AN: Another double post since I've been remiss in posting the last few days. So don't forget to read chapter 12, too!
"They're probably out looking for us now," Tony sighed, voice tired and raspy.
Bucky thought that was stating the obvious, but didn't say so aloud. "In their defense, I did murder their king," he pointed out instead, bending some greenery that was in the way and motioning for Tony to go forward.
Several hours had passed since they had pulled themselves from the river. By unanimous agreement, they had put as much distance as physically possible between themselves and its banks, hoping the Wakandans would think they had continued following it rather than trek through the jungle. They still weren't quite as far as Bucky would have liked, however, so he compensated by trying to make them as hard to track as possible.
Carefully moving the greenery back so it would look undisturbed, Bucky returned his attention to Tony. He still didn't look so good; they were both exhausted, but Bucky, at least, had his enhanced stamina to keep him from falling over outright. Tony, however, looked dead on his feet, and as much as Bucky wanted to stop and let him rest, he knew they needed to keep moving.
"Do you think you can go a little farther?" Bucky asked, hating himself.
Tony turned his head towards him and scowled. "Don't patronize me," he grumbled crankily, pushing off the tree he'd been leaning against and then wincing despite his words. "I'm fine," he added before Bucky could say anything, one hand rubbing his chest. "Just point me in the direction we should be going and let's go."
Bucky hesitated, worry eating a pit in his stomach, but nodded and started walking.
Bucky didn't notice Tony's fever until night had fallen, and Tony began shivering.
"M'fine," Tony mumbled when Bucky forced him to stop. "Jus', just cold."
Alarm shot through Bucky, cold and sharp, because the jungle was a lot of things, but cold was not one of them.
He gently forced Tony to sit down on a fallen log, alarm growing when he felt the heat through the Tony's clothes.
Tony closed his eyes and leaned into Bucky's hand when he placed it Tony's forehead.
"Shit, you're burning up," Bucky said hoarsely, cursing himself for not noticing sooner.
Tony hummed and shook his head.. "'M'not. Cold," he insisted, shivering and leaning forward, until his cheek was resting against Bucky's shoulder. "You're warm," he added, sighing happily when Bucky dug his fingers into his sweaty hair.
"You feel cold because you're running a fever," Bucky said, even though he knew Tony had to have known that already. He swallowed thickly, his chest and stomach tightening in guilt. He should have known something was wrong when Tony had started coughing more and getting quieter.
Tony hummed again and burrowed closer, until his face was scorching the exposed skin on Bucky's neck. "Stop that," he mumbled, before breaking out into a fit of coughs.
Bucky held him through the coughing and changed their angle to open up Tony's airways, something he remembered from Steve's pre-elixir days. "Stop what?"
Tony sighed. "Worrying," he grumbled. "This is why I didn't say anything earlier. 'S just a cold, I'll feel better after a little -" He yawned. "- rest. 'Less you think we shou' go a little longer…?"
"No," Bucky said quickly. He shifted around until he was sitting on the ground, his back to the log, maneuvering Tony until he was sprawled comfortably across Bucky's lap and torso. It was hot and a little uncomfortable, but Bucky didn't care so long as Tony was relaxed and comfy. "We've gone far enough, we can rest for a little while. It's getting too dark to keep moving, anyway."
Tony nodded sleepily, his body already going loose and limp. "Mmmkay," he mumbled, breath puffing against Bucky's throat.
To Bucky's dismay, Tony's wasn't any better the next morning. If nothing else, he was worse.
His fever had risen even higher during the night, and the shivers had become more violent. Bucky tried to coax some water and a few of the nuts the Wakandans had given them into him, only to have Tony throw it all back up again a few minutes later.
What concerned Bucky the most, however, was how worryingly labored Tony's breathing had become. He remembered when Stevie had gotten that same rattle in his chest when they were kids, how the doctors and healers had taken Steve's mother aside, and quietly told her to prepare for the worst, pray for the best if she was of a religious mind. It had terrified Bucky then, and having it happen to Tony, now, while they were alone and helpless to do anything about it, terrified Bucky even more.
"Tony, please, just a little bit of water. For me? You have to drink something," Bucky coaxed, trying to keep the panic and desperation out of his voice.
Tony whined but opened his mouth, only to choke when he was struck by a violent round of coughs that made retch.
"Hurts," Tony whimpered, once the coughing and retching had stopped, and Bucky had guided him to lay back against Bucky. "Chest. H-hurts… to breath."
