[II]

[onlyforthedream]

There are, immediately, the smells of motor oil; mortar; gunsmoke and the sea. Not the warm, fragrant azure waters that surround the island of Tabula Rasa, but those colder, sharper, stormier waters of the North Atlantic. I know where I am just from breathing in the air, though it shouldn’t be possible. My hands are gripping the handlebars of the DKW NZ350 bike I’m riding, was just riding, have ridden before. A ‘43.

It’s happening again. It’s happening again. No. God damn it, no, I refuse. Bucky’s arms are tight around my waist, but any second he’s going to let go to make a jump for the experimental drone plane we’re chasing after. The sharp drop off of the cliff, the end of the runway, the rocks and cold water below, the explosion waiting for us above-

No.

I drop my foot and dig my heel into the ground as I twist the bike to the side. No more. It drags another ten feet before I let go of it and roll, the unevenly hewn stone scraping hard against my elbows, shoulders, jaw. The plane is gone, up and off into the sky as I’m picking myself up, reorienting myself as quickly as I can.

Bucky is a few feet behind me, the plane far too far out of reach already, the bike teetering over the edge of the runway and then it’s out of sight, and for a moment I can’t believe it. I can’t believe what I’ve done.

Comments

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

I grimace. Bucky knows who he is, who we are. He knows we shouldn’t be here. I wonder if this is the island targeting him, again, like it did before. We never sat down and hashed out the details, but I have a basic understanding. That it can take you and put you into your worst moments and make you relive them, over and over. Well, that’s not happening to him again. Not today. Not if I have anything to do with it.

“Then no,” I say.

“No. We’re not playing this game. We’re not going through these motions. Not again.”

[onlyapassenger]

Steve’s reluctance is understandable, but pointless. Even if it is a game, we’re not the ones making the rules... There are hoops we’re expected to jump through. And while I would gladly -- gladly -- have that part of my life stuck in the past where it belongs, I've been stonewalled out of the decision making process. I don't get a say.

“We don’t have a choice,” Bucky replies, taking a step forward.

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

“The hell we don’t. I’ve seen this play out too many times, Buck, in my own head and at the whim of whichever villain thinks it’ll be the best way to take me out of a fight! I’m not doing it again,” I say, reigning my voice back in from a yell. I can almost pass the volume off as being heard over the wind.

[onlyapassenger]

Head’s still spinning from the crash. From being back here in the first place... Again. I can barely think straight, let alone try to reason. Past, present, and future bleed together like a watercolor, but Steve... Steve is losing it in all three.

“This has to happen!”

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

“And it did, but it will not happen again!” I’m yelling now, shouting down his objections in a way I can’t ever remember doing before.

“God damn it, Bucky, they can’t have you! I will fight and die for this country, God knows I will, it’s what I signed up for; but I will not knowingly hand over your soul to those sons of bitches! I won’t sacrifice your life, your ability to live your life, ever again!” I say, but can’t hear my last word over the sound of the plane’s engines.