Bucky Barnes | Victor of District 10 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hollowvictor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
makinglies2015-03-27 03:59 pm
hollowvictor) wrote in makinglies2015-03-27 03:59 pm
Entry tags:
Throwing stones at the window
It had been his suggestion. The idea for having moles in the Capitol was no a new one and, already, they'd started contacting people they knew they could trust and planting the ones they still needed. Most of them other people took care of, this one Bucky wanted to handle himself. He didn't have time to think about the Capitol or anyone else in it, once he'd snuck into the city, it was about going unnoticed as he went through the streets and located her building. Security was nonexistent as he climbed the stairs to her floor and easily found himself outside her door. None of that was the hard part.
Now he had to knock.
Dressed in dark clothes with a long jacket that had a hood he could pull over and hide the top part of his face, he probably looked fairly sinister, so standing outside a single woman's apartment probably wasn't the best idea long-term, but his arms suddenly felt like lead, like there wasn't enough force in the world that he could dredge up to knock.
Three years. He wondered how much she'd changed, if she'd punch him or hug him upon discovering he was alive...or would she simply slam the door back in his face and refuse to speak with him? He supposed he deserved any reaction from her. Hell, if she pushed him out her window to his death he'd probably deserve that too. He'd ruined both of their lives...he wondered if she ever found out it was his fault. He'd barely been in District 10 five minutes before he found out they'd taken Steve and he'd gone running off to get some answers with his fists, resulting in his imprisonment. Did she see him punch that Peacekeeper? Did she know the real reason he'd been locked away? He knew one thing: she thought he was dead. Just like Steve was.
Sometimes he wished he was. Right now, it would be kinder than what he was about to do to her.
He pushed his hood off his head and raised his hand, hesitating only once before knocking. Very carefully, he schooled his expression into neutral, hoping to spare her the fear and hope and concern and care that rushed in him at the thought of her.
Now he had to knock.
Dressed in dark clothes with a long jacket that had a hood he could pull over and hide the top part of his face, he probably looked fairly sinister, so standing outside a single woman's apartment probably wasn't the best idea long-term, but his arms suddenly felt like lead, like there wasn't enough force in the world that he could dredge up to knock.
Three years. He wondered how much she'd changed, if she'd punch him or hug him upon discovering he was alive...or would she simply slam the door back in his face and refuse to speak with him? He supposed he deserved any reaction from her. Hell, if she pushed him out her window to his death he'd probably deserve that too. He'd ruined both of their lives...he wondered if she ever found out it was his fault. He'd barely been in District 10 five minutes before he found out they'd taken Steve and he'd gone running off to get some answers with his fists, resulting in his imprisonment. Did she see him punch that Peacekeeper? Did she know the real reason he'd been locked away? He knew one thing: she thought he was dead. Just like Steve was.
Sometimes he wished he was. Right now, it would be kinder than what he was about to do to her.
He pushed his hood off his head and raised his hand, hesitating only once before knocking. Very carefully, he schooled his expression into neutral, hoping to spare her the fear and hope and concern and care that rushed in him at the thought of her.
no subject
But things weren't the way that they used to be.
"Yes, yes, you were too busy for the past few years to let anyone know that you didn't kill yourself. I completely understand." She didn't completely understand. She was furious. Did he have any idea how much he had hurt her?
But there was work. Work to be done. She could admit to herself that she was disappointed at the thought that she had to stay--a part of her had hoped he would take her away--but she kept it from her face.
She knew how she could get information from them. She knew exactly how, and she couldn't help but wonder if he knew too. Did he know what he was asking her to do? She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to that question. "I can do that. How do I give you the information I find?"
no subject
His hand went back to his occupied pocket and rummaged for the paper that was tucked in there. When he found it, he held it out to her. "It won't be me, 13 feels we're too close and we're more likely to be caught if it's us. Besides, I'm still dead. This is the name of your contact here, it probably doesn't sound familiar, but he's another plant, just a shop keeper. He'll get the information back to 13, whatever you need to say. He'll also be delivering untraceable letters that will have any specific instructions that need to be given, like targets."
His eyes fell away again as the subject went back towards something more personal. "I know you're clever and you're charming and you've got a silver tongue like no other, so I'm sure you won't have much trouble. Schmooze with them, get in under the defenses, make 'em think you're their new best friend, but don't put yourself in danger. No information's worth it, you're too important." Too me was the underlying sentiment but he buried it in silence, he didn't deserve to have her after everything, he couldn't even say that much.
no subject
The pain. The tears. The aching loneliness. Her parents died of sudden illness brought about from years of malnourishment and poor working conditions not even a month after he 'died'. She had been left with no one, and so she ended up asking her questions to empty space and beat up gym equipment. Why? Why would he kill himself when he still had her and his family? Why was she not enough to make him want to live?
