Author's Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don't Sue me!
Recommended Listening: Stuck in the Middle with You by Stealers Wheel; I Wanna Be Sedated by The Ramones; Tainted Love by Soft Cell; Twilight Zone by Golden Earring
Chapter 34: Awkward re-introductions
Maggie had been in Wakanda for one week and a day. It felt like a lifetime, which made it even harder for her to believe that she's survived in Juarez for three months. She'd been through a lot, and the last week felt muddled together in a soupy fog of exhaustion and uncertainty.
She'd spent her first two days in Wakanda cooped up in a conference room, surrounded by what Maggie could only assume was Wakanda's top brass, military and intelligence commanders (most of them women much to Maggie's surprise). She'd endured two twelve-hour days, answering questions, and providing as much information she could about the Network. They'd been thorough but gentle, which was all she could ask for in the circumstances. They'd even been kind enough to provide visual confirmation that the Maria and the three girls had made it to safety. The Maria was in stable condition and expected to make a full recovery, while the girls should be reunited with their families in the next 12 to 36 hours. Had the Wakandas provided medical care for the other woman? How close of a call had it been? Had there been something more going on that night?
Maggie didn't know, and she hadn't been at liberty to ask. She hadn't been very high up in the Network but had done her best to answer their extensive questions. She wanted to help keep the Network safe and secure, and the Wakandans seemed interested in the same ends.
When the Wakandans were finally satisfied that they'd extracted every last bit of useful information out of her, Maggie had been taken personally by the King and his royal guard out to her new home. She'd talked with the village chief, Jelani and his wife Teela, who had agreed to sponsor her in their village. It hadn't taken her long to move in, just her go-bag, and a few pieces of clothing that the Wakandans had been kind enough to give her, considering that her own clothes had been blood-stained and sporting bullet holes.
She'd been in the village less than twenty-four hours when the princess had contacted her. 'Barnes wants to talk with you, whenever works best for you'
Steve had left in such a hurry she was almost certain that he'd forgotten to mention anything to Barnes. So it had surprised Maggie that Barnes had reached out to arrange a meeting. Maggie had replied almost immediately, she and the Princess had set up the meeting time and place, and the rest, as they say, was history.
It had been four days since the handoff, and she was still stuck in that moment, replaying it over and over in her head. She'd been trying hard not to think about what had happened. She was trying not to think about a lot of things. However, she was only succeeding in making herself angry, frustrated, and exhausted.
The exhaustion couldn't be helped. She hadn't had much success with sleep in the capital, even on the floor. Maggie had achieved more marginal success in getting to sleep now that she was out here in the middle of nowhere. However, even when she managed to fall asleep, she'd been waking up in cold sweats, clutching her stomach, and screaming.
It was her brain, Maggie knew, her brain attempting to process what had happened while she was in Juarez. Not just what had happened to her, but what she'd done to stay alive.
It was PTSD. Maggie was aware that's what it was. She'd lived in near terror and constant danger for over three months, had shot and killed people, and had been shot and nearly killed herself. That was prime and fruitful territory for PTSD. This was, of course, not taking into account what she'd put herself through for almost two and a half years when she'd been searching for Barnes. The things she had learned about the Winter Soldier, she had carried them with her in her mind. All of the horrible, brutal, violent things that had been done to and perpetrated by him, they were all still with her, even as she'd tried her damndest to forget.
It was part of the reason she'd wanted to hand over the journals to Barnes. She'd hoped that perhaps it would allow her brain to recognize that her mission, when it came to that, was over. She'd done everything. She'd achieved her mission, her goal, she could let go. She could wash her hands of the entire situation.
No. The deal was that if you found Barnes, you could go home.
Maggie paused, looking up and around at her surroundings. The gentle rolling grasslands dotted with clusters of trees under the looming shadow of the jungle and mountains above. Her eyes watered just looking at it. It was beautiful, but it wasn't home.
Maggie glanced around Jelani's workshop. It was like many other ferrier workshops that she'd seen, been in, and operated. It had a forge, an anvil, and all of the rasps, clippers, and hammers that any ferrier would need. It was tidy and organized. Just outside, there were the stocks, where horses would be secured to be shod. Yet, as Maggie looked around, it was unlike anything she'd ever seen. This was a Wakandan smith, and there were vibranium tools and devices that made shodding horses a hundred times easier, faster, and more effective.
