The Pen is Mightier! (penismightier) wrote in chaotic_library, @ 2014-12-02 22:33:00 |
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Current music: | Daughtry - Ghost Of Me |
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: That train room is tiny, yo. Also, thanks to writer314 on AO3, who pointed out that I can't read train schedules to save my life. Pretend what was said in the chapter before was mulligan number one.
Title: In Derelict Sidings The Poppies Entwine: Chapter 15
Author: yuuo
Word Count: 3663
Summary: The day had been, as Bucky predicted, a long one.
The day had been, as Bucky predicted, a long one. Natasha was on edge, and Steve and Bucky had decided to try to camouflage themselves on their couch bed, being quiet and not interrupting her bad mood. She spent most of the day doing... something, typing a lot, but what, Bucky didn't know. She'd given him back the file she'd digitized for him early on, then said nothing else the rest of the day. Except 'please' and 'thank you' when Steve and Bucky would cook for her.
At least she still had manners.
Steve and Bucky decided to just stay up to catch their train and sleep on the way to Baltimore, so Natasha went to bed long before them. Her day-long demeanor of being generally upset softened briefly before she locked herself in her bedroom, long enough for her to give Steve a hug and put a gentle hand on Bucky's flesh shoulder and tell them to travel safe. Have Sharon contact her immediately if they needed her. Good night.
Staying up was easy; even though Bucky was tired, needed the sleep, he was prepping for a mission. A mission meant that his brain and body both needed to be functioning and prepared, so no matter how little sleep it'd mean he'd get, he was awake, at least until a scheduled rest time.
However, it was getting annoying to be rereading the same damn chapter over and over again and still not having it parse that well because he was tired or otherwise distracted.
At two-thirty, they unmade the bed, put the couch back together, and piled the linens in the corner where the couch cushions had been. They made sure they took their money out of their bag of gear, putting it in Steve's wallet, and left the weapons and uniforms hidden in the corner.
They locked the door behind them.
The train station wasn't hard to find, it was right next to an impressively large arena bearing a sign that said "Pinnacle Bank Arena." Bucky wondered if such a thing was really necessary for a city with less than a half a million people in it, but that obviously hadn't stopped them from building it.
Actually, he wasn't sure a place with less than a half a million people in it counted as a city, but in a state that was mostly a cornfield, it probably did.
He stood back with the bags, hood pulled up and head ducked to hide under it as much as possible, while Steve got their tickets. Steve was easier to disguise than Bucky, with Bucky's long hair, and also the inability to safely take off his gloves to count out the cash. Even without the gloves, there was that whole problem with no traction on his fingertips, so counting cash was difficult for him.
He sometimes missed his flesh arm.
They got lucky. That private room had still been available. Apparently few people around here wanted to spend an extra five hundred bucks to get a private room that really only housed two people. At this time of year, it was probably more families traveling anyway, and those usually involved children, which meant that two beds were not enough.
Their loss, Steve and Bucky's gain.
The train arrived on time. Steve and Bucky boarded the train, finding their way to their reserved room and dropping their bags next to the two reclining seats. The seats sat across from each other, and folded together to make one bed, while the other folded down from the wall above them to make a sort of bunk bed. They both decided not to hassle with that, just recline in their respective chairs and sleep that way.
Bucky slept right away.
He wasn't sure what time he woke; the sun was out, at least, and the world outside was passing by outside their picture window. He glanced across from him at Steve, who was still asleep, and adjusted his chair, sitting up properly. Now that it was light and he was awake to look around, he noticed that the room was smaller than it'd seemed the night before. At past three in the morning, it hadn't mattered how little space there was, as long as they could dump their bags, recline, and sleep.
Bucky got up, careful to not wake Steve, and stretched, looking around the incredibly tiny room. It was about three and a half, maybe four feet one direction, and closing in on seven the other way, so there wasn't exactly room to wander. But there was a thermostat on the wall that he homed in on and adjusted. It wasn't particularly chilly, but Bucky had been having enough flashbacks and attacks lately that he didn't care to tempt fate with another one because he got cold.
With no room to really go anywhere without leaving the room entirely, he sat back down and yawned. God, he'd kill for some coffee. Or rather, something that would work as well as coffee used to.
That was when he noticed that the room managed to stock a couple bottles of water. He frowned, reaching over and grabbing one, staring at it. Well, it wasn't coffee, but at least it was something to drink.
