"Auntie, I want to show you all my pictures! Mr. Bucky, can I show her?" Janda already had Shay's hand in her own and was trying to pull her to her feet even as she requested Bucky's permission with an eager grin.

Bucky crossed his arms, pretending to consider it slowly and then nodded, a smile wrinkling in the corners of his eyes. "Alright then, go on, show us the way."

The small hut's curved outer wall was constructed of fresh cut branches tightly woven through a framework of stiff aged posts. Bucky had nearly completed the initial construction when he'd been told to start again, there where too many gaps in the first one and the fresh wood would shrink further still.

"Again."

He'd ground his teeth at the seeming futility of it, still he started again, learning to weave more tightly, and to pack extra thin twigs in spaces that he'd been unable to fill.

As the woven branch walls dried, he'd worked on the framework for the roof and harvested reeds for thatch. And when the wall was ready, he mixed the clay and animal hair with his own hand, his finger prints still visible in places where he'd pushed the muddy mixture through weavings and smoothed it over the surface.

The resulting hut stood proudly with its golden thatched roof, the smooth curved surface painted with many colourful small hands and in pure white, one white right-hand framing each side of the doorway.

Nerves twisted Bucky's gut as Janda pulled the cloth back from the doorway. Shay stood at the threshold a moment, her hand resting over the white hand print, frozen. Bucky hesitated behind her, Janda's cheerful chirping continuing, faint and indiscernible to him as he waited for Shay's eyes to adjust to the view. The warm bronze hand nearly filled the white palm, though her fingers and thumb couldn't match the spread or length of Bucky's.

"I can see that," Shay was saying as she stepped fully into the hut to admire the drawing Janda indicated. "It's very good, especially the shading, very realistic!"

"Thanks Auntie!" Janda hugged Shay and giggled when Shay glowed, her mischievous brown eyes, nearly black in this light, peaking around Shay's waist to give a meaningful look at Bucky. "I'm going back to the goats, but you can stay here with Mr. Bucky." more giggling followed her out the door.

The door flap fell back into place behind her and they were cast into darkness.

Bucky was reaching for the fabric, grappling for the gap in the solid wall. "I- sorry, I didn't-"

Golden light flowed from Shay's fingers disrupting his attempts. Strands of glowing ethereal luminescent fibers curling around drawings made by the children and small warped attempts at weaving in reeds and twigs interspersed with pictures. Children. Riding on Bucky's shoulders, hanging from his arm, one that showcased his look of shock as Iwah stole the fried plantain from Bucky's hand.

T'Kazu was featured in a few of the photos, and the light lingered longest around his face, caressing the image and leaving a heavy sense of tangible longing and loss heavy in the air.

Several photos had clearly been taken from a smaller person's vantage point: Bucky sparring with a member of the dora-milage, the movements blurring the faces and nothing in focus but the background.

As though the thread of gold was asking a question, it underlined the last photo which showed him looming into frame between the gaps of a fence. Bucky explained, "Ahzne got a hold of Janda's camera and snuck a few photographs before I caught him."

"Impressive for a three-year-old." Shay murmered, emotion still clouding her voice.

"Three and a half," Bucky corrected, "and he won't let you forget it."

Her soft chuckle caused the glow to swell, casting brilliant golden light over more of the wall. The whole team in one posed PR piece, and candid shots mixed in with many selfies from Sam with either Steve or Shay in the background, clearly unaware that they were in the frame at all.

In the center of the collection, easily visible from the bed roll, were three photos.

A sepia toned screenshot of Bucky and Steve clapping each other on the shoulder in victory with the howling commandos in the background echoing the wide smiles of the captain and his second-hand man.

A full-length portrait. Bucky in a black leather jacket, Shay wearing green silk, her hand as they descended the stairs. They both surveyed the crowd, calculating escape routes and possible threats even as they seemed to lean into each other for support.

"Nat took these, didn't she?" Shay asked gently.

