Chapter 6.
Captive.
Bucky stood alone by the lake, watching Obeze make his nightly procession around the village. He was its leader and its protector, a knife in his belt, notches on his hands. A'di told him that the man was a warrior – no 'used to be' about it. Bucky was not fond of his own thoughts today, so he wondered what the old man was thinking, instead.
Obeze spoke to his people, refilled torches, and walked along the edge of the forest, looking in. He made a wide circle in the field and came around to walk up the lakeshore.
"White Wolf," Obeze said as he approached. He usually left with that greeting, but this time he stopped. He spoke Wakandan, "You have ghosts on your face."
He had ghosts in his head, too.
Bucky had never felt this way before. Khemba was quiet, peaceful, a place where he might truly be able to move on – if not for the threat that someone with the right vocabulary could come along and turn him back into a puppet. Bucky thought he was strong enough to handle whatever Shuri needed to do. He felt fine, physically, but his head was mush. He felt helpless, hopeless, unprepared, doubting himself, doubting Steve's unrelenting faith.
And he was tired. He was so tired.
"You don't sleep," Obeze said in English, interpreting the lack of response as Bucky not understanding him. "You are here. Every night. Right here."
Bucky said, "Bad dreams."
Obeze nodded, said an unfamiliar phrase in Wakandan, and continued down the lakeshore.
Bad dreams. It was a tame way to describe his nightmares. He had not slept more than a few hours at a time in weeks. It was more restful to stay up, to sit by the lake, than it was to relive his greatest hits. He chose the lesser of two evils.
It was nearly dark when A'di joined him. "We are leaving soon."
She was taking the kids on a nature walk. She invited him that morning, when Ayo brought him back to the village. Well, less of an invite and more of an order.
"Can you translate something for me?" Bucky repeated what Obeze had said.
She said, "We don't forget the dark. It is a mantra, in a sense. Obeze tries to make everyone as bitter as he is." A'di wrapped her arm around his, walking him across the field. "He was a soldier when he was a boy, still young when Wakanda was fighting on the borders. You should not listen to him. He never healed from his wounds."
A dozen kids were waiting by the forest. Ushiwoh was painting faces, giving the kids elaborate, luminous, pale blue masks. When she finished the last child, she retrieved the white paint from her home. "I will fix the wolf," she said to him.
He took a knee. Ushi focused on details this time, using a thin, hard-bristled brush to add fine lines. While she worked, the other kids milled around, chatting amongst themselves. A'di stood by his side, humming, rechecking that her braids were arranged correctly. She had them all wound into a ball on the back of her head, covered in gold glitter.
Ushi stepped away when she was finished, admiring her work. She gave herself a few white lines with her fingers, coating her cheeks, and then said to A'di, "I will paint yours, Teacher?"
"No, no. Put it away. We are leaving."
Ushi obeyed, a little sullen.
Bucky ended up at the back of a single-file line. A'di took them on a well-worn path through the rainforest, where they climbed over logs, up ladders, over bridges. She gave quiet lessons in Wakandan, answered questions, stopped to show the children small insects and rare plants. She spoke of life cycles, of the interconnectedness of the rainforest, of the inherent value of all living things and their right to exist. She named the monkeys, named the stars when the canopy opened up.
It was a stunning place, a privilege to see, but Bucky thought A'di was more beautiful than any of the flowers, any of the stars. It was easy to get lost in what she said, to believe that the world was this magical place full of possibilities. Bucky was swept up in it.
"We are not the only ones who walk these ways," A'di was saying, "Neither the first, nor the last."
Bucky began to slow down, appreciating the soft glow of the forest, the luminous blue faces bobbing on the path in front of him. He was less graceful than the kids, tripping over roots, occasionally clotheslining himself on a vine. As her voice got further away, the effect that A'di had on him tapered, flickered, like a candle running out of wick.
He stopped suddenly.
Bucky was not an outdoorsman, not a hiker, not a navigator, but he always knew when someone – or something – was watching him. Even before the serum, before the war.
A pair of yellow eyes observed him from a branch fifteen feet away.
A leopard.
Bucky saw the faint outline of its face, a trail of black spots running down the branch. It was alert, focused, lying there with him in its scope.
He had never seen a wild cat before, let alone something as dangerous as a leopard. He heard the kids talk about them. Leopards were clever, quiet, and powerful – and they were the basis for the most prominent Wakandan religion. Bast was a panther goddess. Bucky would definitely be ejected from the country if he killed her earthly equivalent.
He looked up the path, hoping A'di and the kids had turned around by now, that the sound of them would scare the cat off.
When he looked back at the tree, the leopard was gone.
Bucky searched the canopy, listened for any movement. It was a stealthy animal, but nothing could move through those leaves without making a single sound. It had to be there, just out of sight, waiting for him to drop his guard.
