Chapter 28: The Quiet Things Inside

The next morning was easy and slow. Steve, Wanda, and Bucky ate together. Wanda wore her new necklace. Bucky was more relaxed, after only one nightmare in the last two nights, and once he'd returned to sleep, he rested soundly until half an hour before breakfast arrived.

They chatted amicably, finished breakfast, and watched a movie, after which Wanda went back to her room. Lunch came, then it was time for another session.

"You nervous?" Steve asked Bucky in the back of the Wakandan jet.

"Not too much." Bucky smiled. It looked genuine. "I'm happy to be making progress… I hope, anyway." He shrugged. "I guess we won't know for sure until the end, but I'm ready to get Hydra out of my head, no matter what it takes."

The second session went as well as the first. Bucky seemed to suffer no ill effects. His appetite remained strong, and if his sleep was interrupted by nightmares, the disturbances hadn't been enough to wake Steve.

Overall, things were looking up.

They passed the days in between with movies, working out in the room, video chatting with the Avengers still in New York, and playing games. The Dora Milaje provided them with a stack of cards upon request, and they cycled through all the games they knew between the three of them.

It wasn't until the sixth treatment that the side effects began. Bucky finished the session with a headache. Back in the room, he curled onto the bed. Shuri gave him pain medication, but as usual, it wasn't effective.

Steve darkened the window and took a shower. When he finished, Bucky was still awake, sitting up in bed, his head on his knees.

"I'm going to contact Shuri. Maybe there's something else she can do."

"No, don't." Bucky didn't look up. "She's spending enough time on me as it is. I'm sure she's got other work to do, what with the alien invasion. It's just a headache. I'll manage."

"I think—"

"Steve, I said no. It's not that bad."

Steve sighed. "Okay, buddy. If it gets worse, let me know."

Bucky barely slept that night. In the morning, he managed a few bites of his breakfast. Shuri checked in holographically just before lunch. Bucky reported on his headache and lack of sleep but downplayed both.

"He didn't sleep at all and barely touched his breakfast," Steve chimed in, which earned him a dirty look from Bucky.

"How bad is your headache now on a scale of one to five?" Shuri asked.

"Three," Bucky said.

More like four or five, Steve corrected mentally.

"We'll hold off on the next session until your head feels better. I'll send Ayo with neural dampeners that should reduce or eliminate the headache."

Half an hour later, Ayo knocked on the door with the dampeners, which looked identical to the sensors Shuri had been using. Steve felt a flicker of anxiety in his stomach.

He was confident Shuri factored in the previous incident that resulted in Bucky nearly getting speared by a Dora Milaje and that the devices she sent would not cause a repeat.

Still…. "The last time he used something like this to sleep…"

"These are specific for vasodilation and will not alter consciousness," Ayo reassured him.

"Thanks."

Bucky held his hand out. Steve gave him the dampeners, and he set one on each temple, where they blinked with a soft purple light.

Ten minutes later, the lines in Bucky's forehead eased, and he fell asleep. Since watching television was out of the question, Steve quietly slipped into the hallway. When the Dora Milaje met his gaze questioningly, he pointed to Wanda's room, and the woman nodded.

Wanda answered his knock quickly, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Everything okay?"

He gave his best charming smile. "Yes, Bucky's asleep. I'm bored. I was hoping you might be up for watching a movie."

"Oh." Her eyes softened and she smiled. "Yeah." She stepped aside to let him in. "But no action or war movies. Comedy or drama."

He chuckled. "I'll let you pick."

-0- -0- -0-

A week later, they finished session nine, and the dinner cart was already in their room when they arrived. Steve checked out the offerings—Nile perch, a green salad with figs and goat cheese, and a type of root plant.

Bucky bypassed the cart and headed to the bathroom, nearly tripping over Steve's shoes and socks.

"Damnit, Steve!" Bucky kicked one of the sneakers so hard it bounced against the dresser and hit the window. "Put your fucking shoes out of the way!"

"Okay, so you've hit the mood swing part of the program," Steve commented flatly.

"Don't patronize me, goddamnit."

Bucky disappeared into the bathroom, and a moment later, Steve heard the shower.

He filled two plates and brought them to the seating area, setting them with utensils on the table, then went back for the coffee. He picked up his shoes and socks and placed them neatly against the wall on the far side of the door. Steve was halfway done eating when Bucky walked out of the bathroom in his boxers, a towel around his shoulders, his gaze low as he walked over to the armchair next to Steve and sat down.

"Sorry," Bucky muttered, grabbing the fork with his only hand and stabbing a collection of salad parts with it.

Steve swallowed his mouthful. "Don't worry about it." He wondered something. "Has that always bothered you? I know you groused about it when we were roommates, but you never sounded serious."

Bucky's face twisted into an apologetic smile. "Minor annoyance. I'm sure I did stuff that got on your nerves."

"Nah. I mean a couple minor things. Like hour-long baths. Hanging your shirts to dry in front of the oven in the winter. Oh, and moving my pencils from the kitchen counter."

Bucky grinned. "Oh, so we're getting real now? You know you used to snore like a damn truck with a bad muffler? I never complained much because it wasn't your fault on account of your respiratory issues. I didn't want to be an ass, but now you know. The neighbor mentioned it to me once. She could hear it through the wall."

Steve laughed. "You're making that up."

"Nope." He held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

"You were only a boy scout for six months."

"Still counts. Got too expensive for my folks." Bucky shoved a forkful of salad into his mouth.

Steve relaxed in his chair and took a sip of coffee. The shower had apparently improved Bucky's mood. "How are you feeling?"

Bucky shrugged. "Head still hurts a bit. The devices help enough."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then, Steve asked, "I don't still snore, do I?"

