jumpthegun | IC Inbox (v1.0)

[Dreams?

Oh, right. He forgot that Watson assumed it was the dreams last time and Bucky had just never corrected him. That makes this a bit more awkward.]

No.

I still need them.

[He's just had a bit of trouble the last few days. He tries to parse this, to figure out what this man is saying. He's not affected by the dreams and he still needs sedatives. Which means he's been using them and is dangerous even without the way this place messes with their heads. God damn it.]

You should have told me it wasn't just the dreams. In case you missed it, the Admin isn't exactly overburdened with supplies, mate. You want more, you're going to have to need to work on getting to the point of not needing them. If that means talking to someone, having another person you trust with you to keep you from doing anything, or what, it can't just be the medicine and walling yourself away.

There's too much of a risk we're going to get to the point where she's not going to have anymore meds to give. What are you planning on doing then?

I've been trying to keep away from people.

[It hasn't always worked.

The rest of what Watson suggests is thought about and quickly discarded. He doesn't want to talk about what happened, he doesn't even know if he could beyond the basics, and he doesn't want to put anyone at risk by giving them the burden of making sure he doesn't kill.

He should be able to control this himself.]

I thought I had it under control, but I was wrong. If the sedatives can keep me from hurting anyone then I'll take them as long as you can supply them. If the supply runs dry, I'll find a way to isolate myself completely.

[He's more frustrated than he should be. He's getting worked up over someone he hardly knows. This really isn't a good sign.]

No. No, you aren't going to bloody well isolate yourself. You're not just going to drug yourself to death. You need to pick a person to talk to at least. Over the tablets. You don't need to be near them. But you need to talk to someone along with the meds. Or if you're just going to flat-out refuse that, mate, then you need to write. Write your thoughts, keep a notebook, do something, to get things out instead of letting them bang around up in your head.

[He's getting frustrated in turn.

Why does everyone he talks to want him to open up and talk? What good do they really think it will do? There's horrors in his head that should never be given voice, and as long as he doesn't kill anyone then--]

There's nobody here I trust to talk to.

[Steve. He trusts Steve. He'd never talk to Steve.]

And I have a notebook. I'm doing all I can.

[The notebook is a rough rehashing of his book from home, the one to record his memories and the pieces of himself, rather than his thoughts and feelings about the Winter Soldier.]

You need to work on finding someone to trust, then. Believe me. I know it's hard. But you're not doing yourself any favors with how you're going about this. I'll ask for another two weeks of meds. We're going to go through this again if you ask for more in two weeks.

Find something to change before that, mate.

[He's about ready to throw his tablet at the wall.]

You're asking for the impossible.

[It had been two years since the Potomac and the changes had been glacial, expecting anything in two weeks was never going to happen.]

This can't be talked about, what does it matter as long as I'm not hurting anyone? Isn't that enough?

[It's enough for him.]

Edited (sorry for the late edit, just wanted to add some stuff) 2016-06-25 08:43 (UTC)

No. I'm not. You're dedicated to finding a way to make it so you won't kill or hurt anyone, right? There's more than one way to do that. You have more than one tool available to you. You can use a hammer to drive in a screw, but you'd do a better job of things if you just try using your screwdriver.

I don't want you to just not be hurting anyone. Because that's all well and good for the rest of us. It doesn't do anything to actually help you work through what's causing all this in the first place. Heard that old saying?

If you give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, he'll feed himself for a lifetime. The pills a me giving you a fish. I want you to learn how to fish.

[It's wearing him down, this constant barrage of people who say they just want to help. It makes him almost wish he could take people up on their offers, that he could trust.

But he can't. And Watson is wrong.]

Talking won't help. This isn't something that should ever be discussed.

I don't want that kind of help, I don't need you to try and act like a real doctor here. I just need the pills so I can keep myself sedated enough not to kill anyone else if something goes wrong. Do you understand that? I'm not looking for a fix, I'm not looking for psychoanalysing, I'm looking for control. Immediate control.

If you can't understand that getting all of this under control in the long-term is just as important as the short-term, then you're going to need to find another doctor the next time you run out of pills, mate. I'm not playing pretend doctor here. I am a real doctor and I'll be acting like one, thanks.

[There is no other doctor he can go to. He's burned all his bridges with the others, or he trusts them so little that he would not hand them further leverage over him.

What can he do?

He doesn't want to rely on pills at all, he never had to back home. But back there he could become a ghost, flee from those seeking him out and retreat to solitude. He had no such provisions in place here and people had already paid the price. There's a long silence as he genuinely considers throwing the tablet against the wall in a fit of frustration.

No. He can't give up. He has to keep trying to find ways to keep this under control, and the sedatives are his best option at the moment. They worked when he had to spend time around Kesara and Alfie's respective groups.]

What makes you so sure talking would do any good?

