Chapter 10: Victim and Blame
Buck sat on the couch and tried to appear as casual as possible in the room full of Avengers. He hadn't gotten to know any of them very well. Sam was the closest thing he could call a friend among the group, and even that was tenuous at best. T'Challa, Ayo, and Shuri had left a little while ago, but he knew they'd remain close by until things were wrapped up as well as they could be.
At various times, he'd tried to kill some of the people in the room. Despite that, many of them had sacrificed their own freedoms to help save his life. Then, just a couple of hours ago, they'd watched him—from the future—go batshit psycho again and try to kill Steve. That little fiasco had promptly been followed by a grim tour of his scrambled mind, and being outed in his undying, unreciprocated love for Steve, all of which made him feel more exposed and broken than he had in the last two years.
Now, as he sat there alone, trying not to stare at any of them, he felt painfully awkward.
"Okay," Tony Stark's sudden drop into the adjacent armchair startled him. Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, then said, "You and I have to talk before I head off to the lab to figure out the time gizmo."
Buck wasn't sure what this conversation was going to be about, but he desperately hoped it had nothing to do with anything they'd seen during Shuri's tour of his memories.
"I get that you're a man of few words, so I'll do the talking," Tony continued. "I told this to future you, but I haven't actually gotten a chance to say it to you."
Buck stared at the man, bracing himself for whatever words were going to come out of his mouth next.
"I'm sorry for trying to murder you." Tony's knee bounced a few times with nervous energy. "I'm sorry for the arm, though you got a better one, so at least that worked out. Thank you for Mom and Dad. They get to see their granddaughter grow up a bit. Thanks for Rhodes. That one has really been eating at me, and you set it right."
Buck swallowed. He hadn't been expecting that. He wasn't used to anyone thanking him, but truth be told, Stark's gratitude was misplaced. "That wasn't me."
Tony leaned back in the chair. "Technicality. I don't care. It would have been you, had you not changed the timeline, so it was you…will be you. Whatever." He waved a hand in the air. "What I'm trying to say here is, thank you. Just accept it."
Buck raised his eyebrows. "You're…welcome," he replied, not particularly liking how hesitant he sounded.
"The other thing you need to know is I've got your back." Tony flung an arm out to indicate the room, then added, "We've got your back. You need help, and you've got heavy hitters in your corner. Legal help. Trauma recovery. Whatever. I'm already on it. The other you didn't have that. Seems like the Avengers in his time have been gutted. I'm gone. Steve's gone. Natasha's gone. Vision. But in this timeline, we're all here." His voice cut out for a moment. "Most of us, anyway. It's not going to be a do-over of the Accords. We're on the same team, and we just drafted you." Something that looked like regret flashed instantly on Tony's face. "I mean, if you want. Your choice, of course. Understand?"
Buck didn't quite know what to say to that, so he just gave a quick nod. Stark was sitting inches in front of him, looking him in the eyes and offering not just forgiveness, but gratitude. Buck felt a warm sting against the back of his eyeballs and a tightness in his chest, but he breathed through both sensations. If he let the lid up even a little, it would all boil over.
"Great chat." Tony slapped him lightly on the knee, then rose suddenly. "Oh, and, about that other thing?"
Buck took a breath. Please don't…
"It's 2023, not 1943. No one cares." Tony flung an arm out to indicate everyone in the room. "In fact, you might just've gotten way cooler." He went to the counter, grabbed the tablet and time device, and walked up to Shuri, then asked, "You ready to crack this nut?"
She gave Buck a sympathetic glance, then nodded at Stark, who turned with Shuri and headed toward the doorway.
"One more thing," Tony said, stopping just before the doorway and turning back around, "the other you wrote in his letter that he made a list of amends with names of people he'd helped and hurt as the Winter Soldier." Tony walked a few steps closer. "I don't know if he had anyone to tell him this, but I'm telling you. You don't have anything to make amends for. You had no choice. You were a victim." Tony's voice caught on that last word. "I know that from those bits of footage I saw. It's one thing to know in some abstract way and a whole different thing to see it. We don't expect victims to go make amends for what was done to them. We help them recover from what was done to them. I wish I'd realized that a whole lot earlier. Things would've gone down differently."
Tony took a breath and gazed at Buck for a few seconds, then glanced at Shuri. She gave him an understanding tilt of her head, and the two of them disappeared through the doorway.
