Who: AU Bucky and OPEN What: he's heeeere Where: The hotel When: Early morning Sunday Open/Ongoing
Bucky woke up with a gasp, sitting up in the bed. An actual bed. It must have worked! He took slow deep breaths, relishing in how deep he could fill his lungs, how clean the air felt. He looked around the room for a minute, rubbing his fingers against the hair on his jawline. It was certainly more than stubble but not quite a beard, it helped hide how gaunt his cheeks were and how sharply his jaw angled.
Hotel. Not apartment. Either this place is only slightly less shitty and they all have to live in one spot, or they've figured the others out and are hiding. Great.
He sighed and reached for the phone on the side table. His stomach was growling but there didn't seem to be any food in the room and he was at least used to that. It could wait a little longer.
He scrolled through everything he could find. The networks of the past few weeks, the notes and messages his other-self had kept, then the photos. Shit. This version of himself just had to be the one to have both arms. Guess he wouldn't be blending in much. Not that it seemed some of the others had done a great job of that anyway.
Good news: not a shit hole Bad news: stuck in the middle of enemy territory Worse news?: baby in the corner
He groaned and got out of the bed. He found a bag in the closet and stuffed it with everything he could find in the room that he felt could be useful. He took most of the clothes, the phone, the computer, a few other odds and ends, but left the sentimental things. Some rings threaded on to a necklace on a side table, drawings and recipe cards and sketchbooks stuffed in a drawer, the photo of a person he tried not to remember, another of about 30 people he mostly didn't recognize. There were way too many kids in that photo for this place to be anything but thriving. It had been years since any babies were born on the station he'd come from. Rumors flew every now and then that someone was pregnant, but none of the babies ever came. He assumed the worst, but knew it could just be idle gossip too. Either was possible.
That led him to the baby in this room with him. She was asleep and looked like she'd be that way for a while. Not really a baby even, he observed, looking into the little pen she slept in. Next stage up, toddler. He didn't know what to do with either of them. She'd be fine here. He'd just leave the door open and someone would find her once she started crying.
Probably better off that way anyway. he thought to himself as he slung the bag over his shoulder and then ripped the left sleeve off of the shirt he wore. He wasn't sure if he was about to get in a fight or not, so best be ready and not have any extra fabric flapping around. He started down the stairs and toward where he assumed a kitchen would be. He may have to get out hopefully unnoticed, but it didn't mean he couldn't take some of the food with him. Especially if they were hoarding it all.