Chapter 9.

The Boy.

Bucky woke from a nightmare.

He was watching himself execute an elderly judge who had been digging into Hydra affairs. She was alone in her home, surrounded by pictures of her family, her long, happy life. Certificates and birthday cards and drawings hung on the walls. Bucky cut her throat, sprayed those memories with her blood. His dream wore on and on, from the moment they pulled him from stasis, his mission report, his reset, and the cold darkness that followed.

It had been the same for over a week now.

Bucky left his hut, retreating to the lakeshore. He had been clawing his way out of a dark pit, hand-over-hand, but the nightmares were relentless. He looked out into blackness, listened to the water nudge the shore, grasping blindly for any semblance of rest, relief, mercy.

His new guard, Jawo, approached. "Go back to sleep, White Wolf."

He was stone-faced, air-headed, a full foot shorter than Bucky. He was part of the rotation of Wakandan warriors who would kill anyone seeking to activate the Winter Soldier – or to kill Bucky, if it came to it. Bucky tried not to be worried that there were so many volunteers. Ayo told him they were all curious to meet the Wolf. He had to live through their disappointment.

Bucky realized he was pacing. It was making Jawo nervous.

"Sorry."

Jawo said, "Still same dream?"

"Yeah… same dream."

"You are angry?"

"No. Yes." Bucky ran his hand over his face, pressing his hair back, trying to get his thoughts in order. It was hard, when he had barely slept in months. He was making a real effort to do better, but nothing he did was enough. He was treading water, an inch from drowning.

"No news from the city?"

"No."

He had been awake for six months. Six months. Shuri had not visited, not passed any news along, since their last failed attempt to deprogram him. He would never tell her, but that last session was the subject of many of his nightmares. It started there, in that room, strapped to that table. He became activated, received an order, and killed the people who were the kindest to him. Bucky woke with memories of dead faces – Shuri, A'di, Ayo, T'Challa. He even saw Steve sometimes.

Bucky sat down, resisting the urge to pace again.

Jawo said, "You are staying here?"

Bucky spoke Wakandan, "I promise."

Jawo tapped Bucky on the head – a cultural behavior from his tribe – and returned to his home. He often took Bucky at his word, a much less diligent guard than Ayo. It was hard to hold a candle to someone as tough as her.

He sat there for hours, thinking.

A little light appeared on the horizon, coming around the lake, bobbing. A lantern. He saw the side of a horse illuminated in it, and nothing else. The Border tribe was fond of rhinos, raising them from infancy and riding them into combat, but horses were a common sight on the plains. It turned out that not everyone had the surplus to feed a herd of rhinos, or the need to ride them into combat.

The rider arrived in Khemba, stopping in the village center. Bucky approached, curious, a little cautious.

A'di slid out of the saddle.

She turned and pulled a sleepy young boy off the horse. He seemed about twelve, skinny, lanky, dressed in rags. His face was ashen in the lantern-light and he was barely conscious.

When she saw him, A'di gave a small smile, whispering, "Hello, my wolf."

He had not seen her for weeks.

"Who is that?" he asked.

A'di supported the boy. "I have just returned from the city. You are familiar with Nakia?"

Bucky nodded, "I know of her."

"She was feeling the suffering of the wider world before Wakanda had even revealed itself." A'di righted the boy as he swayed. "She found him at a slave market. He was to be sold, but tomorrow they will find an empty cage."

"Cage," Bucky repeated.

A'di nodded grimly. "He will stay with me for the night, until I can find a family for him. It may be here, or in another Border village."

The boy swayed again, and Bucky said, "I can carry him."

"Thank you."

Bucky put the boy delicately over his shoulder, following A'di through the village. Her home was also the library. She had a little alcove in the back with a bed and a curtain, but books took up most of the space. It was well-kept, beautifully built. A'di moved around a lot, rotating between villages, instilling her love for life and learning in children all over Wakanda, so there were not many personal items around. She hung a stuffed bag on the wall and directed Bucky to put the kid on the bed.

Bucky put the boy down, concerned by how light he was. "He's starving."