She'd been shodding horses since she was sixteen, and had started learning far younger than that. So it had only seemed natural that she would be assigned to the head ferrier in Wakandan. Jelani was more than just a Ferrier; he was a vet, breeder, and helped to manage the horse herds around Wakanda. But for her part, Maggie was going to help with the shodding of the massive herds of Wakandan horses.
However, with the tremor and weakness of her left hand, it would've been nigh impossible for her to shod horses if they were doing it the western method. Fortunately, Jelani had taught her the Wakandan method, and she'd been able to perfect her technique in a single round of shodding. But she'd done the other method all of her life, and she was determined to be able to shod horses the way that her grandfather had taught her. She wasn't going to let a little thing like a crushed hand get in the way of that, which was why she was engaged in this stupid, futile task.
Maggie sighed, glancing back down at the horseshoe she was trying to bend to the correct shape.
She didn't need to do this. She had nothing to prove. She could do perfectly fine work with the Wakandan method. There wasn't any need or reason for her to strain herself trying to do something that was very clearly outside of her ability at the moment.
Her left hand was still shaking and the clamps were difficult to hold, making her hammer work shoddy, giving the shoe a wave, but she needed to do this. It was like the guitar thing. She'd tried and tried after three months of PT to pick the guitar back up. It had been painful and slow and damn near impossible. So she'd given up and passed the guitar along to Wanda, who knew how to play and had been in the market for a new guitar at the time. Doing this, shodding a horse, it was something pre "barn Matt" Maggie, pre-hydra Maggie could've done with her eyes closed. Only now, here she was, struggling, unable to do what had used to be a simple task. It was yet one more thing stolen from her, a part of her that she might never get back, no matter how hard she tried.
With a disgusted groan, Maggie set both the tongs with the shoe still attached and hammer on the anvil, and sunk down onto the bench a few feet away. Yanking off her gloves, she set them beside her, and buried her head in her hands, drawing in a few shuddering breaths.
It wasn't fair. I did everything right. I shouldn't be here. I should be home.
Maggie knew that wasn't true. Natasha had warned her that if she proceeded past the point of no return she wouldn't be able to get out of this. At the time that had seemed nearly laughable, besides, it would be worth it in the end, being able to bring Becca's brother home to see his sister before she passed away. It would be worth it to find and bring Steve's friend home after seventy years of brainwashing and torture. The means had justified the ends. What was the worst that could happen? She'd reasoned. She'd already been declared dead, and separated from her ranch. What could be worse than that?
Maggie snorted. Dumbass.
She'd been warned. She'd been warned repeatedly, and now she was paying the price. She wasn't just dead legally, but now in Wakanda, she was legally in limbo. She couldn't leave because any number of world governments would be happy to pick her brain, and then make her more than just dead on paper. Yet, Maggie couldn't help but balk at the fact that she'd been freer in Juarez of all places to choose her destiny than she was now.
She'd been happy in Juarez as much as anyone can be happy in a virtual war zone. She'd had a purpose and was making solid, effective change. And yeah sure, the cartels wanted her dead, but if the cartels didn't want you dead where you really being effective? The point being she'd been the master of her own fate for the first time in a long time, and had very purposefully not reached out to anyone to be "found" or "rescued." She didn't want to be found. She didn't want to be rescued. She'd been prepared to die to get those girls out. That was okay with her. She'd been doing what she thought was right, and wasn't being used by anyone.
Then somehow, James Barnes had dragged her back into this mess.
It wasn't his fault. Maggie knew that on a fundamental level. He hadn't asked to be framed. He hadn't wanted to be tortured and mind-controlled by Nazis for seventy years. Yet, Maggie found that she had focused all of her ire, all her anger, all of her pent up frustration on the man, and on a single phrase.
Is there anything else?
He may as well have asked, "Is that it?" As if her life's work over the past two years meant nothing. As if it was superfluous.
Truth be told, it hadn't meant a damn thing. It had taken a terrorist attack, and the worldwide manhunt to finally bring the Winter Soldier in. Everything she'd done, everything she'd learned, in the end, had meant absolutely nothing. To believe anything else would be nothing short of outright delusional. But it had meant something to her. Wasn't that worth anything?