A'di and her little trail of children came back down the path. She threw her hands up. "What are you doing back here? You missed the red-vine flowers."
"Sorry."
A'di followed his eyes to the canopy, "What is it?"
"I saw a leopard on that branch."
She shone a flashlight into the twisted mass of branches, vines, and leaves. A black-eyed monkey sat against a tree trunk, staring at them, and a teeny green snake darted out of sight.
"A leopard?" A'di said, smiling.
Bucky took the flashlight, doing a broader search, mystified. "I saw it."
"I believe you," she said, clearly unbelieving. "Only, there are no leopards in this part of the forest." She addressed the sleepy children queuing up behind her. "We are going back, my sweets." She put her hand on his chest as she passed, "Stay close. You are easy prey for an invisible leopard."
"It's Africa," Bucky objected, as he took his place at the back of the line. "There are tons of leopards."
"Not here," A'di responded.
Ebara and Ushiwoh joined him at the back. Ushi kept trying to take the flashlight, while Ebara began a riveting story about the first time he saw a leopard in the forest. He detailed his morning, his trip into the forest to find fruit for his grandfather's breakfast, and his long run as the thing chased him into a river.
And then he said, "It was a monkey." He waved his hands dramatically. "That was your story, White Wolf."
The other kids laughed.
"Are you afraid?" Ushi said, trying to pry his fingers off the flashlight.
Bucky raised his hand above her head, shining it down on her face. She squinted.
Ebara said, "Why should the wolf fear the leopard? You know of them! Running, running, always running on the snow. While the leopard walks the forest alone, the wolf has a pack!"
He had a way with words, a born storyteller.
Ushi said, "He does not have a pack. He is alone."
A'di finally, mercifully, called the kids off. "Leave him be. Go on."
When they got sight of the village, the kids scattered, most of them going straight to their homes, and probably straight into their beds. Ushi, Ebara, and N'junta headed for the lake. Ebara was already telling another story.
"Why are they always out there?" Bucky asked, when he and A'di were alone.
"Why are you?"
He said nothing. He used to think the kids came to the lakeshore because they were curious about him, but now he wondered if they were doing it before he arrived.
A'di said, "I am sorry for what Ushi said. She did not mean it that way."
"I know." He pressed a smile. "I'm gonna go to bed."
She said nothing, only tapped his shoulder as she headed to her own home – a rectangular building that doubled as the library. He had never been inside. Bucky could not think of another instance where he was grateful to be away from her.
He shed his robes and lay on his bed mat, undoing the wraps around his stump, running his fingers over the awful, scarred flesh. Wakanda had some of the most advanced medicine in the world, but they could only do so much to fix the things Hydra had left behind. He was given the option to amputate the rest of it, to leave almost nothing in its place. Shuri said she would make him a new shoulder out of vibranium, once his head was clear.
He is alone.
Her words followed him as he gave in to sleep.
XxXxX
"I have something for you."
Bucky looked up from his book, finding Ushi standing in his doorway. She was holding a small cardboard box. She pretended she was going to give it to him, and then pulled away before he could take it, grinning. Ushi was an almost unbearably cute kid.
He smiled despite his low mood. "What?"
"It is from America," she said, studying the label. "Where is… Brooks?"
"Brooklyn," Bucky corrected. "I'll tell you if you give me the box."
She handed it over, sitting on her knees to wait.
Bucky said, "Brooklyn is in New York."
"Is there a brook?"
"No. I don't think so. I'm not sure."
Bucky opened the box, finding dog tags inside.
"What is it?" Ushi asked.
"It's… complicated." Bucky picked them up, scanned the engraving. His name was dented into the metal, his station, his number.
Ushi leaned in to look at them, "Necklace?"
He put it around his neck, "Sort of."
"Are you sad?"
Bucky cleared his throat, tried to push against the longing. He suddenly had a weight on his chest. "I thought I lost these a long time ago. I guess I was wrong."
"What does… say?" she said, failing to find the English words.
Bucky said, "You call me White Wolf, but this is my real name." He showed her the tag. "James Buchanan Barnes. 107th Infantry Regiment."
"I do not like that name."
He read over the tag again, "Yeah, me neither." Bucky tucked the tags into his shirt, where they had spent many years. "When you join the army in America, you get a set of these. If something… happens to you, they use them to find out who you are… were."
Ushi sat quietly for a while, thinking. Her English vocabulary was lacking, her grammar sometimes off, her accent heavy. Bucky imagined she processed English the way that he processed Wakandan – picking out words, using context to derive meaning. It got easier with practice. She spent a lot of time near him, sometimes even coming in to volunteer her time with Imo. Maybe she was picking up more English from him than she was from her lessons with A'di.
She touched her chest, saying, "Habibah."
