Dr. Orlin Dax (shipsurgeon) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-02-22 12:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, marvel (tv/movies): bucky barnes, star trek: orlin dax, → week 031 (two derleths) |
TWO DERLETHS | DAY 4
It would be a lot fucking easier if his asshole counterpoint would just show himself and make the Soldier’s life a little easier. But that kind of shit never happened, so he was going to have to stalk through this whole fucking place to find the asshole.
There were also more buildings. It was hard to remember what the campus had looked like so long ago, before the monoliths, but this seemed to be the mess hall. He could at least take a look through and see if there was anything edible left. Sam had been sharing his kills from the local wildlife, and meat was a rare enough treat, but if he could surprise his… comrade with something special, it could prove… favorable.
Orlin couldn’t say that his first trip to the other Derleth was entirely successful, but it wasn’t unsuccessful either. He’d had high hopes that his gift baskets and friendly greetings would bring more of the other Derleth residents out of hiding, but alas, he’d only managed to converse with a few of them. On the bright side, however, he did get the opportunity to meet himself! And that was a very enlightening experience. He’d been to the Mirror Verse before. Well, Dax had been to the Mirror Verse. But this was the first time that Orlin ever got to meet himself. And that was truly a rare pleasure!
He was just glad that his counterpart was nice and friendly. A little battle-worn and tired, he had to admit. But Orlin was pleased to see that he was still, for the most part, kindhearted and optimistic. And, to be fair, Orlin was a little jealous of the goatee. Perhaps he would grow one. Because it was quite debonair.
Lots of people were suspicious and worried that the other Derleth might be dangerous or have bad intentions, but Orlin didn’t want to presume. He believed in giving everyone the opportunity to be their better selves. And clearly those poor people had suffered enormous tragedy. He wasn’t going to judge them. He wanted to help. Maybe they could do something to improve the quality of life at the other Derleth so they wouldn’t be stuck in misery for the rest of their lives. Which was why he’d put together another care package of medical supplies and was preparing to make the trek over to the other Derleth.
He closed the door to the clinic, straightened his uniform (he’d even polished his pips that morning to make the best impression,) slung the satchel of supplies over his shoulder, and headed off.
Having cleared out a stock of cereal and smuggled the bags into his satchel, the Soldier reassessed his plan. The dorm rooms were a bust - the wards prevented anyone but the room’s occupants from entering, even if they were doppelgangers. That was tricky magic, and made it effectively useless for him to proceed.
But there was more use for this campus. Plenty of things to salvage. He moved through the kitchens, finding a box of protein bars that also went into his pack, and then headed for the next part of the hall.
Footsteps. The Soldier ceased movement, calculating options. They were too light to be his counterpoint. After a moment the pace and gait were recognized as Orlin’s. An annoyance, to be certain, but a somewhat naive one.
He slipped out of his mask and put it away, hating the exposed feeling, but set it aside for the time being. His hair shifted to the limping movement caused by his body's irregular weight distribution and shuffled into the hall, feigning nervous surprise and twitching for his rifle when he spotted the other man. "Or.. Orlin? Is that you?"
He was careful to control his emotions. He remembered Orlin could sense those, so he let himself feel the nervousness and frustration he was instinctively hiding.
Orlin could sense another person’s emotions, but the sudden influx of people with so many heavy and dark emotions had overwhelmed his empathic system quite a bit. He thought the people in his Derleth had been through a lot. But he was barely five steps into the other Derleth when it felt like he’d been hit by a wall of anguish and pain. He hadn’t been prepared for that. Thankfully he’d had Elsa and Ciri with him to help him focus. But it had made it difficult for him to know which emotions were coming from the people in close proximity to him and which were simply woven into the overall fabric of that desolate campus. Which was not to even mention his own emotions. They’d taken quite a tumble since he’d delivered his first care packages.
Hopefully this time would be easier.
Orlin was a trained Starfleet officer, but he wasn’t a spy or a soldier. He’d gone through all of the appropriate mission training programs, but he was still a doctor first. So, he didn’t hear footsteps sneaking up on him. He didn’t even notice another person nearby until he heard his name.
