"Dobrokachestvennyy."
The diseased light that had been gradually fading finally quieted into nothing. She released her grasp on his mind and slowly, carefully withdrew her current. When she was convinced the channel between them was completely severed, she opened her eyes. Two small lanterns offered more flickering shadows than light throughout the single-room hut. Straw and thatched walls curved upwards into a low domed ceiling. A single cot was elevated on a wooden frame and simple shelves, made of a mix of wood and petrified mud, lined the perimeter of the room. In the center were a few cooking pots and small bowls suspended over a dark firepit. The entryway was an empty, rounded doorframe that permitted easy entry for the night air and the resonant chorus of crickets outside. Everything was in its place as she remembered it, save for him.
He was sitting against the wall with his elbow resting on his bent knee, his other leg outstretched across the floor. His head hung heavily on his neck as he stared, almost glowering, at a spot in the sand. Charlotte waited patiently for any cue to break the silence, to signal that he registered where he was. Who he was.
He never moved, but those blue eyes shifted from the ground to her. The glittering lantern illuminated the tear stains on his cheeks.
"317 missions. 246 threats neutralized. 151 targets assassinated. I remember all of them. Their faces. Their voices." He sniffed. "I don't want to fight anymore. But I'm afraid that's all I know how to do. You can't unbuild a soldier. Not completely."
"No. But I can forgive him."
Bucky swallowed the stinging knot in his throat as more hot tears leaked onto his cheeks. Through the watery haze of tears, he could see her sitting perfectly still on the floor across from him. Her dark eyes were quiet and gentle and her long auburn hair clung to her bare, pale shoulders in graceful waves. It was the first time, he realized, she had worn her hair down since the observation chamber. His chest swelled until it hurt.
"I…" he choked. "I don't want to fight anymore."
The tears fell steadily. Bucky curled his body inward and tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to drown him. His hand clenched a fistful of hair. A warm pair of arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders and pulled him close. The faint scent of lavender filled his mind and he became vaguely aware of her chin resting softly atop his head. Folded in her embrace, Bucky was powerless against the onslaught of cries that he released into her chest.
Charlotte closed her eyes and pressed her lips into his hair. The world seemed to melt away into some distant place, leaving her and the soldier alone to endure the shuddering that plagued his powerful body. Time escaped, the light faded, and as the night deepened, even the crickets ceased to serenade the African skies.
Everything hurt, from her throbbing temples to the dull drilling in her back. She procrastinated waking for as long as she could, hoping that keeping her eyes shut would keep the world and the pain at bay. In an effort to alleviate the knife in her hip, Charlotte rolled over and immediately bumped against something heavy and warm.
She opened her eyes and her heart catapulted itself against her ribcage. He was still asleep, so close that she could feel his steady, slow breathing on her face. She held her breath hostage as she studied him a moment more, drinking in his peaceful expression. His slender lips were slightly parted and the creases in his tanned forehead faded beneath a few willowy vines of dark hair…
Charlotte ripped her gaze away, realizing that her chance to leave the bed was now or never, and tenderly disentangled herself from the blanket. Funny, she didn't remember grabbing the blanket last night. Then again, she didn't remember lying down, either.
At least our clothes are still on.
She lingered on the edge of the cot and breathed through the pain that was radiating from her bones.
"White wolf! White wolf!"
The giggling children burst through the light that was filtering in through the open doorway, kicking up swirls of sand and dirt with their bare feet.
"Shh!" Charlotte stood and hissed at them between clenched teeth. The boys stopped in the doorway, eyes wide at this unexpected stranger in the white wolf's hut. "He's sleeping," she whispered and tried to usher them outside. "Let's go back outside."
"No," one of the boys protested. "He is just pretending. It is a game."
"It is a game," the youngest repeated.
Her heart wilted. "Not this time—hey, psst!"
The youngest slipped past her outstretched arms and trotted up to the bed, where Bucky lay just as she had left him. The boy waited silently for several seconds. Then, he raised a single finger and pointed it at the man's lips, inching closer and closer with a sheepish grin.
"K'Tamu—"
Bucky shot up with a roar that made Charlotte jump and the children exploded into laugher and screams. He grabbed the youngest boy, rendered useless by his own giggling, and wrestled him onto the cot. Bucky threw the blanket over the boy's head and pinned him on the bed before the others came to their friend's rescue. Small hands and white smiles and dirty bare feet clawed their way up and over the soldier as he laughed and fought off the miniscule army with one arm. Eventually, the youngest broke free of his imprisonment and they managed to topple Bucky onto his back and return the favor of smothering him with his own blanket.
"Uxolo!" Bucky shouted, wincing and laughing as one of the boys pulled his hair. "Uxolo!"
The boys leapt from the bed and began to parade around the firepit, clearly proud of their victory. When they marched their way out of the hut, Charlotte turned to Bucky.
"What is 'uxolo?'"
"It means 'peace.'" He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "At least that's what they taught me. It could be a curse word, for all I know."
Charlotte grinned, watching as he stood and stretched his arm up to the thatched ceiling.
"Had me fooled," she said. "I thought you were actually asleep."
"I was." She blinked. "Until I heard them come in." He seemed to hesitate. "Did you sleep?"
"I must have, but I'm paying for it this morning. My shoulders are killing me. And my neck. Everything hurts. Not to sound ungrateful for letting me sleep with you…" what the shit?! "I mean, I feel like I'm 80, even on the best of days, so your cot didn't do me any favors."
His mild smirk did little to tame the awkward silence that quickly filled between them.
"What about your nightmares?" she grasped at her next coherent thought. "Did you dream last night?"
"I woke up once. We were both asleep on the ground, so I moved us to the bed. Next time, I'll just leave you on the floor."
Charlotte rolled her eyes and was about to make her exit but was stopped by a rough hand grabbing one of her own. His fingers easily curled over hers and he squeezed ever so lightly.
"Thank you."
He flashed her a brief grin, then brushed past and stepped into the daylight.
Charlotte lingered for a moment. She let her current drift outside, sensing the new light that was beginning to filter through the hazy morning air. She could feel the flittering energy of birds as they skittered in and out of the tall grasses and the tendrils of currents that spilled into the air as the body of the earth began to warm in the sun. Charlotte smiled as her current reached the lone presence of a soldier standing in the middle of it all.
"Uxolo."