ready to comply

[semi_stable]

[cw: descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of PTSD]


Things have been going very well for Bucky as of late, so it's no real surprise when he's suddenly knocked on his ass again. That's how it goes, after all. That's his story. That's how it always goes.

This time, all he's doing is walking down the street. He's smiling, almost even laughing, sipping at an iced coffee. He's talking with a friend, gesturing with his prosthetic hand, ungloved and visible to anyone who looks at him, and anyone who did wouldn't even be able to tell how broken he is.

Because he is broken. He always will be in some way or another. His brain was taken apart and put back together over and over again, scrambled and reformed, and he'll never be healed from that, not completely. Not to mention all the trauma and abuse, decades of it, and he can have a few good months but he'll never be totally free.

This is proven to him as he's walking past some sort of street fair out in front of his building. It's noisy, with people milling about and several different radios tuned to different stations drowning each other out. They suddenly all go quiet, music and talking replaced with an eerie, quiet static.

Longing.

The word makes Bucky go still, face draining of color. It's a low, commanding male voice speaking in Russian, and Bucky feels a little like he might throw up.

Rusted.

It's coming from every radio, even one from a car passing by, windows rolled down to take advantage of the nice day. It's coming from everywhere and Bucky's coffee falls from his hand, plastic cracking as it breaks against the pavement. "No."

Furnace.

"No, no, no, please," Bucky pleads in Russian, reaching up to put his hands over his ears. It's so unexpected to hear his trigger words that he forgets for a moment that he's supposed to have been cured of them, rewired during his time in Wakanda. But then he remembers, and it doesn't help. Whoever is behind this place has proven how powerful they are, and who's to say that they didn't undo that, too?

Daybreak.

It's getting louder now, more forceful, and Bucky lets out a panicked shout as he stumbles backwards, breathing heavily and shaking his head. He's flooded so suddenly with adrenaline, like ice water being dumped over his head, and he can hear his heart beating. Air gets stuck in his chest and he can't breathe, and while he recognizes the signs of a panic attack, he can't seem to make it stop. He's too terrified of what might be about to happen to do anything but panic.

Seventeen.

"No, no, not again," he chokes out, turning to run into the lobby of his building to try and get away from it, only to find that they're playing in there too, pumping tinnily out of a speaker in the corner. He chokes out a sob and sinks to the floor, pushing himself back into a corner and covering his ears. Someone follows after him and Bucky holds out his hand. "Stop! Stay back."

Benign.

There are four more. Only four more words until Bucky finds out of the switch in his brain will be flipped, if he'll climb to his feet and stand at attention. Four more words until this city finds out if the Winter Soldier is ready to comply.





[Help him. Have your pup be the person he was walking with and/or the one who finds him in the lobby. Despite his fears, the trigger words will not do anything because he's still cured, but he's still going through one hell of a PTSD episode.]

Comments

[the_variant]

The title Winter Soldier rings a bell, something she's heard at some point in her life, in some world, some apocalypse, maybe more than one. An assassin, she thinks, and it doesn't overly surprise her. Bucky behaves like she does in many ways, he's aware of where he is at all times, he knows where the exits are, he's careful in ways most people wouldn't notice.

Sylvie may not be trained as a killer, but she's one all the same. Like recognizes like and all that.

Her palm presses to the side of his face after he's kissed her palm and she looks at him, head tilted slightly, studying his face. He's calmer now, his breathing has slowed, and when she reaches out to press her other palm to his chest, she can feel that his heart beat has slowed as well.

"Do they still?" she asks. Yes, she wants to be able to comfort him, but she also wants to know if she might have to one day put him down.

[semi_stable]

Bucky knows that there is more than one reason for the question, and he looks over at her, jaw clenching. It's probably odd to find a bit of comfort in knowing that this woman he cares for would kill him if she needed to, but what about this isn't odd?

He would rather die than be the Winter Soldier again, so she would just be doing what he wanted.

"They shouldn't," he says after a moment, brow furrowing as he looks down at Bopp's concerned face. "When I was in Wakanda, I was deprogrammed. They fixed me, and the trigger words lost their power. I just-- I wasn't expecting to hear them, and I reacted poorly."

He sighs and looks over at Sylvie again, putting his hand over hers on his chest and smirking wanly. "But I guess we won't know since you blew up the speaker."

[the_variant]

"I didn't blow up your radio," she points out in a dry voice. "We can dig it out of the closet if you really want to find out."