"They sell that stuff, you know," Steve said.
Bucky looked over at him. "Yeah, pour some water into a bottle and sell it for five bucks. The modern world confuses me sometimes."
Steve sat up straight. "Still not used to it?"
"Still working on it," Bucky said. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
Steve shook his head. "No." He glanced up at the thermostat. "Seventy-four, huh? Bucky, you're going to cook us alive if you keep turning up the heat."
Bucky slumped in his chair, trying to look grumpy and not miserable. There was a substantial difference between the two. "I was cold."
"Is that really it?" Steve asked, standing and reaching over Bucky to adjust the thermostat. Bucky tilted his head back, watched Steve turn the heat back down to seventy. Steve sat back down. "I'd ask you to talk to me, but I know you won't."
Making a point of taking a drink of that overpriced, nasty-tasting stuff they pretended was water, Bucky looked out the window, considering if he wanted to answer or not. "I've been on mission too long," he finally said. "I'm supposed to be back in the chamber by now."
"We've been on long jobs before, Bucky. You never reacted like this before." Steve paused. "To this extent, anyway."
Bucky kept watching out the window. "This one is personal. And it's been going on for over a week now. Stay out of cryo long enough, and things start coming back. Which leads to wipes." He smiled bitterly. "Can't say those are fun."
"No one's sticking you in that chair again," Steve said. His voice was quiet, but his tone was firm. "Anyone who tries will have to get through me, first."
Bucky's smile turned from bitter to actually amused. "And you'd take on the whole world if you had to," he said, shaking his head. "You never learned to run away."
Steve nudged Bucky's foot with his own. "You wouldn't run away without me, either."
Bucky turned his head to look at Steve. "You know, this is why Tony gets disturbed by us sometimes." He frowned. "Used to."
"What makes you think that's only in the past?" Steve asked.
Bucky took a deep breath, giving Steve a tired look. He didn't think he had to explain this. "How would you feel if someone you trusted had murdered your parents, knew about it, and decided to let you go on thinking they'd died in an accident? I know you'd forgive me of just about anything, but Tony doesn't have the history. He doesn't have any reason to. And I doubt he ever will. And I don't blame him."
"Maybe," Steve said. "Maybe not. Tony's hard to predict sometimes. So's Pepper. Give them time, let's wait to see where the chips lie until after they're finished falling."
"What makes you think they're not finished falling?" Bucky asked, tilting his head. He wasn't sure if he was being derisive, or objectively curious, or some combination. Probably some combination; his head was never simple enough for it to be an either/or.
"Because I know Tony doesn't lose people easily," Steve answered. "Sometimes it takes him a bit of time to come around. Give him time to adjust, and I think he'll not be as willing to lose us as you think he is." Then he made a conceding face. "And, you're right, maybe not. Like I said, he's hard to predict. We lied, but considering he'd do the same thing for Pepper, he might come around."
Bucky looked down at his gloved left hand. "It's not fair that you should lose a friendship because of me."
"I know it's hard, but have a little faith. You dropped a bombshell on him, let him have time to process it before you write him off."
Now Bucky was being derisive. "Faith. That's something for you religious types."
"You don't have to be religious to believe in something, James," Steve said, with a brief pause before Bucky's name. He went quiet a moment, but the way he was studying Bucky told Bucky that Steve was contemplating the exact right way to say something that he needed to hear. "Tell me, if situations had been reversed, if it'd been me that Hydra got ahold of, and we ran into each other on that helicarrier, would you believe that you could reach me? That I was still your friend under the brainwashing?"
Bucky sighed. "Steve, that's different. You're you. You've always been farther away from what Hydra would've wanted. They would've had to destroy more to get you to that point."
"Even if that's true, and I think you're selling yourself short," Steve said, "that doesn't change the fact that what I took was a leap of faith. I trusted you, knew I could from the past, that wasn't faith. But I also trusted Hydra, and that was also not faith, because I knew them. So I had to believe that I could get you back. I did, because I couldn't fathom not believing, not getting you back, but it was still faith. That's all faith is, James." There was that pause again. "It's something you give to people."
Bucky turned his head to watch the passing scenery. "I'll leave you to have faith in Tony for me," he said after a moment. "I have the government to worry about, and I think they'll take a bit more."
