Chapter 5.
The Wolf.
"What do you think?"
Bucky was by the water again, enjoying the view as the sun came up. He had spent a long time in dark, cold places – mountains, bustling cities, the depths of the arctic. Khemba was the opposite. It was literally a breath of fresh air. He could almost say he was happy, and at the very least, his tumultuous mind was finally calm.
"It's… something," he said.
Shuri had been standing with him since the first glimpse of dawn. She came in a quieter vehicle that morning, saying nothing as she joined him by the lake.
She nudged his arm, "What is on your mind?"
"You really wanna know?"
"Yes, or I would not have asked."
Bucky gestured behind them, to the diminutive village that was only just waking up. "I don't understand why some of you live like this, when you have a modern city so close."
"I will take this piecewise. First, it is not modern, it is advanced compared to the rest of the world. Second, if you are truly curious, you can ask the Border tribesmen. I would not advise it. Third, do you assume these people are unhappy?"
"Bathrooms are nice," he said.
"So are beds, and yet you prefer to sleep on the ground."
"You got me there. I hope I don't seem disrespectful. This is all just… new to me."
"On the contrary, I enjoy your curiosity. It is refreshing. I wonder, do you think these children would be as happy in a big city, like the one you grew up in?"
Bucky thought of his home and came up with nothing again. It was a blank space. He knew the answer, though. "No. If you run around without shoes on, you get glass in your feet."
She gave him a long look. "Still no memory of it?"
"Sometimes I get fragments, not a whole picture."
She hummed, thoughtful.
He said, "Why are you doing all of this for me?"
"Visiting?"
"Hiding me."
Her expression was suddenly older. "When our father died, many things became clear to us very quickly. We have opened Wakanda to the world to help the people our ancestors ignored for so long – you are one of those people. Compassion is something we have in abundance."
She tapped his shoulder, smiling, "Also, you are a medical mystery, and I have never met a puzzle that I was unable to solve."
Bucky had an innate trust in Shuri. She spoke her mind, showed her hand. He had known enough liars, enough manipulators, to appreciate someone as genuine as her. She was young, and there were many things he had experienced that she would never understand, but she was never dismissive. Shuri was the embodiment of the compassion she described in her people.
He let a smile slip out, letting himself believe that she could fix him.
"I did not know your face did that," Shuri teased.
He snorted.
She laughed. "I have decided that I am your friend every day."
"I changed my mind about that."
"It is too late. You are stuck with me now."
XxXxX
"You are child."
Imo was a hunched, wrinkly, unpleasant old woman. She spoke almost no English, and what she did know was fragmented and difficult to understand – a combination of a strong accent and a failing voice. Bucky was left to piece together her complicated instructions. It was only his second morning in her hut, where she slaved over two massive, vibranium-lined ovens, and he already knew three new Wakandan words, almost certainly insults.
She reminded him of someone, the memory just out of reach.
She had him grinding wheat in a little bowl for hours, occasionally coming over to sprinkle some kind of powder into the mix. Her routine was complex and fascinating. Bucky was surprised by her endurance, her flexibility. While he was there, she lined up a dozen fresh loaves of bread.
When the last of the wheat was done, she sent him to a stream to clean her equipment – a hard job with one hand – and then dismissed him when he brought the pans and bowls back.
Before he left, he said, "Do you know where I can find A'di?"
Imo recognized the name, if nothing else.
She stepped outside, gesturing to another building that bordered the forest. It was across a field, past a few other small homes, distinct because it had a real door. "A'di."
"Thanks," he said.
She was already inside, the curtain swinging shut behind her.
Bucky was halfway there when the door was flung open. A dozen children streamed out, shouting, screaming, laughing, not noticing him as they made a beeline for the heart of the village.
He leaned into the doorway. It was a simple room – a dozen desks, a dusty stone floor, filing cabinets in the corner. Each desk had a stack of books on it, notepads, pens. A'di was erasing a chalkboard at the front, humming to herself, dressed just as extravagantly as she was when she visited him in the Citadel.
She lit up when she saw him. "I heard you were coming!"
"I'm hard to get rid of."
"And you are only now visiting me? Shame."
She came around her desk, a colossal, hand-carved relic, and placed her hand on the center of his chest. Bucky had learned, since he last saw her, that it was a cultural gesture on the Border. He had seen several villagers do it as a way of greeting or saying goodbye.
"I heard you are working with Imo. She is very nice," A'di said, fluffing the front of his shirt, looking him up and down. "We need to find you some more shirts like this. It is much better than the American kind, yes?"
