I used to be a frail and silly thought in your mind

[our_promise]

WHO: Natalia
WHERE: The village gardens
WHEN: The first week in October
OPEN TO: Bucky
WARNINGS: Sex talk

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In her quest to make herself useful Natalia has picked up every odd job available to her. There's no single place that needs her the most, which means she has no choice but to learn every skill that she can.

Today she's helping with the harvest. It doesn't seem like such a difficult task, picking apples especially. You just find a ripe-looking apple and pick it, right? Right. But there are a lot of apples to pick, and some of them are easier to reach than others. She makes a valiant effort considering she's nobility, but after a while she has to take a break. She sits under one of the trees, looking at the sky through the leaves above her as she tries to catch her breath.

This is much more work than I expected it to be, she thinks to herself. At least, she thinks it's to herself.

Comments

[freightcars]

Natalia isn't the only one on a never ending quest to find some way to contribute to this place; Barnes doesn't have the marketable skills required to cure meat or build houses, he can't farm, and he can barely cook. He can, however, throw around bales of hay and pull stumps out of the ground, he can chop a shitload of wood, and he can pluck apples off of trees.

The first crisp days of fall are settling in, the mornings are starting to get brisk, and Bucky fucking loves it. There's a subtle difference between the coolness of a fall morning and the icy cage of cryofreeze, but it's distinct enough to leave him buzzing instead of sulking. It feels like Brooklyn in a drafty apartment back in 1939, back before central heat and global warming really kicked in. It feels like nostalgia and optimism all rolled into one, and he wears it alongside the scarf he shoves around his neck. It's just at fifty degrees according to his arm, which sports a woven basket tucked beneath it and braced against his hip.

This is much more work than I expected it to be, he thinks, plucking an apple off a low-hanging branch.

And then he pauses because that's... not actually true at all. Intrusive thoughts aren't all that unfamiliar to him, they used to be accompanied by the pounding of a drum and an obsessive-compulsive need to follow them through to completion — a mission, usually. When the words in his mind weren't his own they were a mission. The stray sentence that drifts in through proximity is no mission, and after a fumbling second when no more thoughts follow he tentatively dismisses it.

Not quite close enough for a steady stream of consciousness, it seems. It fades in and out like a radio signal. For a few minutes, he's left with the silence of his own mind.

Yes to that one, no to the next. Not ready yet. It's easy work, absent work, to search for the blush of pink. Another step forward, another apple, another shade that puts into his mind the incredibly vivid eidetic memory of Liv's cheeks riding high on a blush with parted lips, eyes closed, lashes fanning out dark on her cheekbokes.

God, he loves this place.

[our_promise]

Natalia is all but falling asleep to the memory of her own droning thoughts—yes, no, not ready yet—when a very vivid image flashes through her mind of a woman she only recognizes in passing and makes her sit up in shock.

That’s not Asch, she thinks, horrified at herself. Why am I thinking of something like that? I’ve never been interested in girls that way...

[freightcars]

I've never been interested in girls that way, he thinks, and promptly drops a basket full of apples. Woah, woah, woah, the sudden and very defensive voice in his head spikes to the forefront. That is not an intrusive thought, that is a flat-out untruth, he's thought of a lot of girls like that very often, in fact, and just because Kira's been talking about Catholic gay men so often is no reason to call that into question.

I love her - wait, no, no, not that either, that's too much, back up, hold on a second. Adrenaline spikes, apples roll away, and to the trees around him he can't help but ask, "What the hell is going on?"

[our_promise]

I love her? What an absurd thought! I love Asch, she stolidly informs the male voice in her head. Wait, the voice is male?

The sound of falling apples makes her look over in Bucky’s direction a moment before he speaks. She scrambles to her feet, as confused as she is startled.

“What? What’s wrong?”

[freightcars]

Who the hell is Asch? He fires back promptly, because evidently he's having mental conversations now in the middle of a pile of apples. That's totally normal, one hundred percent average every day life. What is happening?

He's normally perceptive, normally unflappable, but so caught up is he on the introspective piece of the events unfolding that he doesn't notice her until she speaks up and he almost jerks around. "I, uh-- I don't-"

Bitterly and with some self-mockery, the thought drifts forth like he's sarcastically planning what to say and shooting himself down over it: I'm having flashbacks to getting my brains scrambled and now I'm having a mental breakdown in the middle of an apple grove because I'm hearing god damn voices. Yeah, that's a great first impression, pal, really nailing it.

[our_promise]

In a panic she conjures an image of the man she means. He's 17 still, with long, deep red hair and piercing green eyes. He's her fiance, almost from birth. His smile is never more than a smirk, or the slightest twitch of the lips in approval. He wants to change the world, make it better. He gave up his life to save the planet. He's caught her when she's fallen, fought to defend her, fought at her side... and she loves him with all her heart.

All of this passes through her mind in the blink of an eye, and she relaxes some to know that she hasn't really forgotten him. Then his words and thoughts both register.

"Oh," she gasps, suddenly understanding. It's his voice I'm hearing. And if he's hearing voices--

"You too?"

[freightcars]

The image floods his mind; it doesn't hurt but the unexpectedness of it is almost an assault to his senses. He staggers back a foot, metal fingers flexing into a fist like he wants to somehow fight off the invasion. He's not... a bit fan of things messing with his head. It chokes his nerves and floods him with a sudden anxiety, his mind becomes a litany of flooding mantras: the asset will- no, that's not real anymore- keep yourself together- what the hell is happening- not permitted to feel- shut up-

"I'm- sorry, sorry," He says automatically, backing up like somehow distance will fix this. Like space will get his mind to stop circling frantically. "Is this you? Can you turn it off- make it stop?"

[our_promise]

Natalia wavers, feeling that she ought to be moving, doing something, but the panicked voice in her head makes it all but impossible to think. What can she do? She glances around the orchard like maybe the answer is there.

"I don't know, I don't know what's happening either..." She needs to calm down. No, that's not right, he needs to calm down. She covers her eyes with her hands and tries to force her mind to quiet, to focus on nothing but the darkness behind her eyelids.