With a laugh that seemed a little forced, Bucky shot him a mischievous look. "I'll record you with the cell phone one of these nights."

"Shut up. I can tell you're lying."

-0- -0- -0-

Session ten. Bucky inhaled until his lungs burned. He held the breath as the vibranium restraints enveloped his arm and legs, then let the air rush out. It did nothing to calm him.

"Home stretch." Steve looked down at him, a soft smile on his lips.

"Yeah." Bucky's voice shook. He swallowed hard.

This was it. The day of truth. Either it would work, or it wouldn't. He closed his eyes.

What if it didn't work? How could he live? What the hell would he do with himself. Suicide was out of the question. He knew exactly how that would affect Steve. He couldn't do that to his friend.

But if he couldn't trust his mind, he couldn't be free. He'd spend the rest of his life locked up, dreading the moment someone activated the Winter Soldier. Fifty or so years was a long time to live with a bomb in his head—assuming he had a normal human lifespan.

What if he lived longer?

He could never have a real relationship with a woman. Never lead a normal life. He'd just be a thing taking up space and breathing air, biding his time until his body gave out or someone took him out.

He almost didn't want to know. All this time with the Wakandans, he had hope. If this session didn't work, that hope would be lost. Every version of his life he imagined might happen without the Hydra crap in his head would vanish before his mind's eye.

"Are you ready, Bucky?" Shuri's voice asked.

He opened his eyes and gave her a nod, then looked to Steve. He couldn't muster a smile. If he tried, he was pretty sure he would end up a blubbering fool.

"It's gonna be okay, Buck."

Shuri placed four devices in a cluster on the right side of his skull. He felt the quick slice of pain as the vibranium fibers pierced his skull.

Twenty minutes later, the devices were removed, and he blinked up at Shuri through watery eyes.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"Slight headache," he croaked. His throat felt like it was gripped by a fist.

"Are you ready to test it?"

He looked at Steve again and tried to borrow some of the strength he saw in those steely eyes. Then, he glanced at Wanda, sitting on a chair against the far wall. She gave him a nod, letting him know she was ready if things went south. His gaze traveled to the trio of Dora Milaje against the wall. T'Challa stood as a silent observer in the back of the lab.

They weren't taking any chances, thankfully.

He closed his eyes. "How sure are you about this?"

"If we've destroyed all the critical pathways, it should work," Shuri answered.

He nodded at Steve. "Let's go for it."

The first word caused the familiar, subtle shift in Bucky's brain. A crushing ache filled his chest.

The second word made his ears ring and brought pressure behind his eyes.

No.

His eyes stung. Hopeless, salty tears traced the lines of stress on his face and coated his lips.

It didn't work.

He wouldn't know for sure until the last word left Steve's lips—he held on to that hope.

No. He knew.

It didn't work.

As the words filled his head, he felt sensations of cold, heat, pain, and comfort as he slipped beneath the surface of his mind and that other entity rose from the depths.

"Gruzovoy vagon."

The static swallowed him.

"Soldat?"

The words left his lips of their own accord. "Gotov podchinit'sya."

Ready to comply.

"Oh, Buck."

The face in front of him reeked of an expression he interpreted as disapproval, the eyes watery, deep lines carved in the brow. His brain identified the face. Steve Rogers. Captain America.

Target.

Mission.

Handler.

He saw Rogers fold forward. Felt the man's head contact the left side of his abdomen. Sensed a wetness through the thin fabric of the shirt that covered his torso.

Rogers' shoulders shook.

-0- -0- -0-

Energy—soft and warm—filled him. A voice in his head. Female.

'Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.'

A parade of images played before him. Steve Rogers, small and thin. Brown buildings. Stairs. A metal railing. The door to an apartment.

Then faces. Wet with tears and blood. Mouths open. Screaming.

Pools of blood. Spatters of red. Holes in flesh. Craters in skulls. Necks sliced open. An eye socket with a knife handle protruding.

A woman's crying filled his ears. He felt heat on his temples. Fingers brushing against his skin.

'That's not who you are. Come back, Bucky.'

A voice. "The electrostimulation should work."

"No!" A male voice. "Not yet, please. Give this a chance first."

'Come back, Bucky. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You're in Wakanda. You're safe.'

A memory:

'You know me.'

'No, I don't!'

'Your name is James Buchanan Barnes'

He saw a face. Red hair. Green eyes.

Fire burned through his skull. The static vanished. The cold, dark thing surrendered.

He woke gasping for air, dizzy and disoriented.

"Bucky?"

He knew that voice.

"Where—?" He saw Steve's face.

His eyes darted around the room. Faces became familiar. He dropped his head against the table and closed his eyes.

"It didn't work." Bucky didn't bother trying to hold back the tears.

He had nothing left to give. They'd all tried. It just didn't work.

He felt large hands on his either side of his face. Wide thumbs wiped at the wetness on his cheeks.

"We'll try again," Steve voice in his left ear.

The vibranium slid away from his arm and legs. The hands left his face. Strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him forward into a warm mass. He smelled Steve—the familiar, sweet, almost vanilla-like scent that became so much stronger after Erskin's serum.

Bucky was limp. Tired. So goddamned tired. "I'm sorry."

It was the only thing he knew to be true. That he was sorry.

Sorry it didn't work. Sorry Steve still believed it would. Sorry he couldn't beat the cold, dark thing inside him.

Steve's arms gripped him tighter. "It's not your fault."

No, he answered silently, but it's my responsibility.

-0- -0- -0-

The ride back to the room was drenched in silence. Bucky slouched on the bench seat of the aircraft, bleak eyes fixed on the floor. Steve and Shuri ran through a litany of reassurance in the wake of the latest defeat, but nothing seemed to make the slightest dent in Bucky's stone face.