No.
It wasn't worth anything, and he'd told her as much. The thought alone left a bitter taste in her mouth.
It was supposed to be easier once we found him. She wanted to scream. But nothing had been easier, not one single goddamn thing. Now she was stuck here for the foreseeable future, and the one person with any point of familiarity was a man who had played a hand in ruining her life.
She wanted to talk to Sam or Natasha, or even Steve, someone, anyone who would or could provide insight and guidance on what she should do, or should even be thinking. She wanted someone she could confide in, who would listen, who wouldn't judge her for the shit she was trying to work through.
Lifting her head from her hands, Maggie wiped at her face and the tears streaming down her cheeks.
How could I have been so stupid?
Was it stupidity to want acknowledgment for her sacrifices and work? Was it stupid of her to think that maybe he might have some kind of reaction to seeing her for the first time in two years after she'd been declared dead by Hydra?
How long had he known that she was alive? Did he care? Had he given her a second thought after he'd left the ranch? Did he give a shit that she'd lost everything because of him? She didn't know, and it didn't seem like she would be getting that answer any time soon.
What was worse was that Maggie was a liar. She'd known she was a liar before, but now she knew for sure. She had told Barnes that she didn't want anything from him, and now she knew that was wholly and completely untrue.
This isn't about me or what I'm feeling; this is about giving Barnes the information that I've collected on him. That doesn't need to be complicated by my feelings on the matter.
That's what she'd reasoned, that's what she'd told herself, that's what had gotten her through their interaction. But as soon as he'd walked away with her journals, as soon as he'd left with two years of her life and more horrible memories than she cared to think about, she knew she was lying to herself.
Maggie wanted to know if her sacrifice had been worth it. She wanted to know if the man she had sacrificed her livelihood, life, sanity, and freedom to had been worth it. She wanted to know if there was anything of the charming man who had been Becca's brother left. If something remained of the good, brave, and honorable man Steve Rogers loved and admired. If there had been a good person in the man, Natasha had known as the Winter Soldier. She wanted to know if anything she had learned about the person, rather than the weapon that Hydra had built and deployed with efficiency and deadly force, was still in there somewhere.
That's what she wanted. A response. An answer to that question. Yet, since she'd handed off the journals four days ago, she hadn't seen hide nor hair of James Barnes.
No news would've been good news in any other circumstance. Perhaps he hadn't read them. It was always a possibility that he didn't want to know what she'd found out or didn't care what she knew. That was always an option. One that he could choose to make. After all, that was what she'd written in her letter. Choice, she was giving him a choice.
What about me? The selfish voice in the back of her head screamed. Don't I matter? Don't I get a choice in this continuously fucked up situation?
Maggie shook her head. It wasn't any use thinking like that. There was no point. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right. She'd learned that a long time ago. It didn't matter how much she raged at the universe. It wouldn't change anything. No matter what she did, the universe would continue to spin on.
She wiped her face, pulled her gloves back on, and returned to work.
Maggie had only managed a few more hammer strikes when she paused at the sound of approaching footsteps and a wheeled cart.
Her stomach turned. Fuck.
Turning, she found none other than James Buchanan Barnes walking up the path with a heavily laden mule cart.
Speak of the actual fucking devil.
He hadn't seen her yet, and Maggie was glad for the opportunity to give him a once over without those eyes boring into her, doing an evaluation of their own.
He was still broad-shouldered like he'd been On Last Chance, but now he walked without the familiar gait, due to the missing metal prosthesis. His hair was grown out and had been pulled back in a half up half down style. His face was fuller than it had been when he'd been on the ranch with her, and he had the beginnings of what could eventually be considered a respectable beard. His expression was firm, almost grim, as he walked up the winding path toward the feed barn and workshops where she was standing. He was wearing practical clothing like he'd been at their meeting at her dwelling: work boots, pants, a sleeveless button-down, and a scarf tied around his neck to hide the stub of what remained of the Winter Soldier Prosthesis.
Maggie searched and searched, looking for some scrap, some ounce of the man she'd seen in Becca's photographs or Steve's drawings, but only saw Matt, the man in her barn, his eyes cold, and sharp and critical as they'd been before.