She frowns, watching him, then shakes her head. "Don't do that. Don't say they fixed you as if you were broken. Don't minimize it by saying you reacted poorly. I know how you felt, what it cost you to have them manipulate you in that way. Don't... don't apologize for your bloody feelings."

Sylvie is a woman who doesn't know how to express herself, not really. Even now, trying to comfort Bucky, she's scowling, angry, though not at him. She's angry with the people who did this to him and she's angry with herself for not being able to be the right thing he needs in a moment like this.

"It'd be as if I saw one of the Hunters from the TVA," she says, though she knows she'd be more likely to kill a Hunter than have a panic attack, but in the end, it's more or less the same.

[semi_stable]

Sylvie raises her voice at him and Bucky flinches a little, not expecting it, and then turns his head to stare at her as she speaks. Her words don’t match her tone and Bucky can’t help but to smile a little. It means a lot that she’s so worked up on his behalf, and that she cares even if she doesn’t quite know how to express it.

Eventually, Bucky shifts to face her and pulls her into a hug, face buried in her neck. For a long moment, he just breathes in the scent of her, lets her silky hair spill over his forehead, and swallows hard.

“You’re right,” he says quietly, pulling back to look at her with red, swollen eyes. “And no, I don’t need the radio. The words aren’t going to change me anymore. I— I would have felt it, and I didn’t. I was just scared.”

He sighs and shrugs helplessly, reaching up to sweep her hair gently out of her face. “For a very long time, hearing those words meant that I was about to be tortured, and made to do things that I didn’t want to do. For decades, that’s all there was, and they wiped my memory clean over and over again so that’s all there was.”

[the_variant]

It takes a moment, but Sylvie settles into the hug without stiffening first, instead sliding her arms around Bucky, collecting him closer. She strokes the back of his neck, fingertips gliding over skin, and she closes her eyes for a moment, letting her cheek rest against his hair.

"I would kill them for you if I could," she says plainly. "If they came here. I would find every last one of them and I would kill them. Painfully."

Maybe that isn't comforting, but it's what Sylvie knows. Revenge. She knows from her own experience it doesn't bring comfort, it doesn't change what's happened, it doesn't make anything better. In her experience, it only made things worse, but she would do it still. For him.

"But you remember now," she says, looking at him. It's partly a question, partly a statement.

[semi_stable]

Sylvie hugs him back, strokes at his neck, and Bucky lets out a relieved breath, resting against her for a long, comforting moment before he pulls back. Her declaration makes Bucky feel touched, to be honest, and he recognizes that that's probably strange, but her caring enough to do such a thing means that Bucky means something to her. He's important to her.

"I know you would, and I probably wouldn't try to stop you," Bucky admits, thumbing fondly at her chin. Her next words make his expression go a little blank for a moment and he bites his bottom lip, considering how to answer.

"A lot of it, I think. Things are still coming back to me." He glances toward the small table next to his sofa and then back to her again. "I keep journals. I write down things that I remember as they come back to me, things that happen to me. In case I forget again."

[the_variant]

The words are heartbreaking.

Sylvie didn't know she could feel that for someone else and she presses her hand against her chest, startled by the sensation there, the heavy ache that makes it feel like she's going to choke. She had felt it for herself, a very long time ago, she'd felt heartbroken at the loss of her entire life for years, but at some point she had buried it. Accepted her new life and sought her revenge.

But Bucky speaks and some part of her breaks open at the thought of him writing notes, marking down the important things in his life for fear it might be taken from him again.

She doesn't know what to say. Her lips part, but nothing comes, and Sylvie realizes this may be one of the few times in her life she's felt speechless.

"Does it help?" she asks finally, her voice hoarse.

[semi_stable]

He seems to have stunned Sylvie into silence. Bucky watches her warily for a moment, biting his lip self-consciously, and then nods a little at her question.

“I think it does, yeah,” he admits, slowly climbing to his feet and holding out a hand to help her up, leading her over to sit on the sofa instead. Bopp follows, jumping up onto it to settle on his other side. Sylvie sits next to him and Bucky holds onto her hand, swallowing hard before turning to lean over Bopp and pull a notebook out of the drawer of the small table next to the sofa.

“I’ve gone through a couple since we’ve met,” he tells her, letting go of her hand only to open the book and skim through pages of hastily scrawled remembrances and neater passages that are more like short journal entries. “You’re in here.”