The blank look in Bucky's eyes worried Steve about the thoughts going on behind them.

They'd try again. Shuri was disappointed, but hopeful. She would target more clusters, be less conservative. She'd carve out the Winter Soldier programming like rotted spots inside a baobab fruit.

When they were finally back in the room, Wanda retired wordlessly to her quarters, giving Steve a long, sympathetic look before closing the door. Ayo opened their door and stepped aside.

Bucky gave her the barest hint of a glance as he walked by her. Steve stopped in front of her, nodded, and gave his thanks. She bowed her head solemnly, her eyes uncharacteristically gentle.

In the room, Steve closed the door behind him. The dinner cart was inside, pushed against the wall. Steve lifted the top to see chicken and potatoes with a sponge-style cake for dessert. Steam wafted into the air, and though it all smelled delicious, he didn't have much of an appetite.

Bucky sat on the mattress. He removed his socks and shoes and set them with slow, deliberate care at the foot of the bed, pressed against the platform frame.

"You heard Shuri." Steve sat on the edge of the other bed. "This isn't the end. It's just one failure. You can't give up on the first try."

Bucky's chin snapped up, his jaw clenched and his eyes tight. "Give up?" He rose from the bed and strolled to the food cart, his hands in the pocket of his jeans. "Give up…!"

The cart careened through the air and crashed into the television. Food and water sprayed against the wall and the floor. The entire mass clattered to the ground in a broken heap.

The door flung inward to reveal Ayo, spear in hand, eyes alert. Her gaze took in the mess.

"We're okay." Steve rose, hands in the air. "Just… give us some privacy… please."

She bowed and closed the door.

Steve held his position. "Bucky, I know…"

"You don't know a goddamned thing." Bucky paced. "Give up?" He gave a harsh laugh. "You think I'm giving up after the first try? I hoped you'd find me when I was laying in the snow. I gave up that hope when the Russians found me instead. I hoped you and the Howlies would come blazing in and put holes in all those bastards and yank me the hell out of there. I gave up when I let myself accept that you thought I was dead. I hoped you'd make it back home, but I gave up when they showed me that newspaper and told me you died. I hoped they'd kill me if I got them angry enough—hell, if I killed enough of them. I gave up that hope, too, when they just tortured me or put me in cryo instead. Fuck you, Steve. Fuck you. I gave up a thousand times. I can't…Godamnit." Bucky was vibrating, hyperventilating, his face flushed and wet, his eyes bloodshot.

It took every bit of strength Steve had left to keep himself on his feet and his eyes firmly on his friend. The words felt like knives carving slow, deep wounds into chest and gut. He didn't like the look on Bucky's face or the tremors in his body.

The sessions had taken their toll on Bucky, and the mood swings already had him on edge. Steve didn't know if the meltdown currently happening was a side effect of the sessions or Bucky finally reaching the end of his endurance.

"You're a fucking selfish prick sometimes, Steve." Bucky dropped to his knees amidst the disaster on the floor. He was weeping, his voice as shaky as the rest of him. "You go full speed ahead, through anyone in your way. You do what you want, and the rest of us just have to go along or get out of the way."

Steve knew the words weren't sincere, but they hurt all the same. "I know you don't mean that."

"You know what I wanted the last night before I shipped out?" Bucky scrubbed his hand over his face hard. "I wanted to have a good time. I knew I might not be coming back, and that was my last night to do whatever the hell I wanted. I chose to spend it with you and a couple of gals. You didn't care. You did what you wanted. You let me spend that night alone having to entertain two girls and knowing that might be our last night together. So, yeah, selfish prick."

Steve's legs gave out, and he fell onto his butt on the edge of the mattress. He'd never known Bucky felt that way. Thinking back to that night, he couldn't deny the accusation.

He'd let Bucky down. He made the choice to leave Bucky before he ever met Erskine because he couldn't pass by yet another chance to forge enlistment papers and hope for the best.

Even on Bucky's last night.

Hindsight didn't get him off the hook. He wished to hell it did, but he couldn't deny the truth. Instead of being with Bucky on that last night, he left him. He came close to never seeing him again.

"After Azzano, you thought I was dead," Bucky's voice was hollow, trembling. "You disobeyed orders and went behind enemy lines to free the other prisoners. Finding me was a surprise. But in the Alps… you just left me there. What the hell is that about?"

Steve's lungs couldn't pull in air, as if there was no more left in the room. It had always been there, between them. Even when Bucky told him it wasn't his fault, it was there.

Because it was true.

"I'm sorry," Steve croaked. He scrubbed the tears from his eyes.

I'm so goddamned sorry.

Why the hell hadn't he gone back sooner? He thought Bucky dead, went back far too late, on a body recovery mission, as if time wasn't of essence. As if Bucky wasn't bleeding, clinging to life, alone and helpless in a snowy wilderness… a sitting duck.

It wasn't like Bucky to dredge up the past and use his words like knives, but Steve couldn't blame his friend for finally giving voice to the quiet things inside himself. Steve could take the lashing. He couldn't do anything else to help Bucky, but if Bucky needed him to be a punching bag, he could sure as hell do that.

Steve forced himself to his feet. His gut told him that if he touched Bucky, he'd end up flat on his back, but he couldn't leave his friend crumpled in the middle of a mess of broken things.

He knelt in front of Bucky. He wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing, until the silence became oppressive. If he ended up with a fist in his face, so be it. He reached out and slid his hand to the back of Bucky's neck.

"I'm sorry," Steve kept his voice low. "You're right. I was being selfish on your last night home. In the Alps, I should have gone back for you immediately. I should have jumped off the train at the first opportunity and hoofed it back to you. I let you down, and I'm sorry. I make no excuses. Hit me, do whatever you need, I'm not leaving you this time."

