driftfleet | 001 ✪ video/audio

Entry tags:

001 ✪ video/audio

Who: Jim Barnes
Broadcast: Fleetwide video + audio
Action: Iskaulit.
When: August 20th.

[ The video flicks on to a spacious room, spans it from left to right, then top to bottom. There's a door off to the right side, and the camera follows it to the adjoining room, similarly large. Again, left to right, top to bottom. Both rooms are spic and span, empty, with wooden floors. And then it switches to audio. The voice is brusque, but amiable, with a moderate Brooklyn drawl. ]

Nice place for a gym. There could be a dojo next door, so it's all in one place. I've got a few sandbags to hang up, and some mats we could use. There's a notice outside for schedules — I know a lot of you folks have been offering training. The room's big enough, and there's plenty more like it on this ship.

Anybody else interested?

[ Anyone wandering the Iskaulit or looking for Bucky after the broadcast will find him humming as he puts up the sandbags. He's dressed very simply in the ship's jumpsuit, with no left sleeve. The left arm whirs in tune as he works. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Jim gets a nod in reply and Winter's attention moves to his own left hand, clenching and releasing his fist. ]

I have tried to follow your orders firmly..

[ It includes the loose schedule he'd been given previously- eating every 6-8 hours, hygiene, and sleeping. Granted, the last one seems to be very elusive since his first successful night on the Marsiva. ]

[ What does he even say to that? Good job? He doesn't want to encourage the man to follow orders; he's just been damn lucky that Winter puts his trust in him enough to do as he says. ]

[ Instead, gently, ]

Tried? What's giving you problems?

[ Winter mulls over the initial thoughts- the trouble he managed to find when he first got on the Caprine, finding balance.. One thing that will become more of a problem in a few days time, though? ]

..Sleeping.

[ He can feel himself wearing down, although this is the point where the adrenaline would kick in so he could finish a mission. Not a viable resource right now. It's too quiet and not demanding enough of him here.

In space, there is time to think.. ]

[ He's pulled back to a memory, sharp and clear and hurting, having dinner with Sam, and his kind eyes and words, ]

It's the bed, isn't it? It's too soft?

No, it's--

[ Is everything a valid answer? The unfamiliar noises of the ship that jerk him to alertness, the closeness of the other crew members..all sleeping within the vicinity. Too paranoid with listening for them to wait and attempt to slit his throat. Hyper-vigilance hasn't done him any favors.. Changing location to the medical bay only made the feelings worse combined with the heaviness of feeling trapped.

Maybe he just doesn't know how to do that anymore. He's been hard-wired to sleep when they wanted, not what he needed. ]

Perhaps it is the problem.

[ He inhales. There might be little point in telling Winter what post-traumatic stress is and how Jim himself has rarely gotten a proper night's sleep. It helped to have Natasha nearby. She was more alert than him, and if she could sleep, it often lulled him into a sense of security. ]

Yeah, yeah, same thing happened to me.

[ He taps his fingers on the table idly. ]

What if you stayed here, with me? We could take turns. I'd take first watch.

[ He is relieved to hear that being unable to sleep is fairly common, and even better coming from Jim. The prospect of actually feeling rested is alluring. He has noticed a decline in his reaction time, which would have been unacceptable before.

..Staying here? Winter can't deny that the proposition sounds.. better. The fact that Jim is offering to keep watch does make it a little better. ]

...I guess it wouldn't hurt for a while?

[ At least enough for the both of them to get some sleep.. right? ]

[ The relief that flits across Winter's face and body is palpable, and well -- at least this shared experience is good for something. He nods. ]

Okay, we'll see how it goes. Now, your turn.

[ Gesturing to Winter's arm. ]

Let's open it up and see what we've got.

[ Winter nods in reply, reaching for the screwdriver and sliding it under the plate that Jim showed him. It took a little maneuvering, but finally it gave and he was able to lift it out. The same hissing noise accompanied it.

What he saw when he lifted the plate away? Definitely not the same at all. There are bundles of wires and different metal components as well as a smaller circuit board.

His brow furrows and he looks up to Jim for an explanation of what to do next. ]

[ The wires are at least wound around some sort of skeleton, and the smell of the coolant — Cold War chic, as Tony said, the first time they had a look inside his. Jim's brow furrows. ]

May I?

[ Get close. Possibly have to touch it. ]

[ Winter nods, though his eyes don't leave the mess under the plating. Hopefully it's not too complicated or out-dated..

He would rather like to be able to work on it himself if the need arises. ]

Granted.

[ He telegraphs every move, fingers light as breath upon the wires as he examines where they connect to. The older microchips, that code only for pressure and don't give a very precise measure. He doesn't need to know what hot and cold feel like, anyway. And even less need for the arm to register pain. ]

This coolant isn't very effective. [ he muses quietly ] We can't change that, but just keep it in mind. Here, [ gesturing ] I think this is the feedback from your fingers, and this is plate movement for strength. I don't know what this one does.

