Sam Wilson (
sizeofyourbaggage) wrote in
thecapitol2015-01-07 03:57 pm
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tried counting sheep
Who| Sam Wilson and YOU! All of you!
What| Sleep issues and trying to settle post-arena
Where| Various spots in the Tribute Tower/over the Capitol
When| After the end of the arena and through the first week after, mostly before Panem Nightly
Warnings/Notes| Prompts for specific locations under the cut! Nightmare and PTSD-talk likely, probably mentions of violence and death
Late Nights in District 5
It’s probably not a secret that Sam hasn’t slept much since getting back from the arena, the same way that he can pick up the signs that he’s not the only one with sleeping problems in District Five. Some nights, he doesn’t even try - he either doesn’t return back to the floor at all, or when he does, he heads straight for the couch or the kitchen.
The nights he is there, he can be found in the common areas at all hours of the night, watching bad Capitol TV with the volume on low, in the kitchen making snacks, or even occasionally catching a few minutes of sleep on the couch before he jerks awake again.
In the Training Center
He’d been in the training room a lot before the arena, sure, but it’s even worse now. Whenever he has downtime that he can’t fill up by something else, Sam ends up here, going through a workout, practicing with whatever weapons are available, or just attacking the punching bags.
When he’s alone, he goes all out, sets up a playlist full of fast-paced, heavy workout songs and just loses himself in them.
When there’s other people there, though, he goes slower, reduces the pace so he can maintain a conversation, if they’re the type that will put up with him when he attempts to strike up one.
Out and About in the Capitol
Now that the curfew’s gone, most mornings he goes outside for his run. He hasn’t found a path he likes enough yet to make it a regular one, so he alternates routes through the parks and on the sidewalks.
When he’s done, sometimes he lingers in the Capitol, going shopping or just wandering around to get a better feel for the city, keeping an eye out for anyone he knows. Or anyone who looks like they might be a Tribute, instead of another… interestingly dressed Capitol citizen.
For Close CR
Some nights, he just can’t stand the thought of being alone. All right, a lot of nights, and he’s not too proud to seek out company when he needs someone else’s presence to pull him out of the thoughts that get stuck in his head.
Even if he does feel a little guilty at the late hour, but he figures they could tell him to get lost if they actually are sleeping, and don’t want to be disturbed.
So he when he can’t sleep, he makes his way to rooms that aren’t his, knocks quiet but firm on the doors of the people he considers himself lucky to call his friends.
(Starter prompts for specific threads in the comments!)
What| Sleep issues and trying to settle post-arena
Where| Various spots in the Tribute Tower/over the Capitol
When| After the end of the arena and through the first week after, mostly before Panem Nightly
Warnings/Notes| Prompts for specific locations under the cut! Nightmare and PTSD-talk likely, probably mentions of violence and death
Late Nights in District 5
It’s probably not a secret that Sam hasn’t slept much since getting back from the arena, the same way that he can pick up the signs that he’s not the only one with sleeping problems in District Five. Some nights, he doesn’t even try - he either doesn’t return back to the floor at all, or when he does, he heads straight for the couch or the kitchen.
The nights he is there, he can be found in the common areas at all hours of the night, watching bad Capitol TV with the volume on low, in the kitchen making snacks, or even occasionally catching a few minutes of sleep on the couch before he jerks awake again.
In the Training Center
He’d been in the training room a lot before the arena, sure, but it’s even worse now. Whenever he has downtime that he can’t fill up by something else, Sam ends up here, going through a workout, practicing with whatever weapons are available, or just attacking the punching bags.
When he’s alone, he goes all out, sets up a playlist full of fast-paced, heavy workout songs and just loses himself in them.
When there’s other people there, though, he goes slower, reduces the pace so he can maintain a conversation, if they’re the type that will put up with him when he attempts to strike up one.
