A/N: Hi Avengers fandom! It's been a long time. Did we all survive The Snap?
For those of you who follow my Tumblr (usaOneTwoThree), this is not the whumpy Tony and Bucky post-Civil War story I've been promoting for the last few weeks. I got two offers for beta reading that fic and happily accepted. I'll start publishing it as soon as I can implement their wonderful suggestions! So, to tide you over, I finished off the goat fic I had been waiting to write until Forced Alliance was all said and done. I hope you enjoy all the same!
Warnings: some mildly-graphic descriptions of a lifesaving surgery and someone giving blood. It's easily within the T-rating and isn't more graphic than anything you've seen in previous Marvel movies. But I did want to extend the warning in case those things squick you out. (You can just skip straight to chapter two, where all the fun occurs!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the futuristic Wakandan science.
It had been a normal day in Wakanda before the call came in. Bucky had been working the patch of land he'd been loaned by T'Challa, trying to clear more space for this season's vegetable crop. His goats were roaming the land beside him but were generally doing more harm than good by getting underfoot or eating past the edges of the area he was trying to clear. The neighbor's kids, on one of their last days of summer break, were milling around, chattering at a million miles an hour and occasionally lifting a branch out of Bucky's way.
Then, his kimoyo beads flashed. Recognizing that it was a call, Bucky immediately put down the log he was moving and straightened up. Shuri was the only one who contacted him, mostly when she had a new idea for an upgrade. This time, however, her expression was somber instead of excited and Bucky felt his heart sink into the vicinity of his stomach.
"What happened?" he ground out. Around him, the children stopped playing and were watching the bracelet, as if clued into the gravity of the situation.
"It's Steve," Shuri said and Bucky forgot how to breathe.
"Is he alive?"
"Yes."
"Where is he?"
"The medical wing."
"I'm on my way."
Bucky shouted a few words at the kids, ordering them to pen up the goats before they went home, then took off at a full sprint toward the Palace.
It was only once he got there that he realized he should have at least changed out of his very sweaty and dirt-streaked work outfit. The guards were less than thrilled about letting him in in his current state until Shuri called them and gave the official override. Then, Bucky ran into no less than fifty high-ranking Wanakdan families as he desperately tried to push his way to the medical wing. A mixture of "sorry" and "urgent" in Wakandan flew from his mouth on repeat as he slithered through the crowd.
After what felt like an eternity, he burst into the medical wing hallway where he found Sam Wilson, in full combat gear, staring into a large glass window which looked in on the combination medical unit and lab.
"What happened?" Bucky demanded, covering the distance between them in three large steps. As soon as he could see into the window, he began scanning the other side of the glass.
A vise tightened around his ribs as he spied Steve lying shirtless on a long table under the metal ceiling of the Cradle. His friend was surrounded by a throng of white-coated doctors from the neck down, which left Bucky only one clear view of his face. He was not reassured by Steve's harsh white pallor and the small tube poking out of the corner of his mouth. The tube led into a small box on a side table, which joined the rest of the screens surrounding Steve in flashing, blaring, and bleating things that were obviously subpar.
Bucky hadn't even realized he'd lost himself in the wash of sound until Sam spoke again. "Bad intel," the pararescue said quietly, almost detachedly. "They had these…" he made a motion with his hands to show an object about five feet long, "...longswords that split into four. We didn't know 'til they got Steve."
"Is he going to be okay?"
"He needs blood," Shuri's voice boomed through the two pinpoint speakers in the upper corners of the observation window. A split second later, she stepped into the lab and pointed to Bucky. "Your blood to be exact."
Without hesitation, Bucky nodded and began walking toward the decontamination room that bridged the hallway and the lab.
"I can give too," Sam was saying behind him, "if Steve needs."
By that time, Bucky had slipped out of the sling that hid the stump of his metal arm from public view and stepped inside the decontamination room. The roaring of the wind and chemicals past his body kept him from hearing the rest of Shuri and Sam's conversation.
As soon as the door to the lab slid open, Bucky held out his flesh arm to Shuri. "Take as much as you need."
She nodded then turned on her heel and began walking over to where Steve was lying; Bucky trailed less than a step behind her. "Our technology can do many things," she began, "but it cannot repair what does not already exist." As they got closer, Bucky could see the doctors working on Steve's abdomen, their gloves and coats splattered with a great deal of red. "We can fix Captain Rogers' wound but we cannot replenish his blood, and especially not the serum on such short notice.
"Unfortunately we Wakandans cannot donate to your kind. There is trace amounts of vibranium in our blood, a byproduct of the land we live on. I fear it would be too much shock to his already fragile system, especially in conjunction with the dose he will be receiving from the Cradle."
Shuri stopped walking, forcing Bucky to sidestep to avoid running into her, then turned to face him with a deadly serious expression. "In the interest of full disclosure, it is a risk to give him your blood as well, since you are of a different type. Unfortunately, it is our only option."
"What about Sam's?" Despite how it sounded, Bucky's question was purely informational: more viable donors meant more blood for Steve, which gave his friend a greater chance of survival.