"Shhh, it's okay," Bucky soothed, rocking them both back and forth. He didn't even know if he was comforting himself or Tony, but figured letting Tony see how scared he was wasn't a good idea either way.
"There's a village, not far from here," Bucky whispered, lips moving against Tony's temple. "I saw it when I went to find water. I think… maybe there's some medicine, there, that can help. Or a doctor, or maybe…" He winced when Tony gave another pained whimper. "...something to help with the pain. I'll have to go by myself, but I think I can make it quick. Okay?"
Tony didn't answer, already under in a fitful doze.
Though Bucky was terrified of leaving Tony alone, he was even more terrified of what would happen if he didn't find him some medicine or a doctor, and knew Tony was in no state to be moved.
"I'll be right back," he told Tony's semi-conscious form, brushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead.
Tony mumbled incoherently and leaned into the touch, but made no other indication that he had heard Bucky, or even understood him.
Bucky watched him for several more minutes before he departed, throat tight and chest aching.
The trip took very little time, in part because Bucky had mostly discarded any form of stealth - a move he knew was reckless, though the part of him that was just thinking of Tony didn't much care. Still, he forced himself to slow down and be more careful once he was closer to the village - a move that paid off when, not but five minutes later, he spotted the hunting party of palace guards up ahead.
Frustrated but not defeated, Bucky backtracked and went around, taking a slightly harder route, only to find yet another party even closer to the village.
Desperate, Bucky tried once more, moving around until he was approaching the village from the complete opposite side, and found himself stymied by an even larger force of Wakandans.
Bucky gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into his hair, his training and the Soldier's discipline the only things keeping him from screaming in frustration.
Tony needed medicine, but he wasn't going to get it here, not with the perimeter around the village as well-guarded as it was. And if they were going to that much trouble to guard it, it meant the people inside had probably been warned about him, and the chances of Bucky finding anyone that could help Tony had just dropped to practically nothing.
It also meant there was a good chance they knew Bucky and Tony were in the area. And Bucky had left Tony alone, sick and unable to defend himself.
Cursing, Bucky turned back around, and hoped he could get to Tony before the Wakandans did.
Tony was not where Bucky had left him when Bucky returned.
Fear stabbed through Bucky like a hot poker, acrid and sharp. He'd left him right here, lying down, right over there, right -
"Tony?!" he called, high and panicked, temporarily forgetting the need for secrecy. He strained his ears listening, hoping for something - an answer, a cough, the sound of Tony's harsh breathing, anything - that would alert him to Tony's presence.
When he was met with nothing but the sounds of the jungle, Bucky cursed and frantically began looking for something, anything, that would give him a clue as to Tony's whereabouts. Bucky prayed he hadn't been found and taken, though the cool, logical side of him thought that if he had, Bucky himself would have been ambushed by now. The ground was disturbed where Tony had been laying, as well as a few feet away. Maybe Tony had woken up, and moved on his own? He was too sick to go far, but maybe…
Following his instincts, Bucky canvassed the immediate area, concentrating on where the trail was easiest. His breath caught when he spotted another patch of disturbed earth, and when he bent down to examine it, a splash of color a few feet away caught his eye.
And there, leaning against a tree hidden in the greenery just a few feet away, was Tony. Choking back a relieved sob, Bucky rushed over to him, falling to his knees and sliding a hand behind Tony's lolling head.
He looked even worse than before, deathly pale, with a few scratches from his short journey, and -
He wasn't breathing.
"No," Bucky whispered, heart seizing. "No, no no no no no, Tony, sweetheart, don't do this to me -"
He shook Tony's shoulders and gently slapped at his cheeks, his terror rising when Tony didn't react to either.
"No, no, please," Bucky gasped, chest and eyes burning as he pulled Tony into his arms, fingers frantically scrabbling at his neck for a pulse. "Please, Tony, please please please please…"
He choked when he finally found a pulse, weak but there, and panicked further as he tried to think of what to do. There was a, a technique, wasn't there? That some of the doctors had used during the war? They tilted the patient's head back, opened their airways, and breathed for them, or something, Bucky couldn't remember the whys or the hows, just bits and pieces, and that it had worked, but what if he did it wrong, and made things worse, or or or -
A sharp, shallow intake of breath, and a weak cough.
"Tony?" Bucky whispered, freezing and blinking back tears.
