A/N - Sorry for the slight delay. My aim was to finish this story by the weekend, but unfortunately I had some reports to write for uni which ultimately took priority.

Also, because I am apparently incapable of sticking to a pre-planned story length, I've split what was going to be a complete chapter nine into two parts. The last part is written and should be up soon, but I found while writing that they seem to work better separately rather than as an overlong whole.

That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for all of your feedback so far; it really means a lot :)


T'Challa's reaction to seeing that the man who died in his arms is alive and well is closer to exhausted indifference than shock. A combination of the numerous explanations from Steve along with the more important matter of dealing with the attack on his home has likely softened the blow, and when he does appear at the door of the ward in which Bucky is staying, he freezes for only a moment before stepping forwards with a weak smile on his tired face.

"You're looking…better," he says, an amused smirk quirking his lips, though Bucky knows him well enough by this point to see that the humour doesn't reach his eyes. It's only been three days since everything went to shit after all, and they're both still dealing with the effects.

"Hmm," is Bucky's dignified response to T'Challa's greeting, as he tries to sit up. Exhaustion still clings to his bones even after twelve hours of sleep, and he's starting to think he let himself stay dead for far too long this time around. "I imagine that's not difficult."

"Fair point," T'Challa says with a small shrug, somehow managing to make even that look elegant, before settling down in the abandoned chair by the bed. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are currently offering their services in helping the Dora Milaje clear up the mess and providing extra security; something Bucky intends to do as soon as he's back on his feet.

T'Challa sits in silence for a few moments, letting the hum of machines fill the room, but Bucky hardly minds. Silent company is better than none, and besides, he doubts he wants to hear what the King has to say.

"I…" T'Challa huffs a laugh before bringing a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the memories of the last few days. Seeing him up close is enough to reveal the bags under his eyes, and Bucky wonders if he's been able to get any sleep since the attack. Somehow, he doubts it. "I need to thank you for everything you did that night. I never thought I'd get the chance to say it, but here we are."

"You don't need to-" Bucky starts, but the stern expression on T'Challa's face is enough to silence that line of thinking. "I only mean…It wasn't just me."

"I know," T'Challa says, solemnity beyond his years lurking behind his eyes. As if the sight of Bucky on the bed burns him, he looks towards the bare wall at his side, a muscle in his jaw clenching. "I lost good friends that night. People I'll never be able to thank. And you… I watched you die in my place, in spite of my promise to protect you."

The words sound like an accusation, whether T'Challa intends them to or not. Bucky's reminded of the lingering pain in Steve's eyes when he'd first woken up, and feels buried guilt re-emerge at the knowledge that he is no longer the only one who gets hurt whenever he's killed.

It's almost enough to make him miss the old days of dying alone.

If T'Challa notices the guilt threatening to consume Bucky, he doesn't mention it. Instead he simply straightens in his chair and hides his own pain behind a smile.

"The gods have given me a second chance with you, Barnes. I do not intend to waste it. So thank you. For my life, thank you."

Bucky nods in silent acceptance. It's all he can do. For a moment, it's as though the weight of expectation and responsibility and guilt that rests upon T'Challa's shoulders is threatening to smother him as well, but the moment breaks as the King rises to his feet. The exhaustion which laces his words vanishes as if behind a curtain, and he gives Bucky a small smile before excusing himself from the room, leaving behind only silence.

Bucky should have said something, he knows, but his tongue feels heavy and he knows that nothing he can say will be sufficient. There'll be time for heartfelt speeches later, once he's gotten around to figuring out what exactly to say to the man he was so willing to die for, but for now all he wants to do is sleep.

Perhaps Steve will be back by the time he wakes up.


In the weeks following the attack and Bucky's eventual return to something resembling a normal routine, more details of that fateful night start to crawl out of the woodwork.

Erik 'Killmonger' – the leader of the operation – has vanished into thin air. Half of Bucky can only think 'good riddance' while the other half is buried in unease, anticipating a second attack which seems inevitable. Although, given the manpower the man was forced to recruit the first time around, perhaps the second is a long way ahead of them yet.