[Even if he had wanted to talk about these things, which he really doesn't, it just wasn't a done thing in his time. Men didn't go for therapy sessions and talk about their experiences, they just didn't.]

[Granted, John hadn't been the... best patient. But therapy had helped a bit. Marginally so. It had gotten him blogging, and that was the important thing about it. Really, joining up with Sherlock had done more for him than therapy ever had, but he can't exactly point Bucky toward an eccentric genius with a penchant for crime-fighting and a need for a flatmate here.]

I was a soldier. I'm a trauma surgeon- [He pauses before considering adding the next part.] -and I could fill in for our snipers in a pinch. I was very good at what I did. I'd been doing it for years. I'd planned on doing it until the war ended. Didn't happen. I was injured, complications happened, and I was discharged. And there I was, home again and feeling like I wasn't any part of that world.

I'd walk down the street keeping an eye on the road for any IUDs. Didn't talk to anyone. No one could understand what it was like to be out there, to have everything just suddenly stopped. You don't know what to do with yourself. You've gotten used to thinking you're good for this thing or that thing and they don't fit into a place that isn't combat.

I was required to see someone for a few months - they take care of the 'wounded warriors,' you know? Didn't help much, but she did tell me to start writing, to just find someone I could talk to. And then I met someone else. I didn't even have to talk much. He read me like a book, cover-to-cover. It was terrifying, but it was brilliant, amazing. He swept me along, got me talking about things in ways that weren't so... bang it over your head and talk about your 'feelings,' yeah? He wanted to know why's and how's and all of it just spaced between other things, exciting things. Made me think about things differently, coming at it from a different angle than I always had been. He was a new perspective.

That's me. But that's why I think it would do some good.

Edited 2016-06-26 16:30 (UTC)

[That... wasn't what he was expecting.

He thought Watson would preach at him from the role of a medical practitioner, someone who thought they knew best with no experience. Either that, or Watson would refuse to talk. It's what Bucky would have done, it's what Bucky has been doing. But instead he gets that incredibly personal story, given over with trust to a stranger who has been acting, even Bucky has to admit, stubborn and suspicious.

A soldier too. It makes him think of the faces of all the men he lost in the 107th, and then of the Howling Commandos. He can see himself in his uniform as clear as day. Perhaps that's why he actually gives something back, it feels somehow more wrong to take from a fellow soldier that way and keep lying. He'll never get back to the man he wants to be if he does things like that.]

Your friend sounds a good one, you're lucky.

[He can't go into as much detail as Watson, he just can't. But he is offering something as an olive branch.

After checking this is definitely private. Twice.]

I was a soldier too. Drafted. Captured behind enemy lines by the Nazis.

[That's enough, he can't go into the serum, being rescued, or falling from the train. And definitely not the meat of the issue, of what came after. A soldier story for a soldier story, that's fair.]

[Nazis. That... sets off a bell. And then from before, when he'd been looking at Steve's return message. There had been that brief exclamation. This couldn't be... could it? But Bucky had never - well, not yet. The next Captain America movie, maybe? It takes a while for John to reply. This could be a coincidence. This could just be some incredible coincidence, but he very much doubts that. Bucky Barnes had fallen off that train and gotten captured by HYDRA. Oh, bloody hell.

Okay. He's not making the same mistake as Steve and Peggy. Definitely not going to tell the man what he knows, but that does color the picture in a hell of a lot more.]

He was one of the best men I ever knew. A complete dick sometimes, but he was a good man for the times that it mattered.

[Especially after some work on him. Sherlock hadn't changed a lot in their time together, but he'd changed some, in small ways that were important.]

And knowing the Nazis and how they treated POWs, I'm going to guess they experimented on you. That's why you are the way you are now, isn't it?

[It's a good thing that Watson doesn't immediately mention Steve, Peggy, or the name Bucky. It would have spooked him off again. The conclusions drawn are simple and fair, they don't spark his suspicions too much.

But he is naturally on edge talking about this at all.

His jaw grits, not that Watson can see it, and his finger hesitates over the end call button for a second or two before he does type a response.]

Yes. Deep science division, HYDRA.

I don't want to be what I was made into any more, that's why I need you to keep supplying these pills.

[Confirmation. Okay. This is fine. This isn't fine. Bucky was captured by HYDRA! And in this particular universe, that's not just some movie, it's... real.]

'Science.' Right.

You know you're already a long way away from what you were, though, right? Just thinking like this, just working like you are. How did you break out of that? Maybe it's more of the same that you need.

[This is the most he's opened up to anyone here, it's terrifying and he just hopes it gets him what he needs.

He frowns at the tablet. To tell that story would be to go too far into the Soldier, it would touch on Steve, and he can't risk that. Not without some sure proof this man isn't just going to do what everyone else has done and run to Steve.]

How do I know I can trust you to answer any more?

