky looked at him in disbelief, then kicked his ankle. "I'm a perfectly nice big brother," he grumbled. "How many bullies have I chased off all of you? Huh? You were all trouble magnets."
That smile stayed plastered on Steve's face as he stood. "That doesn't mean you couldn't be a royal jackass," he said. "Come on, you need sleep, you're getting violent again."
"I'm always violent," Bucky protested, standing up and following Steve back to the bedroom.
"Not always," Steve said, flicking on the bedroom light. "But definitely more when you're tired."
"Shut up, Steve," Bucky said, changing into his night clothes quickly to try to avoid having any skin exposed to the cold longer than necessary.
Steve laughed. "Good night to you, too, Bucky," he said, waiting until Bucky had crawled into bed before turning off the light. That darkened the room almost completely; there was a night-light plugged into an outlet in the hallway, giving just enough light to get them from the bedroom to the bathroom at night without killing themselves, but other than the red glow of the alarm clock numbers, that was it.
But it was enough. Enough that Steve would be able to see that Bucky wasn't asleep if he happened to look. Bucky was forced to lay on his right side- his left arm dug into his ribs too much to sleep on that side, and he was never comfortable on his back -and that put him facing Steve across the room. Which meant if he couldn't sleep, he either had to just keep his eyes closed and fake it, or he had to hope that Steve didn't notice he was awake.
Which never happened. Steve had this uncanny ability to sense if Bucky was awake. It was outright annoying.
And of course, as Bucky had predicted, he couldn't sleep. He knew he should, he was tired, but there was just too much on his mind. Even if the only thing that had happened that day was his outing, that would've been enough. That left that haunting little fear that the truth would get out whispering in the back of his mind.
But that was secondary.
Peter was alive.
His baby brother, the littlest one, the one he'd taught to fight, taught math to, took care of when his mother was busy trying to do any of the other million little things that their home required of her. He and Paul had been close in age, they'd grown up a horrible trio of friends with Steve, always giving their respective mothers headaches. Rebecca had been the darling of the bunch, being the only girl, but Peter had always been Bucky's favorite. He never would've told any of his siblings that. He didn't want anyone's feelings hurt, and Peter was young enough that he might've let that go to his head.
Peter was alive, but Paul and Rebecca weren't. He'd known, he really had. He was actually surprised to find out that Peter was alive. He'd simply figured they'd all passed away while he was in cryo, while he was out being Hydra's weapon, pulling the trigger on innocent people without any thought to the morality of his actions. Actually, that little nagging fact had made him almost grateful that he'd outlived them. He'd never have to face them with what he'd become.
But now Peter was alive, and Paul and Rebecca had died, and he hadn't been there for them like he should've been.
"Bucky?"
He closed his eyes, sighing deeply as Steve flipped on the light. "Go back to sleep," he said, voice thick. He'd started to cry at the loss of his siblings and Steve had noticed. Bucky probably should've kept a lid on his mind's thought train until he was reasonably sure that Steve was asleep and gone out to the living room to mourn in private, but he also knew that wouldn't have been successful. Even if it had been, Steve would've woken up and followed him to the living room anyway. Because he was obnoxious that way.
Steve's bed creaked slightly, and Bucky knew he'd gotten up, even before he opened his eyes. "Sit up," Steve said.
Bucky gave him a weary attempt at a glare, not really wanting to comply. But even that was half-hearted, and once he'd tried to outwait Steve for about fifteen seconds, he gave up and sat up, pulling his sleeves up over the palms of his hands so he could use them to dry his eyes.
Steve sat down next to him. "You didn't have to wait until you thought I was asleep," he said.
"If I'd actually been trying, I might've made it to the living room," Bucky said, sniffing hard, then made a frustrated noise. "Because I didn't have enough problems breathing today."
Steve laughed, just a quiet burst of air. "This time, it wasn't my fault."
Bucky looked over at him, trying to look annoyed, but knowing he probably looked pathetic, with red eyes and a wet face, and constantly sniffing to keep from adding a drippy nose to that mess.
Steve had the grace to not comment on that, although he did look like he wanted to be the big brother for a change. He put his arm around Bucky. "You didn't have to try to face it alone, you know," he said.
Bucky felt his expression crumple again as he leaned against his friend. "My brother and sister are gone and I wasn't there for them," he said, trying to keep from sounding like he was whining. He didn't sound whiny, he just sounded like a kid crying on his mother's shoulder about a nightmare again. Not much better.
For a second, Steve didn't reply, just kept his arm around Bucky's shoulders, then sighed. "Bucky, that wasn't your fault. And even if we'd both come home from the war, there's a good chance we would've been gone before either of them. We were older than them."
"Paul died young," Bucky half-heartedly protested, sniffing again. Goddamnit, he was going to have to go find some tissue or toilet paper or something.
"Okay, maybe we would've been there for Paul," Steve said. "But not likely for Rebecca. And Peter is still alive, we definitely wouldn't be there for him."
Bucky decided to set that one aside. "She died of cancer. That's an awful way to go." He swallowed to keep from coughing. "It was probably those damn cigarettes. I told her not to start that shit." He felt helpless, and when he felt helpless, he got angry, and at that exact second, anger seemed better than helpless sobbing.
Steve wasn't buying that. "Bucky, stop," he said. "You know she never did anything you told her. There's no point in getting angry about it now. I hate to keep pointing ages out, but even if she hadn't had cancer, she might not've made it this long anyway. Peter is probably the only one that was young enough."
The tension left his shoulders, and he felt his throat tighten with the threat of more tears. "I should've been there for them," he said again, weakly.
This time, Steve didn't try to argue, didn't try to point out how Bucky's emotions were in conflict with reality, he just tightened his grip on Bucky. "I know."