He points to a date and a small paragraph, tilting the book to show her. Things changed with Sylvie tonight. We’re going to try being more. She stayed over, we had amazing sex, and I brought her breakfast in bed. :)

[the_variant]

That she would be included makes Sylvie's brows draw together, her forehead creasing as she looks at Bucky, almost as if she expects him to tell her it's all a joke. While Sylvie knows she's brilliant, an efficient fighter and killer, while she knows she's beautiful, creative, resourceful, she also knows she isn't particularly easy to like.

Even here, having branched out what she considers extensively, her social circle is small. A select few she can stand being around, who seem not to dislike her company in turn, but to see her name written in Bucky's little boy makes something twist inside of her.

"Cute," she says, touching her fingertip to the little smiley face, though that isn't the part she's focused on. We're going to try being more. She touches that sentence, too, considering it.

[semi_stable]

Sylvie seems surprised by her inclusion, perhaps even a little touched, but Bucky has the good sense not to point it out. He just smiles at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. Cute, she says, and it could sound trivializing if not for the reverent way she touches the page, fingertips lingering on specific words.

"I think we're doing a pretty good job, all things considered," Bucky offers quietly, speaking against her temple before looking down at the book. She and him and Loki have crafted something that works specifically for the three of them. It's unconventional and unlike anything that ever Bucky would have expected for himself, and there are moments where it's all confusing and hard, but it's good. "I think we are. I-- I like what we've made."

[the_variant]

Why?

It isn't his involvement or Loki's that Sylvie questions, but her own. That Loki loves her seems impossible enough, that someone like Bucky, someone so good cares this much, too, it feels like some horrible cosmic joke being played on her.

The TVA took everything else. Why not do something like this, too? Insert her into some reality where things go her way and trap her there, a prisoner without even realizing.

Only she doesn't believe that. It's too real, all of it, this moment, Bopp panting on Bucky's other side, the paper beneath her fingertip, his arm around her shoulders. She lets herself think these things because it's so real, so terrifying. She was meant to be comforting him, she knows, yet somehow she's here now, uncertain, off balance.

"I do, too," she admits, still looking down at the book. "I like it a lot."

[semi_stable]

It's easier to focus on Sylvie than what just happened. She's right here next to him, hopefully a part of his future, and that deserves his attention far more than a past that can't be changed.

While he wouldn't presume to know her mind, he thinks he understands what she's feeling, at least a little. He knows how hard it is have something good handed to you and have to worry if it's a trap, or if it'll hurt, or be taken away. Acknowledging this and making it real means that it would only hurt more to lose it.

"It's worth it, I think," Bucky says quietly, murmuring against her temple before pressing another kiss there. He doesn't elaborate, but he thinks she'll get it. This is worth feeling vulnerable, being scared, walking into something with your back to a metaphorical door.

She's still staring at the book, taking in these scraps of Bucky's scrambled memory along with everything he finds important enough to preserve. He twists to grab a pen out of the drawer and clicks it with his thumb before turning to the latest page. Later, when he's alone, he'll write about what happened today. For now, there's something more important to make note of.

JBB ♥ SL he scrawls next to the date to try and make her smile, and then hands her the pen. "Anything to add?"

[the_variant]

"How is JBB and why in the hell would he... would he love me?"

She knows damn well JBB is Bucky, the BB in his name making that clear enough, but it occurs to her only then she's not sure she knows what the J stands for. It was meant to be a joke, however, one to cover how unsteady that tiny heart makes her feel, and maybe she would have accomplished it had her voice not cracked slightly as she spoke, had she not hesitated for just a moment before being able to say that word.

It's such a big word. A terrifying word.

She takes the pen from him, uncertain. Then she writes, her letters like slashes on the page, Bucky freaked out today. So did I.

[semi_stable]

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he says with a fond chuckle, because it’s deeply funny to him that they’ve made it this far without her knowing his given name. His expression softens at her question and he kisses her cheek, resting his forehead against her temple. “And he has his reasons.”

He isn’t even sure if he could explain them. He’s just felt drawn to her, in some way or another, since they met. It’s similar to how he felt with Loki but without the combative history that he felt the need to try and rebel against.

Bucky just wants to be around her, wants her to be safe, wants to exist in her orbit. He wants so badly for her too be happy. Maybe it’s because they’re broken in similar ways, and their jagged edges fit together.

