all that we've amassed [SEMI-CLOSED]

[assembles]

Who: Steve Rogers David Roberts and visitors
Where: Storybrooke, Maine
When: 10/24 - 10/28
Rating: R (warning for discussion of terminal illness/death)
Summary: When the kid who was always picking fights instead of leaving well enough alone grows into a man who no longer has the strength to fight even his own body, who comes to see him? (Replies will come from preserum.)
The Story:
October 24th:
David doesn't get much in the way of visitors. There's James, James' cousin, and Virginia. The latter two really only come because they know him by proxy, through James, but he appreciates their efforts even so. Then there are the two volunteers, sweet girls who don't seem to worry much about how he might infect them too.

TB is a disease that's largely been controlled in this day and age, but that doesn't matter much for someone who's got such a battered immune system. It's really no surprise -- in fact, it's almost poetic given that David's mother died from this same illness. It was probably only a matter of time.

Sometimes David wishes that he could have gotten a few more years of being relatively healthy, at least enough that he could get around on his own and wasn't stuck in his bed. Now his prognosis hangs over him like a shroud, and he feels it every time that James shows up with his sad smile and his weary eyes.

If only David could have given him a few more years where they might have been happy. Instead, the clock is ticking down faster than either of them can accept, and when David isn't sleeping, he feels like he's got a vice tightened around in his chest, waiting to crush the life out of him.

They visit him because they want to ease his pain, but what he really hopes is that somehow he can return the favor.

October 25th-26th:
Like with almost any illness, there are good days and bad days. There are days where David can't stop coughing, where he stains napkin after napkin with blood. Then there are other days where he can sit up and get three whole meals down and there's some actual color in his face.

This is more than just good, though. David wakes up and his body isn't completely wracked with pain. He actually thinks that he might be able to get out of bed and take a walk around the ward, but he gets the feeling that his nurses might faint from shock if that happened.

He can't be getting better. He's been told time and time again that there's no hope for him. But it sure is nice to pretend when he can.

October 27th-28th:
In most cases, regaining your true self's memories would be a good thing. But it's a little more difficult when Steve has two sets of them to sift through. He can tell which is the real set, and it's not like it's difficult to choose between them when one of them involves him being Captain America and saving the world multiples times, while the other involves him wasting away in a hospital bed.

Even though he's got his memories back, though, his body is still frail and he can't go too far without falling into a coughing fit. It's going to wear off, it has to, but enduring it for the rest of this event is going to be an exercise in patience.

Not to mention he's still got memories of growing up in this town, of getting into the same sort of back alley fights he did in Brooklyn -- but also of going to prom with Bucky, of watching him become successful in his chosen field while David deteriorated more and more.

He's relieved, of course, that this life is the fake one, but for right now it's all real enough to him that part of him is still scared that he won't live through this.

He can't leave James -- Bucky behind. It doesn't matter what world they're in or what life they're living, he's sick of them being separated.

Comments

25th

[sidecars]

Detention's all well and good, but Bucky generally considers his time a lot more important than the other students, even if he's simply nursing a hang over. It's more important, trust him on this. It would be wasted doing menial chores or writing words from the dictionary fifty billion times. Besides, he has legitimate excuses. Someone's got to entertain Dave while his inconsiderate cousin is off "working". Let's hope no old ladies have lost their cat in a tree. Frosty'll be there all day at that rate.

Coming down the hallway, he greets the nurses with an easy smile, one hand in his jacket pocket zipped all the way to his neck while the other holds onto a soda fountain cup. Those he knows get a friendly question about their day, how their shift's going, if any crotchety patients need a little sugar to dispel their vinegar attitude, but they firmly insist his kind of "patient care" will never be needed here. Guess it'd look pretty bad if he started bullying old farts who had to shit in a bag. Some of them quickly ask where his mask is, but he pulls it out of his back pocket and assures him or her he'll put it on before he gets to his friend's room.

Steve's door is open and he peeks in to see if the poor guy is conscious or not. Looks like it's everyone's lucky day! "Knock-knock," he mimics to get Dave's attention, slipping in and closing the door just a little so the nurses can't see just quite what they are about in here. He came this far with it, he isn't going to let staff take it away.

[preserum]

Sometimes when David gets visitors, they aren't even able to speak to him. He's too tired, half-conscious and wracked with fever. He always feels some guilt when he hears that someone came by to see him and he wasn't even aware of their presence.