Bucky shuddered and fell against him. "Oh fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said about Azzano and the Alps. I swear, please forget I said it."

"It's okay." Steve gave Bucky's neck a squeeze. "It's true, and you have a right to feel that way."

Bucky shook his head against Steve's shoulder. "Put me in cryo. It's the only way. Until someone can figure out how to get the Winter Soldier out of me, keep me there."

"If that's what you want." Steve closed his eyes. "But, please, Buck, can you let Shuri give it one more round? If it doesn't work, we'll figure out a way. If Shuri won't agree to cryo, Stark or Cho will. You have my word. One more chance, do you have that in you?"

"I don't know."

"Three more weeks. Maybe four." Steve closed his eyes and sent a quick, desperate prayer upward. "That's all. I'll put my shoes away every day, I swear."

That got something that sounded like a chuckle and a sob out of Bucky. "Fuck you, Steve."

He hoped to God that meant yes.

-0- -0- -0-

"One week." Bucky sat on Shuri's table, avoiding eye contact with everyone, especially Steve and Ayo.

He didn't know if he had one week in him, but he'd try. The only way to get through it was to put one foot in front of the other.

Don't think. Don't feel. Do whatever they tell you when they tell you.

If the second try didn't work, he'd hold Steve to his promise about cryo. He'd been frozen and defrosted dozens of times. One more deep freeze wouldn't matter… as long as he didn't wake up decades in the future.

He couldn't do it without Steve. What would be the point? He'd already lost everyone except Steve and Becca, and Becca would be gone soon. He couldn't wake up alone…

Stop thinking.

Shuri was talking to him. He missed whatever she said.

"Can you repeat that?" he asked.

Shuri took a breath. "I will not do all sessions in one week. We need time between sessions to evaluate and ensure that the pathways destroyed are not critical to the rest of your personality and memories. By testing in between, we can identify adverse effects early on and stop the treatment before doing irreparable harm."

He didn't think he could take another month of the headaches and mood swings…. another month of not knowing whether he'd be free of the Winter Soldier, or facing cryo.

"I can't do this much longer." He focused his gaze on a point on the far wall so he wouldn't have to look at their expressions. "I don't care. Either get it done, or I'll go back on ice until someone figures out how to get this stuff out of my head."

Or doesn't, and I never wake up.

Stop thinking.

He heard her sigh, saw the slouch of her shoulders in the periphery of his vision. He saw Steve at the other edge of his view, standing still and silent.

"Two weeks." Shuri's voice had a note of defeat. "Five sessions a week for two weeks. Testing every other session. You must promise to report all side effects immediately—mood swings, headaches, memory loss, forgetfulness…anything out of the ordinary. Both you and Steve must promise, as he may observe things that you don't notice."

He nodded. "Thank you. Can we start now?"

"No," Shuri answered. "First thing in the morning. I must finalize adjustments to the algorithm and complete the neural modeling scenarios."

He hopped off the table. "Okay. Tomorrow. Thank you."

-0- -0- -0-

Back in the room, he plopped on the bed and took out his phone as Steve disappeared into the bathroom. Steve hadn't said much on the ride back, and for that, Bucky was grateful. He didn't have it in him to hold up a conversation.

He browsed the news, hoping to distract his mind from what lay ahead in the next two weeks. He spotted a news article about New York's Fourth of July preparations.

Shit.

He hadn't realized how much time had passed—four months since Hungary. In some ways, it felt like yesterday, but in other ways, it seemed a lifetime ago.

-0- -0- -0-

Steve tried to stay out of Bucky's way in the room, keeping his area neat and giving Bucky as much space and quiet as possible considering they were living within feet of another. They'd been roommates in Brooklyn after Bucky graduated high school and started working, but although their tiny apartment had been about the size of their current living quarters, they had New York as their stomping ground.

Shuri's treatments and the close quarters were taking their toll. He'd briefly considered requesting separate rooms—more for Bucky's sake then his own—but they'd already imposed on the Wakandans enough, and there was an advantage to him remaining close. He would be able to report side effects and behavior changes to Shuri as the treatments progressed through the second round.

Bucky was quiet and preoccupied. He spent most of his spare time on his phone. The television had been replaced, but Bucky showed little interest in watching it. Shuri had even installed a gaming system on the TVs in the two rooms since their stay was turning out to be longer than expected.

They were two treatments in, and things were going well. Bucky's mood swings seemed to have levelled off and Bucky was sleeping better. At least, Steve didn't notice him waking up during the night as frequently as before.

Steve eyed the news on the television. He kept the volume low and the captions on, but Bucky seemed undisturbed as he browsed his phone. The amount of time Bucky was spending on the phone rivaled Wanda, and Steve wondered if his friend was using the phone as a tool to avoid interaction… especially after his outburst three days ago.

A knock pulled his attention away from the television. He slid off the bed and opened the door. Prince T'Challa and Okoye stood in the hallway, both wearing solemn expressions.

"Captain Rogers, I regret the disturbance. A development has come up about the alien invasion, and my sister and the King would like to discuss a proposal. Would you both accompany me?"

"Of course."

Bucky was off the bed, putting his shoes on, and Steve slipped into his quickly.

They followed T'Challa and the Dora Milaje down the corridor, turning through a small labyrinth of hallways until they arrived at a set of large double doors. Okoye opened them, and T'Challa hurried through, his shoulders tense and his stride long.

Steve's mind was cycling through possibilities. Had Shuri developed a new technology to help defend Earth against Thanos? Or had the Wakandans come up with additional information about the pending alien-

"Surprise!"