"Our analysis reveals your blood is most similar to Captain Rogers', even with your version of the serum, which suggests a greater chance of his body accepting it." Shuri now led Bucky over to a chair less than three feet from where Steve was lying. "Still, we will do some filtering before he receives it in hopes of lessening the rejection."
At this distance, Bucky could see his friend's ashen pallor, which was only amplified by the dark bags under his eyes and the blood gushing from the deep gouges in his abdomen. The doctors were trying to insert what looked like layers of a thin mesh into the gaping holes in Steve's stomach while simultaneously suctioning out the openings. Despite their efforts, it didn't appear they were having any real success with actually slowing the bleeding.
"I know it looks primitive," Shuri continued as she gently pushed Bucky down into the seat, which then reclined until his feet were above his heart, "but once the initial wounds are closed, the Cradle can begin its work. When it is done, only Captain Rogers' own skin and tissue will remain."
Shuri slipped a pair of thick sunglasses over his eyes without explanation, then disappeared from his line of sight. As if on cue, one of the doctors detached herself from the horde and hurried over to Barnes. She smiled wanly at him, then began sanitizing and prepping his arm.
Bucky barely noticed the needle being inserted but was greatly surprised by the chair rising into the air a few moments later. He forced himself not to freak out, reminding himself who this was for; thankfully, the chair stopped moving not long after and hovered a steady five feet above the ground. It was only then that Bucky saw his blood beginning to flow down the tube connecting his arm to Steve's.
C'mon Steve, Bucky thought—actually almost pleaded—as his blood entered Steve's arm. This isn't the end of the line yet. Especially when I wasn't around.
Then, bright lights in the top of the Cradle were turned on and adjusted until they focused in four beams, one for each of the deep, raw gouges that ran from Steve's right hip to his left pec. Bucky squinted preemptively at the brightness but, a split second later, the glasses adjusted so he could see the action below him without issue.
The doctors continued to layer mesh inside Steve while the lights moved back and forth along the gouges, cycling methodically from corner to corner. Progress was slow but eventually even Bucky could see the amount of blood the doctors were having to suction diminish.
"How are you doing, Sergeant?" Shuri called up to him.
"Fine," he shouted back, to be heard over the hum of the lights. "Take as much as he needs."
After that, time started to get a little blurry. Steve was still unconscious, the doctors were still working, but Bucky was back on the ground and the lab was spinning rather intensely.
The needle was pulled out of his arm quickly but efficiently, then he was on the ground with his legs on the seat of the chair and Shuri leaning over him.
"I apologize Sergeant. I think we took too much."
Undeterred, Bucky held up his arm again. "Take more," he rasped as the lab tilted dangerously. "He needs it."
Shuri shook her head. "Not today, Sergeant. You've given your limit."
"I can take it," he snapped as he forced his elbow under him to raise his head. The lab was still spinning faster than the disk ride at Coney Island but Bucky just swallowed hard, set his jaw and tried again to lift himself upright.
Suddenly, a soft hand was on his shoulder. He tried to pull away but his treacherous body refused. Resignedly, he looked over to find Shuri crouching beside him, looking at him with great concern in her expression.
"There's nothing more you can do for him," she said softly. "Your blood has already stabilized his vitals, which is allowing our physicians to continue with the regeneration process." Then, she held out a bottle of water and a bag of a dried food Bucky didn't recognize. "You, however, need to eat something or you will end up in the bed beside him."
While Shuri was talking, Bucky had been trying to shift over so she was no longer blocking his view of Steve. It was only after he planted his foot against the base of the Cradle and slid his torso left that he was successful. "How is he?" Bucky was forced to ask, when he didn't see any difference in Steve's condition from his new vantage point.
Shuri frowned at his deferral but, when he made no motion of continuing her train of thought without that answer, sighed unhappily. "He would have died if Sam had not brought him here. His wounds were too massive for your primitive medicine."
"And now?"
"I would have to confer with the physicians but he appears to be recovering." Then she looked disapprovingly down at him. "You are not eating."
Bucky wasn't particularly hungry but he knew arguing with Shuri was a losing battle. Also, based on the amount of blood he'd seen outside of Steve's body, his friend was going to need another donation, which meant Bucky needed to give his system the tools it needed to replenish its supply.
He managed to force down the bag of chips but had considerably more difficulty with the water: he managed to open it with his right hand after securing the base between his knees but, in his upside down position, he ended up spilling a large amount of it on himself before he could find the strength to lift his head from the ground.
By the time the bottle was empty, the lab had stopped spinning and, the second Bucky realized this, he launched himself to his feet. The lights were still dancing along Steve's abdomen but the tube was gone from his friend's mouth. As a bonus, his friend looked marginally less pale—a small voice in the back of Bucky's brain told him it could be a byproduct of the lights but Bucky refused to believe it.
He heard a soft tapping on the glass and looked up to see Sam staring expectantly at him, his arms held wide in a questioning gesture.