[ And he doesn't want to try it. ]

I could draw a schematic. Would you like that?

[ Even though he can see the movement before it happens, Winter does tense a fraction. Nothing personal, but people in his space normally didn't end painlessly. He can't feel anything, but there is a vague sense of sensation.

His right hand grips at the side of his pants as Jim explores while giving his take on everything. ]

Yes, sir.

[ He doesn't miss the movement, or the way Winter's breaths get shallow like there can't be enough air in the world for him. He ducks his head, and radiates concern. ]

Just follow my breathing. Slow it down. In, out.

[ His hand hovers over Winter's heart. ]

In, out.

[ A few beats ]

Better?

[ Winter doesn't even realize his breathing escalates until Jim is talking him down. He nods his head, first swallowing the lump in his throat before focusing on the other.

He breathes in and holds it for a moment before letting it out in a gust of air.
He does it again, albeit slower, and it does help the more he does it. Once he slows his breathing to match Jim's, he nods his head. ]

..Better.

[ He smiles, brightly. ]

Good. Great job.

[ Back to business, he peers over the upper part of the opening, and spies a small, round, black object. ]

Hm, what's this?

[ His fingers hover over it, and he frowns. ]

Some kind of tracker?

[ Winter frowns, shrugging his right shoulder so as not to upset what Jim is doing. ]

I don't know. Only the technicians fixed the arm.

[ No way to tell what it is. He takes a breath. ]

There's a button. Should I press it?

I trust your judgement.

[ The closest he can come right now to trusting anyone. Trust is a weakness, but he's willing to make the sacrifice this once. ]

[ He worries at his lower lip. Well, now or never, and he presses it lightly. Instantly, the small light goes red, and the arm falls like a lead weight. ]

[ Winter doesn't have time to do more than make a confused noise before it turns into a ragged scream. His eyes widen and his focus is gone; all there is is pain. The left arm is dead weight at his side and it sends him sideways onto the floor, the metal banging loudly in the cargo bay.

His body contorts, back arched as he seizes. Mouth agape, he is caught between wanting to scream and not having enough air in his lungs to even make a sound. He feels like he's on fire, nothing but hurtpainagony wrapping through his mind and holding fast like barbed wire. ]

[ .... FUCK ]

Jesus!

[ Jim is skidding on his knees on the ground, taking every blow from the flailing arm, desperate to reach for that damn switch no matter what it costs. Somehow his fingers press the switch again, but not soon enough. Not nearly soon enough, as far as he's concerned. ]

[ He exhales, slowly, and then he carelessly wraps Winter in a tight hug, tucking his other self's head into the crook of his neck so he can listen to a heartbeat that's slowing down with relief. ]

Oh, Jesus. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't — I'm so sorry.

[ Somehow, it all stops just as suddenly as it began. All of the fight has drained out of him and his body feels heavy and sluggish. Even the shuddering breaths he finds himself able to take don't come in heaving gulps like a man thirsty for air.

For a moment, Winter forgets where he is- the dim lighting of the cargo bay similar to the basements he recalls from the past. The murmurs are muffled at first, but he concentrates on it and it gets louder. ...Sorry? For what?

The residual pain is a moderate throb that he can feel from the base of his skull to the tips of his fingers, though he can't muster up the energy to shift his position stuffed against Jim's chest the way he is.

It's not so bad like this.. ]

..No.

[ The single word is taxing, like his mouth is filled with cotton and his tongue refuses to cooperate, but he pushes through it, albeit sluggishly. ]

[ The Winter Soldier's body sags against his, the arm open like some horrible, gaping maw. Long ago, Jim was a shield first. That ghost wraps around the Winter Soldier, protectively, selfishly unwilling to let him stand under his own power just yet. ]

You don't need to talk. Just breathe. [ I'm so sorry. ] Breathe.

..'s okay. [ It's not okay by normal standards, but he's still held to a higher regard as far as pain is concerned. His body is still so exhausted, and his eyes slide shut again, the effort of keeping them open still a bit much.

Jim's heartbeat is easy to focus on- the staccato beating against his chest comforting in a way Winter really can't put into words. The shoulder where flesh meets metal feels inflamed, though it is an irritant compared to the way the rest of him feels.

Much energy wasn't spent, but it feels like he's been pushed to his physical limits for hours, not the brief moments that it took for him to writhe on the floor. ]

[ It takes him another bit of time before he feels alert enough to even open his eyes without that sense of vertigo haunting his peripherals. Craning his head, he looks up at Jim, worry prominent on his face. ]

I'm fine..

001 ✪ video/audio

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;