So I wrote this back in 2017 but I thought it would be good to wait for Black Panther- but I just couldn't! I will be seeing it on Sunday, finally. Although some spoilers did get to me...
Enjoy!
The Metallurgist
After waking in a Wakandan village with a pounding headache and the phantom pain of his missing arm, Shuri and an on-site doctor took one look at him and called for T'Challa. The king himself had looked at his decidedly less broody yet still broken form and proclaimed a trip was in order. The young king's words took form in the sudden action of his inner circle. His Dora Milaje warriors shuffled out, except for Okoye, who now shadowed the king as they walked out of the med bay.
Looking now, out the window of a private Wakandan jet, Bucky saw nothing but green rising up out of the ocean to greet them.
Scotland, of all places in the whole world. While briefings had been the only norm in his life- as it were as Hydra's Winter Soldier- had taken him all over, but to have an unstained view of the infamous highlands wasn't something that one James Buchanan Barnes could have ever hoped to see. Apparently, though, the king of Wakanda was taking him to the infamous isle of Skye. For whatever reason, he had no clue.
A whisper in front of his seat had him glancing over to Shuri, who had been tagged along, creeping over crept over quietly to warn T'Challa they were landing. Without so much as a snort, the young king straightened himself from a nap and was alert once more. Cat nap.
Bucky couldn't resist the smirk that threatened so he rubbed the stubble of his face to hid it, though Okoye had seen. She even gave him a cheeky grin.
It was a good sign for him, they all knew. The doctors told them as much during his cryo debrief with kids hanging around him, that normal emotions should come back to him over time. The long sleep he'd just come out of was one without the usual mind-numbing drugs Hydra routinely pumped him full of, which cut out dreams and usual REM cycles. The peaceful sleep he'd just defrosted from allowed normal synapses to occur in his brain during that time and he felt more like himself than he had in a long time. Although he was sure he'd never be the carefree, skirt-chasing army sergeant he once was, he was at least recovering.
The bump of turbulence told him he'd withdrawn again and Shuri had long since taken her seat and Okoye had taken out a tablet. They were landing and he's missed much of the landscape of Scotland.
Damn. He thought as he took the chance to see it now, watching beads of water zip along the windows and the deepest green he'd ever seen rose up closer.
Time was something he wasn't sure he understood anymore. At least the flight went quickly.
As the aircraft rolled to a slow cruise, Bucky decided to ask his burning question of the king of Wakanda. "Why are we in Scotland?"
With a wide grin, which had him looking suspiciously like a cat who caught the canary, T'Challa said, "We're here for a meeting with the most capable metallurgist in the world. I have a work order for them, my friend, and you need to be there for your fitting."
MacLean Metallurgy Est. 1955
The sign was metal, no surprise, and it was rusted with age exacerbated by the constant dew permeating the country. So far, Skye seemed to be a beautiful place with old charm and at least one tiny village, which they'd landed near. Despite the wild beauty of the region, Bucky wondered why a famous metallurgist would live in such a remote place, besides the peace and quiet. Surely getting industrial materials in such a rural location was difficult- and expensive. Though if T'Challa was right, their work would be worth the long haul and hefty price tag.
He took another glance at the sign on the post. A crest with a medieval looking tower and battlements remained clearly etched with Gaelic words across the bottom.
"Virtue mine honor." Cracked a voice.
Bucky had to reign in his extreme urge to pull out the scalpel he's swiped back in Africa and stab the fuck out of the newcomer. The very creepy newcomer who'd successfully scuttled up to his side, with nary a noise despite the sloppy mud surrounding them.
"Excuse me?" he said calmly, despite the racing of his heart.
"Th' words. Ma clan's sigil. Means, Virtue Mine Honor."
Bucky looked down at the hunched old man standing at his side. "You're a MacLean?"
"Ye say tha' like an Irish. Ye, I am!"
Before things got out of hand, Okoye stepped into the exchange, huddled in a cashmere sweater. "Dougal?"
With a jerk the old man straightened as much as he could and looked twenty years younger. "Ack! The lovely, Okaye!" He even bowed his head low, the old fart.
Bucky met Okoye's eyes over the old man and the woman shrugged with a smile. "Are you really giving Mr. Barnes here trouble, Dougal MacLean?"
"Ack, he looks like a braw lad, he can handle a wee bit o' proddin'."
"As long as it's in good fun." She said as T'Challa stepped up.