Bucky tried to force a smile on his face but, in case that wasn't convincing, he held up a weak thumbs-up. Relief broke over Sam's expression and he immediately pulled out his cell phone.
"Can he come in?" Barnes asked Shuri, who shook her head.
"In fact, you should leave as well."
"I'm not—"
"Please Sergeant. You are not properly protected from the Cradle. You really shouldn't have been in here for as long as you have in that," she motioned to his work outfit. It was then that Bucky noticed the doctors were wrapped in what looked like a thin plastic film, which he could only assume was the Wakandan version of a hazmat suit. If he hadn't been looking for the slight sheen, he never would have noticed it. As he turned around, he saw that Shuri had donned one as well.
Bucky hated the idea of leaving Steve with every fiber of his being but, he didn't want to demand his own suit, which would only distract someone from helping his friend. Reluctantly, he nodded then walked back into the decontamination unit. The air didn't rush past him and instead, the door opened on the far side once he was out of the previous sensor's range.
"He'll be alright?" Sam pressed as soon as Bucky had reentered the hallway.
"Shuri believes so."
The two watched the procedure for another ten minutes, at which point the doctors stopped working and began talking quickly in Wakandan. Shuri, who had been standing beside them, was now contributing to the conversation while tapping rapidly on her tablet.
"What's going on?" Sam asked, pressing his face closer to the glass. In the lab, the closest doctor placed her palm on the table next to Steve and the Cradle lights immediately blinked off.
"I don't know." Bucky had picked up his fair share of the language but the words were flying past him far too fast for him to understand.
He tapped lightly on the glass, as Sam had done earlier, to catch Shuri's attention. She held up one hand then finished speaking to the closest doctor to her. In the background, the other doctors were now pulling out what seemed like long strips of thin black tape and laying them over what remained of Steve's wounds.
Shuri then dipped her head at the doctor she had been speaking with and made her way back through the decontamination unit into the hallway.
"What happened?" Bucky and Sam demanded, in perfect unison, as soon as the hallway door slid open.
"As best we can tell, the Cradle has begun to negatively interact with the serum," Shuri explained, while continuing to consult with her tablet. "I can only hypothesize that it kicked the serum into high-gear, which is now stressing out Captain Rogers' system. As Doctor Cethe suspected, turning off the Cradle stopped this reaction. Unfortunately, this means we cannot use the Cradle again until Captain Rogers has had time to recover. Fortunately, we were almost completely done with the procedure; there is only very limited superficial damage yet to be healed."
"Thank God," Sam breathed.
"So he's going to be okay?" It sure sounded like it but Bucky's head was still a little foggy from his unplanned blood donation. He needed to hear it said very plainly before he could be relieved.
Shuri nodded. "Not as quickly as he would have been if we could have completely finished the procedure but, yes, now he will heal on his own."
"Thank you." The words seemed woefully inadequate but Bucky said them anyway as he reached out and rested his hand against Shuri's.
Sam was quick to chime in his appreciation as well. "We don't mean to take advantage of your technology," he added, "but, without it, we definitely would have lost him." He swallowed hard before continuing, "Still, I understand the Council didn't have to let us in. We are in your debt."
It was a much nicer expression of gratitude than the mishmash of words and phrases jumbling around in Bucky's brain. He was grateful one of them had the ability to vocalize it.
"We understand, Sam," Shuri said, finally looking up from her tablet. "It is because of that reason that we were allowed to treat him." She grinned lopsidedly. "And that fact that he won over the rest of the majority when he continued to pass back any information about Wakandan perception or any potential threats to our nation."
That last bit came as a surprise to Bucky but, almost immediately, he realized it shouldn't have. Of course, Steve would have been looking out for the country that was harboring him as a means of thanking T'Challa. Now that Bucky had heard Shuri say it, he wouldn't have expected any less from his friend.
"If I may be so bold," Shuri then spoke up, instantly earning both Bucky's and Sam's attention. "Now that Captain Rogers is stable, I believe showers are in order for both of you." She held up her hand as both Sam and Bucky opened their mouths to protest. "He will remain in the lab for at least the next thirty minutes and your presence, while thoughtful, is not required. I will make sure you are updated if anything changes."
When neither of them moved, Shuri spoke again: "I can make it an official order if you wish."
Both Avengers frowned before shaking their heads in unhappy concession.
Shuri beamed at them. "There's a locker room at the end of the hallway, in case you've forgotten." With that, she glided down the hallway—literally. There was a glowing substance allowing her shoes to hover about six inches in the air.
"Now!" she called over her shoulder when she realized they still hadn't moved.
Sam and Bucky exchanged glances then, in unison, looked over at Steve, who was still unconscious but continuing to breathe on his own volition. With that small reassurance in the back of both their minds, they headed toward the locker room before Shuri felt the need to involve the palace guards.
While I did try to make this semi-plausible, please chalk any scientific inaccuracies up to the technological advancements of Wakanda.
Up next: Steve regains consciousness and, once he is well enough to be released, he is sent to recuperate at Bucky's farm. Expect lots of bonding, reminiscing, goats, and hijinks!
Thanks for reading!