He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. "You have no choice. With only one arm, you would have a hard time sewing." A'di smiled, gesturing around. "Welcome to my school. I know it seems rather primitive compared to the city."
"It reminds me of my school, actually."
"How is that?"
"Brooklyn in the twenties," he said, as if she would understand it that easily. He added, "School was low on the priority list."
"I see. Well, it is high on the list here."
He lingered on the chalkboard, "Are you teaching them English?"
"No, they already speak it. I switch my lessons between languages to keep them from getting rusty. If all they hear at home is Wakandan, they will forget their English."
Bucky stepped up to the board, writing what he hoped was the correct line of symbols.
A'di smiled as she read it, "White Wolf."
"Why are they calling me that?"
"It is how I described you to my students," she said. "And it spread through them. It is hard to describe a white man to children who have lived here their whole lives. It is not meant to be an insult. It is just… the way I perceive you."
It was a startlingly intimate thing to hear. She said it with obvious affection.
He said, "I don't know what you mean."
"It is open for interpretation." She erased the symbols, writing something else in their place. "What does that say?"
He stood there for several minutes, doing his damndest to pull anything useful from memory. When the question came from someone else, he forgot everything he'd learned.
"It says, 'banana,'" she said, after letting him flounder for a while. She dug through one of her filing cabinets, handing him a book. "Here. I gave you this when you were in the city. You know many of the letters. You can work on your sight words now."
"What does that mean?"
"Words that you can look at and recognize instantly. It is like talking to a wall sometimes."
"You and Shuri have high expectations."
"We only want you to be your best self. Now go and learn something new today."
"I already learned how to grind wheat."
A'di laughed. "You are impossible. Go and learn a second thing. A third thing, if you can."
XxXxX
Bucky woke in the dead of night, sweating, his heart beating in his ears. Nightmares. He let himself believe that being in Khemba might keep them away, but a couple of nights of relative peace had turned the dial up to eleven.
He left his hut, sitting by the lake to watch the sky. It was nowhere near dawn, but Bucky was not going back to sleep. Khemba was quiet, dark, torches burning to illuminate the edges of the village. In a place like this, it would be easy to forget the rest of the world existed. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to shut out the screams in his head.
A group of three children crept along the lakeshore, slowly approaching. One girl and two boys, none of them older than eight or nine. They were the same kids who had crowded over him as he slept a few mornings ago. He had seen them around the school, seen them carrying baskets and drawing in clay.
It was hard for them to sneak up, because the paint on their faces was glowing an ominous blue.
"What are you doing, White Wolf?" the girl said, in an accent much stronger than that of any of the adults.
Bucky said, "I'm thinking."
One of the boys said, "Where is your arm?"
"Germany."
He tipped his head.
The boy said, "Can I touch your hair?"
"No."
They spoke Wakandan amongst themselves, and then gave him their names. The girl was Ushiwoh, and the boys were N'junta and Ebara. It looked like Ushiwoh and Ebara were siblings, not only because their faces were the same round shape, their eyes the same soft almond color, but they wore the same patterns on their clothes, the same general art style in their paint. N'junta wore red and white almost every time Bucky saw him, never painting anything below his nose.
For a while, the kids were content to sit there and talk amongst themselves, occasionally switching languages. Bucky gathered they were talking about him, debating about his skin color, his hair, his eyes. If they were adults, it might irritate him, but their curiosity was innocent. It was nice to be somewhere where no one knew him, where their opinions could form on a blank slate.
When they left, returning to different huts scattered over the hillside, Bucky went back to his own home. He sat up on his bed mat, studying the tapestries hanging on either side of the doorway. One told the story of a wolf walking up a mountain.
XxXxX
Bucky spent a lot of time with Imo. He learned to work with only one hand, grinding wheat, washing pans, helping her transfer large trays of bread to a table outside for distribution. She had her own herb garden behind the hut, netted over, high enough to walk through.
Her lack of English vocabulary forced him to learn a variety of baking-related Wakandan very quickly. In the span of a week, he knew the words for most of the things she cooked, including all of the ingredients. Fruits, vegetables, herbs, berries. He learned things like 'water' and 'knife' and 'fire' as she used them in instructions, and also words like 'idiot' because, contrary to what A'di and Shuri thought, Imo was not a very nice woman.
When he wasn't working, he was reading – or attempting it, at least. A'di was busy with the children, traveling between villages to give lessons. He sat by the lake with the book she gave him, memorizing simple words and phrases.