"Dougal MacLean," he said with regal airs. "Is the Laird of MacLean and Douglas here today?"
"Aye, Always. Gottae workload I warn, ya, but come on in. I couldnae steer ye clear of here, even if I wanted te." He said this to Okoye and Bucky could see why she'd been the one to join the king.
Old man MacLean had a serious crush.
They entered the old industrial building, complete with old and new forges, kilns and modern metal fabrication stands like rollers, formers and utility shears. Work tables were scattered about, certain stations sat tidy with tools in their places and some with remnants of metal shavings. The room was warm and dry, which was welcome from entering from the gloomy, wet exterior.
A sudden arch of sparks flew from around one of the stations and T'Challa led them towards it. He pulled on some sun glasses and looked directly at the woman currently welding a seam for a…custom mailbox?
This is the famously secret metallurgist he was dragged to Scotland for?
"I dinnae have time for another work order, so turn your tidy arse right 'round." Another arc of sparks shot across the top of the woman's head-slight surprise- and they rained over her back as she spoke with the same sharp accent of old man MacLean.
T'Challa shook his head and smiled at Okoye and Shuri. "How do you know how tidy my ass is, miss Rohna?"
The flames snapped off at once and the woman turned her head their way. She stood quickly and ripped off the welding mask from her head, revealing green eyes and a brilliant smile, both blazing towards the king. "T'Challa! Ach, boy-o, you dinnae ever catch me at a good time, do ye?"
"I arrive precisely when I mean to." T'Challa said with a deep smirk and a wink.
"You right git!" she barked and stepped forward, offering her welcome Wakanda Forever which was returned by the others. "Quotin' Tolkien, really…" She looked charmed though, if Bucky knew a woman's blush- and he once did.
"Well, ye came here all the way from Africa. I cannae well send ye away. Best make it worth ma time." She was sharp and to the point and although Bucky couldn't see her hair color under the bandana, her eyebrows were a deep cooper.
God damn, she was an honest-to-god Scottish ginger, he thought. Already his spirits were lifting.
"I need you to make a metal arm for my friend here." T'Challa began and Bucky quietly sighed out a breath. Jesus…
The king continued. "Our engineering team with Shuri will oversee things from Wakanda, handling mechanics." Shuri grinned proudly and Bucky smirked. T'Challa continued, "The most important part would fall to you, Rohna. I need an arm that protects the mech inside and allows Mr. Barnes here offensive capabilities."
Bucky's suddenly spirits tanked. T'Challa just cut his hopeful flirting legs out from under him.
As if he weren't enough of a gimp, the king just pointed right at his missing appendage. Guess he couldn't fault the guy; at least he would have two arms again. Besides, the gal had eyes and she would have noticed his missing limb soon enough.
He didn't expect those bright minty green eyes of the metallurgist to swing his way and meet his own eyes right then and there. She didn't even glance at his stump.
"Barnes, ye say?"
Bucky was trapped. "Yes, ma'am." And a little smitten.
She scoffed, "Irish American, then." Her feathers looked ruffled but she seemed pacified that he had an American accent. Without a moment's hesitation, she stepped forward and invaded his carefully constructed bubble, which only the Wakandan doctors had recently prodded, albeit with extreme care. The Wakandan kids, he didn't count. They were good.
Rohna got right up close to his chest, which she barely reached, and pulled a tape measure from her pants pocket. She pulled it taut from one of his shoulders to other, then down his remaining arm. It would have been comical how she reached up so high to get the measurement, but then she released one side with a snap and chose to prod both his shoulders. She hummed low in thought, an extremely feminine sound, and Bucky was reminded of the insane amount of time since he'd last gotten laid.
"Lass, yer bums oot the windae if ye doona remember yer other work! Braw boy er' no!"
Whatever spell had wrapped around her was snapped by old man MacLean's odd words and she looked up, meeting Bucky's eyes with her own once more.
"Gran da's right," she barked and tossed down her measuring tape onto a nearby work table. "I got too much te do at the moment."
"Okoye…" T'Challa whispered and the sleek woman at his side was already moving.
"Dougal," Okoye Said softly as she reached the elder MacLean. The old man jerked, eyes once hooded were now alert and positively googly for the svelte Dora Milaje again.
"A-aye, lass?"
"Could I take you for a walk?"
"O' course! I'll show ye the garden! I have some o' meh old work on display…"
Once the old man was out of the room with Okoye, Bucky and T'Challa looked back at Rohna, who was glaring at the king. Shuri, the teen she was, for bored and wandered the shop.
