It took Tony nearly half an hour to make his way from the Gallery of Beat Down to the room with the poor, dead, frozen Winter Soldiers in waiting. He wasn't expecting to find anyone else there. T'Challa was studying the various consoles in the room.
"When the hell did you get here?" he blurted. "Uh, Your Highness."
T'Challa barely glanced at him. "I followed you."
"Oh, you did not."
Apparently that didn't warrant a reply. "Zemo is outside. I have restrained him."
Tony blinked. "He's alive?"
"Killing him will serve no purpose." T'Challa turned to look at him more closely. "Are you all right?"
Even Tony Stark wasn't capable of covering that one. "No." He saw the other man's eyes drop down, and he leaned a little heavier on the shield he was using as the world's most unique and valuable crutch. "It got left behind. And it's about the only thing that could support my weight in the armor." He hitched forward a couple of more steps, then paused. "Wait, you were outside? Did you see them leave?"
"I saw their jet leave, yes."
"Did you try to stop them?"
T'Challa gazed back at him very calmly. "Bucky Barnes is no longer my concern. I found the person responsible for my father's death."
Tony swallowed bile. "And you let him live."
"Vengeance has caused enough damage today."
"Then I guess you don't want a job as an Avenger. We've got some openings."
T'Challa's solemn look eased just a little. "I already have a full-time job. From the look of you, I'm guessing you will need some help getting home. I have room on my jet."
Tony let himself sag a little. "Thank you, Your Highness. I was figuring I'd have to hotwire the communications equipment here and call a cab."
"We should destroy this place. No one else should have the ability to re-create this evil."
"You're right, but I don't know how."
That was an actual faint smile on the other man's face. "I should lighten the load on my jet of a few missiles to compensate for the weight of your armor."
"Of course you have missiles."
"As do you, Mr. Stark."
Tony looked down at the missile ports on his forearm, emptied at Barnes' face until Rogers jarred his aim. "Shit."
T'Challa frowned. "What?"
"Barnes' arm. It's-um-no longer attached to Barnes. The metal one, that is." He turned and glared in the direction he'd come. "And it's still in that gallery, and I'd really like to figure out how they put it together." He thumped the shield forward and started back.
T'Challa appeared at his side and patted his shoulder. "I shall find it. You rest here. I wouldn't mind seeing how it's put together myself."
"I called it first!" Tony yelled after him. "Dibs! Do you do dibs in Wakanda?"
There was no answer, and he shrugged and looked around for something to lean on that might support his weight. The nearest thing was the table with the computer where he'd watched . . . that video. He swung the shield at the table, knocking everything to the floor, and he fought back the sobs that held so much more than just grief for his mother. He couldn't cry in front of the King of Wakanda, who was being so noble and wise and shit about his own father. But he did let himself drop to the floor and feel terrible about everything that had gone to hell.
He aimed a useless repulsor at the pile of junk, wanting to obliterate it all, the computer, the screen, the book with the star on the cover. It was all just out of reach, and he was feeling too miserable to get to his feet just yet. He reached with the shield to drag the book towards him.
He was still staring at some diagrams when T'Challa came back, the mangled metal arm in one hand.
"What did you find?" T'Challa asked.
He tried to be casual about closing it. "Just a log, readings on these guys. Interesting from a cryogenics point of view."
"We have had reliable cryogenics in Wakanda for over a decade."
Tony gave him a narrow look. "Of course you have. And I keep getting very amusing letters back from your Ministry of Technology whenever I ask for details of all the other stuff you have."
T'Challa actually smiled. "Yes, they look forward to your requests with great interest." He watched Tony try to struggle to his feet. "Do you need some help?"
Tony grumbled and raised an arm.
The bunker blew up beautifully.
Three weeks later, Tony had scanned and translated the book completely, between dodging Ross and trying to reassure Vision and designing Rhodey's leg braces. And receiving packages from Steve Rogers.
He had nightmares about litanies that could turn a person's mind off, turn them into killing machines. He built and monitored endless chambers of modified human beings in his dreams. He wondered if Barnes and Barton ever shared horror stories. He carefully checked up on Barton's family, making sure nothing was coming near them. The threatening message he got from Natalie Rushman was very reassuring.
He just as carefully did not investigate the break-out from the impenetrable Raft. There had been help there, somewhere, but Ross was going to have to find someone else to figure that one out.
The phone, on the other hand, did get looked over with a fine tooth comb. The SIM card was encrypted, and he couldn't break it. Friday was feeling professionally vexed. If they tried harder to crack it, they ran the risk of damaging it, and then there went his means of communication. Which he didn't care about, really, because why would he ever need to call Rogers? But, still, you never knew, and it would be a shame to lose a potential tie.
Still, he didn't even recognize the coding. Who had Steve gone to, who could provide him with this kind of cover? The only people with this level of technology were Tony himself, maybe the Chinese, some lunatic in MIT's basement-
He grinned. Or Wakanda.
Saw them leave, his armored big toe.
"The day's post, sir."
King T'Challa looked up eagerly, grateful for something to relieve the tedious but necessary burden of his country's paperwork. "Anything interesting?"
"The usual trade and diplomatic inquiries, plus a personal package from Tony Stark."
T'Challa chuckled. "He's decided to bypass proper channels now, I see. What's in it?"
"A small logbook, sir, we detected nothing to be worried about."
"Thank you."
Responsibility said he should look at the official post first, but he needed a break. Perhaps Stark had been running experiments to dispute Wakandan technological superiority and wanted to brag.
The book had a Post-It on the cover. "This may help, but don't tell me how." It was the logbook Stark had found in the Winter Soldier bunker. T'Challa opened it and began to read, then canceled his meetings and began to take many notes.