"Fair enough," Steve said. "That reminds me. I still hate this plan of yours."
"It's one of my dumber ones," Bucky admitted, glancing at Steve's reflection in the window. "I just know it's probably my best bet right now."
"We had some pretty piss-poor options," Steve agreed. "And even if we had better options, you're right, it's not in you to run."
"Not forever, anyway," Bucky said. He eyed his bag where his book was. "You know, I still don't know what the hell was happening in that damn book."
Steve chuckled. "How far are you?"
"'Bout a quarter of the way through," Bucky said. "I would be farther, but I haven't been able to focus on it and I keep rereading parts. Kinda hoping they let me keep it in jail. I don't like being bored."
"You won't be in there long," Steve said. "If I have to threaten to turn in the uniform and the name to make sure of it, I will."
"Well, now you're just being dumb," Bucky said. "You're never going to be able to get rid of Captain America. That kind of thing is a chain that'll run with you, no matter how far you try to run." He paused. "And I didn't say that, that was Nietzsche."
"Isn't he the one that said something about fighting monsters and becoming one?" Steve asked.
Bucky nodded. "That's him. He was the only philosopher worth reading about in class." He finally looked away from the reflections in the window. "Have you taken any classes since getting back? Catch up on things?"
"A few," Steve said. "I've mostly relied on my own research, but yeah, I finally went to college for awhile. Not a dedicated student, but I have credits now."
"You should go back," Bucky said. "For that matter, so should I. Once this is over, assuming I get to go back to civvie life." Then he flashed Steve a smartass smirk. "Think the Army will pay my tuition?"
Steve snorted. "You'd better hope they do," he said. "College costs an obscene amount of money these days. We could probably cover it ourselves, but it'd be easier if you can get government help."
Bucky made a face. "Like everything else these days." He wondered what happened to the economy that had hyper-inflated everything, but he had a feeling he could answer that with 'corporations and government teaming up,' which wasn't anything new. The Depression had been far worse, but it seemed nobody really learned from it.
He decided not to ask Steve to try to explain if it was anything more than that. Steve had a thing about economics, and even though it'd be distracting, Bucky really wasn't in the mood to listen to him rant for the rest of the trip.
"Welcome to the twenty-first century," Steve said, and he sounded like he might be gearing up for that rant anyway. Bucky gave him a dirty look, and Steve settled back down again. "Time passes, things change. You haven't gotten used to it yet?"
"Getting there," Bucky said. "Some things still give me heart attacks. I still refuse to look at our grocery bill."
"Smart man," Steve said. "That gives me a heart attack, too. I think it wouldn't be so bad if we didn't have to have more than two average men. Being a super soldier has its drawbacks."
They both went quiet as another passenger passed by their open door towards the showers with a nod of acknowledgement and a quiet 'excuse me.' Steve and Bucky both nodded back, waiting until the woman was gone, then looked back at each other.
Bucky reached forward and slid their door shut. "I can tell we were tired last night," he said. "We left the door open." He shivered, pulling up his hood and sinking back into his seat, hoping that by doing so, he might trap his body heat better. "How are you not cold?"
"Because it's not cold in here," Steve said. "But if you're genuinely that cold, we can bump the heat."
Bucky honestly couldn't tell how much of the chill he felt was physical, or purely psychological. "You can cook," he said, standing and turning up the heat again before sitting back down.
Steve sighed, then squirmed out of his coat without standing up to take it off properly. He tossed it over to Bucky, the coat smacking Bucky square in the face. "Wear that. Might warm you up enough that I can turn the thermostat back down to a low simmer."
Bucky yanked the coat out of his face, giving Steve a glare, then decided that he was going to take Steve up on his offer and draped the coat over his chest, huddled down under it. "You're funny, Rogers."
Steve grinned. "I try to be." He glanced at his watch. "It's eight-thirty, we woke up with a bit of time to spare. We won't get to Chicago until about three." He looked up at Bucky. "Why don't you try to get more rest, let yourself warm up a bit?"
"What about you?" Bucky asked. "You didn't get any more sleep than I did."
"I'll nap," Steve said. "I'm more concerned with making sure you'll sleep okay, rather than waking up in a panic because you're cold."
Bucky gave a half-hearted snarl in Steve's direction. "I'm not going to panic because of that."