She couldn't dwell on that right now or else she would start to cry and punch him again. Instead, she tried to focus, taking the offered paper delicately and glancing at the contact information inside while she listened to his instructions.
Schmooze with them, get in under the defenses, make 'em think you're their new best friend.
Her eyes flicked to his face, searching it. She didn't know if he was implying what she thought he was implying. She never told him what happened behind closed doors, and it was possible that District 13 didn't know about the bidding system. It's generally kept secret outside of the Victors, their Escorts, and the privileged elite who could afford it. "I'm a Victor, Bucky. I'm always in danger," was what she chose to say. "I can do this. They love spending time with Victors around here. At least the Victors who aren't hooked on morphling."
no subject
He reached into his pocket again and this time the object making it heavy came out. It was an antique radio, one that likely hadn't been seen by the Capitol in decades, it was even old by 10's standards. But it was safe. "Take this. 13 doesn't know I have it." He'd found it on his way to 13 and had used it as a project to keep his skills sharp and his mind from slipping away to grief and longing and the fear that, once they got there, they'd find only ruins and death. He'd never thought it would be useful until a few days before this mission.
He turned the only knob so the little dial read to a particular frequency and showed it to her. "Keep it on this, I'm the only one who knows about this frequency, it's unused by the Capitol or 13." He pressed it into her hands and allowed himself a moment where rough and calloused hands gripped her wrists gently but insistently. "Please, whatever you do, don't lose this or let it be found. It doesn't send a signal, but I can send you a message through it. If there's something important and secret I need to tell you that I'm not willing to put in someone else's hands, this is how I'll get it to you." He let go and pulled away again to give her her space.
no subject
Peggy wanted desperately to believe that this was a sign that he still cared about her, that he wanted a direct line of contact that no one would be able to tamper with. She couldn't know that, though. Maybe he was just covering his bases.
"I'll take good care of it." His hands were warm, but then they were gone again. She avoided looking up, instead keeping her eyes on the radio. Her heart hurt with the thought that he would be able to talk to her, even if she couldn't talk back. But why would he feel like he would have to do that? "Do you not trust District 13?"
no subject
And then there's something else there in his expression, in his voice, a pride and spark of excitement that lights his eyes and would have brought a smile to his face if he thought he could remember how.
"God, Peggy, I wish I could show it to you. 13 is... it was this little hole in the ground when I got there, they were trying to manage resources, but a sickness had just cut down their numbers and Alma...she was so mad when I met her. Her anger and mine, we turned it into something better 13's so much more than what it used to be, it's everything." Now determination slid into his tone, the same determination that had fed him in his arena and put all the blood on his hands.
"Through 13, we will end all of this, we'll bring down Snow and the Capitol and the Games and bringabout a Panem that's worth fighting for. Just you wait...it'll happen before you know it and then...then things'll.." and just like that all of it was snuffed out in half a second. 'Things will be better.' What a bold faced lie. How would they be when taking down the Capitol wouldn't bring the dead back to life?
It would be better for Panem, that was true, but he couldn't look Peggy in the eye and say it would be better over all.
He turned away and pulled his jacket back around him and the hood of the reaper's outfit down low over his face.
"I'll go, just remember to keep that hidden and to talk to that guy. And keep your head down, Peg."
no subject
Peggy heard him speak. What she heard was a story. A fairytale. What she heard was idealism bringing about the final extinction of their species.
She didn't care. Any species that had to depend on this kind of suffering to survive deserved to burn. She would be happy to help light the match.
"I'd like to see it one day. District 13." She doubted she would be able to, though. The Capitol would kill her when they found out what she was doing. If it took this much effort for Bucky to even talk to her, she doubted they would have the resources to save her life. That was okay. She would be glad to die for this.
Just like that, he was ready to go. Ready to waltz into her life, turn it upside down, and to waltz back out without so much as an answer to the question why. Why hadn't he stayed with them?
Why had she not been enough to keep him there?
She stared down at the radio. It was easier to look at than his back turning to her. A part of her was crying inside. Another part wanted him gone as fast as possible. There were questions running through her head, but none of them made it to her mouth. Instead, she just said, "be careful on your way back."
She forced herself to look at him when she said that. She owed it to herself to look at him.