CHAPTER FIFTEEN- August 2038
Sam remained curled in a corner of the cargo hold, texting with Missy on her tablet until they landed. She watched more archive footage of her father working on Mark XLII, the prehensile suit that operated by trackers injected under his skin. She listened to Jarvis warn Tony that the chips had not been properly tested and watched him inject them nonetheless, over and over, all over his body. It gave her hope to see him. Sam was a Stark; she'd keep innovating, just like Tony, and since Starks were smart enough to take the right risks, she'd live to create even more. Eventually, her skin would be fine…she hoped. Wakanda would offer a golden opportunity to learn even more, to see what she and Missy could accomplish together. It would all be fine once her skin stopped crawling and she could sweat again.
Sam needed to take real notes on the developing side effects of her dermal Extremis injection. She needed a secure and sterile space to take samples. Shuri was a legend in Sam's studies; Wakandan telecommunications, armor, medical care, and weaponry had no competition the world over. She was excited to work with the Princess.
The welcome party was mercifully small, but still included several of the most important people in the country. King T'Challa himself stood poised to greet his old friend, and Princess Shuri giggled beside her brother, talking excitedly to someone on her Kimoyo beads until seeing Bucky emerge from the quinjet.
"Captain Barnes," Shuri exclaimed, "you've brought me gifts!" Bucky handed her the crate Banner had given him in New York. "And Miss…" but the princess never finished her thought. The handful of Wakandans all stared at Sam, still wearing a hat and casual clothing.
The warrior Okoye leaned over to the king, whispering, "is it a girl?"
Bucky removed the ball cap from Sam's head, mumbling "king" to correct the teenager's disrespect. It was the first time Sam felt direct sunlight on her scalp and felt particularly scorched by the heat.
"Samantha Stark, welcome," T'Challa acknowledged, turning to smile at Bucky, "and our White Wolf returns. It is good to see you, my friend. Wakanda has missed you."
"Never found anyone else to make fun of?" Bucky smiled back as the two embraced.
"Never," the king replied.
"He knows it's him. King or not, my brother makes himself so easy to mock." Shuri and Okoye traded a knowing look and turned to walk with the group inside.
After a moment's frivolity, the king and his sister became very serious and started speaking of someone named Batroc. Sam didn't pay much attention to their conversation into a towering building that looked more like a tech campus than a palace. She turned back to ensure her cases of samples and Missy's hardware were handled gently. When Sam glanced up from her feet after entering the tower, General Okoye stood with a wig in her outstretched hand.
"Put this on. It will look better than that," Okoye said, pointing at Sam's exposed head.
"Thank you?" Sam took the glossy brown curls from the glamorous and deadly warrior. She was not sure how self-conscious to be until the tall warrior gave a small, fake smile.
"I don't want anyone mistaking you for a Dora Milaje," Okoye added, winking at Sam before returning to the procession through the halls.
Sam awkwardly adjusted the itchy wig over her sensitive scalp and moved forward as quickly as she could. She stood in a corner of the throne room as all the pleasentries of the crown were traded, a few stories retold and laughed at, and then most broke off into smaller groups to chat.
Shuri spotted Sam in the corner after she gave directions to a guard of where to put Bruce's crate. "Dr. Banner did not give me much notice you were coming." The princess gave an apologetic shrug of her shoulders, continuing, "I've many projects to complete, and soon, and I won't be able to teach anything to you directly for now. So," she rattled, not waiting for a reply, "you may go to whatever lessons are being held in this building or amuse yourself with studying the scrap technologies in the bone yard, but there are no bones there. You'll see." With a wave of her hand, Shuri was off to her other important work.
After a briefing on the several minor attacks and plots on or near Wakanda, which Bucky had to admit was an increasing problem all over the world, he was allowed to go settle in for the night. He was not sleepy, not wired, but a little restless. His single duffle tapped against his back on the trek home. Held in his left hand, Bucky could control its movement, but he still could feel nothing up to the middle of his pectoral and scapula. He was so used to the blank spot in his perception. Years of training and intuition, weeks with no limb to utilize at all, and he could do pretty much anything with or without the attachment; anything, that is, except feel what was there.
