Bucky's intention was to charge straight to the cryo lab before his nerve failed him, but T'Challa had other ideas. The king, or crown prince or whatever the hell his title really was pre-coronation, and two of his ever-present Dora Milaje had apparently been lurking outside the conservatory, waiting on them to emerge. When Bucky saw a dark shadow move in his peripheral vision, he didn't exactly jump out of his skin, but he came to such an abrupt stop that Steve bumped into him. Bucky spent three very fast heartbeats banishing memories of T'Challa pouncing on him out of the blue in Bucharest and reminding himself that T'Challa was a friend. An annoying, sneaky friend, but, yeah, a friend, and you don't punch friends in the face no matter how badly they scare the shit out of you, especially when said friend had two guardians ready and more than willing to shish kabob you with their spears if you so much as looked cross-eyed at him.

"T'Challa," he said. Damn, he wished his voice hadn't cracked like that.

"My apologies for startling you," T'Challa said.

"You, uh, didn't startle me. Much."

T'Challa smiled like… damn it, I will not say like a cat that ate the cream, even if that is exactly what he looked like.

While Bucky struggled to keep a sour look off his face, T'Challa spoke to Steve. "Captain Rogers, I would like to speak with Sergeant Barnes—"

"Bucky," Bucky muttered.

"—Bucky," T'Challa repeated, still wearing that stupid, smug smile, "alone for a few moments."

"Of course," Steve said. He lightly touched Bucky's elbow. "I'll arrange for a car and meet you at the main doors."

Bucky nodded. After Steve walked away, he jerked his chin back to the conservatory and opened the door. "Come into my office."

T'Challa stepped past him. "Wakanda has never been invaded, but I see how you are quietly usurping my territory from within. Very sneaky."

Bucky's eyes widened. Oh god, the Doras are gonna stab me. "No, no… I didn't mean it like—"

"I am joking. Remember, I told you nearly anywhere within Wakanda is yours for the exploring. If you need a desk brought into the butterfly conservatory, then we will bring you a desk."

"I'll keep that in mind, for, uh, whenever I come back outta... you know..." The words died on his tongue. He shoved the door open, then remembered his manners and held it for T'Challa. The two Dora took positions outside the entrance while he and T'Challa headed to the bench by the fountain.

T'Challa waited a moment, and when Bucky didn't speak, asked, "Are you fearful, Bucky, of going back into cryo?"

Bucky shrugged. "A little. Don't know what life will hold after that. But mostly right now I'm sad for Steve. He didn't want this to happen."

"And yet it is your decision, your life. Steve is a grown man, used to weathering storms of sorrow, as we all must."

Didn't take two guesses for Bucky to know that T'Challa was thinking of his father. "I guess I just hate being the cause of anybody's grief. Done too much of that in my life, to too many good people. I don't want to do that anymore."

"It is a good principle by which to guide your actions. I would tell you to feel no shame over the past, when evil men forced you into actions wildly at odds with your own convictions, but a good man will feel shame."

Or even a not-so-good man, but Bucky didn't say that out loud.

T'Challa continued, "My father taught me to understand that shame is not an evil feeling, on its own. It drives us to be better men, as long as we do not let it destroy us."

"Easier said than done. At least for me."

"I realize how that may come across as an empty platitude."

"No, not at all," Bucky protested. "I mean, you're just speakin' the truth. It's just… hard, you know?"

He nodded. "I cannot imagine how I would feel, in your shoes."

"You'd feel equal parts angry, stupid, ashamed, lost, and confused. And afraid. A lot afraid. Probably more afraid than anything at this point."

"Afraid of the future?"

The future, the past, the present… "I guess," he said slowly, "that I'm afraid I'll never be of use to anyone, for anything."

T'Challa frowned, but said nothing.

"All my life, or all I can remember of it, I always felt like I had a purpose. Taking care of my little sisters, taking care of Steve, taking care of the men in the 107th. But then…." He shrugged. Smiled a little. "I guess my usefulness took a left turn." He shrugged so that the stump of his left arm moved.

To his credit, T'Challa didn't wince at the terrible pun. "A man needs to have purpose. You will find yours, fear not."

More quiet moments passed, then Bucky said, "I'll fight for Wakanda, if you need me to."

"So you have promised already, and as king, I accept your oath, but it will surely be a long time yet before circumstances demand you fulfill it. You will need rest."

"And a new arm, I guess."

T'Challa shrugged. "I know many warriors who do quite well with one arm, but yes, if you wish for it, we will of course provide you with a new arm. Shuri is already working on prototypes."