The instigators who allowed the assailants to reach the palace – three of T'Challa's supposedly loyal advisors, who'd sworn to protect him from birth yet were easily swayed by the promise of a handsome reward – were all caught in the frantic wake of the attack. Apparently no-one had told them that trying to escape the grounds undetected while the palace was on high alert was a bad idea.

According to reports, two of them had broken into the security centre and shot the guards monitoring the footage from the palace, while the other had ventured out to unlock the gates, telling anyone he came across that he needed some air. Their in-depth knowledge of the palace workings meant they could time the attack perfectly, and with the security significantly lessened, it had been easy for Killmonger and his goons to organise an assault on the palace.

The alarms were only raised once the small army were at their door, by which point it was almost too late.

It seems their goal had been massive political upheaval brought about through the murder of the King and his most loyal advisors, allowing someone like Erik Killmonger to step in and twist Wakanda to his will. Apparently, selling the fugitive Avengers to certain government agencies had also been a major factor. From what Bucky's seen, T'Challa has taken to blaming himself for not foreseeing the attack, but as much as he'd like to convince the man that there's little he could have done, he knows enough about all-consuming guilt to keep his mouth shut.

Besides, the uprising failed. In the wake of the attack, that's all that really matters.

The attackers' underestimation of the Dora Milaje had been their undoing. The assailants who survived the fight now face the likelihood of being tried for treason, and while Killmonger has slipped from their grasp, the entire country is on the lookout for him. The turncoats among T'Challa's advisors must have been dreaming of the fortune they'd receive for playing their part; in the end, the only thing they'll see for what remains of their lives will be their cells.

Bucky thinks T'Challa might have been more forgiving had he been the only target, but having to bury some of his most loyal guards has been enough to harden him where this matter's concerned. Thankfully, his newfound steel doesn't seem to apply to everyone. T'Challa has been unfailingly kind to Bucky and everyone else he cares about, despite how the stress of dealing with the attack must be tearing him apart. It's difficult to ignore, however, that this incident has forced the king to mature even further; shaped once again by the hard lessons that pain and guilt have wrought.

The young boy who ran off to the library whenever responsibility came knocking is truly gone now.

It doesn't take long for life in the palace to return to normal. Beyond daily updates on any sightings of Killmonger and the reconstruction of the palace entrance, everyone seems to simply snap back into normality as if the attack was a mere nuisance. The Avengers' aid stops being necessary and they return to living quietly, spending their hours training with the guards or exploring the palace, and Wakanda calms and moves on from the threat that could have split it in two. The triggers clinging to Bucky's mind are eventually torn free with the aid of several palace doctors and Wanda, and the sense of freedom that hits him once he realises that Hydra is finally gone has him sobbing like a child, distantly aware of Steve holding him in his arms.

They get a few months of peace. That's more than many of them can ever remember having.

In retrospect, Bucky supposes it was only going to be a matter of time before that peace was shattered.


Finding moments of quiet amongst the flurry of activity that Thanos's oncoming attack has sparked is a rarity. Bucky can't remember the last time he had a decent night's sleep, and if the dark shadows hanging under everyone's eyes are any indication, neither can anyone else.

The flight from Wakanda to the Avengers base had been almost fourteen hours of tension brimming underneath a heavy silence, and though Bucky tried to remain as separate from the difficult reunions as possible, it was impossible to miss just how rushed everything felt. Their first warnings of an approaching army arrived only a week ago; the news that the governments are willing to drop all charges on the fugitive Avengers on the condition that they return to help only yesterday. Everything is moving at a dizzying pace, with the promise of a planet-wide assault promising no change in that.

As much as it would probably be a good idea to familiarise himself with Vision and Rhodey and the weird Spider-Kid considering he's going to have to fight alongside them in the coming days, Bucky finds that the only thing he wants to do at this very moment is find some space to breathe.