"I don't understand," he said, unable to identify the language.
She gestured to him, "You are James, I am Habibah."
"I thought your name was Ushiwoh."
She struggled for the explanation, "I… was far away?" She switched to Wakandan, explaining that she came from Nigeria, that Ebara was her brother.
"How long have you been here?" Bucky asked.
"Years," she responded, sticking to her own language. "I was little. I cannot remember my mother or my father or what our home was like."
She was a lot like him in that respect.
"James and Habibah, bad names. White Wolf and Ushiwoh, good names."
Bucky responded in Wakandan, "I agree."
XxXxX
Shuri came back almost a month later.
Bucky went outside to meet her as she cruised up on an enormous black-and-blue motorcycle. It attracted the attention of the entire village, and for once, Bucky was not the biggest oddity among them. Shuri was as bright and energetic as always, hopping off the bike, grinning.
"How are you, Bucky?" she said, always making a point to emphasize his name. She was the only one in Wakanda who called him that.
Bucky circled the bike, admittedly missing motorcycles the most. He found himself living fine without plumbing, electricity, and an actual door, but motorcycles were inherently attractive to him – and this one was something special. It looked like it could climb walls.
He said, "T'Challa know you have this?"
"How did you know it was his?"
"It's his style."
Shuri ran her hand over the seat, sighing, "No, and we will keep it that way." She tapped his chest, "I heard a rumor about you."
"If it's about a leopard, I don't want to talk about it."
She twisted her lips, clearly resisting teasing him. "You know, the black panther is a melanistic leopard. It is a sacred animal in our culture. Bast is a panther goddess."
"I know that."
"If you truly saw a leopard in the forest, and it did not attack you, perhaps you have her blessing." She reached for another topic. Bucky saw the gears turning. "How are your studies?"
Bucky cut through the conversation, "Do you have another test for me?"
Shuri became grim. "I do."
He had only just begun to climb out of the black pit the last activation had put him in. A'di was in and out of the village, offering support, companionship, whenever she was there, and he found small comforts in his work, a rhythm with Imo. He rarely slept, rarely rested. His only motivation to give up his semi-stable routine was knowing that no matter how high he climbed, he would never reach the top unless he got Hydra out of his head.
Shuri said, "Are you sure you want to proceed?"
"I can take it."
"Come, then. I want to do a donut in the field before we leave."
"I don't think that'll go over well."
"Let them try and catch me."
XxXxX
Bucky closed his hand into a fist.
"I have broken another needle," Shuri said, groaning.
"Just use the bigger one," he responded.
She grimaced. "It hurts."
"I can take it."
"I do not like it when you say that."
Shuri pulled the instrument tray toward her. Inserting a much larger needle into a vein that ran along his forearm, very near his elbow. She set up the IV bag, circled the chair a few times, and then stopped in front of him with a clipboard. "I am going to administer the neuroblocker. As we proceed, I will ask you a series of simple questions for which you will provide one-word answers. Are you ready?"
He nodded.
Shuri fanned her hands, incredulous, "No nodding! I have so much machinery on you!"
He said, "Right. Sorry."
Shuri went into the other room, visible beyond the glass. She tapped away at a keyboard. Bucky studied his reflection. He was shirtless, wires blanketing his chest, a metal cap hovering over his head.
"It's cold," he said.
Shuri smiled, "Stop being a baby."
Ayo entered the room, standing silently beside Shuri, spear in hand.
"He will be fine," Shuri said to her. "I am not saying the words."
"I do not trust him," Ayo said simply.
"I missed you, too," Bucky said.
Shuri sighed, tapping on her keyboard again. "Yes, yes. You two can catch up later."
Bucky blinked as a veil fell over the room. Everything was hazy, out of focus. It was a little like being drunk, and a little like taking a hard right hook.
"Bucky?" Shuri said. "Can you hear me?"
He said, "Yes."
"Good. Please state your full name."
"I thought you only wanted one-word answers." His words were slurred.
"Don't make me come in there."
"James Buchanan Barnes."
"In what year were you born?"
"1917."
"In what month?"
"March."
"How many siblings did you have?"
"Three."
Shuri murmured something indistinct, something distant.
"What?" he said, straining to hear.
Her voice was muted.
Bucky searched the room, which filled rapidly with mist, with clouds. Shuri and Ayo were gone. The room was gone. He was sitting in a great white expanse, alone, even the sound of his heartbeat stolen away by the void.
He sat still, quiet, in a world made of nothing.
Suddenly, he was somewhere else, faceless white lab coats circling him, unwelcome hands on his shoulders, his chest, his head. Metal and wires. Brief, unbearable cold.
"The fist of Hydra," he heard, echoed in a dozen voices.
And then, in Russian, "Longing… rusted… furnace…"