He turned around, surprised to see—
“Bucky?” Orlin furrowed his brows. He was a little confused. It looked like Bucky, but there were some differences. Was this his counterpart? It didn’t matter. Not to Orlin. If someone needed help, it didn’t matter who they were. He’d sworn an oath and a creed when he became a physician. And he believed all people deserved the benefit of the doubt.
Not that Orlin had any reason to doubt.
“Are you limping? Do you need help? What happened?” Oh goodness he hoped it wasn’t that big pink monster again.
The immediate concern was almost disconcerting. The Soldier flinched slightly, pulling back, before gritting his teeth. “‘M fine,” he said, voice clipped with a rough Russian accent. “The usual. Arm. Is all.” He furrowed his brow at the other man. “You are not my Orlin. Still a doctor, yes?”
He lowered his usual thresholds, letting the pain he normally carried flow into him, letting the ache of his shoulder be felt, the anchoring bolts of the metal arm and the weight of the construct tearing at his flesh only to be immediately regenerated by the serum in his veins, the constant struggle of his body pushing itself despite the trauma, decreased rations, minimal care, and constant stress.
Pain splintered across his expression. Too much, too much. He was holding back more than he had realized, and letting his threshold down even slightly was working against him. The previously ignored aches and pains were rising in intensity, and his metal arm clenched until the plates shifted, servos whining in distress.
Orlin felt Bucky’s pain before he saw the agony stricken across his face. It was like a harsh wave smacking him back on the shore. So excruciating, in fact, that he almost stumbled. Then he took a deep breath and steadied himself as his mother taught him. Deep breaths. Calming thoughts. Clear the mind. Of course it wasn’t easy. If he had been full Betazoid he would have had better control. A different form of psionic ability, yes. But also better control of it. He would have been trained from a very early age by specialists on Betazed. But he wasn’t. He was half Trill. And that meant he would never have complete control of his abilities. Not without help. When he was younger he’d been quite angry about this. Being born of two words. But now he knew better. He wouldn’t have been the same if he was one or the other. He wouldn’t have been Orlin. And, for the most part, he liked who he was.
“Yes. Yes, I’m a doctor. Are you in—” Orlin winced, already knowing the answer to his own question.
He took a cautious step forward. “I can help you, if you’ll let me. I have medicine. A hypospray to alleviate the pain. Maybe I can even help adjust your arm if you need that? I’ve helped our Bucky a few times since I’ve been here. I like to think we’re becoming friends. At least, I think he trusts me a bit better than some. Not that I expect you to trust me immediately! Of course not. You don’t know me. But I was just about to head over to your campus and see if anyone needed medical attention.”
Orlin motioned to his satchel bag. “Would you like me to take a look?”
Friends? If his pitiful counterpart needed something like this life form as a companion, tagging him would be an act of mercy.
It had been too long since he’d let himself feel. His carefully constructed mental barriers were cracking. The Soldier flinched again, trying to pull inward and close them back up. “Otoydi ot menya,” he snarled under his breath, before clenching his teeth and forcing himself to be still. “Please. Hurts.”
A hot red haze was filling his vision. He needed to complete his mission. His mission. “You’ve seen him? Me? Other me?” His jaw was tight with pain, but he managed to give Prlin a pleading look. “Where?”
“Let me get out my tricorder so I can do some readings. Then I can give you a hypospray to relieve some of your pain until we can figure out if there’s anything permanent I can do. Although, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure how that works with the resets. I haven’t been here very long. This is all quite new to me,” Orlin said. He tried not to ramble too much, but this week made him a little nervous. He wasn’t himself because of his lack of focus. But tasks were good. Tasks kept him busy and gave him something to do so he didn’t wallow in his confused empathic feelings. And the rambling relieved his stress.
He removed the satchel from his shoulder and dug inside for his medical tricorder. He held it up to Bucky’s arm, little lights blinking as it scanned through the muscle and picked up any deviations in the neural pathways.
“Yes, of course I see him. We were supposed to meet for coffee this week, but I guess everyone is busy with the other Derleth. Quite exciting, isn’t it? Meeting another version of yourself! I’m told it’s happened before but under different circumstances. This is my first time. I had a lovely conversation with the other Orlin. His Dax never joined with Ezri! Hard to believe really. She’s such a strong part of me. I guess that explains why he was so much more serious.” Pause. “Well, and because your Derleth has been so … disturbing.”