"If ye 'tink ye can get me to do yer biddin' like ma gran da just by flashin' some-" she paused a moment, eyes wide before she waved her fingers Bucky's way- "Some beefcake of a man!"
T'Challa carefully lifted a hand while Bucky raised a brow to the term beefcake. "I'll be too the point, Rohna." The king began, "I've brought you a supply of Vibranium."
If a woman could turn into a puddle, the lady Laird of clan MacLean would have flooded her own workshop in an instant.
"Oh my gods," she murmured and slapped a hand to her forehead. "Y…yer serious? Mine?"
"More than enough for those projects, Rohna." T'Challa said with a grin.
"Ye…? Oh, go' damnit!" she barked and rubbed her face before shooting an accusatory finger the king's way. "An accord we have, bai! But I get the shipment yesterdae and ye know I dinnae have room at the house for yer entourage so-
"Don't worry, Rohna, we need to leave today but Shuri will be leaving two technicians behind to assist with construction of the commission. They will stay at the inn in the village. As per usual, just Skype with Shur if you need any info. But of course," he lifted a hand towards Bucky, "I am leaving Mr. Barnes himself. Would you have room for him in your home?"
She looked surprised but she recovered much faster than Bucky had to the revelation. "Ack, T'Challa, ye gift meh with mystical metal from yer homeland and the man of mystery? Is it ma birthday and I dinnae know?"
T'Challa looked like he was having an amazing time, with Bucky as the recipient of a prank. Granted, he knew he deserved every ounce of ire in general, but dropping him on his head in front of an extremely attractive woman? He was bound to trip over his own feet, being so out of practice with the fairer sex. Hell, she was bound to laugh at his sad attempts at flirting.
Bucky must have been frowning when Rohna turned to talk to Shuri because T'Challa smiled at him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't just throw you to the wolves!"
"Jus' one," echoed from across the workshop.
T'Challa sighed but his smile remained. Bucky was slightly annoyed. "You couldn't have given me a heads up?" he hissed quietly.
"I needed the element of surprise," T'Challa said softly as they walked toward the exit. "And you need to be tested, both in your mannerisms and in your body. I will leave behind a doctor to address any issues, but she will not be on your hide. If you have an issue, go to her. The choice to heal is yours, my friend."
Once outside, the sun had come out and rays of light scattered across the green plains, lighting the mountains in the fore. T'Challa raised an arm into the air. "This Skye…it is a place you can heal further, before you come back to Wakanda...we know things are stirring."
As if to highlight this words, the wind whipped up and blew their clothing and Bucky's hair wild.
Once the gust died down, T'Challa continued, "Rohna needs you here to assure the measurements are correct for your new arm housing. Soon that will be replaced and you might feel whole in some way. It is also my hope that she'll keep you on your toes; maybe even help you to heal in another way."
Bucky had taken in everything the king had said, but he faltered at the last, looking away from the snow-capped mountains. "What the hell are you talking about?"
T'Challa laughed hard and stalked gracefully over to the sleek black car they'd arrived in, lifting his hands into a shrug. "Please…get laid, my friend!"
The expressive eye roll James Buchanan Barnes gave the King of Wakanda would go down as the most dramatic of its kind.
Although T'Challa's idea of Bucky finding healing in Skye due to the land itself probably wasn't what he'd had in mind, it was exactly what the soldier needed. Wakandan has its wild beauty and it paved the way to his healing. Scotland had a near untouchable beauty, but it still felt like coming home somehow. He could be whole here.
That first night in Scotland, Rohna brought him into her warm, inviting home, laid out some food and announced she was working late.
"Please mind me manners, Bucky, leavin' ye like this so soon. If ye need anythin', my gran da lives down th' road. If ye need yours trulea, pick up the landline and dial zero. It'll go right ta the shop." She finally gave him a smile and nodded toward the deck beyond the living area. "Pour yerself a dram o' whiskey, bai, and relax. I want ye ta feel like my home is yers."
So Bucky did as she bid after she left and poured some of the finest whiskey he'd ever tasted- or he could have remembered- and sat back to observe the house- and check for security concerns. Old habits die hard…
He was bothered by the tall, wide windows of the house without one single drape for privacy, but he assumed she didn't have any issues with peeping toms or Hydra agents peering into her home out in rural Skye, especially facing a cliff as they were. The sea rocked far down beyond those windows, so he allowed himself to relax as much as possible.
