T'Challa strolled calmly into the bedroom, noting the suitcase sitting at the foot of the bed, its zippered mouth agape. A few piles of clothes were half-heartedly organized on the comforter. The lavender on the nightstand had long since dried out, but the scent had not completely gone from the room.
The silk curtains draping the balcony doors fluttered in the warm breeze, beckoning. As he stepped onto the balcony, T'Challa blinked against the bright sunlight.
"You seem to be doing better," he said, a small, foolish part of him expecting to see her startle. He knew she had sensed his presence long before he even reached this wing of the palace.
"Like new. Almost." Charlotte turned to look at him between ribbons of hair that danced around her face. "Thank you will never be enough."
He leaned against the wide stone railing next to her, a cheeky grin surfacing. "Don't worry. We are adding it to your tab."
Charlotte snorted and looked back out over the African savannah before them. The metropolis of Birnin Zana, with its glistening spires of metal and glass to the north, seemed an odd neighbor to the wild grasslands and brush. Animals and people alike dotted the landscape, their trailing shadows growing shorter and shorter in the rising sun. Entire energies moving, flowing within larger energies.
"You've already started packing?" T'Challa asked.
"I know. I think I may have actually broken Shuri's heart. I just need some space for a while."
"From Barnes?"
Charlotte nodded. He caught the small motion of her finger tracing the scar on her arm. "There's this…echo between us. Everything he feels, I feel. And that's not always a good thing."
T'Challa looked back out to the horizon, calculating. "You think that connection between you will fade with distance?"
"Well, I guess we'll find out."
"Hm," T'Challa spoke slowly, intentionally. "I trust you to know what is best for you. But know that we are here if you ever need anything."
A warm breeze swept across the grasses and stirred a flock of bright-billed birds into the air. Sunlight glinted off scattered pools of water, like hidden diamonds among the dry earth. Charlotte filled her lungs with clear air.
Yes. Here, Bucky could have peace.
"I hope he does ok," Charlotte said. "There's a lot buried in there. His mind may be free, but it's still a mess."
"As I told Captain Rogers, he will have refuge in Wakanda for as long as he needs it."
"Keep me posted?"
"Of course."
Without warning, she wrapped her limbs around T'Challa's chest. He froze.
"I know this probably violates a thousand royal protocols," she said, "but Ayo isn't here and I don't care." She gave him a hard squeeze for good measure.
T'Challa chuckled and returned a warm, albeit guarded hug.
She breathed deeply against his robes and muffled, "Thank you."
The cliffs around them cast cold shadows where the sun had not yet touched, but the day promised a blue and cloudless sky. A nearby waterfall rushed endlessly over its cliff, hissing and spewing great sheets of mist. The Royal Talon fighter sat darkly in the rose-gold dawn. Its central cockpit window extended up towards the sky, giving clearance for its crew to walk in and out of the aisleway between the two pilot seats. What little cargo there was had already been loaded. It would be a short trip to the nearest main airport hub. Shuri expected to be back within an hour.
Bucky watched, feeling somewhat useless, as the two women wandered around the aircraft. Charlotte was wearing black jeans paired with bright white sneakers, her hair tied back in a low ponytail. She was frowning at her phone, rapidly typing out a last-minute email while Shuri walked around the jet, casually inspecting its exterior. His fingers found the note in his pocket and began absently thumbing its folded corner.
Their reunion last night had caught him off guard. Despite Shuri's assurance that she had recovered, Bucky still expected to find her bloodied or pale, or at least limping. Instead, he found her sitting on the edge of a counter, barefoot, talking on her cell phone and casually sipping a bottle of beer. When she caught sight of him, she smiled.
"Hey, mom, can I call you right back? Ok…ok I will. Bye."
Bucky did a quick scan of her face, her arms, looking for any scab or yellowed bruise that might justify the gnawing fear in his gut. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
"We did it," she murmured.
Bucky reached back in his mind to the last moments of their session, the image of her blood-starved lips surfacing with a clarity he'd rather have forgotten. "Barely."
She glanced down between her feet. "I'm sorry for what happened towards the end. Somewhere along the line, the barrier between us broke down."
"What do you mean?"
When she looked back up at him, her dark eyes were uncertain and glassy. "I couldn't distinguish between what they had done to you and what I was doing to you."
There it was. The blackened wound he had been searching for was there, trembling in her voice, just out of sight beneath her skin. The bleeding effect, he thought, watching as her gaze settled on his left shoulder, where his arm should've been. Where the emblem of the winter soldier used to be.
"I couldn't keep going. I couldn't keep…doing that to you."
"I'm glad you did." He walked over to the beer cooler and fished out a bottle. "You probably salvaged whatever was worth saving of this old man." He looked down at the sealed mouth of the bottle and let out a comical sigh.
To his relief, the threatening tears in her eyes receded and she smiled, taking his cue for help. As she clinked open his bottle for him, he ventured as casually as he could, "Could you see what I was seeing?"
Charlotte shook her head. "No, thank God. That would've been so much worse. Why?"
So she doesn't know. Bucky lifted his beer to his lips and almost started at the rush of bubbles and bitter hops over his tongue. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a beer.
"Just wanted to know if we were going to be in the same therapy sessions together."
"I'm pretty sure there's a two-for-one Groupon we could use."
He knew what a Groupon was, but he spent just a few seconds too long silently admiring the curve of her slender neck and the blush in her lips. There was only one way to recover. "A what?"
Charlotte laughed and clinked their bottles together. "Never mind."
Back on the mossy launch pad, Bucky felt a slice of sun hit his face. He stepped forward out of its glare and saw Charlotte walking towards him, her hands shoved resolutely into her back jean pockets. His breath hitched. Wasn't this the ending they had all hoped for? Why did it seem so…disappointing?
