snowblindrpg | [log] A Matter of Trust [closed]

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[log] A Matter of Trust [closed]

Characters: John Watson and Bucky Barnes
Location Building 235 (the Aquarium)
Date: Day 160 - Night
Summary: John's come to try to help Bucky with his frostbitten arm. Bucky was using that as a lure for a trap to interrogate Watson about what he knows. It's not going to end well for anyone.
Warnings: Excessive violence, blood, gangrene grossness

[The aquarium has the feel of a small-town tourist attraction, the sort built to give people just stopping to fuel up on petrol a reason to stay for an hour or two. As John makes it into the place, it's early evening. There are various aquariums inside that, according to plaques beside them, once showcased various Alaskan fish; they're empty now. He checks in the bathroom and finds that the water does, indeed run hot, and that's a relief. The whole atmosphere is kind of eerie, with the water casting rippling patterns on the walls, ceilings, and floors, but there's warm water, and John's just going to have to wait for Bucky since a look around tells him he's alone.

After washing up, himself in the sink, and taking the moment to shave and wash his hair, John goes looking in the gift shop. He finds a stuffed dolphin that he decides to keep for Ecks. As that leaves him still with no Bucky and time to occupy himself, the doctor sends a brief message out:]

@jwatson > @username
I'm here.

[When Bucky arrives, John is entirely preoccupied using his tablet light to read some of the plaques. His ears are tuned for the sounds of others, but someone making the effort could probably sneak up on him.]

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[Common sense jumped ship a long time back, look at what's happening.

He merely stares at Watson with an unreadable expression, before he moves all of a sudden to be closer once more. But not to attack, he's crouching behind the other man and starting to slowly untie the knots with his one good hand.

He's failed at doing what Stark asked him to do. Failed at being the Bucky that Steve knew. Failed at even keeping to the standard he was before he got here. He feels lost, hopeless, confused. But he can't carry on with this, he can't torture a man for information.]

[John tenses when Bucky moves in close, ready for a blow. When it doesn't come and the other man just crouches to undo his bindings, the doctor's whole body sags in relief as he closes his eyes.

Oh. Thank. Christ.]

We should go to the bathroom to take care of your wounds. [And his own.] Hot water. You're gonna have to help me get there. I don't know how well I can walk.

[Watson is good at this.

He's obviously still trying to make a show of good faith, make sure Bucky trusts him right up until the bindings are fully gone. But he's not an idiot, he knows as soon as he's free then he'll be ready to defend himself.

So he doesn't answer.

He just works silently until both shirts are untied and Watson is free, before standing up and retreating a few steps, body tense.]

[It's done as far as John's concerned. He leans down to grab the umbrella from his pack, both as a weapon, and also as a cane. Cane for now because his leg hurts like hell. It takes him several seconds to get up, leaning heavily on the umbrella.]

Okay. We're going to need my tablet and my pack. Can you pick up my pack? I just... I need a bit without the extra weight.

[He's angry still that this has happened, that he's been partially crippled, that he now has to deal with multiple injuries he wasn't prepared to be dealing with. But he really doesn't want to get into another fight. For as bad off as Bucky is, John's in no position to fight him off.

The doctor balances on one leg as he stoops for his tablet and finally retrieves that. There's a part of him that just wants to get into the bathroom and lock Bucky out, call someone else. This man really doesn't deserve his medical attention after what's happened... but here they are.

John straightens up and starts limping slowly toward the bathroom. He can feel blood running down the back of his leg still, though it's only a trickle with the makeshift tourniquet in place. He glances back in Bucky's direction to make sure the man isn't readying for a lunge, but otherwise carries on. John isn't going to fool himself into thinking this is completely over, but the current battle is finished. There will be a lull, at least.]

[He's... serious?

It throws Bucky completely for a loop, having this carry on even after Watson is free. Why is he offering this aid? He should be attacking, should be running, should be shouting. Bucky did unforgivable things to him, proved himself far from the good man he wants to be, he doesn't deserve this kindness.