He spent some time admiring the old home, which managed to be both rustic and modern. Splashes of black and green plaid, as well as white and grey, were scattered within the décor. He could only assume they were her clan colors.
Two days later he was walking with old man MacLean and learned all about their clan history. He'd learned that Rohna, or Ro as Dougal called her, was a Douglas on her mother's side. After that, out of boredom he assured himself, he'd read through some of her house library books to see that the MacLean and Douglas colors did pepper most of the fabrics across her home. Interestingly, the guest room where he was staying was relatively bare, though it did have touches of green and grey.
Over the past week, the food he'd eaten had been good and filling and his bed soft. It was the longest stretch of normalcy he could remember. He had freedom to hike across Rohna's land and he'd even made a friend of a large, slightly broody Collie type of dog.
He didn't know its name since it didn't have a collar. With Rohna gone odd hours, he hadn't had the chance to ask. He assumed it was no issue, since the mystery pup had taken to herding him around the property, nudging him this way and that upon old trails to head back home.
The house itself was nothing like he'd expected. It was an old building but it'd been renovated sometime in the late 90's. The modernized architecture enhanced the classic croft frame and showcased the wide, expansive windows facing the sea from where the house sat high above on a cliff. Bucky took his morning coffee out on the deck, watching the sunrise with the big dog nearby. He wasn't sure if she- he found out later- was allowed indoors but he was sure Rohna wouldn't chop his other arm for it, so in the dog came and slept at his feet.
It was his eighth evening at Rohna Douglas MacLean's home when she suddenly sailed out onto the deck with two glasses of whiskey.
As usual, she seemed to absorb all the energy of the room and he was drawn to it like a moth to the flame. Her eyes were merry today and she seemed in good spirits.
"Ack, my favorite gimpy!" she said it like gimp-eh.
Bucky pretended to be offended but it was hard to hold it when she looked so fresh from the shower and had her hair down to dry. She even offered one of the glasses with a sly little twist of her wrist.
"Come on, doll." He managed, "Quite bustin' my balls."
She laughed as she handed over the glass and took a seat next to him on the wicker sofa. Their proximity was comfortable and they sipped the whiskey in silence for a few moments before she spoke again. "I've been clearing up my workload, Bucky, so ye'd best thank yer lucky stars I like ye." She said his name with more care, but still rolled the y like Buck-ae. It was sexy as hell.
"Oh yeah?" he asked as he set the glass next to Rohna to pat the dog's head near his knees.
The redhead was about to speak but she faltered.
"Uh, hm... Well then,"
Bucky stiffened and sat up straighter. "I hope I didn't take any liberties bringing her inside, Ro-
"No, no!" she barked swiftly, "Ack, no! It's just, that dog...Go' damn, Bucky, she's the devil incarnate."
Bucky lifted a brow and Rohna laughed. "She bites anyone who comes near. I swear she's a Sheltie the way she acts. Even I have te be a wee bit touchy with her- an' she was a gift from me mum 'fore she passed!"
"What's her name?"
"Flora, after the Jacobite sympathizer who-
"Snuck out Scottish Prince Charles to Skye."
Rohna laughed at him with clear approval and whacked his chest playfully. "Bonnie Prince Charles." Bonn-ae she says.
"Right," Bucky added, "Bonnie prince Charles." He said it as Brooklyn as he could manage and the shrill laughter that he drew from Rohna made something in his gut twist pleasantly.
"Ack, you bletherin' flirt! I knew I liked ye." She murmured cheerfully. "So! How was yer week in Skye?"
"I loved it." He said, fully open and honest. "I don't think I've ever been in such an amazing place."
Rohna leaned back into her chair and dangled her leg over the arm of her side of the couch while tucking her tartan more tightly about her- Douglas white and black grey, he noticed. "This land is magic and I'm no' bein' partial, mind ye. Just truth."
Bucky smiled but decided it was time to ask her a question that he hasn't been able to decipher on his own.
"Why exactly did T'Challa bring me here, Rohna?"
If his question threw her off, she didn't show it. Instead she took a sip of her whiskey before speaking. "My great gran da MacLair, an American, invented proto-Adamantium. Accidently. It's some incredibly strong stuff, though he couldnae replicate his blessed mistake. He couldnae figure out the formulae. Howard Stark got his hands on the only sample." She added and looked back at Bucky. "I do believe your friend Captain America wields it…or did, from the sound of that current situation."