Today, though, he's on an upswing. His chest still has that constant burn from the infection, but it's not so bad that he's coughing every two seconds.

So when he hears a familiar voice at the door, Steve glances over from the meal set in front of him and actually manages a smile. "Hey," he says, his voice hoarse but not as quiet as it has been on worse days. "Do you have your mask on?"

He doesn't just ask Bucky. Everyone who comes to see him has to wear one. It makes him nervous enough that James' cousin comes by -- if he got him sick, he doesn't even know what he would do. Bucky's always been a difficult kid, enough to make James want to rip his hair out at times, but he's got a good heart. It's not like he has to come see David as often as he does. David certainly never asked him to, but he usually shows up at least once a week.

[sidecars]

"Whoop!" He pulls it from his pocket and snaps it around his ears quickly. "Came prepared! And--" Unzipping his jacket, he brings out a slightly rumpled take-out bag that smells divine. "Came with this bad boy! Musta smelled like I'd fallen in a vat of french fry oil coming down the halls." Real attractive. No wonder he never gets any numbers from those ladies.

Carefully pushing one of the monitors back against the wall beside Dave, Bucky puts the bag on a small bedside table that isn't really meant for such things, but whatever. He would find the little food tray in a second. A burger and half a box of fries are pulled out from the the crumpled bag, and Bucky doesn't even have the shame to flush when he says, " Some of your fries accidentally fell out... into my mouth? Sooo, yeah..."

The drink he put in arm's reach while he went to find something better than a bedside table. It's bad enough bringing in greasy food, the last thing he needs is Dave getting ketchup all over the sheets and the nurses thinking he's had a turn for the worst. "Here," he says once he's found it. It's put over his friend's lap where a mighty mess can be made without repercussions.

[preserum]

The only reason that David doesn't smell the food right off the bat is because he's so used to the sterile smell of the hospital room. He understands that they want a clean, hygienic environment for their patients, but sometimes it smells so clean that it feels like his nose is clogged up with it.

The pure grease smell that emanates from that bag, on the other hand... David's mouth immediately starts to water. It's not always easy for him to get food down, and sometimes he only eats half of whatever Bucky brings him, but he feels strong enough today that he might be able to scarf it all down. The nurses don't approve of him going off of the meal regimen they have set out for him, but the fact is that he's dead either way. If he can enjoy a good burger here and there, he may as well.

When Bucky admits what happened to half of the fries, David laughs -- though that almost instantly turns into a cough. And then another. He hunches over slightly, but his hand shoots out to grab for the drink Bucky brought him. Even though it's soda and not water, it still helps. "It's fine," he eventually says, and then leans back so Bucky can set the tray on his lap. "Thanks as always, but..." Maybe he shouldn't say anything, but how can he not? "I hope you bought this with something other than Monopoly money."

It's not like he can keep Bucky's secrets for him, not when James will no doubt come by to visit him later in the day. He feels bad ratting him out, but Bucky shouldn't make his life harder by engaging in petty theft just for the heck of it.

[sidecars]

Bucky waits patiently and tries to not to fret over Dave the way his cousin does. Okay, he gets it, yeah. You're going to be sweet on your boyfriend and comb his hair out of his eyes and fluff his pillows and gag gag, but Bucky sure as hell doesn't appreciate a pitying, suffocating hand poised over every little thing in his life (Not that he gets one, but if he did!). Bucky just waits, easy smile in place until the ill man speaks again. Of course, maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

He tries not to blink or sigh, but inevitably the kid turns his head like he's caught someone passing by the door. "I used real money." Bucky tries to sound offended, but it's hard to when even the real money had been someone else's. He can't keep a job to save his life, so an income is right out of the question. It isn't that he's disobedient to authority--Sure, he is, but there are underlying reasons. He had enjoyed his time in ROTC until the rest of the jagged pieces of his life infected his wounds and made him nothing more than a quitter like every other sad sack of shit around here. Every day Bucky is just so angry, at himself, at the people around him, at the short stick he'd pulled for this life. He knows no better than to take what he deserves. And he deserves a lot after these seventeen years.

"You better eat that before the fries go cold and crappy. There's no higher crime than lettin' fries go to waste."

27th.

[avoirfaim]

In their fake lives, Dr. Fell hadn't had very much interaction with David. He knew him, had helped him once or twice over their fake lives when he was particularly unwell in public and there was no other doctor around. He knows him, but not well.

