They arrived just past dark in Wakanda. Ayo exited the craft first, but Bucky was close behind her, the album tucked under his vibranium Arm. Steve and Sam took up the rear. Bucky heard Sam give into a yawn.
Okoye and Shuri greeted them on the landing pad. Shuri smiled brightly at them and walked up to them.
"Welcome back," Shuri greeted. "I understand you were able to celebrate your birthday with family."
Bucky nodded. "It was…nice." He wondered if he'd have the opportunity to see his sister again. He pondered the feasibility of reaching out to Jimmy and asking to video chat with her once in a while since he didn't know how long she had left.
"Happy birthday, White Wolf," Shuri said. "This way. One stop before you settle in your quarters."
"If it's the lab, I'm fine," Bucky said, but he and the others followed her into the Citadel, which told him they were not, in fact, heading to her lab.
They walked down a long hallway with smooth, hard floors. It was an area he was somewhat familiar with, though he hadn't been in the Citadel very often during his previous stay. She approached a set of double doors and pushed them open. Ayo and Okoye followed her inside.
Bucky entered behind them, but the sight that greeted him brought him to a halt just inside the doorway. Sam and Steve stopped behind him.
"What's up?" Sam asked.
Bucky stared at the long banquet table filled with cups and silverware. In the center was a low profile decorative vine with purple and white flowers. T'Challa, Nakia, Ramonda, and Amwerri were seated around the table.
T'Challa rose from the head of the table, a smile on his face. "I understand today is your birthday, White Wolf."
Oh, hell…Bucky took a breath. He didn't want a….He wasn't sure how to… This was all a little too much.
Sam clapped Bucky on the shoulder, pushing him forward. "I'm hungry, and I can't wait to find out what royalty dines on here."
Bucky forced his feet forward. T'Challa gestured to a trio of empty seats on the opposite end of the table. Bucky sank into one of the chairs, and Sam and Steve took the empty seats on either side of him.
Bucky scooted his chair in and set the album on the floor, propping it vertically against the leg of his chair.
Everyone else took their seats, with Ayo and Okoye sitting across from Bucky and Shuri taking the seat next to her mother. T'Challa waved a hand in the air, and four servers entered the room, pushing two large hovering carts filled with food.
"It is customary in both of our cultures to bestow gifts to celebrate the anniversary of a birth," T'Challa began.
Bucky shook his head. "I don't—"
He felt a foot slam into his shin and shot a glance at Ayo, who gave him a hard stare. Bucky cleared his throat and shut up. T'Challa smiled, giving Ayo a curious look, then he waved again and a server placed a small item wrapped in a thin blue fabric in front of Bucky. Bucky carefully unfolded the fabric to reveal a small black box. Carefully, he lifted the top off the box and saw a bracelet made of Kimoyo beads.
"Since you plan to stay for some time, these will be useful for you. Whether you choose to return to your hut or stay in the city, these will allow you to function as a full member of Wakandan society and, of course, to communicate with Shuri, Ayo, myself, or anyone else, should you desire to do so."
Bucky lifted the bracelet and rolled it over his right hand. It felt light and comfortable on his wrist.
"I will show you later how all the beads function." Shuri said. "You are already familiar with the A/V and Comm beads, but there are many others."
Bucky ran his fingers over the side of the smooth beads, being careful not to activate any of them. His throat went tight and a warmth rose in his chest. He knew the meaning of the gift. He hadn't completely ruined things with T'Challa over Zemo. T'Challa was telling him that he was genuinely welcome and their helping him wasn't just out of pity or some sense of lingering duty.
He took a breath and looked up at T'Challa. "Thank you."
T'Challa nodded as a server carefully set a large plate filled with food in front of him, then he said, "Ayo informed me about the album your sister gifted you. She mentioned she had never seen such a smile on your face as the one you wore prior to joining your allied forced in battle."
An arm appeared in front of Bucky, setting a large plate on the table. He glanced upward at the server, a young woman with short black hair and a round face.
"Thank you," he told her.
She nodded briefly, then shifted to grab another plate. She set that one in front of Sam.
Bucky looked back at T'Challa. "I told her I was putting on a brave face for my folks. My mother was…worried about me."
He was glad, in a way that twisted something inside him, that she hadn't lived long enough to find out he'd survived. She passed thinking he'd died a hero. That was one small blessing for which he was grateful.
"I'm also informed that there's a photo of Captain Rogers before he took the serum."
Bucky grinned at that, glancing over at Steve and saying, "Yeah, and his mother Sarah." He nodded at Steve. "Don't forget to take that photo before you leave."
Steve nodded with a smile. "I won't, but I intend to hang around for a bit."
Sam reached down and picked up the album before Bucky could stop him. "It's in here. Bucky, his family, Steve when he was…" Sam held a hand up, palm downward, a few inches below his shoulders.
"Thanks, Sam," Steve shook his head.
"He was small," Bucky said, giving a quick side-eye to Steve, "but he had the attitude of a scrappy terrier—too dumb to run from a fight against someone twice his size."
"And Bucky was always the big dog backing me up to make sure I didn't get myself killed."
Bucky saw something like dismay flicker quickly over Steve's face after the words left his mouth, but it didn't linger, replaced instantly by a smile once again. Bucky wasn't sure what had gone through Steve's mind at that comment, but if he suspected it had to do with the train and the mission to capture Zola.
"I wouldn't mind seeing some of the photos of your youth and your family," T'Challa said. "Perhaps after dinner, if you are willing to share."
Bucky took the album from Sam and set it carefully back on the floor. "Of course."
T'Challa picked up his fork and dug into a perfectly square piece of mutton bathed in a dark red sauce. They ate and chatted for an hour. T'Challa was curious about what had happened in the alternate timeline after the battle with Thanos, so Bucky and Steve gave him the recap.
"You mean to tell me that I worked out of a World War II tent?" Shuri asked.
Bucky grinned at her. "Well, you spruced it up quite a bit. Inside, it looked like a scene out of Star Trek—one of the newer ones."
T'Challa took a sip from his cup, then set it down and said, "Captain Rogers, I am glad that my counterpart gave you a new shield. Do you like the design?"
Steve nodded. "It's perfect, and with the vibranium straps, it's slightly lighter than the other one."
"I am sure that my sister designed it," T'Challa said.
"Oh, most certainly," Shuri agreed.
