thearena | [Closed] You tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you get.

Who| Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
What| After being brought to the Avengers camp by Bucky, Steve and Sam reunite. Also wands.
Where| Castle, possibly nearby areas
When| Early Week Two
Warnings/Notes| Mild mentions of torture

Bucky had so much wanted Steve to come back to his camp with him, but Steve had kept saying no, unwilling and unwanting to be trapped in a secure area with people he didn't trust. Though he does - a part of him does, but each time he thought about it too much the thoughts of it would becoming overwhelming and confusing and- He wasn't a fan of how much his own mind was at war with itself. How being around Bucky is almost worse than the stress of being hunted, how thinking of the other, of Sam, intensifies it more.

Yet, Steve hadn't had a chance to read the note on the rose, hadn't seen yet what it said about dipping it into the bay. So, as the night grew deeper, so did Steve's fever. Eventually, it consumed him so terribly he could barely think beyond the burning, the pain, for once unafraid of the strong arms carrying him, gentle hands on his forehead. Again, his body was the thing to fear, not anyone outside of him, so he clung to Bucky tightly like he was a lifeline, not protesting at all as the other man took matters into his own hands, Steve refusing to let go of him until long after his fever broke and he fell into a restless sleep.

Sleep doesn't last long though, nightmares prying him from sleep over and over again until he finally gives up, inspecting the surroundings quietly, trying to determine just what he's in for here before anyone else returns. He can't imagine they'd leave him here completely alone, but for the moment, it seems he is.

But that moment ends as he opens the door out of the room, his stuff gathered in a makeshift bag, and sees Sam on the other side. Fevered images of the other man taking care of him last night come to mind, but he shakes them from his mind, the fear already trying to cloud them. He looks at the man, his eyes wary and sharp, feeling cornered as there is only one way out and Sam is in the path of that. He's tired and sluggish from the asthma attack and the fever, he knows he can't force his way by, but he doesn't trust the man not to attack him in this moment, when Steve has no escape.

So, he waits, tense.

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The clatter of the dagger draws Steve's eyes away and down, staring at the weapon for a long second before looking up at Sam again. At how the man is holding his hands open, at how the man is saying he doesn't want to hurt him. It riles up the confusion that had plagues him yesterday all over again, how a part of him believes Sam, trusts Sam, knows Sam would never hurt him, would never threaten his life or health, not willingly, but Steve's mind is no more free of the fear plaguing it than he was yesterday or the day before. The fear has been digging at and eating away at his mind for far too long for some memories of the man taking care of him through the night to shake it.

Sam is larger than him, stronger, a trained soldier, the lacking of a dagger makes him no less able to kill him, he's aware of how much of a threat Sam is to him and his frail body. So, the open hands, the peaceful words make no difference when the fear clouds the part of Steve that believes in Sam, it reminds him of the threat, of the danger. It only makes the two parts of him war again, it makes the fear in him spike stronger, grab and claw at his mind, twisting thoughts against the other man.

The distrust, the fear, they are both clear as day in his eyes, his hand clutching his bag more tightly. As the seconds tick by, he feels more cornered, his breathing picking up slightly as anxiety takes a place in his chest.

He's on the verge of going back in the room and barricading the room, but that won't help if Bucky comes back to force the door, leaving is his best chance.

"If you mean no harm, then let me by," his voice is tense, testing, maybe he'll let Sam talk if the man proves he's not forcing him to stay. Maybe.

Or maybe his mind will think it's a trick. Probably the latter.

This isn’t something he ever planned on, Steve looking at him like this. It’s not like it’s the first time that he’s seen fear and mistrust in someone’s eyes. Kind of comes with the territory of being a soldier in a foreign country, filled with citizens who know that you’re at war with them and have no reason to trust that you’re not going to go after them just for being on the wrong side.

But this is different. This is Steve, the first friend that Sam really made after Riley died, the first person he trusted enough to watch his back in a fight, the first person who trusted him enough to do the same.

The reason he put his wings back on, and it’s killing him to see that look in Steve’s eyes, to know that’s what Steve’s thinking about him. That he’s just waiting for Sam to do something to prove him right.