Orlin finished his scans and began looking at the results. “Are you looking for Bucky? I’m certain he’s around here somewhere. I could help you look for him if you’d like!”
It was too much to not flinch back from the proximity. The Soldier berated himself, furious at his lack of composure. "Need him to take the brand. Protect him."
He let the other man ramble, ignoring the words as he struggled to get himself back under control. But one thing made it through, one word that resonated in his mind over and over.
Blue eyes blinking, he looked at the doctor. "Coffee?"
“Brand?” Orlin blinked. The other Orlin hadn’t called it a brand. The word ‘brand’ sounded much more sinister. What had the other Orlin called it? A patch. A protective patch. Orlin had asked a few questions about it, but he didn’t get a bad feeling from the other Orlin. He didn’t sense that there was anything wrong with it. So, naturally he accepted it. He truly believed they wanted to help. One day he might regret his willingness to think the best of people. But today was not that day. “Oh, yes! The magical patch. I got mine. I really hope it works. I tried to get some readings of the monolith with my tricorder, but they were very inconclusive. A little worrisome. But hopefully the patches work in this Derleth like they do in yours. I want everyone to be safe and healthy.”
It didn’t seem like Bucky was really listening to him though. He really needed to cut back on his rambling. He was beginning to realize that it was a turn off for a lot of people.
“Yes! We have coffee. It’s no raktajino, but it’s quite good. I heard that some residents even have their own machines in their rooms. What do they call them? Like old fashioned replicators. Oh, yes! Nespresso!” Orlin grinned. “Would you like to join me for a cup before I head off to your Derleth?”
He was still talking. The Soldier was in pain, and this man was still rattling on about things that didn’t matter. The mission wasn’t complete. They weren’t supposed to kill anyone, or show hostile intent.
But the Soldier knew his trade. He started to think. Three.. Four… six ways he could kill this man to make it look accidental. Four places to hide the body if it didn’t come out correctly. Seven. Twelve. That was better.
As he thought about the ways to make it happen, the satisfaction of tearing out the prattling man’s vocal chords and shoving them into his soft underbelly, he started to calm, thoughts of violence easing the aches of his body. He was comfortable with violence. It made more sense than this kind of subterfuge.
Slowly, he started to nod. “Coffee. This sounds good.”
But then his expression sharpened, attention shifting to the end of the hall. He stared at the figure of Bucky Barnes, who was watching him and the doctor, aiming a handgun at the Soldier’s eyes. The Soldier looked at the sleek black arm, the cropped hair, and his head tilted slightly. “Solidat?”
For his part, Bucky was outwardly calm, keeping his weapon trained solely on the Winter Soldier, inside sick with panic and cold fear that he was struggling to keep under control. “Otoydite ot nego. Medlenno.” He licked at his lips. “Doc, you okay?”
He didn’t trust that stringy-haired asshole. Not the way he was twitching, not the way he was letting Orlin get closer, not the way he was… breathing.
Orlin probably would have continued prattling on if he hadn’t noticed the sudden change in Bucky’s temperament. It was like the tension in the air between them was pulled taut like a wire stretched to its maximum. Orlin cut himself off mid-sentence and followed Bucky’s gaze to, well, Bucky. Goodness, this was getting very confusing very quickly. He started to smile when he saw Bucky—his Bucky, the one he considered a friend—but that enthusiasm quickly faded when he saw the weapon in his hands.
It was an old fashioned firearm from Orlin’s perspective, but nonetheless deadly. In fact, deadlier than his phaser, which at least had a stun setting. Orlin’s mouth gaped in surprise, looking between the two Buckys with overwhelming confusion.
Clearly he had missed something.