-0- -0- -0-
They retired to their quarters for the evening. Steve and Bucky shared the double room that held two beds, and Sam took the adjoining room. After quick showers, both of them were too amped to sleep. It was a little passed 10:30 p.m. Wakandan time, but only about 3:30 p.m. Indiana time.
Bucky sank into the armchair and withdrew his phone and the card Jimmy had given him. Steve walked slowly around the room, as though burning off excess energy. Bucky looked at the number on the card and typed it into his phone, then sent a brief text message. He struggled a bit about the wording. He wasn't sure whether he should be brief or say something more substantial. In the end, he opted for the middle ground.
Jimmy, Bucky here. This is my number. It was nice to meet you. I hope Becca is still doing well. Thank you both for the photo album, the whiskey, and the birthday.
He re-read the text a final time before sending it. It sounded normal enough. He read it again, then thought that the phrase "is still doing well" might sound to morbid, like he expected her to die the moment he left. That was too grim.
His finger hovered over the backspace icon on the screen's keyboard, but then Steve's hand appeared suddenly, his finger tapping the SEND button.
"Hey!" Bucky looked up at him. "That was uncalled for, man."
Steve looked completely unapologetic. "Being a friend sometimes means saving you from yourself. Remember that time I tried to sign up for the war and you sent an MP in to change my mind?"
Oops. Did Paulie squeal? Bucky grimaced. "How do you know about that?"
Steve cleared his throat. "Um…"It was the look on his face that gave it away.
"Shuri?" Bucky asked incredulously. "The scan, back in the compound."
"Yeah." Steve leaned against the wall. "Again, how that whole thing went down. I'm sorry."
Buck sighed and waved a hand in the air. "It's fine. I can't exactly hold something like that against you after everything I've done. You and Shuri were helping me. I know that. I'm just not happy about not knowing everything people saw."
Steve sat on the edge of the bed. "Would you like me to go through it all?"
Bucky thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
Steve obliged, going through it all, scene by scene, and when he was finished, Bucky actually felt better. It wasn't so bad. His imagination had made the whole thing out to be so much worse. Many of those memories he'd have preferred to keep private, but he could live with those ones having been out on display.
He took a measure of relief in knowing that the deeper, darker parts of his memories remained private. There were things he hadn't told anyone. Not Steve. Certainly not that therapist. Things he was pretty sure not even Shuri knew, although to be fair, he wasn't certain about that. He hadn't been conscious for the last scan she'd performed in Wakanda, but he was pretty sure that if she had watched those memories with her own eyes, he'd have seen it on her face.
He tried not to think about Tony Stark and the footage he'd found in the bunker. What was done was done. He couldn't change it. Time to move on.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked.
Bucky gave a gentle, reassuring smile. "Yeah. Thanks. It's okay. We're good." His smile widened, and he cocked his head. "Besides, the MP didn't work. You still managed to get them to let you in."
Steve smiled. "You told Natasha I was stubborn…twice. You were right. It paid off, didn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess. That stubbornness saved our asses after Azzano," Bucky acknowledged.
Bucky's phone beeped, and he looked down. Jimmy had returned the text. It was a photo of the half-empty bottle of whiskey, and the text said, "It was an honor to meet you. Hopefully, we can share a drink on your birthday next year. Mom is doing well. She slept on and off after you left."
Bucky smiled.
Steve leaned forward. "You going to take him up on that offer?"
Bucky shrugged. Maybe. He'd like to see Jimmy again, and if he was really lucky, Becca might make it another year. The rest of the family…Bucky wasn't so sure about. He didn't want to cause a rift in the family, especially during whatever time Becca had left.
"We'll see," was all he managed to say in response.
Steve slapped Bucky's knee gently. "I'm going to try for sleep. Might as well get back in sync to the local time."
Bucky nodded and rose from the chair, stripping down to his boxers and hitting a button on the wall. A bin jutted out, and he dumped his clothes in it.
"What is that?" Steve asked.
"The fanciest hamper you'll ever see."
Steve shook his head. "This place really is amazing."
"Yes, it is."
-0- -0- -0-
In the morning, Shuri arrived with a cart that hovered effortlessly a few inches above the floor. It looked quite a bit like a floating cabinet. Bucky had just finished showering when she arrived. He stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed, with his hair still damp, and the new Kimoyo bead bracelet around his right wrist.
"Good morning, Bucky," she nodded. "Captain Rogers." She positioned the cart in the center of the room and swiped her finger over a small control panel on the end. The cart lowered to the ground, and vibranium extensions unfolded to turn the cart into a small dining table.
"Good morning," Steve said.
"'Morning. What's all this?" Bucky asked.
She smiled and flicked something else over the control panel. The sides of the "cabinet" dissolved, then morphed into three bench-like stools on various sides. A panel on the top dissolved in a similar fashion, revealing an array of platters filled with bacon, sausage, eggs, and hashbrowns along with a small stack of plates.
"Wow." Bucky hadn't seen that nifty feature before.
"You like it? It's a little something I've been working on," she said, then gestured, "Sit."
Bucky and Steve complied.
"I thought I would experiment with some of the traditional American cuisine."
Bucky eyed the eggs, bacon, sausage, and hashbrowns on the platters. "This looks amazing."
"Thank you," Steve said.
They grabbed plates from the small stack and piled the food on. Bucky took a forkful of the hashbrowns first.
"How do you like them?" Shuri eyed him.
He swallowed. "Crispy on the outside. Perfect."
She grinned. "And all done without frying in oil."
"Seriously?" Bucky took another bite. "Could've fooled me."
Steve was in the process of shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth when Shuri asked him, "How do you like them, Captain?"
He nodded and gave a thumbs up.
"So, Shuri," Bucky began, "is this a social visit, or…"
She tilted her head at him. "It is a social visit, but yes, I have something I would like to try with you. Amwerri and I have been working on an idea, and I wanted to discuss it…after we eat."
He nodded. Shuri wasn't much for patience when it came to working a problem. She tended to want to dive right in as soon as possible. Right now, he was one of the problems before her.
They chatted amicably over breakfast. Steve and Bucky finished their plates first. The moment Shuri took her last bite, she leaned back, picked up her napkin, wiped her mouth, then set it on the cart and looked at him.
"So, Bucky," she began, "as I mentioned, the other version of myself provided me with some useful information and ideas on how to help you recognize and counter the decades of hydra psychological conditioning."
Bucky met her gaze. She really was one for just jumping in head-first.