It was the most peace he had experienced since he was captured, but it was not enough. Bucky suffered nightmares every night, waking up with blood painting his thoughts. He sat by the lake for hours in the dark, resisting sleep, afraid of what he would see when he closed his eyes. Ushiwoh, Ebara, and N'junta were out and about most nights, too, sitting next to him, speaking quietly to one another in their own language. Bucky began to understand some of it. Sometimes he asked what they were saying. Ebara liked to tell stories. Ushiwoh asked Bucky an endless stream of questions about America. N'junta never said anything in English.
He was there for two weeks before Shuri came back.
She parked a futuristic blue car on the edge of the village, and she and Ayo came to join him by the lake. Ayo was in her vibrant Dora Milaje armor. Shuri looked like she belonged in LA, not a tiny village on the border of Wakanda.
"How are you, Bucky?" Shuri asked.
Bucky shut his book. "Good."
"I have something to try, if you are ready."
Bucky swallowed a wave of anxiety. "Do I need to come back for it?"
Shuri nodded, her face grim. "It will not be pleasant."
He was tempted to reject her offer, hoping that T'Challa would let him stay if he made that choice. It was fleeting. Bucky reminded himself that he was here to get his head fixed, not live his life peacefully as a baker in paradise. His best friend had risked everything to get him here, and the last thing Bucky was going to do was let him down.
"Give me a minute," Bucky said.
He returned the book to his hut, finding the kids waiting outside.
Ushiwoh said, "Are you going with them, White Wolf?"
"Yes."
"Can we come?" Ebara asked.
"No."
Ushiwoh said, "I will paint the wolf?"
He hesitated. She looked so hopeful. "How long will that take?"
She didn't answer, running off to her hut further along the lakeshore. While she was gone, Ebara pestered him with questions. How long was he going to be gone? Could he bring back some sweets for them? When Ushiwoh returned, she had a single container of white clay in her hand.
"Down," she said, tugging on his hand. Bucky sunk to his knees and she started painting his face with the clay. It was cold, heavy, and sticky.
It only took her a moment. When she was done, N'junta and Ebara gasped in appreciation. Ebara said, "I want the wolf next, Ushi."
Bucky thanks Ushiwoh in Wakandan and then left them to bicker, rejoining Shuri and Ayo by the lake. Shuri had a strange look on her face.
He said, "Do I look ridiculous?"
"No… you look like you belong here."
Their car was jarringly modern, after spending weeks without electricity in Khemba. It was fast enough to get them into the city in less than half an hour. Shuri said nothing on the drive, and Ayo kept looking at him in the rearview mirror. Bucky studied his reflection. Ushiwoh had painted bold white lines around his eyes, sharp zigzags down his cheeks. Was that how the children perceived him? Was that how A'di saw him?
Shuri led him into the testing room, looking regretfully at the table. "This is the only way to test the treatment. Please lie down."
He complied, hating the feeling of metal on his back again.
Ayo pulled the straps tightly around him while a couple of men in lab coats put in an IV, set up some monitors. Shuri was in and out, giving instructions, writing things down. Ayo finished the last strap, giving him a strangely sad look as she left the room. His anxiety started up again, unchecked now. What was she going to do to him?
"I am going to administer the radiation and electricity as I did last time," Shuri said through the intercom. He was alone in the room now. "I will be asking you questions that I think may give me the data I need. Are you ready?"
Bucky could not hide the tremor in his voice. "Yeah."
"Beginning the radiation," she said.
Bucky shut his eyes tightly as Shuri said the words.
His mind shut down, like it always did, locking his freedom away. He faced the intimate fear of control, the helplessness bearing down on him. His independent thoughts were sluggish, his focus running down a narrow channel. Shuri spoke to him, her voice laden with authority.
"Soldier, say your name."
A flutter of confusion, and the answer, "I have no name."
A pause. A mumbled conversation.
He felt a jolt of electricity go through him, disrupting his focus.
"Soldier, say your name."
It went on and on like that. She asked him his name. He gave her the answer. She electrocuted him. Each shock drove his focus further from the center, pushing against a wall, trying to get somewhere that it should not be. He rebelled against it, straining on the table, recognizing a threat to his mission. Each cycle increased the chaos inside.
He was nameless, emotionless, and then he was Bucky, and he was afraid. The electricity increased in intensity with each cycle, pushing him to the limits of what he could survive, until the last hit came like a fist smashing through his ribcage.
His heartbeat faltered.
His chest constricted.
He couldn't breathe.
A panicked voice came over the intercom.
And then it was over.
The table lay flat and the restraints released.