But he does pick up the pack and follow him at a short distance, brows furrowed.]

What are you doing?

[His voice is rough, low.]

At the moment? Trying to figure out what I can do with the supplies I have. Have you got a needle and string?

[He knows that's not the question Bucky actually means to ask. But it's the answer he's going to get.

John makes it into the men's bathroom, and grabs hold of the counter top with the sinks to steady himself after setting his tablet down.]

Or the glue? we need to get your shoulder cleaned off. Set my pack down, get a cup or anything else you've got and start washing down your shoulder with it.

[He really is genuinely trying to help him, even after what he just did. If Watson's intention is to make guilt swamp Bucky, his success rate is off the chart. He feels hot shame flood him, bitter and impossible to ignore.]

No.

[He turns after the refusal and leaves the bathroom to grab the chair one handed and drag it in after him, assuming Watson hasn't barred the door.]

Sort out your leg, I'll be outside.

[Since he assumes Watson won't want to sit on that chair again with Bucky anywhere near. His eyes rise just enough to look Watson in his, guilt foremost in the maelstrom at the moment.]

I'm sorry.

[John just stays where he is when Bucky walks out. The sound of the chair being dragged along is more the thing that has him tensing up, staring as the other man enters, dragging it along. But he just sets it there before leaving again. Some sort of peace offering? The apology drives that home.]

You dying from gangrene and sepsis isn't going to make up for any of this, Bucky. I'll take care of my leg, but I came here to help you. I won't be leaving until that's done.

[But he is content to put some distance between them for the time being.]

Rest. What we have to do is gonna hurt. Like hell. I have aspirin, but that's all unless you got some Fentora from someone else.

I have some.

[Wilson very kindly prescribed it to him after Bucky bullied him into it.

He takes up a spot at the door to the bathroom, staying on his feet despite being told to rest.]

Sort your leg out first.

[He doesn't want to die. No matter what else slips and changes, his survival instinct never goes away and he's never got so low that he wants to die. So he'll let Watson help, even if he doesn't understand why.]

Why are you being like this?

Because I meant what I told you. You're a hero. You made a bloody awful decision just there, but scared people do that. I know you're scared, but you stopped yourself from crossing a line. And I need to make sure you're all right for when Captain Rogers gets back.

Owe you for the dating advice, too, I s'pose.

[That last line is delivered in a deadpan tone. He really doesn't want to work on himself with Bucky standing right there, watching him, but there's nothing for it. John's first priority is the wound on his leg. He pulls out sanitizer, wipes, tissues, and undoes the bandana he'd been wearing around his neck.]

I'm about to pull my trousers down, so if you'd like to not stare, mate?

[Thanks for stabbing him in the thigh. He really does appreciate that, Bucky. Not.]

[For just a moment, it's like he's standing opposite Steve. That's exactly the sort of thing Captain America would come out with, always believing in people even when they fell far short of the standard.

He's no hero, but it's pointless to argue that now, it would just sound churlish and petty. He did something terrible here, and somehow he's not being punished for it yet. He raises his eyebrows, but he does step towards the door.]

This isn't over.

[They need to talk, things are unsaid that have to be said, but he'll leave it for now.

He steps outside and sinks to the floor, fumbling his tablet out to make some calls.]

[John would like to pretend he isn't actually afraid of Bucky right now, but that's... not actually true. He breaths a sigh of relief once the man is out, and as soon as he's cleaned, sanitized, and dressed the wound on his leg with a great deal of wincing and pained grunts, he takes a break to down a few aspirin and just recover before he goes after his nose... and ribs. God, bending around like this is killing them.

While recovering, it seems prudent to put out a call to someone who might be able to help. He doesn't like turning to Clint when the poor man's just lost Steve, but he doesn't know who else to call. Fiona? He doesn't want her seeing him like this... or asking questions. So, Clint it is.]

[Bucky, too, makes calls of his own.