A secret for a secret? I can't do much more apart from give you my word beyond that.

[He thinks for at least two minutes of silence, Watson might be forgiven for thinking he's hung up and gone away.

What sways it for him in the end is that Watson had given him something personal first, without reservation, just trying to help. He's a fellow soldier, he gave the pills last time without tricks, perhaps he can be marginally trusted.

Perhaps.]

You first.

[That's expected, of course. He takes a breath, also double-checking the privacy filters, then triple-checking them.]

I've committed murder.

There was a man - a very bad man - who was picking people up in his cab, driving them places, and forcing them to play a game they couldn't win and swallow poisoned pills. He kidnapped my best mate, I tracked them down, but was in the building across from them. He was about to make my friend swallow one of those pills, the police were late. So, I shot him.

[From a building away, through two windows, with a handgun, at night, with Sherlock partly blocking the man, he doesn't add. He's already told Bucky he could fill in for the snipers.]

I was never caught. I was never questioned. I left as soon as that man was down and I could see my mate was going to be all right. It's illegal to have a semi-automatic weapon in my country, even with a certificate, but I kept my service pistol and no one knew about it.

[That's a big secret.

Maybe not for anyone here, though there might be some people shocked to discover the doctor was a murderer, but for if they get home. Bucky could have Watson arrested, charged, and jailed for potentially the rest of his life.

Not that he isn't facing the same if any of the world authorities catch up with him.]

I think you did the right thing.

[To save a friend from another murderer, he would have made the same call. Though potentially not the same shot, as he is not the sniper Watson is.]

I won't tell anyone, thank you for trusting me.

[Deep breath. He can do this. Not every detail, just an outline. It's easier over the tablet, at least. The text doesn't convey how much his hands are shaking, or the cracked expression on his face.]

I was taken to the Soviets following the end of the war and programmed to be a weapon for HYDRA. For 70 years I was kept on ice when I wasn't needed, woken, wiped, programmed, and sent to kill. I am one of the best assassins in the world; HYDRA's asset, the Winter Soldier.

[It's a bare bones explanation, but he doesn't feel like going into the torture, the training, and the brainwashing. The basics are enough, factual and not emotional.]

Two years ago I was sent to kill a man called Steve Rogers. You probably know him, he's here. He recognised me, I didn't recognise him or the name he called me. I started remembering pieces and eventually ran.

I'm wanted by the world governments for my crimes and HYDRA to return to being an asset. I still don't have all the pieces of who I am, but I know I don't want to be that any more. That doesn't change that what HYDRA put inside me is still there.

Edited 2016-06-26 20:33 (UTC)

I know I did the right thing. Taking a life is difficult, but I don't regret it. Sometimes, that's what needs to be done to protect people.

[There are other moments in his life that weigh far more heavily on his mind than that one. He reads through the rest of Bucky's message and takes a little while composing a reply.]

Your secret's safe with me, as well. Thank you. Is the name you still go by Bucky? I saw when Captain Rogers woke up, one of the messages was to someone with that name that he seemed to know. I thought it was only Ms. Carter here.

[It's a little bit of lying, but it should smooth things over.]

I can call you whatever you'd like when we're talking like this. I'll just use your network username otherwise.

And do you know if what HYDRA put inside you is something physical along with what they did to your head?

[Would one be difficult enough on its own. Mental and physical is going to be even more difficult to deal with.]

No. Not Bucky. Call me Jay.

[He is Bucky, but it would be stupid to go by that here. A direct target for anyone looking for him, Steve included. Jay would do, it was what people had called him from his first username and passed as a possible actual name.]

There's nothing physical in me. All I have from them is a prosthetic arm, but it's just an arm.

I appreciate you want to help, but you have to see now that it's better if I just have a way to control it. I can't avoid people here as well as I could back home, I don't want to hurt anyone else.

All right, Jay. You can call me John. Put in a request for more meds. Honestly, I'm not sure what the situation is going to be with the Admin after everything we just went though, but I'll let you know if she messages me back.

I think it's important to control this, but you can be strong enough to do without, Jay. When you attacked the others, that was right around when those dreams were? All of are heads were in a bad place. I can't condone you killing someone, but the fact they haven't said anything about it tells me a lot about how the people you killed view things.

If you even just want someone to listen to something or bounce an idea off of for something you're investigating, consider me available. And I'll see to your medication, but I'll ask this each time: a secret and meds for a secret. And I'll always go first with telling.

[Everything Watson has said and done has been comforting in its straightforwardness. He has probed, but he did it openly and he allowed probing in return. He wasn't overly pitying or sympathetic, and he didn't condone what had been done without blaming him either.

Surprisingly, Bucky finds himself starting to trust. Only starting to, but it does push him to make an offer of his own.]

Thank you. You can contact me if you need to as well. Any time.

[And with that, he hangs up.]

IC Inbox (v1.0)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject