snowblindrpg | [Log] An apple a day keeps the doctor away [closed]

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[Log] An apple a day keeps the doctor away [closed]

Characters: Bucky Barnes, John Watson, Steve Rogers, and Undertaker (walk into a bar...)
Location: Building 131 (the hospital)
Date: Day 208, midday
Summary: Undertaker revives at the hospital after being dead for several days. He's found by both Bucky and John. Also I suck at summaries.
Warnings: Suicidal ideation and mentions of suicide.

131: The roof of a large, square hospital. At first, it seems like this is as far as you can go--but actually, there's a door on the rooftop. It's locked, but there's a card key reader attached. As for what spared it from having its parts stripped? It was frozen over with ice, though not any longer. The building can now be entered from the rooftop.

The hospital is eerie in its silence, and snow presses in against many of the windows, keeping much of it in sterile darkness. It still smells like a hospital; the antiseptic is fresh, and there isn't much dust. Someone must be cleaning it, and yet it's clear no one is here. The hospital is four stories high with one basement, all connected via the elevator lobby and staircase. Unfortunately, the wall of the elevator lobby has been torn open all the way down, exposing it to the bitter air outside. While you can explore and remain on most of the floors of the hospital at night, you cannot travel between them until it's daytime once more, as the lobby seals itself up at curfew.

The first floor has both more and less relaxed areas. There's an operating room down here, too, as well as another sort of laboratory, and a large section of this floor is taken up by labor delivery. The hospital has a generally oppressive atmosphere, but this area is marginally less so. Only marginally, though. The rooms in the delivery wing are larger than the rooms upstairs, with a more private atmosphere, but there are extra beds in here, and even VIP delivery isn't private on first blush. A closer inspection reveals the rooms only really seem fit for one of the beds. Others must have been added later for some reason. The lobby is very large here, with plenty of seating available for waiting. There's a door that works, also, opening to the south into a small, empty parking garage and finally revealing the rest of the ice tunnel area. During the day, at least. It's locked at night like everything else. There are finger-sized slits cut into many of the mattresses. One of the bathrooms on the first floor has signs of a fire having been set, with scorch marks. "ALPHONSE ELRIC, DAY ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY TWO, CONTACT @LELRIC FOR ANY ASSISTANCE" is written on the wall. "ALFIE SOLOMONS, 1922. Camden Town, London, England, UK, Europe, Earth. Day 165, February 24." is carved into the wall. Underneath the RECEPTION sign is the following, scrawled in black crayon:
"NⓍ NIMA
where is it?
73 74 69 6c 6c 20 73 65 61 72 63 68 20 69 6e 67"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Nice to see he's still got the tact, Mary says, raising a brow. John shoots her a warning glance before addressing Bucky.

How many times is he going to have to explain this? Does he just need to put up a post about it? 'Hullo, I'm John Watson, dead wife, estranged from Sherlock. Ta!'

The 'ta' might be a little much.

John's voice is tight.]

She died. My wife. Month or so ago. Haven't really been talking to Sherlock since then. Not until a few days ago.

[He doesn't react for a few moments as he processes that.

A part of him is sorry to hear it, the bit that remembers this man is a friend and is starting to gather more memories of their conversations, but mostly he just doesn't know how to express his sympathy. His brow furrows, and eventually he reaches out to lay a hand heavily on the other man's shoulder.

What should he say? I'm sorry? Condolences? I'm here for you? None of it sounds right and he's still far too awkward about emotion to express that much. It's an understated and probably useless thing he ends up saying, a stupid question that he already knows the answer to.]

Can I help?

[Of course the answer is no. What help can be offered for a dead wife and an estranged best friend, especially from a man who Dr. Watson has repeatedly said he doesn't want travelling with him?]

[The hand on John's shoulder makes his mouth twist, but he pushes down his emotions. Bucky isn't someone he can really afford to be so vulnerable in front of anymore. Not if he wants to protect the other man from what Pierce might do. But he doesn't shrug off Bucky's hand. It's selfish, but the contact and comfort are something he's craving.]

I'm not sure what you could do... other than look after a few other people for me.

[Not being pushed off is tantamount to being told to keep going, at least as far as this is concerned, so he leaves his hand on Dr. Watson's shoulder and even squeezes it lightly.]

I can do that.

[Maybe. Possibly.]

My handl-- Pierce doesn't want me again, he made that clear, I'm not going to be a danger to them.

[John runs a hand through his hair.]

I met up with him, the night after I woke up. Pierce. I wanted... I dunno. I wanted to threaten him, make sure he didn't hurt you again or trigger you. I told him to stay south... ordered him to stay south for a couple of days so you won't run into him.

[At least for a few days.]

Kid. Someone needs to take care of Kid. You don't have to stay with him, but he just needs someone watching out for him until there's someone else. He has trouble taking care of himself.