"Mission imperative," she ticked off a finger with her hands, "emotional repression, biddability, and, of course, compliance."
"I think I've managed to overcome the compliance and biddability portions of that conditioning." He'd gone rogue with Zemo. He certainly hadn't been particularly compliant to Sam's wishes, or anyone else's at the time.
"Yes, of course," she agreed. "You have made great strides. The code words no longer control you, and despite having been thrown back into battle and then tossed into the American judicial system and all its restrictions, you have adapted well. I hope you are aware of that."
He didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded at her to continue.
"However, your brain has been wired…conditioned in a way we have never seen before…as a soldier. The mission was always the priority. Failure was never an option. Anything that would get in the way of the mission—pain, emotions, memories—were suppressed through extremely…well, through extreme measures."
He swallowed. He knew in far greater detail than she did what those extreme measures entailed. He wished he could suppress those memories like a normal headcase, but he was a supersoldier headcase with an enhanced memory.
"I'd like to try an exercise, if you're up for it today," she continued. "I promise it won't be painful, and it won't be as invasive as the neural-memory scan."
"Sure." Bucky was in Wakanda for her help. He saw no reason to delay.
"We can do it right here, so you don't have to come to the lab," she said.
"Now?" Bucky asked.
Shuri nodded. "If you're up for it. I can also come back later this afternoon, if you prefer."
"No need. Now works." Bucky leaned back. "Where would you like me to be?"
She gestured to the armchair. "Right there will be fine."
Steve rose. "I can go for a walk, if you like."
Bucky waved a hand at him. "Stay. It's okay. I mean, you're hanging around in this timeline for moral support, right?" He offered what he hoped was an appreciative grin. "Unless you'd rather not, in which case, I get it."
"No place else I'd rather be than right here, if you're okay with that," Steve said.
Bucky gave Steve a nod and sank into the armchair.
Shuri reached into the bottom portion of the cart, waved her hand under something, and a small black box descended. "This won't display any of your memories. It's a similar neural scanner, but it'll only read one way. It scans your neural pathways as I take you though some guided recollections. You'll be fully conscious the whole time."
Bucky nodded. "Understood."
She moved in front of him. There was a small ottoman near the armchair, and she kicked it closer to the chair and sat on it, then set the case on her lap and opened it. Inside were two disks, much like the ones the other Shuri had used during his Winter Soldier episode.
She took them out of the case and placed them on each of his temples. "Okay, sit back and close your eyes," she instructed, rolling one of the Kimoyo beads into her palm.
He gave Steve—who was hovering near the foot of one of the beds—a final reassuring smile, then did as instructed.
"I want you to think back to a few weeks ago when you first heard or discovered that there were other supersoldiers."
Bucky thought back to that reunion with Sam in the hanger and their argument over the shield. Sam's dismissiveness had cut into Bucky like a searing blade.
"Besides, I have bigger things to deal with now," Sam had said.
"What could be bigger than this?" he'd asked.
Bucky had a hard time believing that Steve had been wrong about Sam…but that's what it looked like. Steve had faith in people. Too much faith. He'd had too much faith in Bucky. Steve had been wrong about both of them, and that left Bucky feeling empty, with nothing left to keep him going.
"This guy…" Sam had held up the phone to show an image of a masked man. "…he's strong. Too strong."
Too strong. Code for enhanced.
Bucky hadn't wanted to think about it at the time. There could be so many explanations for "too strong" that didn't necessarily involve the serum, but none of the explanations would be good ones.
"And?" he'd asked Sam, hoping for more of an explanation.
Sam told him about the Flag Smashers, about Red Wing tracing them to a building outside of Munich. Sam was going to check it out. He had no idea what he was walking into. He talked about aliens, androids, and wizards. Any of them would be bad news, and it would take more than one person to go up against them.
"They use brute force, just like you," Sam had told him.
Just like me. He flashed to the bridge. He was the Winter Soldier, on top of Sam's car. His metal fist punched through the windshield and ripped the steering wheel out of the car. Then outside of the Triskelion near the helicarriers. He—the Winter Soldier—had almost killed Steve, knocking him into a free fall off the side. Seconds later, he'd done the same thing with Sam, ripping off a wing and kicking him over the edge. Both men should have died. Luck and quick thinking had been their salvation.
If there were more supersoldiers, Sam might not be so lucky this time around. Sam wasn't Steve, but he had been Steve's friend, and he'd risked his life for Steve. That was all Bucky needed to remember. He may not have much left in the world, but he couldn't sit by and let Sam face that kind of threat alone. If Sam was facing a supersoldier, he'd need a supersoldier as backup.
"I'm coming with you."
"No, you're not."
Try to stop me. Few people ever could. Sam's mission was now his own—find the Flag Smashers and figure out why at least one of them was too strong. Stop them.
And, in the process, Bucky would have to make sure Sam survived.
He opened his eyes to see Shuri and Steve staring at him. She studied a display projected over her palm. What looked like a neural map overlayed with EEG waves hovered in mid-air.
She glanced up at him. "Good. I'm getting solid readings. Now, I understand you jumped out of a plane without a parachute."
He nodded. "It wasn't the first time." He'd known he could survive it, he had before. The only difference between that time and the previous ones were that, before, he was working for Hydra as the Winter Soldier, and he'd had no choice. He'd been barely more than a human drone, following orders without hesitation.
"But you didn't want to jump, am I right?" Shuri asked. "According to the scan my counterpart provided, it appeared that you hesitated. Were you afraid?"
Bucky looked at her, suddenly defensive, though he knew he had no reason to be. "I…Yeah," he glanced at Steve, almost ashamed by the admission. One thing Steve rarely showed was fear, but Bucky figured he had to be honest if Shuri had any hope of helping him. He didn't quite understand how his level of fear was relevant to anything, though. "Yes," he looked back at her. "I was afraid. It brought back…bad memories."
Shuri nodded. "Memories of the day you fell from the train during the mission to capture Zola?"
Bucky nodded.
She smiled. "Fear is a good thing." She tilted her head. "You said you had jumped out of a plane without a parachute before. How many times?"
"Twice," he answered.
"As the Winter Soldier?"
He nodded again.
"Were you afraid those times?"
He studied her face, noted the inquisitive eyes, the furrowed brow. She was trying to understand something.
"I don't remember being afraid, no. Remembering is more like looking back at a movie of myself," he explained. "I was given an order. I didn't have a choice. I jumped."
"Do you recall ever experiencing fear as the Winter Soldier."