Bucky swallowed hard, feeling his tenuous control on his emotions slip. The last thing he wanted to do was to lose it in front of the people in this room. They'd already seen him lose control once. They didn't need any more of a reason to consider him a basket case…but Tony's words played in his head, giving him absolution he didn't know how desperately he needed until it came from a Stark.
Sam sat down in the chair Tony had just vacated. His dark eyes bored into Buck for a couple of very long seconds that felt like a mini eternity.
Finally, Sam asked, "Are you okay?"
Buck nodded. He wasn't sure that he was, but he wasn't dead and his mind was free, so he thought it best to count his blessings.
"Have you eaten yet?" Sam tilted his head toward the kitchen.
He'd had a muffin and some nuts earlier, thanks to his future self's grocery run, but that wasn't enough to keep his metabolism satisfied. "I had something for breakfast in the tent."
"Okay, let's round you up some leftovers from this morning," Sam offered, getting up and moving the kitchen, "if they survived the devastation. Then, we should probably order more food."
"Yeah," Banner moved from where he was leaned against the far wall and sat down on the other end of the couch. "Future you fed everyone this morning. Least we can do is return the favor."
Buck felt the couch give a little in that direction under the massive Avenger's weight. It really felt weird to have the people in this room being so nice to him. In Wakanda, he'd gotten used to their generosity and gentle kindness, but none of them had ever known him as the Winter Soldier—not even T'Challa.
T'Challa had felt such a burden about having tried to kill him that the king had gone above and beyond trying to make up for that, despite Buck's best efforts to relieve him of that guilt. T'Challa had just lost his father. Zemo had made it so the world thought the Winter Soldier was the culprit. Few people in T'Challa's position, having just watched their father killed, would have felt any differently.
But the Avengers were different. They'd been fighting Hydra for years, and he'd been part of Hydra—its pet assassin. He'd shot Natasha twice and even stared into her face as he'd choked her. He'd almost killed Sam twice. He'd murdered Stark's parents and almost killed Tony in Berlin. If it hadn't been for the man's Iron glove, he'd be dead.
Buck thought back to that moment. Even now, he wasn't really sure what had happened. One minute, he was squeezing the trigger at point blank range and the next minute, he slammed Tony backward in the chest.
Gently.
He could've easily killed him. He could've crushed Natasha's throat. For some reason, he didn't. Thinking back to the holographic display, he wondered if he'd managed to retain something of the internal mantra he'd focused on in the cage. Maybe he'd been able to fight the code words just enough to pull a few punches.
It made no sense to him, and though he remembered most of what had happened, there were still gaps in his memory. He remembered Steve coming out onto the roof and a brief, fleeting feeling of relief at seeing him alive. Then, moments later, he remembered the mission priority taking over. Escape at all costs. Zemo's directive. He'd jerked the chopper control and sent the aircraft diving toward Steve, almost killing him right there.
As Buck studied the large green man in front of him, he thought back to what Banner had told his future self—about knowing what it was like to have some other guy inside of you that hurts people. Buck didn't know much about Banner's story, but he'd gotten bits of information here and there. He figured Banner had an idea what it was like to have something inside of you do things you couldn't control.
"Dr. Banner?" Buck began cautiously. He wasn't sure how comfortable the other man would feel talking about his situation.
"Yeah?" Bruce adjusted his glasses.
"Can I ask you something about what you said earlier?"
"Sure."
"You used to be different, right? You were…smaller." Buck couldn't help the hint of a smile on his lips as he thought back to Steve and his 'I thought you were smaller,' comment.
"Yes," Banner smiled. "A lot smaller, most of the time."
"You had this other guy inside of you? He'd…do things that you couldn't control?"
Banner's smile faded, and Buck saw the realization on the other man's face. Bruce obviously knew where Buck was heading with his questions.
"Yeah," Banner gave a big sigh. His eyes suddenly looked sad.
"How did you get control over it?" He raised his hand to gesture to Banner in his new form.
Banner took a breath before answering. "The big guy and I had a chat, but that came at the end of a very long process, and a lot of…bad stuff." He smiled. "Natasha actually helped. She could always calm the big guy, and I think she ended up being the anchor for both of us that allowed some of me to break through even when the big guy was doing his thing. Then, well, after the big guy demolished a few city blocks and hurt a lot of people, both of us had a hard time. When Thanos came to Wakanda, I tried to get the Hulk to come out, but he wouldn't. After that, we had the chat. Half the universe was destroyed, at least in part, because we couldn't get control together. We came to an understanding of sorts."