Out and About in the Capitol
Now that the curfew’s gone, most mornings he goes outside for his run. He hasn’t found a path he likes enough yet to make it a regular one, so he alternates routes through the parks and on the sidewalks.
When he’s done, sometimes he lingers in the Capitol, going shopping or just wandering around to get a better feel for the city, keeping an eye out for anyone he knows. Or anyone who looks like they might be a Tribute, instead of another… interestingly dressed Capitol citizen.
For Close CR
Some nights, he just can’t stand the thought of being alone. All right, a lot of nights, and he’s not too proud to seek out company when he needs someone else’s presence to pull him out of the thoughts that get stuck in his head.
Even if he does feel a little guilty at the late hour, but he figures they could tell him to get lost if they actually are sleeping, and don’t want to be disturbed.
So he when he can’t sleep, he makes his way to rooms that aren’t his, knocks quiet but firm on the doors of the people he considers himself lucky to call his friends.
(Starter prompts for specific threads in the comments!)
no subject
And he’s guessing it runs even deeper for Nick, because the way he’s talking makes it sound like it’s an even older wound. Like maybe he felt like he wasn’t ever good enough.
“My experience? Shit usually goes down one of two ways after something like that: either no one acknowledges much of it at all, because there’s still shit to do and ain’t no one got time for that, or everyone and their mother are tripping over themselves to tell you don’t blame yourself.” He pauses, just long enough to run his hand over his jaw.
“Mostly I just gotta know if you’re sick of people telling you that it wasn’t your fault, cause even if you are I’m gonna have to add one more on the pile.”
no subject
He lets out a throaty "yeah" to Sam's comment, rubbing the back of his neck like it's bugging him something awful. There was always something else to deal with at the moment or if not, then it's always time spent to prepare for what's to come. Not being able to do so results in being left behind, and Nick so far feels like he's barely been able to keep up.
"I...I know. I just - " If it had been anyone else in his place he'd have told them the same thing but...
He slowly closes his eyes to see his mother, covered in blood from the lurker bite and the hole that he put through her head with the rifle shaking in his hands. Luke repeatedly told him that it wasn't his or anyone's fault but the guilt still eats at him to this day.
"I don't think I'll believe it any time soon," he admits pathetically, looking at Sam as if he had just let him down. Somehow though, he manages to let out a curt laugh at himself. "I'm pretty fucked up, right? I bet some folks get a kick out of that."
The folks being Gamemakers who are likely listening in on this.
no subject
"Nah, brother, the only kind of fucked up you are is the normal kind. You know how long it took me to believe that maybe there wasn't anything more I could've done?" Years, and sometimes Sam still has bad days, still finds himself getting stuck thinking of Riley or the other soldiers he'd failed to save. "Even when you know it, there's still a part of you that doesn't believe it."
But he can't help but make a little face, thinking about that last bit. "Yeah, well. I think they get a kick out of a hell of a lot."
no subject
"Me, normal?" He chuckles darkly at that. Even before the zombie apocalypse he didn't think so. But then again, back then he wouldn't say he was at risk of losing his mind either, even with having mom's temper. His face quickly softens though it never was hard in the first place. He's not playing a tough hand today. He's too worn out to do that.
"What'd you do after you left?" The real question is how did he move on after suffering a loss, because Nick, for all his losses, never felt like he moved much at all. Even though Sam is probably all right with him asking, his tone is still careful.
no subject
There’s a moment of silence after that question, while Sam gathers his thoughts. Fortunately, it’s not a new question - most of the people he’s worked with have asked him that, and it’s a topic he’s discussed a lot at groups - but he still likes to take a moment to get ready for it.
“Not a lot. I didn’t want to admit that I wasn’t fine, that me not seeing a reason for being over there didn’t have anything to do with anything that wasn’t personal choice. It was easier telling myself that when I didn’t have to convince other people of it, too, so I kept to myself. Then I got suckered in to going to a neighbor’s barbecue - it was 4th of July, you know, it’d be a disgrace if I didn’t go, all that.”