“Yes, of course! I’m quite alright. Perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about. I was just about to ask Bucky—this Bucky—if he’d like a hypospray. He’s experiencing some discomfort.” Discomfort that Orlin assumed was similar to the pain the Bucky from his Derleth occasionally had. Granted, he hadn’t gotten around to asking this new Bucky if he’d been injured by anything in his Derleth recently. Like the big pink monster, for example. That probably should have been his first question. He really needed to get control of himself and his empathy. He was so off the mark today. “There’s no reason to worry, Bucky! You can put away your weapon. I know it can be a little unsettling to meet another version of yourself, but Bucky … this Bucky … isn’t going to hurt you.”
Orlin turned his attention to the Winter Soldier. “Right?”
“Orlin,” Bucky said, his voice soft, rough. “Step back from him. Please. He’s dangerous.”
The Soldier’s eyes narrowed for an instant. “I’m not the one holding the weapon,” he said, voice careful and slow.
This time, it was Bucky who flinched. But then his jaw clenched. “You are the weapon. Get away from Orlin. Last chance.”
The Soldier smirked slightly, while Orlin’s attention was still on Barnes, but lifted his hands, slowly, and took a step away from the doctor. “I knew you would not believe me. I would not, in your shoes. But I will not hurt you, or him.”
Bucky stepped to the side, pistol still raised, but clearing Orlin from the path of fire. “Swear it,” he said.
The Soldier scoffed. “What would I swear on to make you believe me?”
“Steve Rogers.”
The Soldier’s expression hardened instantly, furious eyes snapping to Barnes. His voice came out in a growl. “Klyanus'. On Steve Rogers.”
Bucky eased slightly, then holstered the pistol. “Fine. Talk. Orlin, move the fuck away already!”
Orlin didn’t understand what was going on. It made no sense to him that Bucky would be worried about his counterpart or see him as a threat. He hadn’t been mean to Orlin. He hadn’t threatened him or behaved oddly. Sure, he was a little bit strange, but Orlin assumed that had to do with the fact that his Derleth was a disaster zone. He’d heard the rumors that the other Derleth only went to horrible, devastating locations. And he sensed their pain and agony. He knew they were hurting. But that didn’t make them bad people. And that didn’t make them dangerous.
It just made them more in need of kindness.
Then Bucky yelled at him and Orlin jumped back away from the Winter Soldier on instinct.
“I think we should all just calm down. I know this is a stressful situation, but we can all get along. There’s no need for any unnecessary violence.” Orlin tried to give Bucky a reassuring smile. Then he looked back at the Winter Soldier. “Would you like me to help you with your arm? I promise no harm will come to you.”
Orlin was determined to prove that neither Bucky had reason to react from a place of hurt. He knew what it felt like to be alone and afraid. He wanted to relieve others of that feeling as well. To help them find the ability to trust again. “It’s okay. Let me help you.”
And against Bucky’s warning, he took a step closer to the Soldier.
The Soldier's ability to restrain himself was already pushing its limits. Orlin moving into his personal space shredded the last of his control, and he snapped, moving lightning-quick, grabbing the doctor by the arm and pulling him close, metal arm curled around Orlin's throat while the flesh one pulled Orlin's arm up behind his back. The Soldier thrust his Trill shield between himself and Barnes, who had drawn his weapon again.
There was concern and anger in Bucky's eyes. "Calm down," he said to the Soldier, putting up a hand even as he tried to keep the pistol trained on his counterpart. "He's not used to working with us. It was a mistake."
The Soldier snarled, tightening his grip on Orlin. “Vy berete marku. Vy missiya.”
Bucky raised his hands, letting the pistol dangle from his thumb. But his eyes narrowed at the Soldier. “Vy poklyalis'. Ty poklyalsya Steve.”
The Soldier sneered at him. “YA ubil Steve. Dumayesh', ya ne ub'yu doktora? Oni nichego ne znachat.”
Bucky went still at the words, eyes wide with shock. Then he moved in a blur. A knife was suddenly buried in the Soldier’s flesh arm, weakening the hold on Orlin’s wrist. Bucky barreled into the doctor from the side, knocking him away from the Soldier’s grip. The Soldier, meanwhile, had drawn his own knife and was using it to stab Barnes in the back and side as quickly as he could. Bucky was doing his best to deflect or block the attacks with his vibranium arm.