Calls that leave him feeling worse than before, somehow. Natasha, though she didn't coddle him, was still kind and it throws him. He doesn't understand these people, like Watson and Natasha, who almost seem like they're making excuses for him. A good man underneath, what a joke. But it's Tony that drives home just how far he's slipped, so nonchalant that he never needed to get the information at all.

By the time he fumbles his way back into the bathroom he looks utterly blank, closed off. He looks Watson up and down, he looks like crap, and remains by the door.]

I'll be gone in the morning, someone is coming to make sure I don't hurt anyone like this again.

[John's cleaned up a little bit. His face is no longer covered in blood from the nose bleed, but his jeans are off completely, washed and hung up to dry off the side of the sink. It's freezing like this, but he'd rather not deal with caked blood along the seat of his trousers and down the leg. This makes the bandage around his upper thigh visible.

When Bucky steps in, John has his cold water bottle to the bridge of his nose. It's the best he has in the absence of snow. It hurts like hell, and he's wheezing between the broken nose and the broken ribs. Bending all over the place isn't good for him right now, but it has to be done, regardless of the pain.

John sets the water bottle down and turns to Bucky the moment he hears him. Right. Time to deal with this.]

No, you won't. You're undergoing an operation in the morning. That arm needs to come off, Bucky. I'm sorry. A good bit of the tissue around it, as well. I have someone who's agreed to bring by their lighter so we have fire and I can cauterize the wounds. It will be easier for me to perform this procedure with a nurse - assistant.

You will die if you let that gangrene go much longer. We're not in a position here to properly treat for it or sepsis, but I can do more for the latter than the former. I'm going to request antibiotics from the admin along with pain medication. The Fentora will put you under for the procedure, but it's not a solution for pain management.

And I am aware that Ms. Romanov and Mr. Barton are heading this way. I did try to tell Mr. Barton it was one of the aquarium tanks that fell on me, but apparently Ms. Romanov told him differently from you. You didn't need to tell them. I would've stuck by that story. And it or something like it is what you'll need to tell anyone else who asks. I don't want someone trying to lock you up or avenge me for a mistake, Bucky.

[That's a whole lot of words, a onslaught of them after the minimal amount they've been saying to each other, and Bucky just stands there staring. For just a moment, Watson reminds him so strongly of Steve. All beaten to hell and back, and still proclaiming them friends. This isn't the same thing by a long shot. He was in control of himself here, and Watson isn't trying to be friends with him. He's just trying to do the right thing as a doctor.

Which is still a hell of a lot more than he deserves.

He nods in acquiescence to waiting another day, at least, he isn't suicidal and he had thought any amputations would be done tonight. If he has to wait until tomorrow, he can do that. But that's the only thing he's agreeing to.]

Look at what I did to you, you don't think I should be locked up?

[He stays by the door, just taking in the damage from head to toe.]

I don't know why you're being like this. [He does, it's because Watson is a good man, like Steve.] But you don't need to lie for me. I'll face the consequences for what I've done.

[He smiles, a bitter twist of his lips.]

You should stay in here, lock the door. Part of me is still convinced you're holding something back. [His brows are furrowed, he hates that he can't trust his own head. He doesn't know where this paranoia came from, but it's so hard to fight it.] I'm-- I'm sorry.

Edited 2016-09-23 15:30 (UTC)

[It's a lot more talking than John is comfortable with right now when he sounds ragged, nasally, and half out of breath. Talking hurts, moving hurts, existing hurts. But he knows Bucky's not in much better shape, just... taking it better. Probably.]

I think you made a mistake, and it's not one you're looking to repeat.

Look, I won't lie to you, mate - [And isn't that the problem here?] - I'm pissed and I'm scared. You hurt me for no good reason, I can't run anymore, which makes me a liability to any group I'm with, and you tricked me into coming down here so you could interrogate me.

But what I'm most frustrated about is you setting yourself back. You didn't need this, it's not going to be good for you. You know that, and you're going to punish yourself for it. I don't need anyone else taking responsibility for stringing you up, especially when you're not going to learn anything from it.