Hannibal though, now that he's back in his own head and reorienting himself in his mind palace where Henry is banished from relevance, can't resist checking in on his favorite patient. His favorite patient, now suffering from Tuberculosis.

He knocks on the door of the hospital room to announce himself, smiling in his best faked bedside manner.

"Is Mr. Roberts still here, or am I speaking to Steve?"

[preserum]

Given the rush of new memories (that are really much older than everything he knows about his life as David Roberts, but it doesn't quite feel that way yet), Steve's expected some more visitors. There are people who are Steve's friends who David never knew particularly well, and there's a chance they might drop by.

When the knock comes, Steve glances over. He's been wanting to give the whole getting out of bed thing another shot, and so he twists his body around to set his feet on the floor. Hannibal (or Dr. Fell) isn't anyone he'd expected, but he doesn't mind the check-in.

"I'll answer to either," he says, not quite a joke but he still smirks as if it was one.

His chest squeezes tight and he has no choice but to cough, but after a few harsh ones he clears the breathing passages. Steve continues speaking as if that didn't even happen. While he doesn't look quite as sick anymore, there's no hiding that the tuberculosis still has a hold on him. "I could ask you the same question."

[avoirfaim]

He had taken Steve's vitals before, when he was healthy and at his peak, and again when his powers had been taken away; when he looked similar to this but wasn't yet suffering from any terminal illness. The differences were drastic, leading Hannibal to postulate on the nature of the super serum, and what its possible side effects could be.

To get a good, hard look at subject A's damaged immune system would definitely be a benefit. He shoots Steve a look of sympathy as he closes the door behind him and goes to look at David's chart. For only a split second does the great detail of it remind him that Henry Fell's life felt real.

"I would prefer Hannibal, assuming our lives here really are elaborate works of fiction. How are you feeling?"

[preserum]

It's difficult to accept, that everything about this life has actually been one big farce. How can Wonderland have the power to write them completely new lives? Sure, there's the relief of realizing that he isn't actually going to waste away here, that there's much more out there for him, but it's disconcerting all the same.

If Hannibal would rather go by Hannibal, then Steve will go by Steve.

"I'm better than I was, but it looks like the TB is gonna stick around until this is over." It has to end, right? This must be an event, just like all the others, and yet this is much more elaborate than what they're used to.

It had better end before his body gives out on him. Steve was never meant to die this way.

twenty fifth

[intelligently]

Today there's an added spring in her step, and Lauren's almost dancing around the halls from one room to the next. Usually she wanders but today something feels a little different, and Lauren feels a little more like jumping.

Her head is still as clouded as ever, voices spinning all around but she doesn't seem quite as bothered by them, whether it's because of her better mood or something else can't be pinpointed.

Her hands as clasped behind her back as she stands at David's door, hair wild and untamed around her shoulders, and a little brightness to her eyes. A little brightness to his, too. She's heard that getting close could be dangerous but Lauren's always been attracted to danger in some way - or she just doesn't take it in.

"You look better."

He's not coughing at least, and there's a little more colour in his cheeks. It's nice to see.

[preserum]

Not coughing as much, anyway. David doubts there will ever be a time between now and when he eventually loses this fight that he won't be coughing at least a little. It's not as bad today, though, which means that it's one of the better times for Lauren to show up.

She's got a very different kind of sickness than him, something that attacks the mind rather than the body. She may live longer than him, but at what cost? It's something David's put a lot of thought to when he has too much time to himself.

Today, though, Lauren looks pretty good. Bright, lucid, and it puts David's stuttering heart at ease to see that.

Even so, he reaches for the box of masks next to his bed and extends one to her. "You still need to put this on, though," he tells her, almost chiding.

[intelligently]

Lauren steps into the room further and takes the mask from David without comment or complaint, stretching out the elastic for over her ears before holding it in front of her mouth, letting the elastic snap a little as she puts it on.

"Better." She's smiling underneath it, if he can make any of it out.

"It isn't bad today."

Not just him but even being in the hospital. Some of the time her wandering is out of bored, others just to see what there is. Today it feels a little more like adventure - a little exciting. He's also a little better and she's more cheerful. It's a good day.