A'di nodded grimly. "When I bring them to new places, we must ensure they are not eating too much, too quickly, or they will become very sick."

Bucky hovered, uncertain, "What's his name?"

"He does not have a name. It is the first thing they take away."

Bucky was struck by that.

She had not been to Khemba since his accidental activation.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm doing better than he is," Bucky said, stepping toward the door. "Are you okay with him? Do you need anything?"

"No, thank you." A'di was looking at him too closely, "Are you-?"

Bucky left.

He had spoken candidly with Ayo – more honest than he ever expected he could be – but those were not things he could say to A'di. It would break her heart.

XxXxX

At dawn, Bucky heard screaming.

He was out of his house in an instant, finding a scene unfolding by the lake. An old man was lying on his back, arms up, as the starving boy stabbed him over and over. He was screaming something, his voice cracking, tears on his face.

Bucky was the closest, the fastest.

He got his arm around the kid, dragging him away. The boy turned the knife on Bucky, carving up his arm, his attack becoming weaker with every repetition. Bucky bit through the pain, holding on as tight as he could without hurting the kid. Others approached, trying to help, but the kid started swinging wildly. Bucky told them to stay back.

Bucky spoke Wakandan, "You're safe. You're safe. Stop. You're safe. Stop."

Finally, the kid ran out of steam. He dropped the knife, began to sink. Bucky lowered him to the ground. Screaming became sobbing. Bucky tossed the knife out of reach.

A'di was on him in a minute, pulling the boy into her arms, whispering the same thing Bucky had said. "You're safe."

The boy recoiled from her touch, his sobbing high-pitched, desperate.

Bucky said. "Don't touch him."

He looked over his shoulder, where they were tending the old man. His arm was in ribbons and he appeared to be in shock. He had wide, unfocused eyes. Jawo suddenly blocked his view of the bloody scene, taking his arm and stretching it out. Bucky groaned.

"This one is dangerous," Jawo commented while he wrapped a thick cloth around Bucky's forearm. He said an unfamiliar word in Wakandan.

"What did you say?" Bucky asked.

"Slave-child."

Bucky had heard the word before, in reference to other village children. He had always assumed it was just another way to refer to kids. Bucky said, "He doesn't even have his own name. How can you call him that?"

Jawo said, "It is not meant to be insulting."

A'di put her hand on Bucky, muting his response. "Can you help me with him, please?" She spoke to Jawo, "I will tend his arm."

"I am meant to guard him," Jawo said, with meager authority.

A'di said, "He will be with me. You can tell the king I defy him."

"He is dangerous," Jawo said, surprisingly in reference to the boy and not Bucky.

A'di had no patience left. "What would you have me do? Do you want me to kill him? Take up the knife, then, and do it yourself! And if you do not intend to help, and you do not intend to kill this boy, then I ask you to remove yourself. If I am in need of a miner, I will call upon you."

Jawo looked at the ground, gave a soft apology, and walked off.

Bucky had never heard A'di use such a biting tone. He knew she was well-loved, but the respect she commanded was incredible. He had also never seen her this stressed, almost distraught. Her kids meant the world to her.

He picked the kid up and took him back to the bed in the library. He did not want to be touched, but the kid was skin and bones, no fight left in him. Bucky laid him down, stepped away to give him space. The boy drew his legs up to his chest and wedged himself in the corner, watching them with wide, pale eyes.

A'di brought fresh clothes and a little bowl of water with a rag in it. "Your hands are dirty," A'di said to the boy. "If you want to wash them, you can use this. And these clothes are for you."

'Dirty' was an understatement. The boy was covered in blood, from both the old man and Bucky. It was a shocking visual – a kid all curled up, scared, painted red.

"You are safe," A'di repeated in Wakandan. She switched to several languages, until the boy seemed to recognize one. She spoke to him, gestured again to the water, the clothes. She pulled the little curtain, shutting the room to the rest of the library.

Bucky was hesitant to leave A'di with someone who had just stabbed two people – he realized, ironically, that this was the reason Jawo was always following him. He sat against one of the bookshelves, picking a book to leaf through. A'di brought him a new shirt, sat down beside him, staring at the curtain with the eyes of someone who was good to the core.

