milliways_bar | (no subject)

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"Go. Go! Take this journal and write down everything you can remember. It will help, I promise you."

"Princess--"

"Do not argue. Find somewhere quiet, where you won't be bothered."

"The kids aren't a bother."

"They are also not quiet."

* * * * * * *

It's been a long time since he's been here, enough that if pressed he couldn't actually say how long. He hadn't exactly meant to come, either, but he'd been thinking about finding somewhere out of the way when he walked out of Shuri's lab, and there's no question that Milliways fits that description better than anywhere else.

About ten minutes later, Bucky Barnes is settled in at one of the quieter booths in the back, the journal open in front of him. (A close observer might notice that each page is subtly embossed with the logo of the Wakandan Design Group.)

He's holding a pen in his right hand and tapping it against the blank page. From time to time he sets down the pen and picks up the cup of coffee waiting beside him instead. A swallow or two later, he repeats the process, swapping cup for pen.

His left hand is immaterial to the whole process, as it's entirely absent. A series of gauze bandages are barely visible under the collar of his shirt, and his left sleeve is neatly pinned shut over where his arm used to be.

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"Separatists breaking from the Republic," Fives explains. "Didn't really appreciate the restrictions on the kind of trade they can have, started making attacks on existing Republic territories. We're fighting to save the Republic, they'd rather their dictator was in charge."

He sighs.

"It always ends in a fight."

Fives gives a wry grin, and a helpless shrug. It always does.

"You out of the fight, now?" he asks.

He hesitates for several seconds before answering. He knows that part of what Shuri is doing is to give him the power to choose. He also knows very well that he owes a debt that can only be paid with the skills he has. When the time comes, he'll have to be ready.

Peace never lasts forever.

"For now," he says, finally. "Got a few things to take care of, first."

He shrugs his left shoulder, pointedly.

Fives now glances at the shoulder, now it's been pointed out to him, and tilts his head, looking thoughtful for a second.

"Now that, I could help with."

He hadn't considered it, but now, well.

Part of him wants to prove that the Grand Army of the Republic aren't the bad guys.

"If you're looking for a technological solution, that is."

"Had one before," he says, and is distantly pleased at how neutral it sounds. "Didn't like how I got it, but it was useful in a fight."

"It's fairly standard tech," Fives says, hoping he doesn't sound as condescending as he's worried he does. "In the Republic, I mean. Might need to use Bar to get some of the parts but I've been reading up."

Which he then realises means he's asking some completely random stranger for permission to experiment on him, which might not go down too well, so he grins quickly, running a hand through his hair.

"Or you might already have something in mind."

"I haven't thought about it too much."

Shuri has been doing enough of that for any six people, he knows.

"What do you mean, you've been reading up?"

"A guy here was asking about our universe's prosthetic tech. I said I'd get him a droid arm for comparison."

Fives lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "I'm not a medic, but I got interested. The medbay here has tech that the doctor can't use, so I said I'd help her out, and...."

He taps the side of his head. "...quick learner."

"I appreciate the offer," Bucky tells him. "Not sure what my doc would think, though."

Shuri has definite opinions of technology outside Wakanda, that he knows. They're all bad.

"I could take something back to show her?"

"I'll see what I can get," Fives says. He can't steal too much from the Republic, but at this point he could throw some notes together from the things he's been reading, and assemble something basic enough.

"Leave it at the bar for you, maybe. Bucky, right?"

"Bucky, yeah," he confirms.

"Only if it's no trouble."

"No trouble," Fives assures him. "Got to have a hobby, right?"

Hilarious for someone who doesn't even get 'leave,' but it's not unknown for clones to have interests.

"So I'm told."

The expression on his face now is very, very wry and a little bemused all at once.

"Mine's taking care of goats."

A beat of silence falls.

"I didn't pick it."

"Wouldn't judge you if you did," Fives says. If he's taking time out of the fight, taking care of something sounds like a good thing to do.

But he does have to ask:

"...what's a goat?"

Edited 2021-02-27 17:16 (UTC)

"Little fuzzy animal," Bucky tells him, without any sign of surprise. Different worlds, different experiences. "Or woolly, I guess. About that tall." He holds his hand out, showing the height above ground.

"They eat a lot. And bleat. Four legs, floppy ears, a stubby tail. Pretty cute, I guess."

Fives just gives a slight smile. "Farming, then? Or nerfherding - goat herding, I guess.

"Definitely no judgement. Sounds peaceful, apart from the bleats."

"It is," Bucky says. "I think that's the point."

"Shuri - my doc, I guess - she and her brother say I need to do things that aren't about death and violence. To rest from war."

"You gotta listen to your doctor."

But strike one for why clones make better soldiers - they dont' need this kind of rest.

"My brother Kix - he's our medic - he'd freeze me in carbonite if I tried to do anything against his advice."

"Freeze you in carbonite, huh?"

He sounds very dry for some reason.

"That happen to you a lot?"

Fives pauses for a beat. Uh oh what did he do now

"No, because I've got the good sense to stay where my medic puts me."

...he totally doesn't.

"Keep it that way," he advises, still dry.

"The thawing cycle sucks."

"Oh I plan to," Fives says. "I've heard the stories."

Never mind that carbonite is usually used for sentient trafficking, and not even clones warrent that treatment.

"Good plan," he agrees.

"So your brother Kix is a medic? How many brothers do you have?"

Fives coughs a small throaty laugh.

"Last count? About ten million."

Clones.