He took a breath and thought back as well as he could over the 70 years of missions. There were a few moments that stood out to him.
"Yes," he answered her finally. "Sometimes."
"During missions?"
"Rarely."
"When you were afraid, what were the circumstances?"
He thought back to those times. His eyes focused on some distant point on the far wall. "Each time they'd put me in the chair." His chest felt tight. "With Steve, in the helicarrier, when it was all blowing up around me and I was trapped beneath the metal." He remembered the cluster of feelings he'd felt then—helplessness, fear, confusion. "Sometimes, in the cryo chamber, when I'd hear the hiss before the machine activated, I'd have a flash of fear, but …. It was less than a second." He hated the cryo chamber. Despite having his memory wiped between sessions, the fear of it lingered. Even when he'd volunteered for it in Wakanda, the thought of being frozen again had terrified him, but he had been more afraid of the bomb lurking inside his mind.
He sucked in a breath and continued, "Then, the next thing I'd know, I was coming out of cryo, and that was always…difficult. I remember being afraid, disoriented. It was usually painful. Things didn't always start working at the same time. Sometimes I couldn't see for a while. It took time for everything to come online."
The room felt warmer and the air thicker. He was finding it harder to breathe. Suddenly, something cool touched his right hand. He looked down to see a glass of water placed in his palm. Steve's hand wrapped around his, curling his fingers around the glass.
He realized then that he was breathing hard. He swallowed and managed a grateful nod, then took a sip of the cool water. He felt it going down his trachea, through his chest, and settling into his stomach.
"Immediately after your session in the chair," Shuri began, her voice gentle, "do you remember how you felt?"
He set the glass on the sidetable and looked through her to another point on the wall behind her head. "I…I don't think I felt much of anything. Residual pain. A headache. Nausea. That all passed quickly. Everything was blank. They'd say the words, and… it was like a switch in my brain."
'Soldat.'
'Gotov podchinit'sya.'
The same switch Zemo had activated in Berlin.
"Tell me about the time you first jumped out of a plane without a parachute?" Shuri asked.
"1951. South Korea. Helicopter," he recited the memory.
"Were you afraid?"
"No." His voice was flat.
"Do you remember what was going through your mind?"
"The mission."
"What was the mission?" she asked.
"To aid Soviet Troops during the Korean War."
"How far up were you when you jumped?"
"One hundred and fifty feet."
"Do you remember what you were thinking while you were falling?"
"I was focused on coordinating my momentum with the landing."
"How long were you typically out of cryo for missions?"
"It varied. Sometimes a couple of days. Sometimes a few weeks."
"Do you remember if there were any changes in how you thought or felt after being out of cryo for a couple of weeks?" she asked.
He tried to think back to those missions. "I… I know that the longer I was out of cryo, the more I'd…I'd start to get flashes. A scent or a noise might remind me of something."
"Would these flashes bring emotions?"
"Yes."
"What would happen then?"
"If the mission wasn't over, they'd put me back in the chair to wipe those memories. If the mission was complete, they'd stick me back into cryo and wipe me when I came out."
"So, the greater the length between sessions in the chair, the more you began to remember. That is no doubt why they had to bring a version of the chair with them for longer missions, such as in 2014." Shuri mused.
"I suppose." Bucky nodded. It made sense.
"Tell me what you were thinking when you jumped out of the plane outside of Munich, after Sam?" She continued.
"I…" he remembered staring down at the blur of tree tops, flashing back to the snowy mountain range and the train, the sensation of falling… "I remembered falling from the train…I thought about Sam. He already had a head start. With his wings, I knew he was probably already close to the enemy location."
"The Flag Smashers?"
"Yes."
"You were afraid to jump?"
"Yes."
"But you did it, anyway? Why?"
He looked at her. "If they were supersoldiers, they might kill Sam. I almost did back when I was the Winter Soldier."
"What was your mission when you jumped out of the plane after Sam?"
"To protect Sam. To find out why the Flag Smasher was so strong. To determine whether someone had managed to make another supersoldier."
"Who gave you that mission?"
He furrowed his brow at her. "I did."
"The mission was more important than your life?"
He shook his head. "I…I knew I would likely survive the fall. I had before."
"How far did you fall from the train back in 1944?"
"About 400 feet."
"Were you afraid?"
"Hell, yes." He remembered the terror that gripped him during the sickening free-fall, watching Steve's horrified face. Bucky looked at Shuri, then at Steve, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed.
Steve's eyes were clouded with pain. This was a memory that was agony for both of them.
"Were you afraid when you ziplined across the gorge to the train?" she continued.
"Yes." He shifted his gaze to her. "I don't understand what this has to do with anything."
"Why did you do it if you were afraid?"
"It was war. That was the mission."
"So, the mission was more important than your life?"
"Yes. It was war. That's how it works."
"Tell me about Azzano, after Steve found you. I saw from your previous scan that you refused to leave Steve behind."
"Yes." Bucky glanced at Steve again, feeling almost embarrassed.
"Why?"
Bucky took a breath and lowered his gaze to the floor. "Because…Because he risked his life to save me and the other guys. I wasn't going to leave him behind."
"But you didn't know he could make that jump?"
Bucky shook his head. "I don't think he knew he could make that jump."
"So, waiting for him was an irrational decision."
He shook his head. "I don't understand what you're getting at."
"Just answer the question, please. I know this is difficult. But why did you wait for him?"
"I told him once that I'd be with him 'til the end of the line. I meant it."
"You felt a need to protect Steve?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He's my friend," he answered.
"But you could not protect him in Azzano. There was nothing you could do," she prodded. "So why did you stay? He told you to leave."
"I don't…I couldn't leave him. Maybe I could do something. Maybe I could catch him, or if he fell, I could do…something."
"Your mission was to protect Steve?"
"That's been my mission for a long time," he answered.
"It was more important than your life?" she asked.
He looked up Steve and saw the anguish in his friend's eyes.
Bucky didn't hesitate when he answered, "Yes."
"I see. I want to talk now about Zemo."
Bucky took a deep breath. He'd rather not, but he trusted Shuri and knew she wouldn't ask unless it would help her figure out his messed up brain. "Okay."
"Tell me about your first conversation with him in the prison."
"I walked in. He started reciting the code words. He was smiling. I told him those days are over. He said he knew that, but he just wanted to see how the new me reacted to the old words. He walked up to the glass, looked straight at me, and said something is still in there. I knew he was trying to bait me. I didn't let him."