She was like Steve. She did not ask if she was going to help someone, but how.

"What language did you speak?" Bucky asked.

"Kinyarwanda. He is from Rwanda, I think. Nakia found him in Niger. We will not know his identity until he decides to share it with us."

"Do you think he has a family somewhere he could go back to?"

Her sad look was answer enough, but she said, "I hope so."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Since I was a child." She paused, met his eyes, showing him a trust he was not accustomed to. "I was taken when I was very young. I cannot remember my family, my name. So, I know what he is feeling – and I know some of what you are feeling. When the king contacted me about sending you to live outside of the city, I told him you should come to the Border. In places like this, you will meet people who face some of the things that you face. Even the children who know nothing of war know the pain of having their identities stolen."

"Ushi," Bucky said.

"She and her brother were orphans," A'di said. "Nakia and I were in Nigeria disobeying orders from the king, as always. We found them in a refugee camp. It was a place where many lost people had gathered, coming from many places, for many reasons. I do not know if that is truly where they are from, only that they are from here now."

"Like you."

She nodded. "Will you tell me what is bothering you? I can see a change in your eyes."

He said nothing.

A'di drew his arm into her lap, redoing the hasty bandage Jawo had placed. She kept hold of his hand, squeezing it in both of hers, resting her head on his shoulder.

She made trust look so easy, so natural.

"Will he be okay?" Bucky said.

A'di said, "I will make it so, as I will with you."

XxXxX

Bucky sat there for hours.

A'di was in and out, cleaning, straightening the shelves. She stopped by the curtain sometimes, listening, but did not open it. Bucky was left with the image of the kid sitting there, curled up, ribs showing through bloodied rags. He had seen gruesome things in the war, the kinds of things that kept veterans up at night, that randomly flitted into their minds. He wondered what that kid had seen, where he had been, what they did to him to make him so afraid.

"I am going to make some food for you two – you are too skinny," A'di said around noon. She left the library, incapable of sitting still.

And the boy picked that moment to pull the curtain back.

He looked like he had slept. His eyes were red. He had put on the new shirt A'di left for him, washed some of the blood off. He still had specks on his face. He looked at Bucky with soft, thoughtful eyes, nothing like the wild eyes he wore that morning, or the terror he showed before the curtain was closed.

"Hey," Bucky said. "I don't speak, uh, Kinya. Do you speak English?"

The kid gave a calm, quiet, "Yes."

A'di returned with a rice dish. It was the same one she had made for Bucky the first time they met. She placed a bowl beside the boy and brought one to Bucky. "Did you eat?" he said.

She waved him off. "Of course. Who cooks without eating?"

Bucky spoke to the kid, "What do you call yourself?"

The boy said, "Uhirwa."

A'di put her hand over her heart. "No, no, little one."

"What does it mean?" Bucky said.

Uhirwa responded with a mouthful of rice. "Lucky." His English was very shaky, but Bucky picked up the meaning. "What do you call yourself?"

"Bucky."

"What is this place?"

A'di said, "You are in Wakanda, and this village is called Khemba."

Uhirwa was still staring at Bucky, curious. He finally drew his eyes away to finish his meal. He sucked down a cup of water, his eyes brighter, more awake. Uhirwa emerged from the alcove, wandering the library, touching the spines of books as he passed. A'di pulled out a few picture books for him to flip through.

"What of you?" A'di said when she returned.

Bucky was standing, stretching. He said, "Me?"

"Yes, you. I asked you a question and you did not answer me."

"I don't remember that."

"You are not sleeping," she said. "But it is more than that. You have a ghost in your eyes. Have you gone back to the city since I left? What has Shuri done to you?"

Bucky cleared his throat. "She had another test for me."

"It was bad again?"

"It was… worse." Bucky should have been far removed from it now. It was months ago. He wanted to tell her that he was fine, but he was so much the opposite that he couldn't even lie about it. He couldn't lie, couldn't say it out loud. So he said nothing.

A'di stepped very close to him, putting her hands on either side of his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She said nothing, only folded her arms around him and held on tightly. It could have been his first hug since he fell off that train.