[preserum]

At least Lauren puts it on without complaint. There are times when she refuses and then she gets upset and the nurses have to drag her out of his room, and David spends the rest of the day feeling guilty and miserable.

Today, both of them can almost pretend they're normal. It's not often that they share a good health day, and when he catches the edges of her smile that peek out from around the mask, David returns it.

"I won't ever stop being jealous that you get to wander around," he admits. It's nothing he hasn't told her before.

"See anything interesting today?" Lauren's one of the only people who can fill David in on what happens around the hospital.

25th!

[cinnamonie]

Making rounds at the hospital is easily one of Mary Margaret's favorite time of the week. It's only a few days that she has the time to really walk through and see everyone, and she hates that she doesn't have more time to commit than she's already given, but there's not a whole lot she can do about that. So instead, she just makes each second count, knocking on the door to David's room easily before stepping inside with a new vase of flowers and a card a few of her students back at the elementary school have worked on for him.

She smiles easily enough when she steps inside the door, presenting the flowers before she even makes it more than a step inside. "How's my favorite patient today?"

[preserum]

Mary Margaret's visits are one of the best parts of David's week, too. She's always so kind, so gentle, and she always carries a sweet smile with her, and usually something in addition to that.

This week it's flowers. David's never quite sure how to feel about that particular gift. He knows it's well-meaning, but he ends up having to watch them slowly die in their spot on the windowsill, and it's enough to bring his mood down more often than not.

He appreciates the gesture, though, and so he manages a smile. It comes a little easier today than it has in past instances. "Your favorite, huh? Do you say that to all of your terminal visits?" It's meant to be a joke, but it falls a little flat, and so he focuses on taking the vase from her instead.

[cinnamonie]

But that's a skill of Mary Margaret's that she's honed, perfected, over her time here. She's been volunteering at the hospital for as long as she can remember, after all, and it's been worth it. Her tone and demeanor have to stay upbeat, which is how she can brighten it when he takes the flowers.

"That would defeat the purpose of saying favorite, and not one of my favorite, David." As if you could forget that she is, in fact, a school teacher. She moves over to stand next to his bedside, checking him over a little. "Still, how are you? I heard you've been better over the last couple of days."

[preserum]

If she wants to insist that he's really her favorite of all the patients here, then David's not about the argue the point. He holds his smile instead and chuckles. "All right, then." Sometimes her schoolteacher side really comes through, and it's pretty endearing.

When she asks after him, just like she always does, David nods -- he's relieved that he can actually give a good answer for once. "Yeah, it's been a good few days. I'm grateful for it." Though he has to wonder how long it'll last. "How has school been? I hope your kids aren't giving you too much trouble."

28th

[disassembles]

James thinks he's going insane. He would be a liar if he said he didn't wish David was whole and well, but it's gotten to the point that he catches himself drifting into bizarre flashes of daydream far too often. In them, David -- Steve, always Steve, is all firm muscle and broad shoulders. Steve can support his weight, can support the whole damn world on his shoulders some days.

At first, he'd felt guilty nearly every time he looked at David. They'd joked about it when he said as much. David had even teased him about daydreams like that. They'd brushed it off earlier in the week, as much as they could, but it's gotten worse as the days wear on. The more they talk, the more things seem to fall into place. They have two sets of memories together - two entirely separate lives. They're not the only ones, either. The day before James had gone home to find his cousin -- himself? -- having a breakdown in his living room.

After that, there's no denying whatever was happening here. This life isn't the real one. And honestly, for the most part, he's relieved.

Today he's called off work and sweet-talked a nurse to let him in before visiting hours with what is obviously a brown bag full of breakfast. They feel sorry for him, he knows, and right now he doesn't feel too bad using it as leverage. He shows up at Steve's bedside while he's still sleeping and settles down in the chair beside him as quietly as he can.

He doesn't want to wake him, but the smell of pancakes and bacon might just do that job for him.

[preserum]

That smell, particularly of the bacon, is more than enough to rouse David out of his sleep. It happens slowly, though, and he doesn't cough himself awake like usual. The first thing he registers is the soft light of the morning peeking in through the blinds of the hospital room, but then the smell, something greasy with a hint of sweetness, wakes him up the rest of the way.

He's not sure who to expect, but when he spots James, he smiles instantly.

James or Bucky? His cousin who may not actually be his cousin goes by Bucky, so for the moment it's still easier to think of him as James. He's got a whole set of memories, fake or not, that consist of calling him James.