The movement was so quick, Orlin’s empathic abilities didn’t even pick up on the nuanced fluctuation in the Winter Soldier’s emotions until it was too late. He dropped his tricorder the moment the metal arm wrapped around his neck. He choked and struggled at first. But as soon as the Soldier had his other arm pinned behind his back, twisting it to an excruciating point of pain, Orlin ceased any attempts to wiggle out of the man’s grasp.
Why hadn’t he listened? He should have trusted Bucky’s judgment on the matter. On this man. Or, at the very least, he should have trusted his Starfleet training. He knew immediately that if he survived this incident he would be mulling over it for days. Weeks, perhaps. And as much as he could easily blame it on the overabundance of emotions flooding his mind, he knew that wouldn’t be a good enough excuse to satisfy him.
He should have been able to control it better, after all. He shouldn’t have been so reckless.
They were talking, but Orlin wasn’t listening. His head was getting dizzy. His eyes blurry. The Soldier tightened his grip. And then—
SLAM!
Bucky rammed right into him. Orlin stumbled out of the Winter Soldier’s grip and hit the ground with a roll. A searing pain shot up his arm and he let out a yelp. He slowly pushed himself up to his knees in time to catch Bucky—no, the Soldier—stabbing Bucky in the back. “No! Bucky! Wait! Please, stop!”
Blast! Why was he so daft as to leave his phaser back in the clinic?
Both the men on the ground ignored the pleas of the doctor. Barnes was able to deflect a good number of strikes, but he was still trying to reach for a weapon while the Soldier was already armed. So he tore the knife from the Soldier’s arm and started to counter-attack with that, forcing the Soldier to defend himself.
The Soldier was inwardly fuming. He had broken the charade, but if he could just get the mark on Barnes, his mission would be complete. In this proximity, it could work. He shifted tactics, flipping the knife into his metal arm and thrusting with it, forcing Barnes to focus on countering strength with strength.
Bucky caught the metal arm and blade before it was buried in his gut, but was forced back a few steps when the Soldier lunged, his vibranium plates shifting to support and strengthen his own grip as he caught the other prosthetic.
The Soldier moved fast, drawing out the magical brand and slapping it onto the vibranium limb. Bucky reacted in surprise, first trying to twist out of the way, but he was caught off guard and was too slow to move away. Instead, he ended up twisting the metal arm of the Soldier, his vibranium fist clenching. He heard the Soldier give a grunt of pain, and tightened his grip, then pivoted and threw the Soldier over his hip.
It was a perfect throw, except for being in the wrong direction. There was a scream of twisting metal, a matching sound from the Soldier’s throat, and then Bucky was holding the metal arm in his grip while the Soldier rolled aside.
The Soldier didn’t stick around. Once he was loose, he fled, not bothering to try and reclaim the lost arm. Which was good - Bucky was staring down at the silver arm in his hands, breathing hard, eyes wide and shocked for a few precious seconds. By the time he recovered, the Soldier was vanishing down the hall and gone.
Bucky decided not to give chase. He needed to check on-- “Orlin? Doc? You okay?”
Orlin watched the entire thing in a state of awestruck shock. He’d had no idea what Bucky was capable of. And seeing it all laid out bare in front of him like that was incredibly overwhelming. He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or dismayed. Frightened? Yes, that was an emotion he was definitely feeling. His heart was racing. His arm and side ached. Ribs were definitely bruised. One might have been broken. He could feel them with each inhale of breath he took. But he could wait to take care of himself. First he had to make sure that Bucky and the Solider—
And then the arm came off.
Orlin slumped on his knees. His thoughts went blank at the sight of the metal arm, bits of flesh and cybernetics, ripped off of the Soldier’s shoulder. His initial reaction wouldn’t have made sense to anyone else in Derleth. But for him it was clear as day. Borg. And just the correlation of that stirred a surge of terror inside of him. Dax had lived a long time. He’d experienced numerous battles and lived through unspeakable horrors, particularly in the years when the Borg waged their war against the Federation, but Orlin hadn’t. He’d been a young boy when Jean-Luc Picard was assimilated. And he was barely out of school when Locutus initiated his second invasion. But he still remembered the horror the entire galaxy lived in. The fear. As did Dax.