“I don’t want to do anything against your will,” he replies. “If you really need to leave, I’m not going to force you to stay. But I’m not going to promise not to follow you. I don’t know what you remember about me, but you’re one of my best friends, and I promised you that I’d have your back.”

The problem's never been that he can't remember, but that he does remember. That when he looks at Sam he remembers and knows Sam is safe, he's a good man, he's his friend, but the fear is so fresh and there at the forefront of his mind that he can't think passed it, he can't breathe without tasting it's acrid flavor on the air. It claws and bites and attacks everything until it's all consuming, all controlling, and he feels like he's drowning in it. And the stronger he feels about someone - the strength of his certainty and positive emotions - the more his mind wars with itself as the fear flares hotter and stronger to win out. It fills him with a sickening confusion, his chest and lungs tight with anxiety.

The Capitol unleashed fear in his head to see if they could, they didn't care to aim it.

So, for a long second, Steve looks at Sam with the same wariness, but the more the man says the more confusion and anxiety grip him, because Sam is good, he's safe, he wouldn't hurt him but- but- always always there's a but that makes that all not matter and-

He shakes his head and shrinks in on himself, crowding himself back against the door, shoulders coming in to protect himself, his arms clutching his bag to his chest like it'll be some shield, his breathing picking up in panic. And now he feels so certain that he fell for some trap, that Sam caused this intentionally, that he's trying to put Steve off his guard, that now Steve has to focus on his breathing that the man will strike.

And he can't, he won't die here, so he dives for the dagger on the ground so suddenly that it surprises himself as he stumbles back up to stand, tripping over his own feet until his back is plastered against the wall to support him. He knows he won't use it on Sam, he can't, the idea of seeing him hurt, of hurting him, is absolutely abhorrent to him - hell, he's not even pointing it at him, just clutching it uselessly with his bag - but he can bluff... right? No, not really, the uncertainty in his eyes alone give him away.

"I want to leave, let me by," there's an unspoken please behind the words.

Sam forces himself to keep breathing, slow and steady, not to let anything about the way Steve’s reacting to him affect him.

Well, no. That’s pretty much impossible, watching Steve in the middle of what looks like a war with himself, without knowing exactly what the Capitol did to him to make him so damn afraid of all of them, without knowing how the hell Sam is supposed to fix this.

He’s gotten people to trust him before when they had no real reason to, but this is different. Steve should already have every reason to trust him, except - except for the Capitol, and Sam’s maybe starting to understand a small bit of the way Steve felt looking at Bucky, back when he was still almost all Winter Soldier.

“Okay,” he agrees, slowly lowering his hands. “Okay, man, you wanna leave, we’ll leave. Where’re we going?”

Steve hesitates for a long moment, catching on to the way Sam said we and knowing the man wasn't about to let him out of his sights. Still, Sam was going to let him leave, with an escort, but he's not being forced to stay here.

It feels like a trick, but it's more than enough for Steve to work with, he might not have the head on his shoulders he had before, but he's always been good at strategy and tactics. With this situation he can slip away eventually. For the moment, he has to bide his time and risk being around someone who could kill him, but it's his best bet. He can't out run Sam or win in a fight, not unless he stabbed the man and he already knows that's not an option.

So, eventually he nods, pointing his chin down the hall, indicating Sam can go first, because like hell he's turning his back to the man. As mentioned earlier, he still knows tactics and that'd be a dumb one to leave himself open. So, if Sam wants to come along, then he can be the one to lead, to leave his back open. Not that Steve will take advantage, not even slightly, but it'll make him feel safer, if only marginally.

So, he waits, keeping his bag and the knife clutched to his chest, not moving an inch until Sam does.

"Just not here, I-" well, he might as well do it while he has an escort, easier to dodge and escape in the castle than out in the open, enough small places Steve could go that Sam can't, "I was going to explore this place first, see if there's anything useful," before I leave goes unspoken.

Edited 2015-08-04 01:55 (UTC)

[Closed] You tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you get.

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