Chapter Text
“Come on, come on! We're gonna miss the high tide!”
Walter’s voice squeaks with excitement as he drags his big brother out to the shore, hand clasped in his. It is early morning, just after dawn, and the docks have been buzzing with life since before first light, smelling of salt and fish and polished wood. There are bells, and men shouting, and waves crashing, and the two young boys hurry across the creaking wood dock, laughing for the sake of laughing. Here, now, Bucky is quite a bit taller than his little brother, but he too is a child.
Their little boat is nothing to marvel at; it is small, with mismatched wood and oars left behind by other, much more impressive sailboats. But it is theirs, and they love it like it's a home. It bobs gently from the waves, tied to the old docks with a fraying rope. They look down at their ship with the pride of a seasoned crew.
“We never named him!” Walter exclaims suddenly, throwing his small hands outward in childish despair, “Every good boat has a name!”
“‘She’,” Bucky corrects, adjusting his scarf out of habit, “Boats are always called ‘she’.”
“Ohhh,” Walter's big brown eyes go wide with amazement at the seemingly infinite knowledge his brother holds, “Then what should we name her?”
Bucky hums in thought, tapping his tail against the wood.
“What about ‘The Salty Sea Dog’!”
“That’s a silly name!” Bucky scolds, scrunching up his nose and shaking his head, “Besides, it's too long! It won't fit!”
“Well…” Walter winces as a particularly sizable wave sprays him. “What about ‘S.S. Bucky and Walter’?”
“That’s even longer!”
“Well, I don't hear you coming up with anything, smarty pants!”
Bucky pouts and folds his arms, falling silent. Walter stares at him for a moment, before looking at the saltwater below.
“...’The Seaweed’?”
“Now you're just naming things you see,” Bucky deadpans before groaning, “It's gotta be something cool!”
“Seaweed’s cool!”
“Name one cool thing about seaweed.”
“...It’s green.”
Bucky groans again, slapping a hand over his face is exasperation.
“You boys takin’ her for her first sail t’day?”
Upon turning around, the brothers are met with the captain of one of the larger sailboats, an elderly blue heron. She’s visited them from time to time, offering suggestions about boat construction and sneaking them little snacks from her travels. Bucky beams proudly.
“Yes ma’am,” he answers, holding his head high. Walter shyly peeks out from behind him.
“A fine job ye’ve done!” she smiles warmly and pats the painted side of her sailboat, The Triton, “I think ye’ll be able to out-sail me!”
Bucky and Walter giggle. It’s ridiculous of course, the flimsy thing doesn’t even have a sail, but it’s nice to imagine one day joining the grownup captains.
“You think so?” Walter asks, bright-eyed, finally emerging from behind his brother.
“I know so,” the heron winks, crinkling the graying feathers around her eyes. She crouches to be eye level with the siblings, her expression suddenly serious, beak frowning. Bucky only notices now that one eye is yellow, and the other is brown.
“You boys may want ta plan for a dif’frent day, though,” she warns, “Scarlet sky this mornin’, you know the old sayin’?”
“‘Red sky at night, sailor's delight, red sky at morning, sailors take warning’,” Bucky recites plainly, having heard the mantra from his time by the harbor. The heron chuckles.
“That be right,” she nods, “I don’t want ye sinkin’ out there! Some a’ those waves could topple my Triton!”
Walter squeaks in terror.
“We're not gonna go out far, ma’am,” Bucky reassures, though he fiddles with his scarf, “And we can’t go anywhere until we decide a name!”
“Aye, ye’ve got to name her!” she exclaims, tossing her wings outward dramatically.
“Walter wanted to name her Seaweed.” Walter elbows Bucky in his side.
“Now, ye’ve got to name ‘er somethin’ strong!” the heron proclaims with a playful bravado that makes the boys giggle, “A boat’s name comes from the heart! I named my Triton after those old merfolk tales, the ones that made me want ‘ta go take on the sea!”
The brothers think for a moment, before Walter perks up, shaking his fists excitedly.
“We should name her The Heron!” he looks to Bucky for approval, “Because you helped us wanna sail too!”
The woman looks stunned for a moment, her long beak agape. Then, she smiles, mismatched eyes twinkling.
“Why, I’m flattered, boys,” she replies, placing a wing over her heart, “How’sabout I help ye paint her?”
_____
The painted words in stark black ink are far more pristine than the rest of the vessel, gently curling cursive letters that Walter has trouble deciphering at first. Once the ocean wind dries the lettering, the old heron helps the boys push the ship back into the water. Bucky hands Walter an oar, and they wave with their free hands, shouting their thanks.
“Stay close ta shore!” she shouts as she waves back.
“We will!” Walter shouts back, just audible over the wind beginning to howl.