He gives a one shouldered shrug. “I spent most it throwing up in the bathroom, trying to remind myself the fireworks weren’t RPGs and the people fucking up and burning their burgers wasn’t charred flesh. After that, I kind of figured maybe I wasn’t fine. Started going to groups down at the VA, found someone who’d listen to me when I wanted to talk their ear off and pry it out of me when I didn’t. I wrote letters, all the stuff I woulda said if I could, that helped a lot.”
I'm so sorry for the wait ; ; thanks for your patience. <3
His expression slowly changes to that of a sympathetic frown. They may come from different places but trauma inducing horror is practically universal. Panem may allow Nick the downtime he needs but overthinking it could sooner leave him to believe that he's just a lost cause. Or always had been, but he's still here simply because he's apparently so god damn entertaining. It pisses him off, knowing that the Capitol brought folks with baggage like him and Sam and practically everyone, just because they're apparently so fascinated by their trauma.
He squeezes the napkin into his fist before slowly relaxing as Sam continued, expression still soft, though his eyes are burning with anger. At least there's life in him now.
"I'm...glad that worked out," Nick says, unsure how to comment on it without making it too awkward. Although he's not off to a good start. "I mean, not sayin' it was good that it happened. I just...sorry." He takes a short pause to shut his eyes and thinks about what he wants to say. Finally, he opens them again and for his eyes to meet Sam's. "You found a way to recover that worked out for you. So I know it ain't...entirely hopeless."
His conviction's a bit shaky there, but he's used to having a shaky start at nearly everything.
no problem! <3 thank you for your patience too ;a;
He wonders a little what Nick’d been thinking through that, with those flashes of anger peaking through the sympathy, but he doesn’t ask. If Nick wants to share, Sam’ll listen, but he’s not going to push it. Especially not when Nick hits exactly the point of why Sam chooses to share what he does, and that gets all of his focus.
“Nothing’s hopeless,” he agrees, but his conviction is pretty damn strong there. “That’s one of the things that helped me the most, knowing other people’d come out fighting.”
of course <3 and thank you for continuing this. I think we can wrap this up soon, yeah? c:
He gives Sam a nod. "I know other folks have it bad or even worse. Seein' them pull through..." He would think he's not like them at all. He's not. But he'll find his own way, if not for his own sake but for the others. Whatever sense of borrowed time he seems to have being here, he wants to put it to good use.
He picks up the bowl of the soup and drinks up the rest, finally taking in its warmth. He remembers to tab his mouth with a napkin rather than using his sleeve.
"Thanks for doin' this," he says with another smile. A rare, warm and sincere one this time. There's still things he needs to work out, but some knots have been undone that otherwise would've tightened if he hadn't spoken with someone. "I...don't know what to say besides thank you, but I mean it."
yeah, sounds good to me!
There's a pause as he swallows the last spoonful of his soup, then he gives Nick a small smirk.
"And I know where you are, don't think you're gonna be able to avoid me stopping by again."
no subject
Nick moves to put the dish in the sink, but not before catching that smirk from the other man. "Well, damn," he manages with a smirk of his own, "guess I'm screwed then."
He finishes washing up his bowl and spoon and sets them to dry. He then looks down at the sink, scratching the back of his neck. "Hey, Sam?"
Nick can't count how many times he's already thanked Sam in his head, but he says it again as he turns his head to the man with a smile.
"Thanks for not givin' up on me." Words that he has said to Clementine before when she helped him out. He never would've thought he'd be able to say that a second time to someone else.
no subject
Nick might not be one of his veterans, but the place he comes from might as well be a war zone, from what it sounds like. He can’t help but emphasize.
He turns back when Nick calls his name, eyebrows raised in a silent question, but they soften at what he says. And there’s another reason why he’d loved working at the VA - so many damn soldiers who felt like the world’d given up on them, needing someone who wouldn’t.
“Yeah, man, of course. I’ll see you around.”