[Like Bucky. But maybe if they're together, they'll be able to remember to take care of each other.]

That's a child.

[He stiffens, looking over at Dr. Watson as though he might have lost his damn mind.]

I can't take care of a child, not in the way you need me to. I can protect someone from outside threats, guide them through the terrain, I can't make someone eat and sleep.

[He barely remembers to do that himself.]

He's a teenager who needs someone to protect and guide him and just remind him when to eat or take meds. He's lost every traveling companion he's ever gone with for any significant time, Bucky. I'm pretty sure he thinks he's the angel of death at this point.

And Stein... he's gonna be a mess when he finds out about Dr. Stein.

Dr. Watson--

[It's the first time he's referred to the man by name really, and it sounds wrong to his ears. Why does it sound wrong?]

--I can't look after a kid in the way he needs it. You have the wrong person.

[Being referred to by his title is a bit of a slap to the face. John knows it isn't really Bucky's fault, but his expression tightens for a moment.]

I won't press, then, Sergeant Barnes. My apologies. [He should shrug off Bucky's hand at this point, but John's just selfish enough, just craving the contact enough, not to.] I told Mr. Stark he might like to head into the new area to help people. You might be able to do that, as well. The passage through Hsiaoke Pass is extremely dangerous. People have died or been severely injured multiple times.

[His brow furrows, focusing more on one part of that than on any other.]

You called me Sergeant Barnes, why?

[Well, that's certainly a thing to focus on. John glances over at the other man, confused.]

You called me Dr. Watson. I thought...

You usually call me John.

Sorry, John.

[His jaw tenses like he isn't going to say any more, but even he's not dumb enough to think that can pass without comment.]

I don't remember a lot.

Oh. [Well, now he feels like even more of a dick.] Sorry, Bucky. [With the way their conversation had gone regarding Stein, though.] Is there anything I can help do to fill in some of the gaps?

I don't know, I remember some things.

[He remembers being sad when John died, but not why. He remembers all the conversations they've had recently, and that just gives him conflicting information on how he should feel.]

Are we friends?

[John's brows knit for a moment.]

Yeah. But I... I haven't been a really good one to you lately. I'm sorry. I should've done more to keep you away from Pierce and help you take care of yourself.

[The confirmation is all he needs, it lets him slot a couple of things into place.]

You don't trust me any more because of what Pierce did, that's why you didn't want me to come and travel with you.

[It's not really a question, more just Bucky piecing things together out loud.]

Probably sensible.

[He wouldn't trust himself either.]

Is that why you ignored your promise and did what you did to Stein?

No. [Well, to an extent.] Bucky, you're not the only one I turned down traveling with. [He glances up at Mary again.

You should tell him about me. He might figure it out on his own.

And back down to Bucky.]

I didn't want to travel with anyone. I'm not in a good way right now. I get angry and I... [John grimaces.] I hurt the people I care about most. I don't want to hurt you or anyone else. Sometimes it's hard to control myself. You shouldn't have to deal with that. No one should.

[He doesn't want other people to see him falling apart. It's a little better at the moment with the concrete task of getting to Sherlock and now that his death price is gone, but he can still feel the roil of emotions when he's not crushing them down. The guilt and the anger and the grief.]

Yeah, I wonder what it's like to be a danger to others and not want to travel with anyone because of it.

[Is that deadpan sarcasm? It might just be.]

I might not remember everything, but I know you were one of the people that wouldn't let me isolate myself completely. You stuck around even when I might hurt you, and that helped. It anchored me.

[He spreads the fingers of his remaining hand.]

I'm not scared of you hurting me, and maybe I can help.

[Mary snorts, and John's lips twitch up minutely for a moment before he sobers. Good to know Bucky still has his sense of humor somewhat intact.]

This isn't really like what you went through, Buck. I'm just- [weak, incompetent, a failure] -stuck in my own head. It's not like anyone else did this to me. It's not like what Pierce and the others did to you.

[He's quite for a long moment as he fights with opening up a little more. Trusting Bucky is a dangerous proposition because of Pierce. And in the end, he can't quite bring himself to tell the other man what happened with Sherlock. There's no more amusement on Mary's side. Her eyes are filled with tears. John's gaze tracks to the side again, before snapping back to Bucky, and he starts tapping a finger on the side of his leg.]

It's not just physical hurting. You're recovering from your own problems. We can talk. We don't have to cut off, but there are people who need you more than me right now. Steve? He contacted me to say you'd told him to come travel with me, y'know? He wants to be with you.

[He knows that look. He's seen it before, he'll probably see it again. Still, it oddly hurts coming from John. It's so strange having the emotions attached to a friendship he can barely remember, like muscle memory in his head and heart. He doesn't remember specifics of their time together, but he knows damn well that he cares.]

You don't trust me.

[It's a repeat of what he said earlier, but this time slightly softer. Not accusing, just stating.]