What he couldn't admit to Shuri was that he knew Zemo was right. Something was still there, inside him, and it scared him.
Bucky took a breath and continued. "Then he went off on how what he did to me wasn't personal, just a means to an end. I finally told him why I was there—someone recreated the supersoldier serum. He figured out pretty quickly that I thought Hydra had something to do with it, and that I had no leads, which is why I was coming to him. He said he knew where to begin."
"When he said the code words, what impact did that have on you?" Shuri asked, a hesitant, curious tone to her voice.
"He got through three of them before I interrupted. They weren't working. They don't work, anymore. Your fix has held up."
"Did they make you feel anything?"
"Just…It brought me back to the last time I was in Berlin and Zemo had recited those words. I tried to break out to stop him, but by the time I escaped, it was too late. He made me kill people. I almost killed Sam, Tony, Natasha…even Steve."
"That is what happened. What emotions do you recall feeling, if any."
The weight returned to his chest. He didn't want to talk about any of this. Reliving it felt like someone was twisting a knife straight in the center of his chest. "I felt helpless. There was a part of me that wanted to stop. My memory hadn't been wiped in two years. It was all there, but it was like…watching from under water." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain. One part of me was there, fighting, trying to stop myself, but I couldn't. I didn't want to comply, but I had no choice. There was a switch in my brain, and Zemo flipped it. It was the thing I had feared for two years, and it was finally happening. All I could do was watch while what was left of the Winter Soldier took over and hurt good people."
"As you watched yourself, do you recall whether you felt emotions?"
"I…Yes, I think so. That part is muddy. Remembering is like watching a movie in my brain."
"What do you remember feeling?"
"Helpless." The word escaped with all the breath in his lungs. "It's what I've felt for 80 years."
"Eighty?" Shuri asked. "You were subject to the Winter Soldier programming for a little over 72 years."
He didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't.
She pressed him. "You still felt helpless after we freed you from that programming?"
Programming or no programming, he'd lost control over his life the moment he'd joined the army.
"Bucky?" she prodded. "Would you like to stop and continue this session another time?"
He really didn't want to do that. If the band-aid had to come off, he'd rather rip it off in one shot, so he knew he had to muster up an answer. "No. Okay. Yes, I…I did. I do." He felt his control slipping and grabbed on to it with everything he had.
"Why?"
He was beginning to regret telling Steve he could stay. Steve didn't need to hear this. Bucky could barely admit it to himself. "I've had no control over anything that's happened. Steve and his friends were on the run because of me, and there was nothing I could do about that. I had barely a moment of calm here in Wakanda, and then another fight came with Thanos and his army. So I fought, and I lost. That's how my story was going to end—and I had only a…moment…to process that before, well…you know."
Ash. He'd had barely a second of realization as he'd watched his arm dissolve into what looked like ash. At least he'd missed those five brutal years in a post-blip world. That was one small blessing.
"You want to know what I was feeling?" He continued. "It was so…unfair. Futile. No matter how hard I've tried to fight for a cause larger than myself, I fail. It's just been one fight to another…and they get bigger every time. But, hey, at least we won that last big one. It cost us a lot, but we won, and for another moment, I thought maybe I might have a shot at something better. I'd lost almost everything that ever mattered to me, but I had most of my mind back…and Steve. Then I lost Steve, too, and there wasn't a thing I could do about that, either. A few days later, everything else came at me. I had no time to reflect or process anything. I was arrested. There were lawyers, courts, a pardon, conditions. I had no choice in any of that—other than comply or be locked up. So, I complied. I went to the therapist. I worked my way through the list."
"And then you joined Sam on his mission?" Shuri asked. "Why?"
"Like I said before, he was going up against supersoldiers. He was the closest thing I had left to a friend, and he was barely that, but he was important to Steve, and I couldn't let him go into that alone. If he died…I'd…" He took a shuddering breath. "I would've failed again. If there were more supersoldiers, more people would die. I was the world's only known supersoldier left—other than the new ones we thought might be out there. The Avengers are pretty much gone. I couldn't sit on the sidelines and let the world come crashing down around me."
"You were taking control?"
"I was trying. It didn't work out like I hoped."
She closed her palm around the Kimoyo bead and the holographic display vanished.
Bucky looked at her. "I don't understand what you're getting at with these questions?"
She offered him the barest hint of a smile. "I know these are difficult memories for you, but I'm working on a theory." She held up her palm. "This first session will give me an idea as to whether that theory had merit."
"What theory?" Bucky asked.
She studied him for a moment, as if debating how or whether to answer his question. Finally, she released a soft sigh. "Hydra conditioned you to complete the mission at all costs, but I believe that sense of duty was within you prior to their conditioning. The serum enhanced many things—your healing and regenerative capabilities, which is why they had to keep using the chair on you to wipe your memories—but it also enhanced personality traits."
Bucky felt suddenly cold. "Such as?"
"When Hydra wiped your mind, they could not completely erase James Barnes, only suppress your personality. Part of you remained, and that is the part that felt helpless during all that they forced upon you. After all the loss you've suffered and the things Hydra did to you and made you do, your mind entered a state of learned helplessness. The innate parts of your personality are recovering, trying to re-establish your sense of identity, and as that happens, you seek control—to avoid continued loss, to avoid feeling that helpless again. I believe that drove your recent actions. Even before the serum, you had a strong sense of duty that has always been innate to your personality. That sense of duty was amplified by the serum." Shuri explained. "It's embodied by your loyalty to Steve and your willingness to sacrifice your life for Steve and the mission back in 1944. You were willing to push aside fear and even certain death out of a sense of a duty to the mission and your friend. Hydra further capitalized on that trait by wiping your memory and subjecting you to…extreme conditioning. They turned your innate sense of duty and willingness to sacrifice everything for the sake of a higher cause around to their advantage."
"Yes." Steve spoke up, but his voice was low. "He's always been loyal. He almost died in Azzano, but he still followed me into one dangerous mission after another. He sacrificed himself to save my life on that train, but even before then, back in Brooklyn, he was always there for me."
Bucky barely heard the words, just knew that they were true. Steve knew it, too. He could feel their stares, like electricity in the air that made the hairs on his arms stand up. The walls in the room seemed to close in on him.
Bucky rose from the chair. "Hydra didn't create the Winter Soldier. They just unlocked what was already inside of me?"
He turned toward the door.