Another cough, and then a soft rattle as Tony struggled to take in another breath.
Bucky let out a sob and buried his face in Tony's hair, carefully wrapping him in his arms and rocking him back and forth. He willed Tony to keep breathing, and began counting Tony's breaths - five, ten, twenty, thirty - not relaxing until Tony had made it all the way to fifty without skipping any.
Still, Bucky knew the danger was far from over. For one, Tony's fever felt, impossibly, even higher than before. For another, he wasn't waking up at all, despite all of Bucky's manhandling.
"Tony, sweetheart, you need to wake up for me," Bucky whispered hoarsely, stroking Tony's cheek.
Tony didn't move, didn't so much as twitch, other than the slight rise and fall of his chest as his lungs made their desperate bid for air.
Bucky closed his eyes.
Tony needed more than medicine. He needed a doctor, and if he didn't get one, he was going to die.
The thought made Bucky's stomach turned to ice.
He opened his eyes, then looked down at Tony, whose breath wheezed out as a pained, terrifyingly fragile thing - and made a decision.
"It'll be okay, Tony," Bucky promised, adjusting Tony's prone form in his arms. "We're going to get you some help."
He could only hope they'd be willing to actually do so.
The journey was slow going now that he was carrying Tony, but since they weren't going far, Bucky didn't think it much mattered.
"Just a little bit further, doll," Bucky assured Tony, even though he was certain Tony couldn't actually hear him.
Two of the Wakandan king's people were already tailing him, but they hadn't yet engaged him, so Bucky didn't, either. He could have, but he figured they would be more confident and less likely to blindly attack him if they had more of their own with them. A few minutes later two more starting following, and they, too, seemed in no hurry to start a fight, so Bucky left them alone as well.
Once Bucky counted six, he stopped walking. After a quick look around, he found a tree that was relatively clear at the base and gently set Tony down to lean up against it. At his sound of distress, Bucky ran a hand through his hair to soothe him, then stood up and cleared his throat.
"I know you're there," he called out, purposely turning to the area where three of his six tails were clustered. "I don't want a fight," he added, when he received no reply. "I just want to talk, I -" He stopped and glanced back at Tony, then closed his eyes.
"I'm here to surrender."
"I will believe that when I see it," snorted one of the Wakandans, stepping out of the jungle with her weapon drawn.
She was immediately followed by her companions, who all stepped out from different directions and surrounded Bucky.
Bucky watched them out of his peripheral vision, but didn't look at them directly, keeping his eyes on the woman who had spoken to him. He did, however, note that his earlier count of six was wrong; there were ten standing in plain sight, and at least three more hidden.
Bucky raised his hands. "I want to speak with your king," he told who he assumed to be the woman in charge, doing his best to keep his voice steady. She looked a little familiar, and he thought she might have been one of the warriors that had found him and Tony on the beach.
"Why? Do you wish to kill him, as well?" she asked, eyes cold and hard.
"No," Bucky said quickly, feeling the first crack in his composure. "I promise, I just want to talk. Please, I - he needs help," he said desperately, pointing at Tony. "And we're running out of time. I won't fight, I'll go back with you willingly, but I need you and your king's word that he'll be taken care of."
The woman frowned, eyes darting to Tony's prone form and then back. "How do I know this isn't some sort of trick?" she asked, eyes narrowed.
Bucky opened his mouth and then shut it, throat clicking, as he tried to think of something - anything - that would convince her otherwise.
"Please," he started, but was cut off by someone saying, "Okoye, this man is not faking."
Bucky jerked and swiveled his head towards Tony, hot panic jolting through his system at the sight of the warrior crouched down beside Tony. "Don't," he said sharply, and made an aborted move in her direction only to freeze at her withering glare.
"You wanted help, I am helping him," she snapped harshly, before turning back to the woman in charge - Okoye, she had called her - and saying, "His fever is very high, and his breathing is… weak. If left alone, he will die."
Bucky flinched at the word 'die', eyes darting to Tony's face. When he looked back over at Okoye she was watching him, expression hard but less cold.
A second of silence. Then:
"You will give us your weapons, and you will not fight us," she told him, making a quick motion that spurred the others to close rank.
Bucky nodded and starting removing the knives he had left, eyes on the warrior who was still looking over Tony.
"I make no promises, murderer," Okoye added, once Bucky had handed over his last knife. "The decision is in King T'Challa's hands, not mine."