And Orlin’s flight or fight response reflected his memories of those dark days. He froze.
It wasn’t until Bucky was in front of him asking him if he was alright that he snapped out of his apparent stupor.
He blinked. “What?”
Then he noticed the wounds in Bucky’s sides and torso from where the Soldier stabbed him. “You’re injured. Let me get my tricorder. Hold on a second…”
Deep breaths. Slow inhale, slow exhale as he reached—wince!—for his tricorder. It had fallen to the ground, but thankfully hadn’t broken.
“Hey, hey!” Bucky saw the way Orlin was moving and put his hand out, to stop the doctor from moving. The metal arm was still in his hand. He blinked at it, then threw it aside, picking up the medical scanner from the floor. “Move slow. I think you have some cracked ribs there.”
Probably from two hundred and sixty pounds of cyborg slamming into him. Bucky winced. “Sorry about that.”
He put the scanner in Orlin’s hand. “Can you scan yourself with that thing, or do I need to do it?” He wasn’t going to look at the arm. Not at all. If he did, he’d freeze again, and they’d be stuck.
Orlin’s mind was still in panic mode, but Ezri was in the back of his thoughts trying to calm him down. Using that soft spoken voice of hers to soothe the sudden chaos that had penetrated his normally composed and professional disposition. He didn’t blame Bucky for his attack of anxiety. He didn’t even blame the Winter Soldier. Did the combination of their emotional distrust of each other put his empathic abilities into a bit of a spiral? Perhaps. But Orlin had been something of a mess since the beginning of the week. All of these doubles with stark contrasting personalities—and all of the deep, ignored traumas in each of them—were just overwhelming.
“I’m okay. I’m okay.” He was definitely not okay. The mere act of stretching his arm caused his entire side to flare up in white-hot pain. And Orlin didn’t need his medical tricorder to know that he’d broken something. He sat back down on the ground. “There’s no need to apologize.”
Although a little warning would have been nice. Not that Orlin would have been able to do much.
“If you could just pass me the medkit as well? It’s in the bag.” Orlin said as he took the tricorder and began scanning his own side. “Just have to make sure nothing chipped off. Wouldn’t want to pierce a lung or anything!”
Awkward laugh. Okay, that was a bad joke.
“Dax seems to be alright.” Orlin breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s all that matters.”
Bucky retrieved the medkit, rolling his eyes at the poor humor. “Right, because hemothorax is a goddamn riot. Doc, your bedside humor reminds me of an asthmatic blonde idiot, and I’ll have to tell you about him some day.”
He gave the doctor a sharp look at that last comment, however. “No. Orlin matters, too. And I hope Dax would agree with me.” He popped a squat beside Orlin, watching the scan and waiting until the doctor had a free hand to take the medkit. “And, look, that guy…”
He hesitated a minute, trying to find the words. “We’ve been through a lot, me and him. Seems he came through less cleanly than I did. That’s saying a lot.”
I killed Steve.
It hadn’t been just the words. It had been the look in the Soldier’s eyes when he said the words. Emptiness. Self-loathing. A long-running nightmare of his had been dragging Steve’s limp form to the bank of the Potomac, and instead of seeing him coughing up water, seeing… nothing. No rise and fall of his chest, no throb of his pulse at his throat, only the empty husk of what had once been Captain America.
That Soldier had murdered Steve Rogers, though under what circumstances, Bucky didn’t think he would ever get to know. But the circumstances didn’t matter. The Soldier would never be anything but the Soldier. He had no will to be anything else. Steve had been the only reason for Bucky trying to… keep breathing.
He pushed the thoughts away. They weren’t helpful right now. Instead, he dug the hypospray out of the medkit and offered it to Orlin. “Give yourself something for the pain, Doc. It hurts just looking at you right now.”
Cue another awkward laugh. “Well, yes, of course. Of course I matter, too. I just … Well, you know. Dax has been around a lot longer than me. That’s hundreds of years of knowledge and experience. That’s also really important.”