"No, White Wolf, that is not the meaning you should take from this."
Her words were mere static in his brain. Hydra had been able to turn him into the Winter Soldier because the raw materials for that monster had already been inside of him. His sense of duty. A good little soldier, following orders…
"I need some fresh air." He took off the sensors and placed them on the side table next to the armchair, then walked out of the room.
-0- -0- -0-
Steve followed Bucky out of the room. He heard the adjacent door open, and Sam strolled into the hallway, giving a smile and a wave. The smile died the second Sam caught sight of Bucky's retreating figure and met Steve's gaze.
Steve shook his head once, then hurried his pace to catch up with his troubled friend. "Hey, Buck, wait."
Bucky marched through the exit doors, onto the large landing pad, then continued onward to the walking paths that snaked between the skyscrapers. People passed him, some nodded. He ignored them, turning the corner around a building.
"Bucky!" Steve was behind him. "Stop for one second."
Bucky stopped, his back to him, his shoulders rigid.
Steve breathed a sigh of relief that his friend seemed willing to listen. "Bucky, I'm starting to notice a pattern with you. You take any information that has to do with what Hydra did to you and turn it around to somehow make it your fault. It wasn't."
"The things I did…I know I didn't have a choice," Bucky said softly.
"Then why do you keep persecuting yourself? Shuri's right, but not in the way you're thinking. Your sense of loyalty and your sense of duty are good things. Hydra twisted them."
"I can't forgive myself," Bucky said, his voice barely a whisper.
An older couple passed them, giving them both a curious look. Steve ignored them and kept his focus on Bucky. "It wasn't your fault. You just said that."
Bucky finally turned to look at him, a haunted look deep in his eyes. "I can't forgive myself for giving in."
Awww, Buck. Steve felt the world fade away as he stared into those tormented blue eyes. "You didn't give in. They wiped your memory. They tortured you. Conditioned you. Programmed you. They could have controlled anyone with those techniques."
"Not those five other supersoldiers that Zemo killed," Bucky said, shame permeating his voice.
"What?" Steve remembered Bucky saying those Winter Soldiers were worse, but that Zemo could control them enough.
"They could barely control them," Bucky continued. "That's why they kept them on ice most of the time. They controlled me, though. They broke me." His chin trembled, and he looked away quickly. "I had everything already inside me to give them the keys, and I handed over the wheel. How am I supposed to live with that?"
"That is not what Shuri meant, and not what you should take from the information she's given you," Steve countered. Anger swelled in his chest, just like it had back in that war-torn bar after Bucky had fallen from the train. He'd sworn to Peggy back then that he'd destroy Hydra. He wished he could tear them apart all over again with his bare hands.
His anger fueled him forward, and he gripped Bucky's shoulders hard. "Those other supersoldiers were already violent and blood-thirsty before they took the serum. The serum made them unstable. You got through it because of who you are." He gave Bucky's shoulders a quick shake. "So stop letting what they did to you control how you see yourself. I know who you are. You're the guy that saved my life even before the army. You're the guy who took care of me when I was sick and my mom had to work. You're the guy who refused to let me wallow in grief after my mom died. You're the guy who threw yourself in front of an energy canon on that train to save my life. You're the guy who pulled me out of that river. You're the guy who's going to get through this because, damnit, I'm not giving you any other option."
Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face and shifting away from another curious passerby. "Okay."
"What?" Steve slid his hand up to the back of Bucky's neck and gave him a firm squeeze. He wasn't going to back off so easily. He needed to make sure Bucky really heard him.
"I said 'Okay,'" Bucky repeated. "I… I'll get through this. I will. I know that." He took a deep breath and gave Steve that sad, self-conscious smile that was so familiar. "I'll work on…the other stuff."
"You have nothing to forgive yourself for," Steve said. "Work on believing that first."
"That I'm not so sure about, man," Bucky said, then shook his head and leaned forward, giving Steve a brief, firm hug. "Thanks. Let's head back before we make any more of a scene and Shuri decides to come after me." He held up his right hand, with the Kimoyo beads.
"Probably for the best," Steve agreed, draping an arm over Bucky's shoulder.
When they got back to the room, Shuri and Sam were inside, seated at the food cart, engaged in conversation. Sam had a plate in front of him. Their conversation died the moment Steve and Bucky walked in. Steve gave Sam a quick, affirming nod that everything was as okay as it could be for the moment.
Shuri rose to greet them, an apology in her eyes. "James, I'm sorry. I had no intention for this session to upset you as much as it did."
He shook his head. "It's okay. I just needed a moment. If you're ready, we can continue."
She looked uncertain. "We can arrange a second session another time."
Bucky released a slow breath. "I'd actually just like to get this one over with. I'm okay now." He sank back into the armchair, picked up the two sensors from the side table, and placed them on each of his temples, then looked up at her. "Let's do this."
Sam rose and headed toward the door.
"You can stay if you like," Bucky said, "finish your breakfast. It's up to you."
Sam gave Steve a questioning look. Steve nodded. Sam was going to be the long-term fixture in Bucky's life after Steve left. If Bucky was comfortable with him staying, Steve thought it best he stay.
Shuri resumed her questioning, taking Bucky through some of his past missions as the Winter Soldier. Then she probed deeper, into some of the ways Hydra conditioned him. He noticed Shuri steered clear of the conditioning around his willingness to kill—of that session with the girl in the hospital gown. The Shuri of Steve's timeline must have given her a heads up about that particular landmine. Even Steve could tell that Bucky wasn't in a place at the moment to have that wound prodded.
But there was so much more that Steve hadn't known, and as he listened, his stomach churned and his breakfast threatened to come back up.
He learned more about the collar. How they'd used it as part of their conditioning, like a shock collar on a dog. They'd kept the stimulation on, going high and higher, and only releasing it when Bucky complied. It was simple things at first. Move the glass of water from one table to another. The collar would come on the moment they gave the command. The electricity would increase until he either complied or was on the ground writhing in pain—and so many times he ended up on the ground, clawing at the collar. Attempting to remove the collar would bring an even greater punishment, and, sometimes, they'd take that punishment out on another prisoner they happened to have handy and make him watch. The moment he started to comply, the pain would stop. Only compliance caused the absence of pain.
Steve didn't know if he could take listening to much more of the session, but Bucky seemed distant and flat, reciting his memories as though he were talking about a movie he'd seen years ago that barely interested him. Steve knew enough to realize that Bucky was shutting down emotionally to get through the session. Shuri obviously knew what was happening, as well because, several times, she asked Bucky if he'd like to take a break or continue another day.