Steve stopped in his tracks in the massive room, finding himself surrounded by people—both real and holographic. Natasha, Tony, Pepper, Sam, Vision, Clint and Laura, and Drs. Cho and Abadon were present via hologram. Shuri, T'Challa, Wanda, a handful of Dora Milaje—including Ayo—and a small group of men and women he didn't recognize were present in person, but the way they stood near the royal guards led Steve to believe they were family members.

A hand clasped his shoulder. "Happy birthday, Buddy."

Steve looked over at Bucky's grinning face. "Is this you?"

He scrunched his nose and shook his head. "Group effort."

"It was his idea, though," Wanda said, coming forward and giving Steve a hug.

Steve shook his head and took in the gorgeous room. It was open on one side, leading out to a lavish courtyard full of green plants and flowers. The late afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm light.

The room itself was set up with tables of food. In the center, a three-tiered, white-frosted cake rested on a round table. It had two candles—a red one shaped like a nine and a blue seven. Three boxes rested behind the cake, one wrapped in white paper, the other in blue, and the third in red.

Steve turned toward a familiar scent to his right. "Is that…?" He walked up to a serving tray of beautifully plump hot dogs. There were buns, relish, and all the fixings on the table.

The other table held the makings for hamburgers, and there was even a hoagie station on another table.

"We couldn't fit 97 candles on the cake," Bucky said, "but I would've loved to see you try to blow out that many. Start practicing, because for your hundredth, I'm going to make sure we have all the candles."

"So, old man," Natasha teased, "we're not keeping you up past your bedtime, are we?"

"It's only four-thirty here," he reminded her.

She grinned. "I know. So, are we?"

"You don't look a day over 38," Tony chimed in.

Steve shot Stark a mock glare. Physically, he was only thirty-one.

Clint wrapped his arm around Laura. "So, I head back home after Sokovia, and you find our guy." He jerked his chin toward Bucky. "Nice to meet you in almost person, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky nodded. "Thank you both for joining us. It's nice to meet you, too."

Steve appreciated the 'our guy' sentiment. Clint's own brush with mind control gave him a deeper sense of compassion toward Bucky that had been evident when the 2024 version of Bucky had showed up at the Avenger's tower.

Bucky glanced at Steve. "We've been texting about your party."

"Ah." Steve smiled and shook his head. "So that's why you've been glued to your phone."

Sam's laughter was easily recognizable. "Yeah, he's practically a teenager now, even uses emojis."

"There was a tiny mishap with the eggplant, though," Wanda interjected.

Bucky's face flushed to a shade of red approximating tomato soup.

"Our apologies for being unable to send gifts," Vision said, "but I assure you they shall be waiting for you upon your return."

"This—" Steve swung his hands out, "—is all I need. Thank you, everyone." He turned to Bucky. "I can't believe you did this… with everything, you remembered?"

"What?" Bucky grimaced with exaggerated insult. "You think I'd forget your birthday, Captain Fourth of July? It's like you were born to wear the stars and stripes." Bucky swung an arm over Steve's shoulder and whispered in his ear. "Sorry I've been such an asshole lately. Thanks for putting up with me."

"Awww, Buck Rogers, aren't you two cute?" Tony clapped his hands once, apparently delighted by his own joke.

Steve didn't get the joke, and by the look on Buck's face, neither did he.

"An old sci-fi show," Sam explained. "It's about a guy who gets frozen and wakes up in the future." He smiled. "Google it."

"It's horribly dated and sexist." Okoye commented.

T'Challa gave her a quizzical look. "You watch old Sci-Fi shows?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Have you not been known to watch—"

T'Challa held up a hand. "You have no judgment from me."

A smirk graced Okoye's face and she looked straight ahead.

Shuri grinned. "He has, many times."

T'Challa wagged a finger at her. "I will not hesitate to retaliate should you get any ideas. I have a collection of interesting photos from your early childhood years."

Steve enjoyed the display of sibling bickering. "I take it through all the planning, everyone has already met?"

Ayo nodded. "Indeed."

T'Challa bowed his head. "My mother and father send their birthday wishes. They thought it best not to attend so that all might feel at ease."

"They would be more than welcome, of course. I would like to extend my gratitude for their patience and generosity," Steve said.

T'Challa slapped him on the shoulder. "This is no occasion for diplomacy, Captain." He clapped his hands. "I'm starving, and I don't think I've had a hot dog in quite some time."

-0- -0- -0-

Almost two hours later, everyone in the room was stuffed and all that remained of the birthday cake were a few orphaned slices. The U.S. guests had come and gone at various times throughout the party, and the current attendees were Natasha, Pepper, and Tony (obviously in his lab tinkering, moving in and out of camera view and occasionally cursing at a robot).

Bucky felt the need to loosen the top button of his jeans but didn't risk doing so in mixed company. He eyed the unopened presents near the cake and caught Steve's eye.

"Why don't you get started on the presents?"

Steve's cheeks turned pink, and he smiled. "You don't have to say that twice."

He inspected the labels on each one. The one wrapped in blue was jointly from Bucky and Wanda. She hadn't brought money with her, so he bought it with the leftover Hydra funds. He insisted it was the least he could do given all the help she'd been.

In his mind, it wasn't nearly enough in way of repayment.

T'Challa and Shuri claimed the white one. Bucky knew what was inside and couldn't wait to see Steve's reaction. The red one was a collective gift from the Dora Milaje.

Steve, ever the diplomatic one, Bucky mused, selected the white box first. He very carefully opened the ends of shimmering paper until Shuri said, "It's okay! We recycle. Just tear into it already."