Bucky swallowed and nodded, and bent down to pick up Tony.
The warrior that had been helping him gave him a guarded look, then said, "I can-"
"No," Bucky said softly, and scooped Tony up. "I'll do it."
The walk back to the palace was nearly twice as grueling as the run away from it, even with the Wakandans taking him through a presumably easier path through the jungle.
Bucky kept a brisk pace, however, spurred on by Tony's labored breaths against his neck and the heat he could feel through both their clothes.
Just as the palace became visible, they were stopped by a host of castle guards. At the head was a tall, imposing figure wearing dark armor, and a menacing mask that bore no small resemblance to the many panther statues in the castle.
Okoye stepped forward and exchanged several words with the figure in Wakandan, gesturing to Bucky and then Tony, then the jungle. Once they were finished, the man in the dark armor turned to Bucky, and removed his mask.
The King of Wakanda's eyes were cold, and held not a hint of mercy when they met Bucky's.
"Who are you?" he demanded, voice sharp and commanding. "I want to know the name of the man who murdered my father."
Bucky swallowed and started to raise his chin, then thought better of it, and lowered his head instead.
"My name James Buchanan Barnes," he said shakily. "This is Anthony Stark. We're - we're from the Kingdom of Aavenge."
The king's eyes narrowed. "You're Avengers?" he asked, tone disbelieving.
Bucky nodded, grip tightening around Tony when he saw the king's expression darken further. "Yes, but I - what happened to your father had nothing to do with the kingdom," he assured quickly, raising his voice without realizing it.
Tony made a distressed sound and stirred, tucking his face against Bucky's neck and drawing the king's attention. His breathing was getting worse, and the shivers had returned, and if he didn't get help soon -
"Please," Bucky begged, throwing all decorum out the window and raising his head to look the king in the eye. "Please, help him. He needs a doctor, and I - please, I will give you anything -"
"The only thing I want is your life," the king said sharply, mouth twisted in fury.
"Than take it," Bucky said, throat clicking. "Kill me, or do whatever you want to me, but please -" He hefted Tony a little higher. "Please, help him."
The king's gaze flicked back down to Tony, but his expression remained impassive.
"You took someone very important from me," he said coolly. There was a slight stirring from the guards around them, but nobody said anything. "What makes you think I will not do the same to you?"
Bucky pulled in a shaky breath and adjusted Tony again. "Because you're not a monster," he whispered, voice trembling.
The king twitched in surprise, then stilled, as though waiting for Bucky to go on.
"I know what I am," Bucky continued, feeling the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes. "I know what I've done, and what that makes me. Which is also how I know you're better than me." He stopped and looked down at Tony, who was gasping softly, face contorted in pain.
Bucky closed his eyes.
"I killed your father," he croaked, opening his eyes and forcing himself to meet the king's eye. "But please, Tony didn't have anything to do with that. Punish me, do whatever you want to me, but please - don't punish an innocent man for something I did."
The king stared at him, expression hard.
A hushed silence fell, leaving nothing but the sounds of the jungle and rushing of the river nearby.
Then Tony gave pained whimper, and the king's steely face cracked.
"Run ahead and tell the doctors to prepare for our arrival," he ordered one of his people, before closing the gap between himself and Bucky and holding out his arms. "Give him here."
Bucky turned away slightly, and pulled Tony more tightly against him. "I can carry him," he protested, heart pounding at the thought of giving Tony up now.
"You will give him to me, so I may see that he has proper care, or I shall forcibly take him from you and have you executed on the spot," the king hissed, eyes glittering dangerously.
Bucky stiffened, the Soldier in him snarling at the threat and chafing at the thought of giving Tony up, but Bucky forced him down.
They could not fight with so many around, and the more they dawdled, the longer Tony suffered.
Though it was the hardest thing he had ever done, Bucky gently placed Tony in King T'Challa's arms.
Immediately, four guards rushed forward and secured Bucky's arms, but Bucky barely noticed them, eyes locked on Tony's face.
Feeling like a puppet with his strings cut, Bucky allowed himself to be docilely led back into the palace - right up until they started leading him away from Tony.
"Wait!" he cried, digging his heels in when his guards tried to forcibly move him anyway.