Which was not to say that Orlin didn’t think he mattered. He knew he did. Even Dax would have reassured him of that, if he wasn’t always taking a backseat. But Orlin was also cognizant of the fact that his life and his purpose had changed drastically after the joining. And while he mattered, he wasn’t the first one to matter. Not in his mind anyway. Most certainly not in the minds of the Symbiosis Committee. Or the general population of Trill. The symbionts were almost sacred beings in their culture. And even though Orlin hadn’t been particularly attuned to that aspect of Trill society for the majority of his life, he understood that he had a responsibility that went beyond just himself.
But that was a conversation for another time.
After Orlin completed the scan he took the hypospray from Bucky, adjusted it to the appropriate dosage and gave himself an injection. He didn’t like doing that. It felt inappropriate to medicate himself. But Bucky was right. He needed it. Honestly, if he hadn’t given it to himself he might have passed out from the pain. And he couldn’t pass out. Not before helping Bucky.
“I am truly sorry for the things you and the other Bucky have been through. I can’t imagine what it must be like. The burdens you’ve both carried. And the tragedies you’ve survived.” Orlin removed another device from the medkit and used it on his side, wincing as the cracked ribs slowly began to fuse back together. “But that’s why this week is so important. Everyone here is hurting. Everyone is in pain and suffering from the things they’ve been through. And sometimes just a small act of kindness is enough to help a person climb out of the dark pit they’ve been in.”
Bucky didn’t relax until he saw Orlin’s body react to the painkiller, tight muscles loosening, breathing becoming more even. He heard Orlin’s words, and while he appreciated them… “Just so you don’t… try something like that again. That… man. That’s not Bucky Barnes. That the Winter Soldier. He doesn’t want to be anything but the Winter Soldier. And I know that because he killed Steve Rogers. If he did it intentionally, he’s made the choice to stay like that. If it was accidental… then he believes this is all he has left, and he doesn’t deserve to be anything else.”
Bucky shook his head. “Coulda been me,” he murmured, almost too softly to hear. “Could just as easily be me like that. It was. But I didn’t kill Steve. I pulled him out. Even though I didn’t really know why, I just… knew I had to protect him.”
When he looked back at Orlin, there was a shine to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Doc, don’t get yourself killed trying to help people. Really. I… I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
That was where Orlin and Bucky differed. Well, where Orlin and most people differed, it seemed. He wanted to have faith in people. He wanted to believe in them. It wasn’t just him idolizing the words of the Federation. Of this perfect universe where people lived in harmony and respectful communication. Did he believe in those values? Yes. Absolutely. But he knew not everyone was capable of kindness and honor. Some people weren’t there yet. Some people would never be there. But Orlin still had hope for them. Even for this other Bucky. Even for the Winter Soldier. He had hope that one day the man would find peace in his heart. So, while he listened to Bucky’s words and took them seriously, he knew he would do the same thing again in another situation. Because in another situation he might actually be able to reach the other person and help them see that their life could be different.
“But it wasn’t you. I think that’s the challenge a lot of people are facing this week. They’re seeing unexpected versions of themselves in the people from the other campus. But just because they have our names, look like us, and have shared experiences, doesn’t mean they are us. I think that’s important to remember.” Because if they missed sight of that, it could be very easy to get lost.
He breathed a deep sigh of relief when the fracture in his ribs was healed. Then he used the tricorder on Bucky’s wounds, assessing the damage. But Bucky’s accelerated healing was already working to fix the injuries on its own. The gashes and stab wounds would probably be fully healed before Orlin even had the opportunity to get out the supplies he needed to assist.
Not that this would stop him from reading through the scans carefully. He didn’t want to miss anything. He considered Bucky his friend, even if they didn’t know each other well. It was important that he do his best to help. Even if his best wasn’t necessary.
Orlin smiled at Bucky’s last comment. There might have even been a little blush to his cheeks. “Thank you, Bucky. That’s very kind of you. And I promise I will do my best not to get killed. But I won’t stop helping people. That’s what I do.”
Bucky let out a huffy little sigh. “Yeah, I figured. Steve was the same way. Always tryin’a help. Got him in a lot of trouble when he was little, and a lot more when he was big enough to fight back. Followed him through a war for it.”
His smile faded to something sweet, but heartbreakingly sad. “Remind me to tell you about him sometime.” He noticed that Orlin was scanning him and waved a hand dismissively, but it was without any heat. “Eh. Don’t bother. You’re the one hurting this time. How’s the ribs?”