He grinned sheepishly and obliged, finishing with a dramatic yank on the paper to reveal a large black box. Lifting the top off, he peered inside. His eyes brightened, and he reached inside to lift out his blue Captain America helmet.

His brow furrowed and he looked up quizzically.

Shuri grinned. "I hope you don't mind that I temporarily borrowed it, but it was Bucky's idea. I've modified it with a thin vibranium mesh bonded with the leather. It provides greater structural protection."

"Indeed." T'Challa stepped up by his sister. "I believe Sergeant Barnes' exact words were, 'Steve uses his big head to smash fists far too often because he's too damn dumb to run from a fight.'"

Bucky bit his lower lip. He'd been ratted out by a prince, which meant retaliation was off the table.

He opted to grin and meet Steve's amused gaze. "It's been true since before the serum, man. Your big head has been taking punches since the 20s."

Steve laughed and lowered the helmet back into the box. "Thank you both. I'm touched by your generosity."

The Dora Milaje's box was next. Steve opened it to reveal a book. The cover was orange and made of animal hide stretched over a harder material. Wood, Bucky suspected.

Steve opened the cover. Bucky caught a glimpse of artwork—a detailed drawing of one of the Dora Milaje, but he couldn't make out the face. Steve studied it for several long seconds. On the other page was landscape drawing with text, but again, Bucky couldn't make out the details.

Slowly, Steve turned the pages, studying each one, until he reached the last two pages. The three figures were unmistakable—Steve, Bucky, and Wanda.

Okoye stepped forward and bowed her head. "The book tells a story from the life of each of the Dora Milaje who have been assigned to you. At first, our charge was to protect the royal family and Wakanda from the outsiders, which is how we viewed you when you first arrived. Over the course of your stay, our charge has expanded to keep watch over each of you and share in the difficult journey that you face. As such, bonds are formed, and the book details the interlinking of our life-paths during this time."

Well, shit. Bucky immediately dropped his gaze to his shoes when he saw the poignant disbelief flickering over Steve's face. It was the only way Bucky could keep a handle on his emotions and avoid making a scene in front of the entire room.

"That's beautiful," Wanda's shaky voice whispered.

"This is… unexpected, and I'm deeply moved." Steve was obviously struggling for the right words. "I'm honored. Thank you."

A brief silence hung, and Bucky didn't dare look up, though he could feel the eyes on him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he bit his bottom lip.

"Thank you all, again," Steve added, breaking the silence. "Next, I believe is yours—Wanda and Bucky?"

Bucky took a breath and looked up. He hoped his face didn't show his inner struggle. His emotions were all over the place since Shuri's treatments. Even though she had told him to expect this as a side effect, the strain of constantly trying to push down feelings that threatened to bubble to the surface was exhausting.

When Steve opened the last box, a soft, surprised smile touched his lips. His eyes darted up almost shyly to him and then bounced to Wanda.

"These are… incredible." He lifted large bundle of Wakandan sketching implements—isixhobo. Bucky caught Wanda's eye and smiled.

Getting the gift had been an exercise in deception. He'd snuck out of the room under pretense of needing breathing space from Steve and wanting to play a video game with Wanda in her room. Dalia, the Dora Milaje on duty, promised to intercept if Steve got curious while Ayo took them shopping.

When Bucky saw what looked like colored pencils but felt like butter on the paper, he knew instantly he'd found the perfect gift. The colors were unlike anything he'd seen before. They covered the familiar color categories, but with subtleties—spectrums of red, orange, blues, greens, purples, and yellows that were just different enough to make the eye pause.

"Wait 'til you sketch with them," Bucky said, "if you still do that." He didn't know for sure. He hadn't seen Steve sketch once in the past four months, but he couldn't imagine his friend ever giving up the one thing that always seemed to calm his mind.

"I do" Steve smiled warmly at each of them, his eyes glistening. "Thank you both."

"Be careful with your big, meaty paws," Bucky warned. "Don't break 'em because those beauties are only found here in Wakanda. They're entirely handmade, right down to mixing the pigments."

Bucky and Wanda heard the complete story from the vendor, including a peek at a few of the instruments in the process of being made. That made the $500 price tag seem slightly less steep in light of the unique care and quality that went into each set.

"It's absolutely amazing. I took a video with their permission," Wanda said. "I'll show it to you later."

Steve's gaze narrowed suspiciously, and he looked at Buck. "So that little huffing fit you gave me when you asked me to leave you the hell alone for a couple of hours and you defected to Wanda's room to play a video game-?"

"—was all an act." Bucky winced with a half-hearted grin. "I do feel a little guilty about it, but I needed to make sure you didn't decide to join us."

"I thought-" Steve blushed and clamped his mouth shut.

"Oh, come on!" Wanda sounded indignant.

Too indignant, Bucky thought. He tried not to take it personally.

-0- -0- -0-

It was almost dark when they got back to their rooms. Steve carried the two Wakandan gifts, and Bucky carried the one from him and Wanda. The U.S. contingent was probably getting on with their day. There was a greater than fifty percent chance Tony was still in his lab obsessing over ways to defeat a technologically advanced alien army.

"Since it's your birthday," Bucky said, setting the box on top of the dresser and dropping to the edge of his bed, "you get a free pass to leave your shoes and socks wherever the hell you want."

"A pass, huh? Anywhere?" Steve deposited his boxes next to the first one, sat in the armchair, slipped off his shoes and socks, then wadded up a sock and tossed it directly at Bucky's head.

Bucky batted it away, his face giving a surprised scowl. "Gross, man. Anywhere except on me or my bed. Those things smell like wet dog. Is that the thanks I get for throwing one hell of a birthday bash?"

"That's the thanks you get for acting like a sour puss the past couple of days."