Bucky looked interested, so she continued. "MacLair, that old geez…he fell asleep while experimenting with composites- dinnae know how he did that o' course- but he was a metallurgist, true, and he knew his shite. The craft runs in the family, ye see." She said with a hand waving. "Now, the US holds the patent on what they call true Adamantium formulaes, but my grea' gran da MacLair…he trained his nephew, my gran da MacLean who brought it back home to Skye. The secret is kept lock and key- in our memory. Only two of us know it at a time."
Bucky grinned at her. "And you are one of those two."
She grinned right back. "I dinnae know what yer talkin' bout, Bucko."
He hissed like he was hit and Rohna laughed. "I'll be kind then!" She caught his hand and tugged, bringing his eyes back to hers. "As I was sayin' earlier- because I like yeh so much, I've been busy gettin' together composites fer yer arm. And I also…" she glanced over with eyes dark, "I decided to use my Vibranium cache."
Bucky frowned. "You just got that, Ro."
She hummed softly. "Ro, eh?"
He smirked. "Your gramps is rubbing off on me, doll."
Rohna looked pleased and continued speaking. "It's just hunks o' metal. Not even. It's just matrixes." When Bucky looked unconvinced she sighed. "You gettin' whole once more. That's more important than a rock collection, aye? I have a trick up ma sleeve for ye, love."
Bucky didn't know what to say but he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and kiss her silly. But his one arm was all he had and it was currently held in her hands and he was sure as hell not fucking that up. Besides, she was his hostess. What kind of asshole American just pulls the woman spending her time and energy to make him a workable metal arm, opened her home to him, and he just disrespects her like that? Not him.
He must have gone away again because she was looking at him with concern. Time was a bitch in his mind nowadays and he hissed under his breath. In a heartbeat Rohna had dropped to her knees, pulled the drink away from side and pulled his hand. His once vacant eyes shot to meet hers and she sighed.
"There ye are, darlin'," she looked full on relieved. "Keep the heid for me, will ye?"
He took a deep breath and shook his head. "What?"
"Stay with me." She said softly still. Suddenly she stood and made to pull him to his feet. It was almost comical how she tried to yank him up when she was barely five foot, but he humored her. This got her under his arm, as if to support him and he enjoyed the contact more than he should. She was both soft and hard against him, muscled but feminine despite her hard career. She felt perfect.
"We'll get ye ta bed, love." She said as they got into the house with Flora at their heels. Bucky thought it was funny this hundred and ten-pound soaking-wet woman took charge and unquestioningly dragged his sorry ass to his bedroom. She probably thought he was drunk even after only one drink. At that thought, he frowned.
"Rohna,"
"Hush you," she barked and gave his waist a squeeze. "No belly-achin' in this house. You need te relax."
It was then he noticed she'd tossed her tartan over his shoulders at one point. How long had he been gone this time? Ashamed, he allowed himself to be corralled to bed without further protest.
Rohna got him to his room and he plopped down of his own accord, too shamed to look her in the eye, but that didn't stop her from getting into his bubble. She crouched down and got between his knees. He had to flex his legs, forcefully blocking all the blood he possessed to not head right to his pants.
Her mint green eyes were bright with concern and she tightened the tartan around him with a hard tug. "Do ye ken what happened back there?"
Bucky sighed. "No. I'm here one minute and the next I'm not. I just felt like I was thinking, but when I come back…I'm a few minutes older."
Rohna frowned and her eyes looked concerned for him. "Darlin', ye cannae be doin' that te me." Her hand brushed the unkempt beard on his face. It was hard to shave with only one hand and no real razor. "I'm thinking of how many times ye've done tha' since ye've been here in Skye. Here in ma home when I wasnae with ye."
Bucky shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Ro. It really doesn't happen often."
She looked unconvinced if her eyebrow lifting had any indication. "Either way." She murmured as she stood. "Busy day tomorro', Bucky. Will ye be okay wit me' at the shop?"
"I'll be fine." He said and he even found the will to give her a small smile.
She sighed loudly but leaned down slightly to kiss his rough cheek, even lingering to force it through his beard. "Doonae make me lock ye indoors, now." She threatened softly and backed out of the room, her eyes merry but shaded with concern the whole way.
It was only after she left that he remembered her Douglas tartan of black and white was left over his shoulders. He slept well tucked into her scent, as romantic or as fucked up as that may have been. He slept deeply and without dreams wrapped in a mix of peppermint, lavender and rain.
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