He thumbed the note in his pocket again.
Charlotte stopped a half step too close to Bucky but didn't retreat. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly uncomfortable. "I hate to leave you like this."
"There are worse places to be," he said casually, glancing at the pristine waterfalls and greenery around them. "I think I'll be fine."
"I told Shuri to give you my cell number. Please call or text anytime. It would make my day to hear from you."
"Come back and visit if you can."
"Don't worry. Shuri has me under a blood oath for that one."
Bucky pulled the note out from his pocket, a tight shield of worn paper. Charlotte eyed it suspiciously.
"You'll never understand what you've done for me." Tears started to burn at the edges of his eyes. "I–"
"Don't start," Charlotte said, her lip quivering as she tried to smile. "If you start, then I start, and I really don't want a headache and puffy eyes for my thirteen-hour flight."
Bucky sniffed back his tears and held out the folded paper. "This is for you. And only you. Don't read it until you're home. And alone."
Charlotte took it, confused. "Is this…is this Bucky being romantic?" she ventured.
He grinned. "No. But you'll figure it out."
She ignored the ping of disappointment in her chest. "I don't like homework."
"It's not–look, just keep it to yourself. Please."
She paused before tucking the note into her back pocket. There was a darker undertone to his voice that made her think twice about chiding him. She stepped forward, slowly, hesitantly, and stood on her toes to reach his shoulders. Strong, firm fingers wrapped around the small of her back and pulled her close until they were nestled in each other's necks.
Charlotte took a deep breath. "Please take care of yourself, Bucky."
"Same goes for you, lightning bug." They chuckled, chest to chest. She felt his tear follow the path of the raised scar on her neck. "Thank you."
EPILOGUE
January 1st, 2019. 2:49 am
Charlotte groaned against the dull droning pain just behind her eye sockets. She rolled over until she was balancing on the edge of the couch, and surveyed the living room from beneath furrowed brows.
The room was mostly dark, save for the few candles she had apparently left burning. Whoops. An empty wine bottle stared at her knowingly from the coffee table. Its accomplice, the wine glass with only a small puddle of red in its base, made her want to gag. Her walls were bathed in a familiar amber glow from the street lamps outside. Soft, quiet shadows trickled down her living room walls. It was snowing.
She sat up, slowly, keeping her eyes shut to avoid the front of her skull from splitting open. After a few moments of contemplation, she shuffled to the bathroom and began blindly rummaging in one of the vanity drawers until her fingers recognized the serrated plastic of the Motrin bottle lid. It had a different shape than the anti-seizure bottle, which felt different from the painkiller bottles, which of course were completely different from the sodium channel blockers. And that was just the top drawer.
She opened the bottle on her way back to the living room and poured out what was left into her hand. Six, maybe seven? The thought of drinking water made the back of her neck wrinkle. Instead, she shoved her palm against her mouth as she stepped out onto her third-story balcony and willed them down with a single swallow.
The damp, frosty air ached on her bare feet and in her lungs, but it was a welcome distraction from the merciless headache. The streets glistened black and dewy orange beneath the lamposts. Bright clusters of white and rainbow Christmas lights lined porch railings and bedazzled trees in either direction of the street.
Charlotte sighed and turned her face towards the sky, watching as her breath pooled into willowy clouds. There had been much debate about whether dropping the ball in Times Square was even appropriate this year. On the heels of the first Christmas holiday spent without half of families or friends, New Year's brought a fresh wave of mourning. New beginnings were unwanted, not to mention that confetti now had a gruesome connotation for most people. In the end, New York (as did most of the rest of the world) elected for live music and festive HD screen displays, but the air remained dark and empty of fireworks and brightly colored paper.
Far above, winter's clouds were beginning to disperse and dark patches of space appeared like bottomless lakes in the sky. Charlotte opened her eyes and caught sight of a steady light patiently traversing the celestial ceiling. It glided between clouds and black swathes of unobstructed sky, unwavering in its lone trajectory. She and the satellite watched one another for a few moments until it finally disappeared behind a vast expanse of cloud.
A fist of anger and grief suddenly seized her. Charlotte went back inside and swiftly made her way to the bedroom. She opened a small drawer in her dresser and began discarding the various gloves and jewelry onto the floor until it was empty. She removed the bottom wooden panel of the drawer, revealing a worn, folded piece of paper. Her heart, as if recognizing it with its own eyes, immediately jumped into her throat.
Back in the living room, she could smell the heady perfume of smoke. The candles were beginning to burn out. She sat on the couch, staring at the folded note in her fingers.
Is this Bucky being romantic?
No, but you'll figure it out.
She unfolded the thinning edges and admired the simple, somewhat messy handwriting.
Sorry to have left you with a note like this. Perhaps this word is inactive, but no safe way to tell. Understand, I want only you to know it. Triggers a system shutdown. No other records exist. It is a traveling companion to the stars. Keep your promise to visit.
It was her blue ink that circled the first letter of each sentence. Beneath his message, she had written out the word:
SPUTNIK
Tears dripped from her chin onto the paper. He had never been safe, from either the chains of his past or the modern world that had ultimately summoned him to fight as a soldier once again. Even her beloved sanctuary of Wakanda had not kept him safe.
She wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve and held the note above one of the dwindling candles. The little white flame paused before the tear-dampened paper as if doubting Charlotte's decision, before finally consuming it in a thin line of smoke.
The last remnants of Bucky's existence evaporated from her hands in a matter of seconds and Charlotte's heart, finally free from its high-wire suspension act of hope, plummeted into infinite pieces in the dark.