"You know what I mean, James," Steve said, and he was right, Bucky did, but he didn't have to say it. "Get some sleep. We'll probably want it."
"Meh."
Despite his response, Bucky was grateful for the chance to rest further. They had another full day of travel, with layovers. The layover in DC worried him a bit, but as long as they kept their heads down, it shouldn't be trouble.
The walk to Fort Meade from Baltimore was only sixteen miles, a walk in the park for him and Steve, so he didn't need energy for that, but he was dumping his dirty little secrets into military hands in the hopes of getting a pardon and dismissal to go live in quiet again, or at least as much quiet as a mercenary ever got. That was going to be taxing, no matter how he approached it.
He woke up when they were entering a city, and he wasn't sure which city it was. The air in the room was noticeably cooler than it had been earlier, but Bucky didn't feel chilled anymore. In fact, he felt a bit overheated. He emerged from under the coats, looking over at Steve. Steve was asleep, so Bucky carefully leaned forward and draped Steve's coat back over him, before settling back down and watching out the window.
"Are we there yet?" Steve asked.
Bucky looked over at him. Steve had one eye cracked open, not coming out from under the jacket or bothering to wake up further. Probably not until he knew if they were at their stop or not.
Bucky shrugged. "No idea. Check your watch. Is it about time for us to be there?"
Steve pulled his arm out from under his coat, staring at this watch. "Yeah. We're here." He sat forward. "Good internal clock. Woke up just in time."
"Mm." Bucky stared out the window, watching the buildings going by at an increasingly slower rate, until they'd pulled to a stop at a station platform. He grabbed his bag, letting Steve take the lead as they disembarked.
A four-hour layover in Chicago. They boarded their new train at six-thirty. Another seventeen and a half hours from Chicago to DC. Exhausting.
A two hour transfer in DC. If walking around in DC wouldn't have been dangerous, he would've suggested they just skip the last transfer and walk to Fort Meade from there. Choosing to take that last train, they could stay back in the crowds at the train station and blend in with the other holiday travelers there.
Another forty-three minutes from DC to Baltimore.
Once at Baltimore, off the train, and away from the train station, he started counting minutes. It was about sixteen miles from city limits to Fort Meade. They could make that in about an hour if they ran, three if they walked. It was just past four, three hours would put them there past the rush hour for civilian employees who chose to live off-base to leave. Which meant the inspection booths might be relatively quiet, not overcrowded with keeping track of people coming and going. An hour would put them near the start of the rush, maybe just a bit before.
Once they were away from the crowds and moving in the direction of city limits- don't run in the city, that'd draw unwanted attention -Bucky looked up at Steve. "So the question is, do we want to be there before or after rush hour?"
Steve's brow furrowed in thought. He glanced around, then at his watch like that might make the decision for him. "If we try to beat rush hour, we'll be running full speed. There's State Patrol to worry about out on the highways. We might run into trouble before we get to the base if we all out run. We'll take a bit longer, get there just past dinner. If a trooper pulls over to bitch at us for walking on the highways, we can maybe beg a ride. Hopefully, we'll have better luck with the State Patrol this time, though."
"Walking it is, then," Bucky said, strapping his bag across his chest. He counted more minutes and meters, then as they got out of town, miles. Just over five miles an hour walking, slow for them, but still fast enough to get them to the base about an hour and a half after sundown, and slow enough to keep from drawing attention.
Traffic on the highway was heavy, and got heavier as four gave over to five, then slowed a bit as six approached.
One more hour.
It was dark when the base came into sight, a few cars coming and going through the inspection lines, the LED sign above the roads stating the time and temp. Nineteen twenty-eight. Forty-three degrees Fahrenheit, six degrees Celsius. It felt far warmer than it had in Nebraska, and there was minimal wind, by comparison.
Steve and Bucky made sure to stay out of the way of the cars, neither taking the lead, nor following; it was Bucky's mission, but Bucky didn't like having Steve behind him much, so they compromised.
They walked into an empty lane, up to the booth where a guard was standing outside, watching them and clearly waiting for them. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"
Bucky eyed his stripes. Corporal, unless things vastly changed since his Army days. "You might as well get an officer, kid," he said. "I'm above your pay grade."
The corporal didn't look convinced. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to give me a much better reason than that to-"
"My name is Sergeant James Barnes," Bucky interrupted. "I'm the Winter Soldier, and I'm here to turn myself in."