Edited 2016-09-23 15:47 (UTC)

Stop it.

[It makes it harder, it makes it worse, that everyone has been understanding. Talking about being pissed and scared is all well and good, but he's still thinking of Bucky's well-being. Tony apologised and thanked him, Natasha promised she was still there for him. It's not that he wants to be shunned, exactly, it just feels so wrong.

He's frustrated as all hell, voice rising, though he doesn't move any closer.]

Listen to yourself, defending me. What the hell is wrong with you? You just said I hurt you for no good reason, and you're right. Tony didn't even want the information, he didn't even care that I couldn't get it. And I still hurt you for it.

[His voice is a snarl now, but it's mostly directed inwards.]

You're pissed and scared? Good, you should be. Hold onto that, because I'm not safe to be around and maybe you should be less concerned about what's good for me and more concerned about what's good for you.

What's good for me is not railing against something when it's pointless. We both got hurt here, Bucky. I hurt you, as well, you'll remember. [Granted, John had purposefully avoided a few chances to inflict heavier damage on Bucky in favor of just trying to get away, but that's to one side.]

You're scared, too. You told me you don't think there's a way out of this for you, that it's gone too far. But you stopped. Why? Because there is a way out and you didn't go too far. You had the chance to do a hell of a lot worse to me. You didn't. I'm not going to ignore that, either, just because I'm upset.

[He's not even going to dignify that first bit with a response. Watson barely hurt him in return, nothing lasting, and even if he had then it had all been self defence.]

I still might.

[He won't. But Watson's right that he's scared, and this understanding is killing him. It's too reminiscent of Steve, and the idea that he hurt someone who might be as good a man as Steve Rogers is truly awful. 'Just because he's upset', like they had a minor argument or something.]

You're wrong, it's already gone too far and I don't know how to stop it. Even now--

[No.

He stops himself. He's not going to explain about the paranoia that he just can't seem to shake, he's not going to make excuses that trivialise what he did. He lets out a shaky breath through his teeth and forces himself to change tack.]

Your leg, did I get through the tendon?

Even now, it's eating at you that this is all an act, that I'm gonna spring something on you. Yeah. I get it. [John taps the side of his head.] Trust issues and paranoia. It's what my therapist put down in my psych evaluation, too.

Forget about my leg. I'll manage. I've walked with a cane before.

[For a psychosomatic limp on this side. With phantom pain that about mimics what he's dealing with now. Lovely. It's not something he's going to be able to run off with Sherlock's help, though.]

[His eyes narrow, pretty much a given that Watson has hit the nail on the head, but he doesn't answer. He's not going to use excuses.

What he does do is swing his backpack around where it's been slung over his good shoulder since he came back in, and dig out a small pill bottle with the prescription name torn off. He pops the cap and tosses one of the pills towards Watson.]

Vicodin, for the pain.

[At least he can do that much.]

A cane isn't much good in terrain like this, you'll just aggravate it walking more.

[Yes, please, let's focus on Watson.]

[John catches the pill. It's either one of Alfie's or one of House's. Honestly, he's not terribly bothered at the moment which; they can spare it. He does, however, pull out his scalpel and carefully cut the pill in half before taking it. He doesn't want to be stoned out of his head.]

Thank you, but we don't have the luxury of sitting around. I'd rather not catch cabin fever, personally.

Then I'll carry you until you find some other people, ones you can trust.

[He doesn't enjoy the prospect of sticking with Watson after what he did, and he's quite sure that Watson also wants Bucky to be gone as soon as is humanly possible. But he's not going to walk away and leave this man to die by fending for himself in these conditions, not when that death would be on his hands.]

You're gonna be down an arm and in a hell of a lot of pain tomorrow, Bucky. We'll help each other, but you're not going to be able to carry me. I'm small. I'm not that small. Thank you.

[The last part is added in a very dry tone.]

[He doesn't look amused, voice carefully neutral.]

I was trained to carry on through worse. I can carry you one handed, you're small enough for that.

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