He finds it eventually, to his relief. The roof of the isolated base is as quiet as he could have wished for. It's late, the moon hanging overhead in much the same way it had in Wakanda, and though the air is much cooler, Bucky finds that if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend he's back there. It seems pointless to miss it, considering it's unlikely any of them will ever make it back, but he still lets himself yearn for home for a few moments.

The Avengers base, while vast, is also crushingly busy. One can't walk along a corridor without bumping into another human – or other, in Vision's case – and though they seem to be stuck in a period of letting bygones be bygones for the sake of the greater good, it's still impossible for Bucky to forget that he's fought against a lot of them. Tony, especially, is someone he is apprehensive about reuniting with. Not unsurprisingly perhaps, considering the last time they met resulted in a hole in his chest.

Bucky pushes that thought from his mind. He chose this spot to quieten his frantic brain, not wind it up further. He opens his eyes and takes in the vast fields beyond and the outline of trees against the darkening sky, his view brightened by soft moonlight, and he lets himself forget that in only a few days everything he's seeing may be gone.

"So," a voice calls from his right, causing Bucky to jump. What makes it worse is that he knows that voice - has been actively avoiding its owner for a myriad of reasons- yet to run from it now would hardly be wise. He forces himself to remain still as light footsteps get ever closer, before the moonlit shadow of Tony Stark crosses over him. "You've met her too."

Bucky doesn't need to ask who Stark is referring to. It makes sense that the man remembers Death considering his reaction to Bucky waking up after having killed him had been a lot calmer than one might have expected. At the very least, it's enough to make Bucky hope that they don't go through a repeat scenario; he's been doing pretty well on the 'staying alive' front these last few months.

"More times than I'd like to admit," he replies eventually, when his voice returns to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tony taking a seat beside him, letting his legs dangle off the side of the roof.

It's a while before either of them make a sound. When Bucky finally dares look in Tony's direction, the man seems to have forgotten he's there; his eyes closed and his head held back as if absorbing the moonlight. The anger that consumed him back in Siberia is gone, as if the whole affair had been some half-forgotten nightmare, and though it takes him a while, Bucky starts to relax in his presence. Besides, considering their current situation, it's unlikely that their complex past even matters anymore.

With his fear at Stark's arrival faded to dust, all that's left is curiosity. Stark remembers dying well enough to refer to Death as 'she'. For the first time in his life, he's in the company of someone who understands exactly what it's like to come so close to eternal peace and yet be shot down every time.

"What is she like?" he asks as soon as he dares. When Tony finally turns to look at him, one questioning eyebrow raised, he gulps down the last of his apprehension and elaborates. "With you, I mean. I imagine she's different with everyone."

Something approaching a playful smirk graces Stark's lips, before vanishing as he turns to the view once more. When silence stretches for just a little too long, Bucky starts to wonder if he's being ignored, but soon enough, the man beside him begins to speak.

"When I was a kid – maybe two, three years old – I had a nanny," Tony says, without turning to acknowledge Bucky. His voice is level, as if describing the weather rather than intimate details of his past, but Bucky can't shake the feeling that he's hearing more than most ever get the chance to. "She took care of me whenever mom and dad were busy, which was always. She'd tell me these amazing stories every night and sing me to sleep. I was in love with her." At this he allows himself a soft laugh and a private smile, and Bucky stays as silent as possible to avoid interrupting his moment of reminiscence.

"She was Spanish so I never understood what she was singing. It was nice just to hear her voice." Tony gives a small shrug, before turning to Bucky as if looking at him for the very first time that night. There's no hint of the man who was so fuelled by grief all those months ago, although the smile he wears is a weak one. "Dying feels like being back with her. Hell, sometimes She even looks the same."

There's something pleasant in the knowledge that Death provides the same aura of peace and comfort to everyone, assuming they deserve it. While Bucky can't link his experiences of her to one specific person in his life, the sensation of being a child once more, safe in the arms of those he loves, is one that is strikingly familiar. One that has almost prevented him from going back on a few occasions.