"Yeah." Bucky answered, chewing his lip as she focused on the next image. It had also been taken that night; the night Ultron had woken himself. The second time she'd nearly died to protect him.

A photo of Steve and Shay dancing at Stark's party. Shay was laughing, her eyes shining through the glossy paper, Steve looking at someone over her shoulder, his posture notably softer than his usual military manner.

Bucky had been jealous of that moment for longer than he'd ever have admitted, but he'd seen how Steve relaxed around Shay, how easily he turned to her for support. And if anyone could have ever deserved either of them, it must have been the other, wouldn't it? What right did Bucky have to feel the pang in his chest, to want what only Steve could ever be worthy of.

"Feels like it's been a long time since we've had a reason to dance." Shay said wistfully, interrupting Bucky's musings and running her fingers over the slightly curled edge of the thick shiny paper.

Bucky huffed a pained laugh. "Haven't danced since the 40's myself, and Steve never got around to it until that night with you. He'd been saving his first dance for Peggy."

Shay glanced at him, surprised, "really? I didn't know." She smiled crookedly at the picture. The emotion from earlier was again nearing the surface and when she spoke again it came out a little strangled. "Hope his first partner wasn't a disappointment. I'm no Peggy Carter, that's for sure."

Bucky shook his head, speaking quickly, "you could never disappoint."

"Tell David that." Shay muttered under her breath. Instinct? Reflex? Why on earth had she done that? Worry suffused the glow, limelight replacing the warm yellow.

"Who's David?"

"No-one, nobody." The glow dimmed to the barest spark at her fingertips, as she stepped back shaking her head no, raising her hands defensively.

Bucky backed up a step as well, not wanting to push her into a panic attack. Her face alternated between shame, fear and the desperate look of a wild animal in a tight corner. She breathed in ragged bursts and her eyes refocused slowly.

"Shay," Bucky spoke softly when he was sure she had regained her footing. "Who is David?"

"No-one, not anymore." Steadying herself with a deep breath Shay straightened up, her hands dropping to block her middle, fingers rubbing at the nails and knuckles of the other hand.

A half step toward the wall and Shay braced against it as she collected herself under Bucky's watchful gaze. Her glance at the door had him setting his arm between her and the easy escape. Not a command, she could get around him, or through him if she really wanted, a request. Please.

At last, she met his eye with a hardened expression. "David was- Some people are like leeches, you know? He was worse. But it doesn't matter anymore, he's dead." Her chin jutted out a little as she finished, daring him to ask for more.

Bucky considered her for a moment, and dropped his arm. Motioning at the picture with his vibranium hand he said, "anyone who wouldn't want to dance with you is an idiot."

The phone rang as Shay slumped down on the bed roll, waiting for the screen to come to life.

"Hey Shay," Sam's voice preceded the image of his wide smile narrowing into concern.

"Sam, is this a bad time?"

"No, now is good. What's up?"

"Not much." those words were met with disbelief and narrowed eyes. "A lot. I don't even know where to start."

"Let's just start at the beginning, yeah?" Sam suggested encouragingly.

"Yeah, ok. So, you know I left the farm after I turned eighteen, and I was in New Orleans six years later."

"Yeah…"

"I never told. I swore I'd take it to the grave- nobody else knows what- nobody alive knows what happened in those six years."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam asked gently.

"If I told you that I'd rather pretend it never happened, would you tell me that I need to accept and acknowledge my past?"

"Something like that." Sam grinned again.

"Bucky just heard me say something. A name." Shay looked ragged, grey and drawn, her eyes fixing on the wall of photos. "I saw T'Kazu, in pictures. Threw me off. Anyway," she shook her head, "Bucky didn't press, but you know how he is. He's not going to just let it go."

"I'll talk to him."

"Like that would stop him from trying to figure it out… No, it's ok, I just… I think it's time to unbury this."

"I've got a spare shovel."

Shay smiled weakly at him. "Thanks Sam." For everything.