The water laps lazily at the sides of the boat, spraying little droplets on the two small passengers. Bucky may be young, but he’s also a beaver, so the boat has no leaks to be found. Placing both hands on his oar, Walter watches his brother row, carefully trying to match his rhythm. The older of the two is straining a bit, fighting the current trying to pull them back to shore. Walter’s blue-gray hands are rather small compared to the adult sized paddle, leaving him fumbling a bit. When he finally manages to get a solid grip, he looks back from where they came from. A pang of fear grips his heart. He taps his brother on the back.
“Hey, Bucky? We, uh,” he stammers, painfully aware of how shaky his voice is, “We’re out pretty far, y’know!”
Bucky turns around with a hand shielding his eyez, squinting at the shoreline. The sun sparkles and reflects in his eyes, leaving his vision spotty. He frowns.
“We're not out that far!” he argues while placing both hands back on the paddle, “Don’t tell me you wanna back out now!”
Walter groans worriedly, tossing his head back.
“You can’t be scared all the time, Walter!” Bucky continues, “Or else life is gonna be boring!”
“I guess so,” the young walrus grumbles, “But Miss Heron said not to go out too far, and she’s real smart with the ocean!”
“I'm being careful!” Bucky protests, “And you have to row too, or else we’ll just keep going to the right.”
“Alri-ight,” Walter sighs, reluctantly going back to paddling.
Though it isn’t noon, the sun still beats down on the two novice sailors, making their valiant push against the current a very tiring one. Even Bucky becomes a bit reluctant to push forward, with more and more waves colliding with the front of the boat and splashing inside. The strain of rowing wears on both of them, and Walter’s small hands eventually lose their grip.
“Bucky!” he yelps, standing up fast and grabbing onto his oversized captain’s hat, “The oar, I dropped it!”
“What?!” Bucky stands too, right behind his brother.
The weight shifts to one side, a wave nudges the other, and the little ship capsizes.
Both brothers yell, but it’s quickly muffled by saltwater. It stings as it pours into their noses and mouths, desperate gasps for air only met with more of the unrelenting sea. Even as he tumbles underwater, Bucky reaches blindly for his brother, trying to grab hold of him. Neither of them can see, swimming fruitlessly to try and find the surface, finally catching on and closing their mouths, though the lack of oxygen burns like ice in their lungs.
Bucky surfaces first, wheezing and coughing up seawater, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He treads water with one hand, shielding his eyes with the other.
“Walter!” he cries out desperately, tearfully, desperately trying to hold back the sobs, “Walter, where are you!?”
Ignoring his lungs actively rejecting the water inside them, Bucky gasps a breath and dives back under.
Walter’s arms, exhausted from rowing, barely keep him above water. He gasps as he surfaces, crying and choking at once.
“Bucky—!”
Just as he reaches towards the blob of color that looks like his brother, a stray wave knocks the upturned boat into the back of Walter’s head.
“Walter?! Where—”
Bucky's chest hitches as his eye catches the red blooming in the water. He paddles over frantically, coughing as wave after wave hits his face and tries to push him back. By the time he reaches the limp shape in the water, he is crying so hard it hurts his ribs. Small, chubby arms want so desperately to give out, to end the strain, but Bucky doesn't care. He hoists his brother onto his back with a grunt and swims with one arm towards the boat. Struggling, hands slipping, Bucky clings to the flimsy little ship with one hand and holds his unconscious brother with the other one. He can't tell if what's dripping onto his shoulder is blood or saltwater.
Somehow, through adrenaline or survival instinct, Bucky manages to push Walter onto the upturned bottom of the boat, balancing him carefully. He sobs and squeezes his eyes shut when he sees the blood dripping rhythmically into the seafoam. With every ounce of strength left in his small, exhausted body, he begins pushing the boat towards the shore.
_____
The sun is almost at its peak when they reach the shore.
A few yards before they hit the rocky beach, Walter awakens with a weak cry to his big brother that his head hurts, it really hurts. Bucky’s hands grow so weak with guilt he almost slips and lets go. He holds on, ignoring the tingling exhaustion and deep chill beginning to settle into his bones.
When they're noticed from the docks, soaking wet and shaking and approaching hypothermia from the cold sea, a few sailors begin shouting, something about a doctor, Bucky’s ears are ringing too loud to hear. Without acknowledging every inch of his body protesting even being conscious, he stands, his drenched fur dripping water, and picks Walter up in his arms. The injured walrus clings weakly to him, sniffling that he's sorry he dropped the oar. Bucky wants to say, “Never apologize again. You did nothing wrong. I'm sorry I was too reckless and childish and stupid to prevent this.” But it takes too much energy to speak, energy he needs to carry his baby brother to a doctor, so he says nothing other than the occasional wet cough.