What had he seen in his evaluation of her the other day? She didn't want to know. Didn't want to know if she'd somehow managed to look even more like a sad husk of a human being than she already had been back when he'd known her on the ranch.
Then her mind turned to the next logical question. Why is he even here?
The Cart. Her brain supplied. Fuck. Feed delivery.
Was it Tuesday already? Barnes had told here that he delivered feed to Jelani every Tuesday. Jelani had even mentioned that there was going to be a feed delivery today.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Maggie froze. She couldn't deal with him, not like this, not right now, when she'd just been crying. Perhaps he hadn't seen her. Maybe she could duck out of his line of sight, and he'd just deliver the feed and go away.
Now you're being stupid. You're a goddamn adult. You need to behave like a goddamn adult. Besides, if he's read the journals, you might get what you're after.
"What?" Maggie asked, and she realized that he'd spoken to her.
"I asked if Jelani was around," Barnes said evenly.
"No." Maggie managed. "No, He had to run into town. But he showed me where to put the feed."
Barnes nodded, moving wordlessly with the cart and mule to the feed shed. Maggie set the hammer and clamp down and joined him at the feed shed, swinging opened the door, they started to offload the cart into the shed.
Suddenly it was like they were back on Last Chance, and although he was now down a limb, still moved with a silent, deadly purpose.
I must have been out of my goddamn mind. I should've called the cops on this guy the minute I saw him. She couldn't help but think as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. It would've saved me a helluva lot of trouble. It was a terrible thing to think, something that she'd thought a lot in those dark days after Becca had passed. Something that she'd been thinking a lot over the past few days too. She wished she didn't think that, wished that she could be as selfless now as she'd been back when he'd been on the ranch with her. But the bitter little voice in the back of her head couldn't help but whisper all of the cold, bitter terrible things into her ear.
He was sick and hurt, and in trouble, you did what you thought was right.
There she was, the little noble voice in the back of her head, feeble now, and very very small.
Is there anything else? That's what he had said when she'd handed over all that she had to show for the last two and a half years of her life.
And nothing she had done mattered.
"Can do." She auto responded, her mind filling in the blanks of the conversation. Maggie stopped. No, that wasn't right.
Looking up, she found that Barnes was staring at her, a perplexed expression on his face.
Obviously, her response hadn't made any sense. Fuck. Her mind scrambled, trying to replay what her ears had heard, but that her brain hadn't processed.
"Heyi! White Wolf!"
Maggie was saved by Jelani, an older Wakandan man, wearing the now-familiar orange and black pattern of the plainsmen, his teenage son Sisay following behind him. Both of them were carrying heavy packs as they approached the workshop and shed.
"Come help an old man, White Wolf," Jelani instructed, waving him over.
They exchanged some rapid words in Wakandan, which Maggie didn't understand or speak as they unloaded the large packs. Maggie hesitated, uncertain if she should ask to be excused, wait for a dismissal, or just excuse herself.
"Heyi, Cowgirl!" Maggie's attention turned to Jelani.
"Ewe?" She stammered out in some of the only Wakandan she'd managed to pick up thus far.
"Grab the extra pair of goat hoof clippers and a good rasp." He said shortly.
Maggie nodded and wordlessly did as instructed, a furious, red hot blush rise on her cheeks. They were both watching her as she went into the workshop, and riffled around through the toolbox. Why was she embarrassed? She hadn't done anything wrong or even remotely embarrassing. It was because she was off balance and off-kilter. If this had been the ranch back home, she wouldn't feel this way. She'd be in control of herself and know what she was doing. But this wasn't back home. This wasn't her ranch or her workshop. Instead, she was a guest, a stranger, an employee. Not that's she minded any of that. She just knew that there were certain expectations of an employee rather than as someone self-employed doing the work they wanted.
She collected the requested items and returned outside, where Barnes and Jelani were still talking.
"Excellent, this will do well for Omondi. Tell him that he can borrow them, but I'll want them back before the end of the week." Jelani explained, taking the tools from her and placing them directly in the back of the mule cart that had previously contained the feed. "White Wolf, you have met Cowgirl before, yes?"