T'Challa froze, then turned around and glared. "If you fight, the Dora Milaje will kill you," he said lowly, nodding towards Bucky's guards. "If you do not follow orders, the Dora Milaje will kill you. If speak, breathe, or move in a way they do not like, the Dora Milaje will kill you." He narrowed his eyes, looking no less dangerous with the sick man in his arms. "Do I make myself clear?"
Bucky looked at Tony, then the doctors hovering around T'Challa. "Yes," he said thickly, watching the rise and fall of Tony's chest.
T'Challa gave a decisive nod, then turned to one of the - Dora Milaje? - and said, "Put him somewhere secure, and guard him well. Once I have seen to our guest's needs," He glanced down at Tony. "I will be down to question him."
The Dora Milaje gave their assent and then pulled Bucky back, giving T'Challa and the doctors room to brush by. Once they were out of sight, they began marching Bucky in the opposite direction.
After a few minutes of walking, Bucky found his voice again. "Is he really going to take care of Tony?" he asked the guard on his left.
She bristled. "If the king gives his word, than it will be done," she sniffed, directing Bucky to walk down some stairs.
Bucky heard his throat click. "And if Tony doesn't get better?" he asked, voice thick.
The first Dora Milaje faltered, but the one on his right - whom Bucky recognized as the one who had been looking Tony over in the jungle - tapped his arm, and gave him a reassuring look that was almost a smile.
"Our doctors are some of the best in the entire world," she said calmly. "If your Tony can be cured, then it will be here, under their care."
Bucky sucked in a quick breath, embarrassed when it came out a sob. "Thank God," he whispered softly, and very nearly collapsed with how weak his knees felt.
T'Challa came down to Bucky's new prison about an hour after he'd settled in, and very nearly gave Bucky a heart attack with his grave expression.
"Tony?" Bucky asked desperately, terror eating a pit in his stomach.
T'Challa pursed his lips. "The doctors believe it is an infection of the lungs," he said tiredly, and slowly shook his head. "His fever is very high, and they are working to bring it down, and to alleviate some of his pain."
Bucky trembled, hard, and wrapped his hands around the bars of his cell. "But will he be okay?" he asked, his voice coming out more than a little strangled.
T'Challa's mouth thinned unhappily. "Time will tell," he sighed, before frowning. "You said his name is Stark..." he said slowly, face calculating.
Bucky leaned his forehead against the bars, fighting the prickle of tears he could feel building.
"Lord Anthony Stark," he croaked, closing his eyes. "Heir of Stark House, and currently third - or second - in line for the throne of Aavenge."
T'Challa startled, eyes widening and mouth dropping open in shock. "Second in - Bast, what on Earth is he doing with you?!"
Bucky choked on wet laugh. "I've been askin' myself the same thing," he chuckled, before swiping at his eyes and trying to compose himself. "Do you - do you think you could send word to Aavenge that he's here?" he asked, clearing his throat. "His family doesn't know where he is, an' they're probably worryin' themselves sick."
T'Challa tilted his head, eyes narrowed. "And how did he end up in such a predicament?" he asked, a hint of accusation in his tone.
Bucky sat down, and stared at the far wall. "He was kidnapped."
"By you?"
"No," Bucky sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "It's… a long story. But please, there are a lot of people worrying about him. If you could just let them know…"
T'Challa regarded Bucky coolly. "And you?" he asked, almost nonchalant. "What do I tell them of you?"
Bucky looked up at him, then brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them.
"If you truly don't plan for me to leave this place alive, then nothing," he said calmly.
Bucky wasn't going to be the cause of a war between the two countries, and if Stevie knew he was here, and why, he knew that's what would happen. Because Fury and the court might be willing to give Bucky away in order to keep the peace, but Steve wouldn't, and Bucky…
There had been enough bloodshed over Bucky.
T'Challa let out a frustrated growl, and stepped forward, until he was right against the bars of Bucky's prison. "Who are you?" he demanded, voice tight. "You, who claims to be my father's killer. Who are you, and why do you wear a murderer's face?"
Bucky set his feet back on the ground. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said slowly, confused. "I told you -"
"I looked into the eyes of my father's killer, on that night," T'Challa said sharply, wrapping his hand around one of metal bars, which started creaking. "I remember them, clear as day, cold and ruthless. I have thought of them often, and how I would one day get my revenge." He then pointed at Bucky, tone notably calmer as he said, "The man whose eyes I look into now is not he."
Bucky blinked, taken aback, then turned away. "I don't know what to tell you," he said, voice shaking.