He watches as Sylvie writes in his journal, her stark letters next to his smaller and tidier print, and he has to swallow back against a lump in his throat. He takes the pen back from her and places the tip at the end of her sentence, squeezing her arm as he writes. But we got through it together.

[the_variant]

He doesn't say love is maybe too strong a word or anything of the sort, simply tells her he has his reasons, kisses her, collects her against his side. It's so unlike the way she and Loki had said it, terrified words thrown at one another in the midst of violence, cultists with knives and clubs and spears coming from all directions.

Sylvie was less frightened with all the weapons around than she is now.

"Oh, did we?" she asks, working to keep her voice light as she reads what he's written. Just because he didn't tell her she's wrong doesn't mean she's right. Her hand covers his knee and she nods, almost as if to herself. "I suppose maybe we did."

[semi_stable]

Bucky watches as she stares at the page, still so tense that she's practically trembling. Her hand squeezes at his knee and he bites his lip, lifting his hand from her arm to rest it against the side of her head, fingers sliding through her soft hair and brushing it back.

"I do love you," he says against her temple, voice quiet and soft. It feels momentous, like something huge but something simple all at once. He thinks that he's loved both of them for a while now, and he was too scared to acknowledge it even to himself. While he knew they cared about him, Bucky was sure that he'd linger just on the outside of their romance. Not because of anything they did, but because that's who he is, always a part of someone else's story.

"You don't have to say anything," he assures her, kissing the apple of her cheek before loosening his grip on her. Perhaps letting her off the hook helps him too, because he won't have to wait and see if she says it back. "I just wanted you to know."

[the_variant]

It hurts to hear. Something inside her cracks open a little further, the armour coming apart where Loki broke it first, and for several long moments, Sylvie can only breathe, each inhale and exhale sharp and quick, like a frightened animal.

If she ran like one, she doubts Bucky would even be that surprised, but she doesn't want to hurt him. And she doesn't want to run.

As he pulls away, she reaches out and grabs at him, fingers curling in the front of his shirt to bring him back. Bring him in close again. She still hasn't looked at him, afraid of what he'll see when she does, but finally she lifts her gaze from their knees, from the book, and meets his with wide eyes.

"I do," she answers. "I know and I... do love you. It terrifies me. Bucky, everyone I loved was erased." And she still carries that fear with her every single day, afraid the TVA will come and take him, take Loki.

[semi_stable]

Sylvie reacts to the words as if they've wounded her, and maybe they have in a way. Maybe he shouldn't have put that on her, maybe it's too heavy, too much coming from him--

When he tries to pull away, she immediately tugs him back in and looks up at him, eyes wet and dark, and Bucky lets out a breath like he's been punched in the stomach when she finally speaks. It is a lot to hear, and it is terrifying, but he's also so fucking glad.

"I know. I know it's scary," Bucky assures her, reaching up to cradle her face in his metal hand, thumbing at the corner of her eye and biting his lip. He doesn't know what to say to make it better, and there's nothing he can do to fix it. "I can't imagine how awful that was, but I know a little how you feel. Everyone I loved is gone, too." His voice goes thick and he has to swallow hard, brow furrowing a bit. "They weren't erased, but I was. They grew old and died and I wasn't there to see any of it. And then the very last person left-- he chose to leave me behind, and that hurt so much worse."

Bucky's eyes well up and he quickly swipes at them with his hand, breathing shakily and letting the journal fall to the floor so he can gently cradle her face in both of his big hands. "I get it, Sylvie. I know why you want to protect yourself because I feel that too, but I just-- I don't know. You're worth it to me."

[the_variant]

Their similarities have been obvious to Sylvie from the day they met, she had felt that draw, a kindred spirit in many ways, but as a result, it also means they've suffered in many of the same ways. For a long time, Sylvie didn't care who she hurt, who suffered in her attempt to take down the TVA, but she had tried, truly tried, to avoid hurting anyone innocent in the matter.

In the end, she'd wanted to free the Hunters. Show them the lie they had been told. Then raze the TVA into the ground. But there is a cost to the things she'd done, a cost to what Bucky done. He hadn't made that choice, however. She had. Sylvie only has herself to blame and so she tries, she's trying, to make it better from here on.

"I don't need to protect myself," she says with a rough laugh, lifting her hands to cover Bucky's on either side of her face. "I need to protect Loki. I need to protect you."