Bucky glanced down at his left shoulder. "For a long time, I hated my arm. Hated that I had a weapon attached to me that I couldn't remove. But in the months after I... after Steve broke me free from HYDRA, I slowly came to realize that the weapon wasn't the arm, it was me. My mind. Or what they put in my mind. I can get by in life with or without a new arm, but…"

"Shuri will find a way to free your mind. Trust her."

Bucky nodded. "Is it weird that I don't miss it much? My arm, I mean."

"Not at all. There are no normals that cover your situation. However you feel is how you feel. There is no right or wrong."

"Sounds like something Dr. Lu would say."

"I am honored. He is a wise man."

Bucky thought for a moment, then said, "I think I don't miss it partly because right now, there's no one I have to fight. I'm safe here. No aliens. No HYDRA. No governments can find me. Or at least they can't easily find me. Can't say that I mind that."

T'Challa smiled.

Bucky continued, speaking slowly as he thought about his old arm and a potential new one. "I think… I think maybe I wanna go a while without a new arm. Just learn to be an ordinary guy, you know? Is that okay?"

"Of course."

"I wanna wake up just… being me."

"We will respect your wishes, of course. Shuri will likely keep working on a new one, but unless the worst comes and you simply must fight, electing to have a new arm will certainly be your choice."

"Thanks," Bucky said quietly. He felt a knot of tension release. He'd been more worried about a new arm than he realized.

He was surprised how easy it was now to talk with T'Challa. Dumping all his fears out to a king wasn't something Bucky ever thought he'd do, but something in T'Challa's expression made him feel safe, even safer than with Steve or Dr. Lu. With Steve, he had to worry about how his words might make him sad or devastated or angry. With Dr. Lu, he worried that he'd say something that would cause the doctor to throw his hands in the air and announce Bucky couldn't be cured. But T'Challa…

"... trust in Steve Rogers, and trust in me. I am confident we can help you find yourself once more. And I am equally confident that, when the day finally comes when you walk free from the shadows, you will call me friend."

That was it, Bucky realized. Just as he'd predicted on that icy slope in Siberia, T'Challa had become a friend, probably the first Bucky had made who was familiar with his past. T'Challa had looked past the Winter Soldier and chosen friendship. Part of Bucky wondered if T'Challa was criminally naive, but mostly he was grateful. He blinked rapidly. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Bucky shrugged. "For all of this. But also for… choosing to be my friend."

T'Challa squeezed Bucky's shoulder. "Thank you for letting me."

"'Say my glory was to have such friends.'" Bucky heard himself murmur. Oh god, how corny was that? "Sorry. Just a line out of a poem. Popped in my head just now."

"It is a great poem. 'Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was to have such friends.' Yeats, I believe. The context of the rest of the poem doesn't really apply, but the spirit of those lines are apt indeed."

"Yeah, that's the one. Friend of mine back in the war said it to me, the day our unit was captured by HYDRA. He was a Brit, assigned temporarily to our company when he got cut off from his own. Name was Falsworth. I was feeling pretty low, blaming myself for getting us captured, figuring everyone hated me as much as I hated myself for not seeing the ambush. He came up to me on the march when I was hanging back, put his arm around my shoulders and quoted that line of the poem. Sappy as hell, but that's the kinda guy he was. And I can't lie, it meant a lot." He had to clear his throat. "Anyway, back to your original question, I gotta be honest. It ain't just that I'm sad about what Steve thinks. I'm shit scared outta my mind about what I'll be when I come back out… if I come back out. Will I be me again or still be half me and half the Soldier? Dunno if I can handle it if they wake me up and I still can't trust my mind."

"While I trust Shuri's abilities and confidence, I can fully understand your fear. I am confident she'll be successful, but, sadly, there are no guarantees that even her genius is up to the task."

There wasn't much to say to that. Shuri was his best hope, looked like. Maybe Tony Stark might have come up with something, but that road was probably forever closed. He fought back the cloud of gloom that threatened to overwhelm him. "So, what's it like, having the smartest person in the world as your sister?"

T'Challa laughed. "It is, if I may be blunt, a pain in the ass."

Bucky chuckled. "I bet. My younger sister Rebecca wasn't the smartest woman in the world like Shuri, but she sure as hell was smarter than me. Never let me forget it, either."

"Thank Bast for family, for they keep us humble."

"You said it."

"I am glad you felt safe enough to be honest with me. It is important to have friends with whom one can be transparent. I am honored to be in that company."