Bucky grinned sheepishly. "It wasn't entirely acting but having the party to focus on did help keep my mind off things." He paused and looked hopefully at Steve. "You really enjoyed the party? I know you're stuck here with me, and your friends are back in New York—"

Steve raised a hand to interrupt Bucky's guilt-trip. "I'm not stuck here. I choose to be here with you. You'd do it for me." He shook his head. "I'm stunned that you even managed to remember my birthday in the middle of everything you're going through… and I completely forgot about yours."

Bucky rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Um, I'd barely gotten settled in the room when Hydra kidnapped me. You're excused. Besides, a surprise birthday party for me at that time would've likely resulted in bloodshed."

Steve conjured a vivid mental image of exactly how such a surprise would've been received-probably similar to Bucky's reaction to Vision, times six. "That, I know."

Steve's thoughts turned to an outdated cryogenic tank in a dark bunker. That's where Bucky likely spent his birthdays in Hydra's custody… except for the first one, when he was being tortured or operated on against his consent.

He pushed the grim thoughts aside before Bucky could read them on his face. But he still felt badly that he forgot the first birthday Bucky spent free of Hydra since 1944.

"Don't sweat it, man," Bucky said, "If it all works out, there's always next year."

Steve nodded. If it all works out…

Meaning if you're not in a cryogenic chamber.

"Hey, man, don't give me that look," Bucky added. "Dark and brooding is my thing. We can't both have the same shtick."

Oops. Steve took a breath, pushed the grim thoughts aside, and managed a smile. "I'm not dark and brooding. I'm regal and pensive."

"Ah, okay, Pal. Is that what you call it?"

-0- -0- -0-

By the eighth session of the second round of treatments, Bucky was tired of the lab, cognitive tests, and exhausted by the strain of keeping a lid on his tumultuous emotions. He tried to keep his mind occupied with reading novels, news, and catching up on the past 70 years of history.

He'd thought the International Space Station was a joke—as if Russia and the United States would be able to cooperate on such a lofty endeavor and not have it end up in a pissing contest—but then he remembered there were actual space aliens capable of interstellar travel, and the whole thing seemed absurdly quaint.

He even tried the gaming console Shuri provided, and that was the only exception he made to re-attaching his arm. It was impossible to play the game effectively with only his right hand.

He avoided the disturbingly realistic battle games like Call of Duty with the darkly ironic thought that it would be too much like bringing the job he hated home. The Mario Kart game was more entertaining and harmless. It allowed him to occupy his mind and zone out on real life, though the controls took some getting used to.

He discovered the multi-player function, and he and Wanda were sprawled on the floor in a race. She obviously had more skill at video games and implicitly understood the controls, so she beat him the first two rounds. The headache behind his eyes wasn't helping his game.

But by round three he was kicking her ass.

When the dinner cart arrived, Steve stood behind them. "You two have been at it for four hours. Why don't you go wash up, and then we can eat?"

Bucky hit the pause button and twisted his head to look up at Steve. "If you're gonna act like my mother, there better be chocolate walnut cookies and banana bread involved."

"So sexist," Wanda muttered.

His mother's face sprang in his mind, and a swell of grief made him shoot to his feet and hurry into the bathroom, where he ran the faucet and splashed cold water on his face.

Damn. He had the emotional stability of a teenage girl, and he'd lived through three of them.

-0- -0- -0-

Three days later, Bucky was in Shuri's lab, his stomach in knots. Steve and Wanda were present, along with the usual contingent of Dora Milaje, including Ayo and Aneka.

He'd just finished the tenth session. It was Activation time. The moment of truth.

The vibranium restraints held him securely to the table as Shuri removed the probes from his skull. He locked eyes with Steve and swore he could read the other man's thoughts through them.

Cryogenic suspension.

In a minute or two, they'd both know Bucky's future—freedom from Hydra, or a cryo chamber for an indefinite amount of time.

"Are you ready?" Steve asked.

Bucky took a deep breath. Every part of him was quivering. He struggled to hold himself together as he nodded.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky's leg and said the first word. "Zhelaniya."

Bucky felt…something in his head, but it wasn't the familiar shift.

"Rzhavyy."

He saw himself in the cryo chamber, remembered the first time he heard the hiss, felt the shock of icy pain.

"Semnadtsat," Seventeen.

The air rushed from his lungs. The year he was born. 1917.

"It's not gonna work." Bucky's vision blurred.

As Steve continued the sequence, memories assaulted him—hanging outside in the bitter cold with his arms behind his back, falling from the freight train, the faces of the mother and daughter he'd killed, a voice pleading "Please, I didn't see anything," the Triskellion, the helicarrier, Steve falling into the river.

When the final word left Steve's lips, Bucky was sobbing uncontrollably. He didn't care. The restraints slid away, and Steve's massive chest filled his shimmering view.

"You're free," Ayo said gently.

"Yes, he is," Shuri's soft voice agreed.

He tried to manage a 'thank you,' but he was gasping and sobbing. Words were impossible. He fell forward, his right hand grasping at Steve, desperate for contact, to know this was real, not a dream.

He felt strong arms around him, warm breath on his neck, and heard Steve's familiar, deep, soothing voice in his right ear.

"You made it through, Buddy. You got your mind back."

-0- -0- -0-

Bucky stood on the tarmac in front of the Citadel. In twelve hours, they'd be back in New York. Shuri, T'Challa, Ayo, Okoye, Nomble, Aneka, and the King and Queen were there to see them off. Steve took the lead, giving a speech about their gratitude and new friendships and standing together to defend the planet.

Bucky listened distantly, his eyes focused on Shuri standing to the left of her mother, the Dora Milaje behind her. The little girl he'd been so skeptical about had saved him. Words seemed inadequate, and he had no gifts to offer.