Bucky lurched sideways, landing on his stomach, gasping. His pulse hammered in his ears. He was shaking violently, the tiles on the floors blurring together. Whatever he had expected, this was so much worse. It was so much worse.
Ayo said, "No, stay there," and then she came closer, "Sergeant Barnes?"
She was beside him. He could feel her, like her presence was pushing on an exposed nerve. She put one hand on his shoulder, one flat on his back. The contact made the room stop spinning, brought the lines in the floor back into focus.
"James?" Ayo gave him a gentle shake.
Bucky steadied his breathing, tried and failed to quell the tremors. He looked up, finding more compassion in Ayo than he had ever seen. Shuri was standing behind her, looking horrified.
"I am so sorry," Shuri said. "I stopped your heart! I killed you!"
Bucky gave an unconvincing, "I'm fine," between tremors. His whole body was seizing, relaxing, seizing again.
"Why is he shaking? What is wrong with him?" Ayo said.
"His muscles are holding onto the electricity. It seems to be ricocheting. It would have killed a normal man by now. Fascinating." Shuri was torn between scientific discovery and horror at what she had done. She consulted her wrist, producing a screen with numbers and figures scrolling over it. "His genetic makeup was altered more profoundly than I imagined. He reacted quite differently than Captain Rogers would have, based on SHIELD data… I will need to rethink my approach."
Ayo helped Bucky to his feet. He was recovering rapidly, the tremors gradually fading away. He tasted copper, heard a high-pitched whining somewhere behind his right ear.
"I am so sorry," Shuri repeated. "I will take more care with my next attempt."
"It's okay. I can take it." Bucky glanced at his arm, realizing some of his wolf paint had rubbed off. Ushiwoh would be disappointed.
Shuri was creeping closer, studying him, "We will take you back to Khemba now."
"I can take him," Ayo said. "You have a meeting with the king."
Shuri grimaced. "I can miss it."
"He did not seem in the mood for joking."
"I may have… broken some things," Shuri said. "Many things."
Bucky stumbled all the way to the car. His whole body felt like it was shutting down. His fingertips and toes were falling asleep, his heart seemed to be beating lazily, and every now and then, he felt himself on the border of consciousness. He was better in the car, better sitting down. Physically, at least. His mind was a jumbled, broken thing. His anxiety was through the roof, the sensation of the table on his back persisting, his thoughts racing in a dozen different directions.
But as they departed the city, he experienced a moment of clarity.
Memories teased at the edge of his mind, elusive, but present.
"Do not vomit in this car," Ayo said.
Bucky looked over, finding that her eyes did not match her indifferent voice. "I'm not," he said. "I think it worked. A little. I can remember something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"You can't remember it then, can you?"
"You're not a very nice lady."
"Call me a lady again and I will show you how not nice I am."
Bucky resisted pushing her.
He watched a flock of birds soar past, a wild herd of antelope stir up in the distance. Khemba was one of the most remote of the Border villages, hedging up on the mountains. Its homes blended into the scenery, its clay-painted people the same. It was camouflaged from the world. He could pick it out the moment the horizon allowed.
"Do you like it here?" Ayo said, stopping her silent, futuristic car on the shore of the lake.
Bucky would have crossed his arms, if he had two. He stroked his hair out of his face instead, trying to come up with the words. "It's different than home – different enough that nothing here reminds me of… you know."
Ayo nodded along, thoughtful. "You will forget with time."
"I don't want to forget," Bucky said, a little too harshly. He backtracked, "I mean I want to heal, to move on, but I can't forget. I have to make it right one day."
"What do you intend to do? Visit the graves of the people you have killed?"
"I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead."
"You are thinking too much and not enough at the same time. Pick one."
Ayo had barely spoken to him when he lived in the city. It was different now. He was seeing more of the human side of her, and less of the thoughtless warrior.
"What are you still doing in here? Get out." Ayo hit a button and his door popped open.
Bucky laughed, climbing out, saying, "Good talk," before she shut the door and drove off.
He was only standing there for a few seconds when a swarm of kids left the school building and crowded around him, chanting 'White Wolf.' It was briefly overwhelming.
A'di was behind them, smiling. She shooed them off. "We were worried they would take you away forever," she said.
Her smile faltered as she got a better look at him.
Bucky wondered what he looked like.
A'di spoke softly, "What are you doing this evening?"
He glanced back at the lake, where Shuri and Ayo had found him, and hated the thought of sitting down to keep studying that book. Even her simple question caused a train wreck of thoughts.
A'di placed her hand on the center of his chest, "We are going into the forest tonight for a lesson. You are coming."