T'Challa gave another growl of frustration. "How about why?" he suggested, letting go of the bars so he could pace in front of them. "Why did you murder my father?"
Bucky clenched his fists. "I was ordered to," he said softly, staring at the ground. "I don't know why."
T'Challa rounded on him sharply. "And me?" he demanded, crossing his arms. "Why did you leave me alive?"
Bucky swallowed, and closed his eyes. "I wasn't ordered to kill you," he mumbled.
T'Challa made a dissatisfied sound, but before he could continue the door banged open, admitting two Dora Milaje and one of the people Bucky had seen following T'Challa when he'd taken Tony.
"What is it?" T'Challa snapped without turning.
The one Bucky thought was a doctor glanced quickly at Bucky, then stepped forward.
"Our guest -"
"Lord Stark," T'Challa corrected, face smoothing over, as he turned slightly.
The doctor nodded. "Lord Stark," he amended. "He, ah, woke up, just now, but he's in a lot of distress. Ordinarily, we would sedate him -"
Bucky heard himself make a wounded noise.
"- but with his breathing as it is, it might do more harm than good. The others are trying to calm him, but…"
"But?" T'Challa prompted, frowning.
The man hesitated, then glanced over at Bucky. "He - is asking for the prisoner, your majesty."
T'Challa mulled that over. "I see," he said, and looked over at Bucky as well. After a few seconds of silence, he nodded. "Bring him," he ordered the Dora Milaje, before turning to face Bucky fully. "I don't have to tell you what will happen if you are difficult in any way, do I?"
Bucky shook his head rapidly, throat tight.
T'Challa gave a decisive nod. "Then we will finish out interrogation later," he said, eyes hard. "And remember, I am doing this for your companion, not you."
Bucky could hear Tony crying out before they opened the door, and very nearly lurched from his guards' hold. He restrained himself at the last second, remembering T'Challa's warning, and turned pleading eyes on T'Challa instead.
T'Challa stared back, face impassive, then glanced at Bucky's guards. "Remove the bonds on his wrists," he ordered.
Though they seemed surprised, the guards did as they were told, watching Bucky mistrustfully all the while.
"Thank you," Bucky said weakly.
"Our guest not does need to be distressed any more than he already his," T'Challa replied shortly, opening the door and motioning for Bucky to go first.
Tony was thrashing weakly when they entered, fighting against the two doctors who were holding him down against the bed and ignoring their attempts to calm him verbally.
"Tony," Bucky breathed in relief, pushing one of the doctors out of the way so he could sit at the edge of the bed. "Tony, doll, shhh, you need to calm down."
He set his left hand on Tony's forehead, hoping Tony would recognize the cool metal, and brushed away the sweaty locks of his hair.
Tony stopped struggling, eyes fluttering as he attempted to focus. "B...Bucky?" he gasped foggily, turning his head a fraction in Bucky's direction.
"Shhh, sweetheart, I'm right here," Bucky soothed, taking Tony's hand in both of his and kissing the back of it.
Tony instantly relaxed, eyes drooping as he grasped weakly at Bucky's metal hand.
"Lie… that…" he slurred, giving Bucky a sleepy smile. "Swee'… art. 'Oo ne'er… call me tha'... 'fore."
Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, and squeezed Tony's hand a little tighter. "I'll call you whatever you want, doll, just so long as you promise to get better," he vowed, reaching up and sliding his right hand into Tony's hair.
"'M'kay," Tony hummed, leaning into Bucky's touch even as he drifted off. "Lie tha'."
Bucky choked on a laugh and brushed his lips against Tony's hand again. "Then I'll keep doin' it," he promised as Tony's breathing started to even out.
The room grew quiet, save for Tony's breathing and the doctors' bustling about, until Bucky broke the silence by asking, "Can I stay with him?"
T'Challa cleared his throat and stepped closer to the bed, hands behind his back.
"Under guard," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
He glanced down from Tony's face to his and Bucky's clasped hands, then back again.
"You love him," he noted, without any particular inflection.
"More than anything," Bucky croaked, wrapping his hand around Tony's wrist so he could feel his pulse.
T'Challa fell into silence again. Then he walked over and picked up one of the chairs against the wall, and moved it closer to the bed.
"You said the story of how he came to be here was a long one," he said as he sat down, watching Tony with the same rapt attention that Bucky was. "I think now would be a good time to hear it."