Each time he just shook his head and told her, in a clipped voice, to keep going and get whatever information she needed.
Shuri peppered him with questions about his mission imperative training. Had there been missions where he failed. What had he thought after those failures? What had Hydra done in response.
Bucky talked about one of his failures in the early 70s—an American nurse. She'd been a spy, an agent for Shield. His mission had been to eliminate her, along with a few other high-profile targets. She had information in her apartment. He entered while she was sleeping. He stood over her bed. She woke up and looked at him. She was young, barely in her 20s.
Her face was so familiar—it had reminded him of his youngest sister's face, Rebecca. The memory of Becca's face had come to him so suddenly and unexpectedly that he dropped the gun and fled from the apartment.
Hydra found him, huddled in a dark alley. He fought them, killed most of them. They'd peppered him with a cattle prod and tranquilizer darts. He came to strapped to the chair. They asked him questions. Why did he fail? He couldn't answer them. The commander punched him, but he still couldn't answer. They activated the chair.
The intensity of it was instantaneous. He lost control of all rational thought and all bodily functions. He had no idea how long they kept him in it, but the session seemed endless. His voice gave out. He blacked out several times, each time coming awake to the pain in his skull, not sure why it was there, just that it was brutal and neverending, until, finally, the code words brought an end to it, and he woke up in a room, with no idea where he was, who he was, or what had happened. He could barely move. He had no idea how much time has passed before someone entered, stuck a needle in his neck, and injected him with something, then closed the door and left him alone again.
The room was silent when Bucky finished. He was still in the armchair, his head back and his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths. His right hand gripped the arm of the chair, trembling slightly, but his voice had remained flat the entire time…except when he'd mentioned Becca.
Steve realized he was shaking, too. He felt warm tears on his cheeks and wiped quickly at them, not wanting Bucky to open his eyes and see them. He was there to support Bucky, and that meant being strong. If Bucky had managed to live through that—and could stand re-living it—Steve sure as hell figured he could get through listening to it.
He glanced over at Sam and saw the shocked horror in the other man's eyes and the glisten of tears, as well.
"I think that's enough for today," Shuri said, her voice barely a whisper.
He opened his eyes as Shuri removed the sensors from his head. "I can keep going," he said, his voice as flat as it had been.
She shook her head and studied him. "This is enough for today. I'll review the scan data and, then I'll work out the details of our next session. That should be a few days, so you have time to rest, relax, and just…" she glanced at Steve and finished with, "spend time with your friends."
She rose quietly and put everything away back on the cart. Sam moved away from the cart to the edge of the bed, watching as Shuri pushed the cart out of the room and, with a final look at Steve, closed the door behind her.
Silence hung for several more seconds. Steve wasn't sure what Bucky needed right now—space or physical support, but when Bucky rose from the chair and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind him, Steve got his answer.
He heard the shower turn on and wasn't sure whether Bucky was using the noise as a cover, since he'd already showered that morning, or was actually taking another shower. Either way, all Steve could do was wait until Bucky came out and, in the meantime, try to process the new horrors in his brain.
"Christ, Steve," Sam's low voice sliced through the air. "I knew it was bad, of course, but…Christ."
"And that's not even the worst of it," Steve muttered. This version of Sam had no idea about how many times Hydra had made Bucky kill someone just to avoid them being tortured and, then, ultimately killed, anyway.
"There's worst stuff than that?" Sam shook his head. "I've seen some crap in my time, but damn. The extent to how fucking cruel humans can be to one another is just…" He took a deep breath. "I'll never understand how anyone can do that kind of thing to another human being.
"And that's why you're one of the good guys," Steve muttered. He felt sick inside. He knew this wasn't about him, but he couldn't help the guilt that swelled inside. He could've prevented all of that, if he'd just searched hard for Bucky after the fall from the train until he'd found him. "He's my friend, and I let this happen to him."
The image of what if sprang in his mind like a movie—him finding Bucky alive, missing an arm, getting him back to the allied forces. Bucky would've recovered. He'd have been discharged and sent home a hero. He'd have lived a full life, maybe married, had children….
"I failed him," Steve leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. "And I failed him again when I left."
"You didn't fail him," Sam said.
Steve felt the other man's hand on his shoulder. "And you didn't leave. The other version of you did, but you have to stop beating yourself up for that. You have two people you love more than anything—Peggy and Bucky. No one should have to make that kind of decision."
"Bucky needed me more." Steve looked up at Sam. "And I can't stay here. I have another friend in my timeline that's waiting for me, and I can't leave him, either."
Sam nodded and sat on the bed next to Steve. "I know. He understands, and he wouldn't want you to abandon your timeline and the people who need you there."
"He always understands." Steve closed his eyes and laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Please tell me you'll be there for him, Sam."
"You know I will. He's my friend, too, and I promise I'll do a better job this time. If he ignores my texts and calls, I'll show up on his door at 3 a.m. and break it down, if I have to."
Steve smiled, hoping Sam's friendship would be enough. "Thank you."
"No thanks needed, man," Sam replied.
Steve withdrew into silence again as he stared up at the ceiling. Shuri had pushed Bucky hard this morning—harder, perhaps, than she'd intended to, but it was obvious Bucky wanted to get through as much of it as possible.
How hard had his sessions been during his previous stay in Wakanda? He'd been alone amongst relative strangers at the time. Had she pushed him just as hard? Harder? What had gone into removing the code words from his head?
Steve had only been able to visit Bucky in person once during that time—after he'd come out of Cryo. Watching that had been difficult. It tracked with the experiences Bucky had relayed about the times he'd come out of Cryo under Hydra's control. Shuri and her team had tried to make it as gentle as possible, but there was only so much technology could do to ease the transition of a human body going from cryogenically frozen to alive again.
Steve tried to remember his own experience. That process had been different, though. He'd been frozen in the ice for 70 years, and he'd been injured. He remembered bits and pieces as life came back to him.
"This guy's still alive!"
Bucky had gone through that over and over, the last time willingly, because he would rather face that then hurt anyone again. Yet, Bucky still kept punishing himself. If only he could see himself the way those who knew him did.
The sound of the shower ended abruptly. Steve heard Bucky moving in the bathroom, opening drawers, the rustle of fabric. After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened. Bucky walked out, fully dressed, his dog tags hanging against his chest and the Kimoyo beads around his wrist. His short hair was damp.