"Your nanny sounds nice," he says, and Tony gives a small hum of agreement.

"She was," he replies, his voice no longer as flat as he likely intends. "I don't think mom approved of her much, though that was probably because her idea of a bedtime story was filled with monsters and dragons. I always loved them though."

The mention of Tony's mother brings with it a harsh sting Bucky supposes was inevitable. They can smile and reminisce all they like; it doesn't erase the dark stain that lies between them.

He doesn't know how much Tony's processed in those long months. Doesn't know if the brutal truth regarding his parents' deaths are something he'll ever be able to come to terms with. Considering how intensely Bucky blames himself, despite knowing that those actions were not truly his own, he can only imagine how strongly Stark must hate him.

For all he knows, the only reason Stark hasn't attacked him tonight is because he knows that doing so would be pointless. That Bucky would simply wake up, consumed by his own survivor's guilt, and the pain would continue to tear away at them both.

"I'm sorry," he says, cringing as the words break in his throat. He doesn't miss the way Stark tenses, and he has to turn away for fear the man's gaze will burn him. "For what I did… I should have recognised Howard, I should have been able to stop myself-"

"No, that… that wasn't you," Stark interrupts, almost gently in a manner that seems better suited to Steve. The shock at hearing the man who should hate him more than most treating him like he's some anxious child is jarring, to say the least, and Bucky finds that even if he wanted to say more, the words are unlikely to come forth. "Believe me, it took me a long time to accept that. I spent a long time wishing I didn't have to after everything I… But it's true."

Tony shakes his head, almost sheepish, before looking down at his legs swinging precariously from the edge. It takes him a while to speak again, and when he does the words seem to be for his benefit rather than Bucky's. "All the people worth blaming are dead."

"Even so," Bucky says, because accepting that he wasn't responsible has never been enough to wash away the guilt. "I'm sorry."

Tony looks at his face and studies him for an agonisingly long time, dark eyes piercing his soul like a knife, but the intensity softens before long and a small smile washes it away. "I'm sorry I killed you."

"That's okay," Bucky laughs, because strangely it is. In another universe, his death at Tony's hands would have been final, regardless of whether the man came to regret it or not, and Steve may or may not have ended up bloodying his own hands in retaliation. The events that took place within that Siberian compound should, by rights, have been much more devastating than they were. It's only through luck, and his annoying habit of crawling back from death whether he wants to or not, that murderer and murderee are now sitting together in the moonlight, sharing a laugh. "At least it didn't hurt. You should have seen the last one."

He isn't exactly lying. Tony killing him had been quick, any pain drowned out by the shock of the blast. In contrast, he still wakes up on occasion screaming from the phantom bite of Killmonger's blade as if it were still piercing his body. The novelty of not being alone during that death had quickly worn off, leaving only the memories of pain in its wake.

Still, in spite of that, Bucky finds himself laughing along with Tony as the man's efforts to control his fitful giggles eventually fails. There's something nice about this, about talking frankly about something Bucky spent so long thinking he was alone in experiencing. He's discussed the situation with Steve and T'Challa, and even Sam once the man's curiosity over Bucky's missing two-days had gotten the better of him, but this is the first time he's able to talk to someone who understands what it's like.

"This is ridiculous," Tony says as soon as his laughter starts to die down, and Bucky can only nod in agreement.

"You're telling that to the man who's had to put up with it since he was eight," he replies, smirking when Tony looks to him, surprised. Apparently his first death had come much later. "But yes. It is ridiculous."

Once their laughter dies down, silence is all that replaces it for a long time. It's nice though; Bucky closes his eyes once more and lets cool air brush against his face. The peace of the night air is enough to make him forget that the world is facing imminent threat. If anything, the quiet makes it impossible to believe that anything could come to shatter it.

"Do you know if there's anyone else like us?" Tony asks eventually.