You don't trust me because of what was done to me. But you should. Maybe not about physical safety, but you should trust me with this. Whatever this is. Nobody knows what it's like to get stuck in your own head, to be confused about who you are, like me.

[He ignores the mention of Steve for now, though the name causes his jaw to tighten. One thing at a time. He takes a deep breath, this is more than he usually talks, preferring brevity as the norm, but some rare times an explanation just needs more.]

I remember you called me a good man as I crippled you. I wasn't then, I'm still not, but I'm trying to be. I don't have many friends, so I'm not going to abandon one of the ones I've got, no matter how many other people or problems there are. It's 'til the end the line, John.

[He falls silent a bit awkwardly. If he's told to go again now that he's said his piece, then he will. If what Pierce did to him makes him a man who can't be trusted with no leeway, then he will absolutely understand and back off.]

[John's brows knit together, and he purses his lips, blinking rapidly to keep the hot sting of tears at bay. This is not the time. It is so not the time for that. He's cried at Bucky too many times.

Just talk, Mary says softly. Just talk to him a little. He needs it as much as you do.

Couching it as something Bucky needs helps, at least.]

I hurt Sherlock. I hurt him really bad, Bucky. [The tapping stops. John's expression is tense as he looks down at his own hand.] He was already in bad shape, and I beat him bad enough to put him in hospital. I couldn't stop. I was so angry at him. I blamed him for Mary. I wanted to blame him for her dying. He was high and he tried to attack someone. I fought him off and I just... kept going. He didn't do anything, barely resisted. It wasn't even his fault and they had to pull me off of him. And he told them to let me keep going. He thinks it is his fault and I'm the reason for that.

[John runs a hand down his face.]

He thinks I still hate him. I told him I don't, but... [He clucks his tongue. But he's Sherlock.] And everything he's done since she died, everything he's done since before that, it was to protect me, protect us. To save me and Mary. He's gonna get himself killed trying to help me, and he's doing it because my wife sent him a death note DVD telling him to do it, to save me again from... this. Myself. [John gestures at himself self-disgust evident on his features.]

I'm going to stop him. That's why I'm heading north and part of why I don't want anyone with me, especially not someone like Steve. He'll be in danger.

[He's quiet the whole way through, just letting John talk. It's pretty easy for even him to see that this has all been bubbling under the surface for too long and he needs to let it out. It's not pretty.

But he can identify. He knows what it's like to hurt his best friend, though not for the reasons mentioned, and he knows what it's like to hate himself for it too.]

You're worried he won't forgive you, because you can't forgive yourself.

[Again, it's not a question. He gets it. And again, he ignores Steve being brought up for now. It's too much to bring him into it right then, at least so directly.]

Maybe you won't ever forgive yourself, but I'd lay money that he's already forgiven you if he even blamed you to begin with. [His voice gets softer. This is about John, so it's easier to phrase these things than if they were talking about him.] Maybe you don't even want to be saved, maybe you don't feel like you deserve to be saved after what you've done. It makes no difference, if you want to save him then you'll let him save you. That's how it works.

[John doesn't quite know what to say to that. It's an almost perfect understanding of what he's going through, and yes, he's seen the films and he knows, but... it's just... he stares at Bucky for several seconds.

I guess Sherlock's not the only one who knows you, Mary says, voice a bit distant, surprised.]

I... [Something catches in John's throat, and there's a sense of intense vulnerability. He takes a step back from Bucky, part of him wanting to just get away. There's nothing in him that's prepared to accept that. Bucky's right. He doesn't feel like he deserves saving, not after the way he'd acted toward Sherlock. Not after how he'd betrayed Mary, lied to her.

Don't you dare run away like a coward, Mary chides when John glances to the side, her voice and her expression hard.]

It's not that simple. I can't just... do that.

[That's the third time that Bucky has managed to track the movement of John's sight to somewhere off to the side, like he's looking at someone else. Hallucinations, perhaps? That's not something he has any experience with. Flashbacks, yes, but not hallucinations.

He remains standing where he is, planted as firmly as a tree.]

It's not simple, it's probably going to be the most difficult thing you've ever had to do. But if you did something that needs atoning for, then you lose the right to take the selfish course of action. That's the punishment, carrying on.

[It's getting harder to hold down the emotion, and John closes his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath and shoves it away hard. He will not break. He lost the right and the luxury of breaking down and looking for sympathy the moment he kept the woman on the bus's number.

That's still something unsaid. Not a soul knows, except him. Not a soul knows what a disloyal bastard he is. But this is atonement. Bucky's right. It's atonement for Mary and Sherlock and even Rosie. He's the man who cheated on her mother, who can't take care of her like he should.

John's managed to rein things in when he speaks again, his affect flattened.]

I understand. It needs to be him and me. I'd ask you to come help, otherwise. But this isn't something I can do with someone else.

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cw: suicidal wishes

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