When Steve finished his speech and glanced back at him, Bucky stepped forward.

He bowed his head at the King. "Thank you for allowing us in Wakanda."

"Your visit has been most memorable," the King replied.

That was an understatement.

Bucky gave Shuri a self-conscious smile. She and many of the others standing there had seen the intimate parts of his mind. He felt like he was naked in front of them.

"Thank you," he told her, his eyes including the Dora Milaje. "I wish I knew the right words. You didn't know me when you agreed to help me. I trashed the room twice, broke a wrist—" he threw an apologetic look at Aneka, and she merely bowed her head, "—and still you helped me. I wish there were some way I could repay you. I'm in your debt. Forever."

Shuri smiled, walked forward, and opened her arms. "May I?"

His face grew hot, and he nodded. She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him. He didn't know what to do with his, not with her parents and the Dora Milaje standing there, so he gently wrapped his flesh arm around the back of her tiny shoulders, keeping the vibranium one at his side.

She felt like a twig against him. Her head came to his collar bone.

"You have no debt," she told him. "I wish only that you continue your recovery and bring good to the world." She pulled away and looked up with somber eyes. "The Winter Soldier program is gone, but you still have much healing to do. Dr. Abodon is quite capable of treating post-traumatic stress, but if either of you need anything, I am a mere call away." She smiled, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Also, I expect to hear what you think about the ending of Game of Thrones."

He returned her smile. "Might be a bit too violent for me. I think comedies and dramas are going to be my thing, at least for a while." He nodded at her. "Thank you."

Bucky walked up to Steve, who had a proud glint in his eye and a warm smile on his face.

"Thank you," he heard Wanda say, and cast a glance back at her. She was standing in front of the prince, wearing the necklace he'd gifted her. "I appreciate the tour of the city and—" she touched the stone on her collarbone, "—the gift."

Bucky followed Steve onto the Quinjet, leaving Wanda to finish her goodbyes to the group. He owed her a debt, too. She didn't have to come along and spend a month and a half mostly confined to a room or a lab. She could've spent the first part of summer in New York—taking on Coney Island and Manhattan and having fun like someone her age should.

A moment later, Wanda was onboard, and the ramp closed. Steve took the cockpit, and Bucky slid into the co-pilot's seat.

Bucky gestured to the controls. "You want to show me how this thing works? I mean, if I'm going to stick around the Avengers, I guess I could find ways to be useful."

Steve kept his eyes fixed on the dashboard. "Really?" His tone was casual. "Are you submitting an application?"

Goddamn punk. "Oh, hell no. Do you even have an application?"

"Yep." Steve finally glanced at him. "You filled it out when you rescued Sam and Pepper and when you helped us take out the last Hydra base."

Bucky watched the Wakandans grow smaller as the plane rose. He appreciated Steve's faith in him. Maybe one day he'd be part of the group, but not yet.

"I can't be an Avenger," Bucky said. "Not now, anyway. Shuri's right. I still have a way to go. The Hydra program is out of my head, but I still have… decades of conditioning. Those last two run-ins with Hydra were a struggle. The Winter Soldier never had to worry about excessive force or casualties. I don't want to hurt anybody, and if I go on missions, I'm likely to."

"It's up to you, Buck. No pressure." Steve maneuvered the Quinjet through the force field. "You're not technically alive yet, either, so until we can figure out that…."

"I know. Any word from Stark about the feds?"

Steve shrugged. "Not much. He was having the lawyers work on it. After their last search, and with there being no sign of the Winter Soldier, things seemed to have settled down.

Steve glanced at Bucky. "How would you feel about moving out of the Veronica room? I know we talked about it before. There's an open room next to mine. The room is much smaller, but it has a closet and a bathroom with a shower and a tub. It also has windows overlooking the grounds. Stark modified them for one-way view. It's near the main kitchen."

Bucky thought about it and nodded. Now that the programming was out of his head, he didn't see a reason to monopolize the Veronica room. "Sounds good. How thick are the walls? Am I going to hear you snoring?"

"You're a liar and a jerk."

"If you decide to pound the salami in the middle of the night, I definitely don't want to hear that."

"Um, TMI!" Wanda's voice filtered from the rear.

Steve went beat red, and Bucky felt his own face flush. "Shit. Sorry." He glanced back at Wanda whose face was twisted in revulsion.

She scrunched her nose at them. "You forgot I was back here?"

"Maybe…for a second." Bucky smiled apologetically.

Steve sank a few inches lower in his chair and turned to study the dashboard.

Bucky cleared his throat. "So, um, you gonna show me how to fly this thing?"

"Actually," Tony Stark's voice filtered from the comm system, "I want to hear more about this salami thing."

Steve closed his eyes. "Tony, how nice of you to join us."

"FRIDAY gave me a heads up about your departure like the good little AI that she is. So, Cap, how often should we be sending laundry service to your room to change those sheets? Do I need to make you an artificial girlfriend? Could be a serious market for that. Way better than those blow-up models. You could be our beta tester, fill out a few surveys. Maybe record the sessions so I can work out the… ahem, KINKS."

Steve's face turned a deeper shade of red. He shot a glare at Bucky and mouthed, 'I. Will. Get. You. Back.'

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I know this is a very long chapter, but I didn't want to break it up. Lots of heavy stuff here. I hope you're hanging on for the ride, and as always, I *love* getting comments. Even if you notice an oops you want to point out, feel free. I go back and correct as time allows. Thanks to Fictitious for beta-reading even over the hectic holiday.

I finally saw No Way Home over the holiday and wrote a little piece, so if you want something to hold you until Saturday's installment, just click on my works to read The Man With the Messed Up Brain Remembers.