"A few," Bucky says. There's Janove, holed up in his home back in Bergen, and he imagines a few of the other Avengers must have cheated death at least once. "I know Steve's come back a few times, I just don't think he realises it. Or maybe he does and he'd rather not talk about it, I don't know."

"Oh, I think he knows," Stark responds, and it doesn't take him long to respond to Bucky's silent request for him to elaborate. "Maybe not all the time, but there's a part of him that remembers. I've seen that look in his eyes when he thinks no-one's watching."

Bucky knows that look well enough. He's seen it plainly in the man sitting beside him; that all-encompassing guilt that comes with watching people die all around you while some powerful force is constantly preventing you from doing the same. It's a look he's likely worn since failing to save the young soldier in the trench all those decades ago, and he knows that no matter how happy he gets, there's no way to wipe it out completely.

The end will come for them both eventually though. They both have some reason for staying alive, but as soon as that's done there'll no longer be any reason for their hearts to keep beating. He can't pretend to know how this works; doesn't know whether he'll drop dead the minute his 'purpose' has been fulfilled or even whether his eventual death is intrinsically linked to why he's had to stay alive all this time. All he knows is that he's cheated death far too many times for it to last much longer, and if the approaching attack is any indication, there's only so long his luck can hold out.

"How much time do you think we have left?" Bucky asks, because he knows that surely Tony must have thought about that too.

"Honestly?" Stark replies, his tone taking on a false optimism that reminds Bucky a little of his father in his younger days. The comparison hurts more than it should. "Everything I've heard is pretty apocalyptic. I imagine we're looking at days, tops."

Bucky has to concede. He's died to save young soldiers and Steve and even kings. There's only so much more he can do, but he thinks dying in battle to defend the Earth might be a good way to finally go out.

"Are you scared?"

"No," Tony says without hesitation. "I haven't been scared of dying for a long time."

Bucky nods and looks out to the horizon once more. It's been a while since he's feared death too. That's not to say he wants to die – annoyingly it looks like Death is going to claim him just as he's started to rebuild a life for himself – but he's privileged in the respect that he knows what lies ahead is nothing to be feared. Dying is the difficult part, always has been, but once that's over with there's nothing but warmth and peace.

He doesn't know how long they sit in silence, before Tony brushes a hand across his face and smothers a yawn. They should probably start thinking about getting some rest, seeing as they're meeting with government and military officials in the morning to assess their options before Thanos's army arrives, but Bucky finds himself wanting to stay on the roof just a little longer.

It's why he doesn't move when Tony finally climbs to his feet and steps away from the ledge, seeming to hesitate for a moment before turning back to him.

"I should probably get some sleep," he explains, gesturing in the direction of the base before shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "If I don't see you in the next few days, try to stay alive. For Steve's sake."

"Only if you do the same."

Tony releases a bark of laughter before turning towards the base, leaving Bucky with a final "I'll do my best." Bucky can't help smiling as the man finally disappears from view, still surprised at how amicable they've become in the last hour considering the last time they met. It seems that having slightly unusual shared experiences makes for a great ice-breaker.

Though exhaustion clings to his own eyes and has his head lolling on several occasions, he still wastes time sitting on the roof before finally retiring to bed. The rest of the base is truly silent now, its occupants preparing for a night of fitful sleep, and Bucky wonders if this will truly be the last peaceful night the Earth ever sees.

He hopes not. He doubts that a weird, purple-faced alien taking over the planet is something that will end well for anyone. Though the fact that this absurd scenario has become his reality is dizzying, the only way they'll have a chance of saving the world is if they suck it up and fight with everything they have.

At any cost.

Bucky sighs, before rising to his feet and making his way back to the stairwell leading into the base. If he doesn't get any sleep then he's going to be a complete wreck before the battle even starts, and the last thing he wants is to become a liability.

He thinks he can be forgiven though, for indulging in just one final moment of quiet before heading inside.

Just long enough to see the moon hanging over a calm, unbroken world, and to vow to do everything in his power to keep it that way.