Eventually, the grownups catch up, and quickly get Walter to a hospital. Bucky collapses from exhaustion, legs giving out before he can step in the ambulance himself.
_____
There is the steady beep of a heart monitor. Some muttering voices. Bucky blinks his eyes open.
The sterile white hospital room is hardly comforting, and his whole body aches and stings, but he pushes himself up with a wince.
“Walter?” he croaks weakly, “Where ‘re you?”
A nurse rushes to his bedside, another beaver from what his blurry vision can process.
“Your brother's okay,” she soothes, putting a hand on his shoulder that burns when it presses against muscle, “You were very brave, you got him here fast enough that everything will be okay.”
Okay? Everything wasn't ‘okay’! Because he had to be a reckless idiot, his brother almost died, his only family, his best friend. Grownups can be so stupid sometimes! Everything was not okay!
Before he can stop it, tears begin to boil over and roll down his cheeks. He hiccups and sniffles, clinging to the nurse for comfort, even though she doesn't understand, not at all. She whispers things that are meant to bring comfort, but Bucky doesn't hear over how loud his mind is being. Her scrubs are surprisingly soft.
_____
“It doesn't hurt that bad!” Walter insists after Bucky questions him for the seventh time that minute, “Honest!”
The little walrus’ head is wrapped in gauze. By now, the bleeding has stopped.
“I'm sorry for going out so far,” Bucky sniffles, standing next to his brother's hospital bed, “I feel so stupid.”
“My big brother is not stupid!” Walter’s face scrunches up angrily. Bucky can't help but smile.
“Sorry.”
“When we get out of this stinky hospital,” Walter carries on as if he'd already been on the topic, “we're gonna make an even better boat! One we don't have to row… Like a sailboat!”
The door to their shared room clicks open gently, and Bucky’s hand tightens on Walter's arm. He relaxes when the heron enters, resigning instead to looking guiltily at the floor.
“Hi Miss Heron!” Walter chirps, cheery as ever.
“How are ye, sweetheart?” she asks gently, a tense smile on her beak. Bucky avoids her gaze.
“I'm good! I lost my hat, and I’ve got a little headache, but the doctor said I'll be okay!”
“That’s wonderful,” she beams, before turning to Bucky, “And how are ye doing, little one?”
Bucky blinks up at her, fully expecting to be chastised.
“Me?”
She nods, her smile as gentle as ever.
“Word on the docks is ye swam through a rip current, swam hundreds a’ yards to get li’l Walter t’ safety.”
Bucky’s mouth gapes slightly. Had it really been that far? Regardless, he felt another pang of guilt in his chest. He didn’t deserve to be praised for heroism that came from his own stupidity.
“I see that mind racin’,” the heron chuckles, “Ye thinkin’ I was angry at ya?”
Bucky nods silently, his bottom lip quivering.
“Well,” she shrugs, “Ye did do somethin’ a bit foolish—” Bucky bites the inside of his cheek, “---But, ye also tried your damndest to fix it. And ye did, Bucky. He’s alive cause he’s got you fer a big brother.”
Walter beams, looking at Bucky as if he’s the center of the universe, the sun around which his entire being revolved. Big blue eyes grow misty.
“Okay,” he sniffles, wringing at the sleeve of the hospital gown, “I promise I'll listen next time.”
The heron chuckles softly, ruffling the fur on Bucky’s head with her wing before perking up.
“Say, Walter,” she grins, “How’d ye like a replacement captain's cap?”
Walter’s mouth forms a little ‘O’ shape, before he nods excitedly. Bucky gives him a small glance.
“Oh! Right,” he clears his throat in a comically adult motion for such a small creature, “Yes please, ma’am!”
With a smile as bright as the noon sun, the elderly heron removes her own hat and places it on Walter’s bandaged head. He bounces in place, excitedly waving his fists.
“Really?! You're sure, miss?”
“Aye, I'm positive,” her mismatched eyes twinkle, “It suits ye."
She looks between them as if she is looking at her own children, with the gentleness if a caretaker.
“I know ye’ll look out for each other. I can feel it,” she pats Walter’s shoulder, “I’ve got ta get back to the docks now, the Triton won’t sail ‘erself!”
She gives a curt salute, standing at attention, and the siblings do so in return as they watch her exit into the bustling halls of the hospital. Walter giggles.
“She’s right! When I get big, I can take care of you like you take care of me, Bucky!” His chestnut eyes seem to hold all the light in the world. “We're gonna be the bestest brothers and the bestest sailors ever!”
Bucky laughs, climbing into the hospital bed next to his baby brother, embracing him tightly.
“I promise,” he whispers, so that only they can hear, “I'm not gonna let you get hurt, ever ever again.”