Maggie turned to the older man, who was watching them with intrigue.
"Yes," Barnes said shortly.
"Good. Good. I am leaving her in charge of my shop when I am out attending calls. My son is learning the trade, too, since he will take it over when he is old enough." Jelani clapped Sisay on the back, beaming with pride.
Maggie could feel her stomach sink with dread. The question hadn't been random. Nor had the follow-up statement. Jelani knew what he was doing. He wanted to see if they'd been introduced because she would be dealing directly with Barnes for the weekly feed delivery. She would be the one running errands, or around to answer questions, or whatever if and when Jelani was away from the village, which judging from what she had seen over the past few days was quite a bit. She would be dealing directly with Barnes regularly, and Jelani wanted to know if they would be able to do so. Great.
How much did the old man know? How much had the Wakandas been told about the history between her and Barnes? Of course, they'd assume there was some sort of connection but had T'Challa or Shuri, or any number of the Wakandan military and intelligence brass given out a briefing packet? Or had they been left to assume and fill in the blanks on their own?
"That sound good, Cowgirl?" Jelani inquired.
Did she have a choice? Could she say no? Probably, but to what end? She was out here in the countryside rather than cooped up in a palace apartment by the good graces of the King and this man. What good would it do to be difficult? None absolutely none.
"Yeah." She nodded. "That sounds good."
Maggie glanced over at Barnes, who was watching her with those piercing blue eyes, cold and critical. Say something goddamn it. She wanted to scream. Say something, acknowledge me! Acknowledge why I'm here! Acknowledge that you ruined my life, you bastard! She wanted to shake him by the shoulders until she shook his head clean from his shoulders.
"Excellent. I will let you get back to your rounds, have a good day." Jelani told Barnes pleasantly.
"Thank you. I will pass the tools off to Omondi as soon as I get back. Have a good day." He said, directing his gaze at her. "Ramirez." He nodded simply.
"Barnes." She nodded again.
"See around then, White Wolf." Jelani waved him off, and they stood in silence as Barnes led the cart and mule away and out of sight.
So she was going to be seeing him with even more frequency than she'd initially expected.
How the fuck am I going to manage that?
Maggie didn't know. She hadn't been able to hold a conversation with the man, and she couldn't imagine it was going to get any better the longer things went on.
It was supposed to be easier once we found him.
Her brain kept coming back to that thought, to that perceived truth that Maggie had built up in her mind the entire two and a half years that she'd been looking for the guy. It wasn't supposed to get harder. It wasn't supposed to be more complicated.
It doesn't matter what it was supposed to be. This is it. This is the reality. She decided finally.
Why didn't he say something? Say anything? It couldn't be that hard, could it? "I read the journals. They were useful, thank you." It wasn't that hard, was it? It could be something as simple as that.
She wanted closure. But then again, what she wanted wasn't important.
She shook her head, turning back toward the workshop. "You don't have a problem working with Barnes, do you?" She glanced over at Jelani, who was still watching her intently.
"No." She shook her head. I can be professional. I can be civil. I can be goddamn chipper if I have to be.
"You and him have a history together," Jelani said, knowingly.
Understatement of the millennium. "Something like that," Maggie answered.
"Have you eaten lunch yet?" Jelani inquired, changing the subject.
Her stomach growled, answering the question for her.
"Come," Jelani said, clapping her on the back, Teela has made more than enough, you should take a break before the midday heat settles in too much."
Maggie nodded as he led her wordlessly toward his family's dwelling, which was situated under a large, lush cluster of trees.
This was all going to take some adjustment: the living situation, the working situation, the Barnes situation. Maggie was going to have to grin and bear all of it for a while until she got used to it, or it resolved itself. There wasn't any other choice, presently. Besides, if Barnes could act like there was nothing wrong, and that all of this was normal and peachy, then so could she. After all, she had said that she didn't want anything out of him, even if that was the absolute farthest thing from the truth.
Soooo what do we think? Personally, this chapter was difficult to write, but also super cathartic in some ways? Regardless, a classic case of miscommunication, and it's all gonna come to a head in chapter five (with good results, I promise I'm not stringing y'all along). I hope all of you enjoyed! Can't wait to hear what you think.