While David is relatively certain that this life is nothing more than a farce, he's been worried that he's made up this other set of memories because it offers him a better chance than he'll ever have here. He and James have both experienced it, though, which lends it all some more weight.

"Hey," he greets quietly, then stretches. "I'm really sick of this bed. What do you say we share that food and then you break me out of here?" It would have been out of the question before, but right now it seems completely reasonable.

[disassembles]

"Hey yourself." It's been a long time since David has woken up that peacefully. James smiles back, though only his eyes are visible behind the mask. He reaches over instinctively and brushes some hair out of David's face, his fingers lingering where they've paused, like he's memorizing the curve of David's jaw all over again.

David or Steve? He has both sets of memories, and even knowing one seems more real than the other doesn't completely dismiss the whole life they've led here.

James remembers the last time he actually took Steve up on a question like that. It had been his birthday, back when he still had enough strength to walk around a bit. James had wrapped him up and taken him outside at night, just long enough to sit and watch the fireworks for a little while. The next day they'd paid for it, and after that there wasn't any more sneaking out.

He doesn't really know without a doubt that the memories mean Steve is getting better. He has better days and worse days all the time. But at the moment, James leans back to pull off his mask. He's always hated wearing it.

"The weather's nice," He says. "We could have a picnic. What do you think?"

[preserum]

Before, the mask pulled tight over James' face had been a comfort. It was a small line of protection, an assurance that he wouldn't infect the person that he cares for most. David had still been scared, even then, that someday James might fall ill with it too. He wouldn't be able to live with that.

Not that he was predicted to live either way. But with his memories back, he thinks he's got a chance. This isn't the fate that was meant for him, for either of them.

Because now, that mask over James' face makes him think of something very different. Another time, another place, where James is Bucky and he's not even that, he's the Winter Soldier. Hollowed out and re-purposed for the needs of a group of lunatics.

So when he takes the mask off, David sighs in relief. He stares at James' lips and thinks about kissing them, because what does he really have to lose?

But he doesn't. Instead he considers James' suggestion and nods in approval. "Sounds great. Let's just make sure we don't run into any of my nurses on the way out." He flings the covers off of him and then shifts around so he can set his feet on the floor. When's the last time he'd been out of bed for more than a few seconds? He really can't remember.

( 25th )

[alayne]

[ catelyn comes to visit him as often as she can. between her work and her school duties she fits charity in and visiting the hospital is a part of that. she has first met him through mary margaret, as she so often follows her around like a dutiful little bird. miss blanchard has been so good to her, so very kind that cate has made it her mission to be exactly like her.

she feels bad for him, she does but she reads him books and speaks of hope as miss blanchard had taught her hope can cause great miracles, if one truly believes.

today, she has a few books under her arms as she walks in, a blue ribbon in her hair to match her dress. ]

Good morning, David.

[preserum]

[While David has already been woken for his breakfast, he's spent the rest of the morning dozing. There isn't much else that he can do, usually, although he's already endeavored to sketch a little bit later. He's feeling well enough today that he should be able to manage that much.

It's Catelyn's footsteps coming down the hall that pull him out of his half-asleep state, and so his eyes are bleary yet open when she makes it into the room.

Catelyn is here for no other reason than to be kind and offer him some company, much like Mary Margaret. It warms David's heart that someone would extend him that kindness when he has nothing to give in return.]

Good morning, Catelyn. [He smiles and reaches out for his cup of water to take a sip.] What did you bring today?

[alayne]

King Arthur.

[ she sits down, places the books on her knees. her hair is long and auburn and her cheeks are rosy. she always smiles around him, catelyn does. he is sweet and gentle and good. she keeps a prayer for him each night before she goes to sleep. she shows him one of her books, a daisy marks the place where she stopped. ]

He was brave and bold and wonderful. Shall I tell you how he came to be king of Camelot?

[preserum]

[Who's a more admirable figure than King Arthur? Catelyn usually reads him stories about these medieval heroes and knights. David enjoys them, but there's also a part of him that can't help but be a little sad that he never got the chance to be that kind of person. His body didn't allow for it.

He reaches out for his bedside table and grabs one of the masks there to hand over to Catelyn. She, just like everyone else, has to wear one if she's around him.]

Please do. Just put this on first, okay?

[If she'll do that for him, David would be happy to listen to her all day long.]