Bucky had another troubling thought. "T'Challa, I've said it before, are you really, really sure about my being here? It's dangerous. For your country. For your personal reputation. You're harboring a fugitive with a helluva long list of crimes to his name. It kills me to think they'll catch wind that I'm here and cause problems for you, maybe even try to force their way in to capture me. I say that not because I'm afraid of getting captured, at least not by legitimate world authorities. I mean, they just want justice. But I'm worried about any Wakandans who might be injured trying to prevent what's left of HYDRA from coming after me."

T'Challa set his jaw. A steely light stole into his gaze. "They can try. And they will fail. Do not fear for such things."

Bucky nodded, but fat chance of that. He'd be worrying even while he was frozen.

"Do you remember your flight into Wakanda?" T'Challa was smiling faintly.

"Yeah, why?"

"Do you remember flying in, seeing the airport, all of that?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what you saw."

"Uh, lotta jungle. Mountains. Mist. Landing strip. Then the Dora Milaje and the ambulance. After that, I kind of fell asleep."

"What if I were to tell you that, aside from the Dora and the ambulance and jungle, much of it was an illusion?"

"The hell?"

"Wakanda is well hidden, Bucky. We have many ways of deterring visitors and many ways of concealing our nation, or at least our nation's true appearance. When you flew in, we carefully curated what you and Captain Rogers saw. I will leave it at that. But trust me, even though the two of you are trusted allies, you still know very little about Wakanda's defenses and it is best it remains so."

Bucky stared at T'Challa for several long moments. Finally, he laughed. "Guess that shouldn't surprise me. Your country beats anything in Brooklyn, and lemme tell you, that's a high compliment comin' from me." He leaned toward T'Challa with a conspiratorial wink. "Just don't tell Steve I said that."

"Not a word."

"I'm still gonna take you out for that beer someday."

"I expect it."

Bucky suddenly had nothing left to say, and apparently T'Challa didn't either, for he gave Bucky one last smile, shook his hand and made his leave. In the quiet that fell as the door closed, Bucky looked at the butterflies, the trees, then up at the clear blue sky beyond the conservatory roof. In some ways, he felt a little like a condemned man looking at his last moments of sunlight, but he quickly shook that off. This wasn't the end. This was… a respite. Maybe a cure. Maybe not. Hell, even if Shuri couldn't work her magic, he'd be no worse off coming out of cryo than he was going in. He'd just have to go back to fixing himself at his current snail pace, and they'd have to keep him in a cage or something when Steve wasn't around to hold him back. Could be worse. He could still be in Romania, with no one as an ally at all, looking over his shoulder constantly. Waiting for HYDRA to show up and take him back and ruin his brain, maybe for good.

But thank God for Wakanda. For good doctors. For Steve and hopefully Steve's team: Clint. Scott. Wanda. Sharon. Maybe even Sam, though he wasn't sure that was a good thing or bad. He'd probably wake up with a mustache drawn on his face or a "kick me" sign on his back if Sam was around. He also might have Natasha is an ally. She could have shot him when she had the chance, but she chose differently. That had been… surprising, to say the least.

So. Yeah. He had a bunch of Avenger types pulling for him, and ain't that the bee's knees. He also had a kid genius working on fixing all his broken parts. And if all of that wasn't enough pinch-me-I-must-be-dreaming, he had anhonest-to-God king who called him friend.

He didn't deserve any of it, but he sure as hell wasn't going to throw all that away. So he'd go into cryo, trust Shuri to figure out how to rewire his brain, and then after he was out, well… he'd just have to see how everything panned out. Maybe he'd end up living in some backwater of Wakanda, looking after cows or goats or something. Or maybe he'd figure out how to do the Avengers thing, if they'd have him. Be a way to pay back for all his past sins.

He took a deep breath and put all those good things in the very forefront of his mind, where they would block out all the sadness, rage, confusion and unworthiness, and he held onto them with an iron grip.

He was as ready as he could be.

It was time to get HYDRA the hell out of his head.

He stood and with one last wave at the butterflies, headed out the door to Steve and to the car waiting to take him to the cryo lab.

Who knows, maybe their driver would be Hasana.

Epilogue and effusive thanks to come...

Author's notes:

Butterfly houses or butterfly conservatories always have double airlock-style entrances and rules for entering and especially exiting that include checking yourself in big mirrors to make sure no butterflies are hitching a ride to freedom between your shoulder blades or on your head, but I omitted those details simply because it was too cumbersome to write ALL the details about butterfly houses in this penultimate chapter that needed to focus on the interpersonal relationship between Bucky and T'Challa. Hopefully the lack thereof didn't throw off the more pedantic among you. ;)

"Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends."- "The Gallery Revisited" from The Last Poems, by W.B. Yeats, 1937