Bucky Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
advanced) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fossilised2016-11-05 03:37 pm
advanced) wrote in fossilised2016-11-05 03:37 pm
For Steve
[It's been just over six months now since Bucky fled the States after seeing his face blown big in the museum, left everything behind and went on the run. He's moved around a lot in that time, careful never to remain in one place for too long in case people find him. HYDRA has been scattered thanks to the files posted on the internet and their failed coup of SHIELD, and SHIELD have been similarly crippled from the same fight.
Lucky for him.
If either agency were running at full capacity and resources then he likely would have been found months back, even with how good at blending in he is. The Soviets had made sure of that, training him on how to be a ghost. He can drive any vehicle, speak nearly every language in a flawless accent, and survive off next to nothing in the wilderness or city. It's those skills he utilises to keep ahead of the ones still looking for him. World governments that want to arrest him for his crimes as the Soldier, and Steve Rogers who naively wants his best friend back.
He thinks about that a lot, but he's not ready to be found. He still doesn't have all the pieces of the puzzle, he doesn't even have most of them, there are so many blanks he can't fill in. He doesn't know if he's the Soldier or Bucky, he just knows he needs time to find out. He studies his notebook, scrappy bits of paper, photographs, and writing, nearly every night. It's his record of what he remembers and his scrapbook of clippings found. He wants to be that good man again, the one he might be starting to remember, but he's not there yet.
He's in France at the moment, Lille, living on the outskirts of the city in an abandoned warehouse. His windows are boarded with cardboard and newspaper, and all the furniture he owns is a small mattress on the floor, and a mini fridge to keep food fresh. Everything else he keeps in his backpack, ready to run at a moment's notice. It's not a real life, he's just a ghost passing through.
Though he doesn't talk to many people, just vendors or store owners for what he needs, Bucky sort of enjoys wandering the streets of each city he finds himself in. Though he's always wary, it's a humanising activity that he never got to enjoy as the Soldier. It doesn't just help him keep a watch for anyone coming for him, it lets him soak in humanity. Just peaceful, everyday life. It centres him, helps keep him grounded.
Not today.
He has no idea the Avengers are in France, come to track down a HYDRA cell that didn't fall when SHIELD did, and he isn't aware of it until it's too late. Not until he turns the corner and finds himself on the fringes of a battle. His hand flies up without thinking, catching the shield that nearly hits him full in the face. A look of horror crosses his face, before he drops the shield as if it were a live snake and takes off running in the opposite direction.]
Lucky for him.
If either agency were running at full capacity and resources then he likely would have been found months back, even with how good at blending in he is. The Soviets had made sure of that, training him on how to be a ghost. He can drive any vehicle, speak nearly every language in a flawless accent, and survive off next to nothing in the wilderness or city. It's those skills he utilises to keep ahead of the ones still looking for him. World governments that want to arrest him for his crimes as the Soldier, and Steve Rogers who naively wants his best friend back.
He thinks about that a lot, but he's not ready to be found. He still doesn't have all the pieces of the puzzle, he doesn't even have most of them, there are so many blanks he can't fill in. He doesn't know if he's the Soldier or Bucky, he just knows he needs time to find out. He studies his notebook, scrappy bits of paper, photographs, and writing, nearly every night. It's his record of what he remembers and his scrapbook of clippings found. He wants to be that good man again, the one he might be starting to remember, but he's not there yet.
He's in France at the moment, Lille, living on the outskirts of the city in an abandoned warehouse. His windows are boarded with cardboard and newspaper, and all the furniture he owns is a small mattress on the floor, and a mini fridge to keep food fresh. Everything else he keeps in his backpack, ready to run at a moment's notice. It's not a real life, he's just a ghost passing through.
Though he doesn't talk to many people, just vendors or store owners for what he needs, Bucky sort of enjoys wandering the streets of each city he finds himself in. Though he's always wary, it's a humanising activity that he never got to enjoy as the Soldier. It doesn't just help him keep a watch for anyone coming for him, it lets him soak in humanity. Just peaceful, everyday life. It centres him, helps keep him grounded.
Not today.
He has no idea the Avengers are in France, come to track down a HYDRA cell that didn't fall when SHIELD did, and he isn't aware of it until it's too late. Not until he turns the corner and finds himself on the fringes of a battle. His hand flies up without thinking, catching the shield that nearly hits him full in the face. A look of horror crosses his face, before he drops the shield as if it were a live snake and takes off running in the opposite direction.]
no subject
Bucky— Bucky, it's me—
[ He's endured far worse at the hands of his old friend; it'll take more than a broken nose to shake him off. ]
no subject
He snarls as his arm is wrenched to an angle that makes it uncomfortable to struggle and a hand comes around his throat. He goes limp for a second, just to try and loosen that grip, before he's shoving his entire weight backwards viciously to try and knock Steve off balance and, ideally, topple him to the ground with Bucky on top.]
--off, get off!