The sound of metal tearing flashed back into his mind, the scream coming from the Soldier as the arm broke away from his shoulder. The sympathy ache of losing his own arm when it had been blasted away by Tony’s arc reactor. Don’t bring a metal prosthetic to an arc reactor fight, and now, don’t bring a titanium arm to a vibranium fight. An involuntary giggle escaped Bucky, but he clamped his teeth shut and stifled the rest. If he started giggling now, he’d be sobbing and probably puking in another moment.
“I’d love to hear about him,” Orlin said. And it wasn’t just words intended to fill a void. He meant it. He had the tendency to come off as flighty and fickle, but he was always genuine. Always true. And he did enjoy hearing the stories of other people’s lives and adventures. Of their friends and loved ones. He liked listening to those kinds of stories because that’s when you saw the truth in another person. That’s when someone revealed who they really were—when they talked about the people who mattered most to them. “He sounds like a great guy. Reminds me a bit of the first officer on my last posting. He was always getting into trouble. But I don’t think there was a single member of the crew who wouldn’t have followed him to the ends of the galaxy and back.”
Orlin lowered his tricorder and put it away. Then he palpitated his fingers along his own side, feeling around and between the ribs to make sure everything was in its proper place.
“It’ll be fine. The osteoregenerator fixed the fractures. I’ll just have to wait for the bruising to go down a bit. But I have a few things in the clinic that can help with that if necessary. It’s no big deal though. I’ll be much better by tomorrow. Right as rain in a few days!” Orlin tried to offer an encouraging smile, but he caught sight of something in Bucky’s gaze that caused him to hesitate before saying anything else. He hadn’t stopped to think of how mindbending it must have been for Bucky to fight himself. A version of himself who’d taken a vastly different path than him. A man who’d chosen to murder his friend instead of save him.
Orlin was lucky that his counterpart wasn’t combative or hateful. Others didn’t have it quite as easy.
“You know, I’m not really feeling up to making the hike back to the other Derleth. I think it might be best if I stay here and rest.” He paused. “Maybe now would be a good time for us to get that coffee we keep missing out on?”
Bucky quirked a bit of a smile. “Sure. Coffee sounds great. Want to come up to my room? I’ve got a great coffee maker and a really nice couch.” He straightened and offered Orlin his hand to help him stand up. “And I should put that somewhere,” he added, glancing at the arm. “Not really something I want to leave just laying around.”
He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “You tell me about that first officer, and I’ll tell you a story about Steve. We can see how it goes from there.” Bucky glanced down at his metal arm, where the edges of the mark were barely visible, sinking into the vibranium. “And we’ll see if this thing keeps the nightmares away.”
Orlin took Bucky’s hand and carefully came to a stand. Then he gathered up his medical supplies, stuffed them back in the satchel, and looped it over the shoulder that hadn’t taken the full brunt of Bucky’s weight. He didn’t feel good by any means. In fact he really wanted to just lay down and take a nap. But he knew the hypospray would do its job and the swelling in his side would go down soon enough. Besides, he could tell that for as much pain as he was in physically, Bucky might have been in an equal amount of pain emotionally. And for that reason alone Orlin could find the strength to sit on a sofa and share a cup of coffee.
He followed Bucky’s gaze to the metal arm on the ground. He’d almost forgotten about that. “We can put it in the clinic.”
He paused. “Or maybe we could just set it on the border of the two Derleths. Near the Desolation. Then the other Bucky can get to it safely without worrying about coming into contact with anyone else.”
That sounded like the best idea for all parties involved. But Orlin would leave that decision up to Bucky. He supposed Bucky knew better how to handle himself than anyone else.
Orlin’s brows knit together. He could tell there was more to this than Bucky was saying, but he wouldn’t push. Coffee first. Then conversation. And if Bucky wanted to open up, maybe he’d ask more. He offered a small smile. “I’ll tell you about the time we all had two weeks leave on Risa and the first officer and chief engineer spent the entire trip tied up in some underground caves by a pair of thieves pretending to be Risan nightclub dancers.”