The rest of Bucky, however, felt lighter already, standing by his old hut outside of the palace grounds. There were new sheep in the pen but the same gentle bleating. While the sun set in the most glorious of bold yellows and burnt oranges, he thought of how much he had missed this place. In a way, this land was a birth place for him, where life after Hydra began without a head full of hissing snakes. They weren't kidding about two replacing one; each voice he had managed to smother returned with a new venom. This place, its people, its technology had saved him. Shuri in particularly had led Bucky through the maze of his own mind and out the other side, with humor and compassion no less. As far as he was concerned, the entire nation was a rare and blessed gem.
What it lacked, however, was proximity to his most treasured friends, and in the failing light of dusk, he dialed his comms. "Steve, how's Sam?"
"Buck, you've been gone twenty hours."
Yes, Captain Obvious, you're smart as a tack to count that high. "How is he though? Any change?"
"Not noticeably," Steve sighed. "He ate some pudding without making a 'chocolate' joke, so he's obviously a completely different person and is dying. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"What is it with you people," Bucky burst. "Even if the change isn't hurting him, shouldn't we be figuring out why he's…different."
"Look, this is how I see it. He may not have been on ice or out as long as we were," Steve let it get very quiet on the phone before continuing, "but he still has some catching up to do and maybe his perspective on life is a bit…adjusted. Near death experiences will do that to a guy."
Bucky breathed heavily over the phone, saying nothing.
"Or he's having a midlife crisis," Steve added after a minute.
"Damn it, Steve. You're a punk," Bucky groaned.
"You sound like a concerned mom, jerk. Give Sam a break. He's healing and needs some time…and patience." Steve let out another long breath before adding, "speaking of, how was a long flight with a teenager?"
"That's not funny." Bucky ran his hands over his face. "She's worse than Stark."
"She is a Stark."
"No, I mean, this kid…" How would he explain her? She was rude and blunt and shy and almost unintelligible to someone without a PhD, but Sam Stark was all of those things only because she had zero experience with other people. "She could have everything, do anything, and she chooses to sit in a corner with a screen. She's an awkward know-it-all."
"Buck, that's every teenager," Steve chuckled, but hearing the silence from the other end, became serious again. "Was she bugging you the whole time? Correcting you?"
"No," Bucky answered dryly, "she just…thinks she has the answer to everything, acting all high and mighty. Although, she's definitely got no fight in her. I have never seen someone so uncomfortable in their skin…"
"Well, she sounds better than us growing up."
"Hardy-har."
"So, if we locked Tony in a room with his toys for a decade and then saw what popped out…?"
Bucky answered with confidence. "More like Banner, but probably just after a few days."
"Yikes."
"Yeah."
"Listen, Buck. I've decided," Steve's stoic drawl sounded over the phone, "I'm coming back to the team, just while Wilson recovers here."
"Did you ask the ol' ball and chain?"
"Sharon could probably kill you, ya know."
Now it was Bucky's turn to chuckled, even though they did this every time.
"Also," Steve continued, "she'd like $15.99 for the glass you broke."
"What!" Bucky still had trouble believing the cost of things now. When he and Steve were young, everything was measured in cents not whole dollars. When he heard people speak of billions of dollars, like what Stark had, Bucky could feel his brain melt a little. "Just tell her to rub some superglue over it."
"Honestly, I did," Steve mumbled, amused. There was a pause, and Bucky could hear Banner's low drawl in the background. "Well, don't shoot anyone, Buck. Talk later."
"You're such a—" but Steve had hung up before he could finish.
Sam sat in a pile of Wakandan 'bones,' shards and remnants, unused pieces of projects past. Not a lot went to waste here, and it was possible that nothing remained in this pit for long. Except she'd sat here for over an hour with no one coming to find her, no one showing her where her things had been taken, and no one telling her where her room was. It was growing dark by the time Sam got up the courage to call Bucky on her tablet she'd kept in her pocket.
He was gruff on the phone and obviously annoyed that she hadn't asked for help while there had still been people around in the palace. Nearly half an hour later, Bucky stood over Sam at the edge of the hill.
"Seriously?" He lifted his arms in disbelief. "Have you even eaten yet?"
"I'm not hungry," Sam mumbled, grabbing her tablet and messenger bag and hurriedly shuffling beside his brisk pace. "I…do they have coffee here? I could go for that."
"In the morning," her guide responded, thoroughly annoyed. "Let's get you settled in. Pay attention to our path in the halls."
Sam twirled her souvenir lump of vibranium from the bone yard in her hand. Looks like I travelled across the world to be cozy in a closed room with my thoughts; how different…