If she gets hurt again, she'll get hurt. Sylvie knows she can survive anything at this point, like a bloody cockroach, but that won't stop the TVA from trying to kill the people she cares about. She's worried about them, not herself.

"But you might be worth taking the risk for," she says, a small smile curving the corner of her mouth as she lifts her gaze to meet his.

[semi_stable]

"Are we so helpless?" He asks, trying to make her smile, but the words obviously strike a chord with him. The lines at the corners of his eyes deepen as he swipes the pad of his thumb over her cheek. She's worried that the TVA will come for them, Bucky's worried that that switch in his brain hasn't been destroyed completely and he'll try to hurt him, and Loki, he imagines, is worried about reverting to his old ways.

"We don't know if it'll happen, but if they do come for you, I'll be there fighting with you either way," Bucky tells her, because Sylvie is his friend and he loves her. Even if she tells them that she doesn't want to do this, he'd still be there, because he'd love her still.

"And I'm sure that he'd be right there with me." Bucky slides his cool metal hand around to the back of her neck, remembering how she'd reacted when he did it in the heat. He squeezes reassuringly and leans in a little closer, meeting her eye and smiling teasingly. "So, you might as well give into my awkward charms."

[the_variant]

"Yes, the both of you are idiots," she answers, voice curt only because she knows Bucky won't take offense. And the two of them being idiots doesn't preclude her from being an idiot as well.

It helps a little, knowing Bucky and Loki are both powerful and can take care of themselves. It helps, too, that they're all aware of the threat. Her Asgard had never had a chance, had never known what was coming, none of her people had woken up that morning knowing it would be their last and they would, in a few short hours, be erased from history.

"You are very awkward," she agrees. "But I think I gave into that charm quite some time ago." When she leans in to kiss him, it's slow, a little hesitant, not how she might usually kiss him, when she's hungry for him and she knows exactly where it's going to end up.

[semi_stable]

"I'll have you know that I wasn't always awkward," he says with a laugh. "But it's good to know that I'm still charming."

Sylvie moves to kiss him and Bucky leans in to meet her, humming a little as their mouths meet. It's a soft kiss, one unlike the others they've shared, and Bucky takes his time, pulling away until to adjust the angle and kiss her again. He reaches up with his good hand to cup the side of her face, thumb stroking in front of her ear.

"Will you stay here with me tonight?" Bucky asks quietly, and as if on cue, Bopp wedges her way between Sylvie and the back of the sofa to put her fuzzy head in Sylvie's lap, puppy eyes in full effect. Bucky laughs and then gives her puppy eyes of his own, mouth playfully turned down into a hopeful pout.

[the_variant]

A part of her is still reluctant to spend a night anywhere but her own predictably safe space, an inclination she knows Bucky will understand. But it won't be the first time she's spent the night, so perhaps this, too, can be a safe space, a place that's predictable, one she knows.

She nods, then rolls her eyes at the eyes he gives her. With a snort, she lifts her hand, plants her palm over his face and gives him a push.

"Does that look ever really work?" she asks, as if it hadn't just worked on her. Instead, she rubs Bopp's ears, pretending the dog is the only reason she's said yes.

[semi_stable]

If Sylvie were to decline his invitation, he wouldn't hold it against her, and he would try not to take it personally. He understands more than most what her reservations would be and he tries not to get his hopes up, but he's still relieved when she nods.

Her hands covers his face just in time to hide his smile, though he's sure that she can feel it against her palm. Sylvie's hand falls away and Bucky scrunches his nose dramatically, as if wriggling it back into place. Graciously, he doesn't point out that it worked just now. He'll give the credit to Bopp, anyway.

"Thank you," he tells her instead, leaning over Bopp to give Sylvie another kiss, hand going to the back of her neck as he rests their foreheads together for a moment. It's quiet and a little peaceful, at least until Bopp lifts her head and shoves her nose between their mouths.

[the_variant]

Moments like these are unusual for Sylvie. They're difficult for her to navigate. She's had so few of them, most of them with Loki, a few with Bucky, and before that, likely nothing real since she'd been at home in Asgard. Tenderness is a weakness at the end of the world.

But she sits in her discomfort. She rests a hand on Bucky's thigh, their foreheads tipped together, and she sits with it, reminding herself she isn't fighting here. This isn't an apocalypse. This can be safe.

Although then there's a dog's tongue trying to sweep into her mouth and Sylvie sputters, pulling back.