_____
“I have to go check on Stumbler!”
“We're coming with you!”
Olive has a tight hold on Bucky’s wrist, even as he attempts to jerk away, eyes continuously darting back in the direction Wulf had run off in. She pulls Bucky backwards and uses the momentum to start sprinting. Teetering on his heel for a moment, Bucky yelps in surprise before grabbing the otter’s shoulder and shoving her back in turn. She stomps her foot.
“Bucky—!”
“Stay here and don't move!” he yells, a roiling maelstrom of sternness and terror, holding out his hands as if trying to calm a wild animal, “I'm not letting you guys get hurt!”
Olive watches Bucky disappear in between the houses near the theater, following Chief’s path.
Light is slowly disappearing from the island, the red sun dimming to purple twilight. As it becomes harder to see, Bucky nearly trips over wayward stones and roots, the wind whistling in his ears as he sprints. Panting hard, he catches up just in time to see Wulf scrambling through the door of the darkened town hall. Bucky follows.
“Stumbler!” The wolf’s voice booms through the hall as he knocks a few stray papers off the front desk. Bucky careens inside a few moments later to hear only silence.
The beaver swears under his (short and wheezing) breath, slowing to a quiet walk. He can barely hear his own thoughts over his heartbeat, and he can barely see anything save for the yellow light from Stumbler’s room. Weak knees tremble from exhaustion. The shadows he hides in are cold and heavy, and every noise feels like a jet engine in the skull crushing silence. Stepping carefully forward, Bucky stays close to the wall, avoiding weak, squeaking boards. Above his pounding heart he can hear rustling, the soft slide of his hand against the wall. His ear twitches.
A shadow moves across the ray of light stretching down the hall. Bucky flinches.
When he finally reaches the empty doorway, he inhales. Deep and shaking. With one hand he holds the wall. The other squeezes into a fist. Like that’ll help. Trembling, prepared for the worst, he peeks inside.
Stumbler is…fine.
Bucky heaves a sigh that leaves him deflated. Other than the worried look he’s giving Wulf as the assistant bandages his arm, the rabbit is completely unharmed. In fact, he smiles warmly at Bucky when he notices his presence.
“Howdy again!” Stumbler chirps and waves the arm that’s already been bandaged, “We thought there was a break-in or something, the way Wulf flew in here!”
Bucky huffs a quiet laugh.
“Sorry, we're dealing with a…” Bucky glances at the wolf nurse, cutting off his sentence. “With an issue.”
“You’re all set!” The short wolf gives Stumbler a small thumbs up, “Make sure you don’t get sand in there, it'll irritate the wound.” Stumbler nods cheerfully.
“Thank you!” The rabbit waves a nub as the nurse exits through the back door of the town hall. When the three are alone, he turns back with a flick of his ear.
“Alright, what’s so urgent?”
“I smelled blood,” Wulf huffs, “I thought you were hurt.”
Stumbler frowns, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Why would I be hurt?”
Chief sighs, pinching the bridge of his muzzle. His good eye glances at Bucky.
“Apparently…” he stalls, tapping his clawed finger against his leg, “Apparently the Dwellers are up here.”
“What?!”
The Dwellers are up here.
The Dwellers are wandering around up here.
They’re on the island.
Bucky’s blood turns to ice in his veins.
“Oh my god–!”
Before either of the two can even process, Bucky bolts out the door that had been left ajar.
Stupid stupid how much of an IDIOT could he be?! Brilliant work! Leave your best friends alone, at night, knowing full well that there’s fucking monsters wandering around! So much for protecting everyone, you complete moron, now all you've done is left them wide open when they know practically nothing about how to defend themselves from something like this! For the love of twigs he could hardly breathe the air forcing itself in his lungs is so cold each running step on the cobblestone feels like a hammer against his skull—
Bucky rounds the corner to the theater, tears stinging at his eyes.
The exterior of the theater is vacant.
Okay okay don’t panic they’re smart they went inside that’s what anyone would do oh god please don’t let his gut be right
The theater door slams open with a sharp, aged creak, nearly falling off its hinges as Bucky scrambles inside.
“No no no NO NO!”
The inside of the theater is dim, but he doesn't need ample lighting to see the overturned chairs and broken glass. Bucky grips the sides of his head, his chest rising and falling far too rapidly to be healthy, each breath whistling and wheezing and leaving him lightheaded. Gray-blue eyes are wide with a panic only comparable witnessing a city reduced to rubble before them.
It had to be a nightmare. He had to have fallen asleep. Bucky hits his head hard, over and over and over, yelping with an especially hard blow that leaves him seeing stars. There is no shooting up in bed, no calming hand on his shoulder, no fading of night terrors.
His friends are gone.
His little brother is gone.