Steve rose, but Bucky waved him back, his eyes barely grazing over them. "I'm going to go for a walk…alone. I'll be back in a little while."
Steve sat back on the edge of the bed. Bucky needed his space right now. He hated to leave his friend alone with whatever thoughts were in his head, but he was trying to learn when he needed to push and when he needed to back off.
He was pretty sure right now, he needed to back off. He nodded. "See you soon."
Bucky marched worldlessly out of the room.
-0- -0- -0-
It was going on hour four since Bucky had left for his "walk." Steve was starting to get worried. He and Sam had mostly hung out in the room, only venturing out briefly for an hour's walk around the city. He sampled some of the local baked goods. He kept an eye out for Bucky on the excursion, but he held little hope that he'd actually run into him. The city was huge, and Bucky could be anywhere, or even outside of it.
He was in the room now with Sam, who was in the armchair staring at his phone. Steve sat sprawled out in the only other chair in the room—a bowl shaped thing wedged unobtrusively in the corner near the window. It was more comfortable than it looked, and it gave him a stunning view of the city outside. He passed the time watching news of the post-blip world on his phone. He figured he might as well amass as much information as he could while in this future timeline. Perhaps he could use some of it when he got home to make things better for his post-blip world.
He heard the footsteps in the hall thirty seconds before the door opened. Bucky walked in, looking marginally more relaxed, but he still eyed them both uncomfortably as he closed the door behind him. Steve did his best to appear nonchalant. He didn't want Bucky to think he didn't care, but he also didn't want to make his friend self-conscious. It was a fine line to play.
"Hey," Steve said, feeling stupid as soon as the word came out of his mouth. Too casual.
"To hell with this," Sam said, rising from the armchair. "You okay, Buck?"
Steve held back a smile. Sometimes, he really loved Sam.
Bucky nodded. "I'm good, thanks." He managed a smile, but it didn't sit well on his face and contrasted with his anxious blue eyes. Then he dropped onto the edge of bed closest to Steve and looked intently at him. "I'll make you a deal."
Steve straightened the best he could in the chair. He hadn't expected the sudden shift in Bucky's demeanor, and he had no idea what deal Bucky had in mind, so he simply nodded for him to continue.
"I'll try to be less of a shutdown basket case," Bucky's lips twitched upward in the barest hint of a smile, "if you stop blaming yourself for what happened to me. I heard what you said earlier, when I was in the bathroom." He tapped his ears. "Enhanced hearing, and all—you should know."
Steve cleared his throat. He'd hoped the sound of the shower had covered their conversation. He should have known better. The walls in the room weren't terribly thin, but sound still traveled through and around them.
"Don't worry about me, Bucky," Steve said. "I'm here to worry about you," he added with a smile, "got it?"
"I've been looking out for you my whole life, man," Bucky said, giving him a slap on the knee. "I'm not about to stop now. Deal or no? Because I can bring a whole new meaning to the term basketcase. Don't try me."
Steve couldn't help but chuckle at the dark humor. "Okay. I'll try to stop feeling responsible for what happened, for not…" he shook his head, and all his mirth vanished. He really wanted to be able to say the words, but they'd be a lie. "It's hard. It tore me up not being able to retrieve your…body…to send you home, Bucky. When I found out you survived and what Hydra had done to you…that's haunted me every day since." He held Bucky's dark gaze. "But this isn't about me. That's something I'm going to have to learn how to live with. The only deal I can make you is that I'll do my best to put it behind me and accept that it happened, and I'll try to learn from that mistake."
Bucky nodded slowly. "Okay. That's honest. It wasn't a mistake. You were on a speeding train in the middle of a critical mission. No normal human could have survived that fall. Abandoning the mission and the rest of the Howling Commandos on that train to try to retrieve a dead body would have been the mistake."
"I did go back, after—to where I thought you fell," Steve said. "I tried to find your body, to send you home, but there was no trace of you. I figured either animals had gotten to your body or some other group had found your body and buried you like so many other forgotten soldiers in that war." Steve's voice cracked on the last few words.
Even though he knew it hadn't happened, Steve remembered the visceral grief he'd felt thinking about Bucky's body lying forgotten in a shallow, unmarked grave somewhere in a foreign land. The ground would have been too frozen to bury any bodies deeply. He and the Howling Commandos had come across a few dead soldiers during their missions. Burying them had always taken a toll. Sometimes the bodies were so frozen it had been difficult to get into the pockets to remove their personal effects.
Once, they'd transported a group of three dead allied soldiers to a morgue tent in base camp. They're bodies had frozen so fast that, when they started to thaw, they bled like they'd just been shot. Water dripped slowly from their eyes, and it looked like they were crying.
It was something he would never forget, and, in his head, he'd swapped one of those faces with Bucky's so many times over the years.
"Hey, where are you, Steve?" Bucky's voice brought Steve back to the present.
The face in front of him now was very much alive, the familiar brow furrowed with concern. Damnit. He was shaping up to be a lousy source of moral support for his friend.
"Back in the war, for a moment," Steve said. "How about we stop worrying about one another long enough to figure out what we're doing for dinner?"
Bucky nodded and got to his feet. "There's an outdoor café three blocks East that cooks up some pretty amazing local dishes. It's a far cry from the hot dogs you shoveled into your mouth so many times, but I think you'll like it."
Sam rose to his feet and stretched. "You spend a couple of years in Wakanda and you think you're all worldly."
-0- -0- -0-
By the time they'd eaten, walked around the city a bit, and returned to the rooms, it was well past dark. They retired to their rooms—Sam into his and Steve and Bucky in theirs. The double bed was about as comfortable as Steve had ever slept in, and it sure beat the floor of Bucky's apartment.
Even Bucky had taken to the bed. Steve hoped that meant when he finally went back to the United States, Bucky would keep up the habit. They chatted for a bit, checked out more news, and finally turned the lights out and settled into their respective beds.
"You know you snored last night, right?" Bucky's voice emanated from the darkness. "Like a car with a bad muffler. I thought I was back in Brooklyn with Johnny Marone's coupe roaring down the street, waking everyone up."
Steve laughed from his gut. "Shut up." He knew Buck was kidding. "Not possible. Enhanced respiratory system."
"Uh-huh, that's your story?"
"You're such a jerk."
Bucky huffed. "Better than being a punk."
Steve smiled and closed his eyes.