"You talk about him like he's another person."
"He was. I thought of him that way."
Buck nodded. Sometimes he thought of the Winter Soldier as some other entity that lived inside of him, but other times, he felt the soldier was part of him—an integral section of his psyche that Hydra had twisted and exaggerated into a dominant monster. He wasn't certain he could just have a chat with that monster and resolve everything.
At least Buck had control. He had his mind back. And now all that remained of the Winter Soldier—he hoped—were the memories. Then again, with how easily Wanda had brought the monster out in his future self, he couldn't be so sure about that.
"When you were the Hulk, before you came to your…agreement," Buck began, "did you remember things the Hulk did?"
"Just fragments. Images."
That was where they were truly different. Buck remembered most of his time as the Winter Soldier. He remembered the people he'd killed, the terrible, terrible things he'd done—which meant it was him doing those things. His brain. His mind. Just…twisted. Broken. Weak. He couldn't blame it on some other thing that took over. He'd succumbed to Hydra, turned over the wheel and let them drive.
"Thanks." Buck's voice was suddenly shaky, and he swallowed hard before continuing, hoping to push the lid down tighter on the bubbling emotions. "You've been a big help, and thank you for…back there. With future me."
Banner must have seen something on his face, or heard it in his voice, because his expression shifted to something that looked almost like pain. "Hey, just because you remember things, it doesn't mean anything. You didn't have any control. We all know that."
"I know." He took a breath, remembering what he'd told Steve back in the plane on the way to Siberia. 'But I still did it.' "It was still me doing it all." He swallowed hard. "I really wish you'd been around to stop me from killing Fury and almost all of Steve's air support on the helicarriers."
Shit! Fury. Had his other self even thought to bring Fury back?
If the Hulk had been in the mix back then, he'd have been able to stop the Winter Soldier easily, before he'd killed so many people and put Steve in the hospital.
"I understand," Banner responded, "believe me, probably better than anyone else besides the other you . Back before Hulk and I came to our agreement, I worked with Stark on a failsafe called Veronica. He activated it in Johannesburg to stop me from rampaging and killing a lot of people. It didn't work out as well as we'd hoped."
Buck nodded sympathetically. "Well, you made an effective Veronica for the Winter Soldier a few hours ago. Thank you."
"You're welcome," Banner replied.
From the kitchen, the microwave dinged, and Bucky glanced over to see Sam remove a plate from the appliance.
Natasha approached, and her sudden, quiet movements caught Buck's attention. She'd been a fly on the wall, so far.
She cocked her head at him. "Barnes, you didn't kill Fury."
"What?" Her words made no sense to him.
"You didn't kill Fury. He's alive."
Buck thought back to that night. Fury had already been injured, and he'd unloaded quite the volley of bullets into him. He was nothing if not a good shot, and he knew three bullets had found their mark.
"I don't understand." Buck scratched at his beard. "I know I shot him three times. There's no way he survived that."
"He almost didn't." Natasha stood over him. "Turns out, he's harder to kill than most people. He let everyone think he was dead for a while, but since you went on the run around that time, I guess you never found out that he survived."
A warm tide of relief rose in Buck's chest. He hadn't even known Fury, but he was glad that the Winter Soldier had failed yet another mission. He felt a smile touching his lips and looked at Natasha.
"That's good to know," Bucky told her. "Hydra saw him as one of their greatest threats. They had him pretty much at the top of their list." He took a breath. "I'm glad I failed that mission."
Sam approached, carrying a plate piled with bacon and eggs in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Here. Leftovers." He looked awkwardly around for a moment, apparently realizing there was no coffee table to set them on.
Bucky rose and grabbed the offerings. "Thanks."
The smell of the freshly heated protein awakened his stomach, and he moved to the kitchen counter, sliding onto a bar stool. He grabbed the fork Sam had thoughtfully placed on top of the eggs and dug in. Within less than two minutes, the plate was empty and the glass drained. He hadn't realized it until just a moment ago, but he'd had nothing to eat or drink all day after the small breakfast.
Buck felt the eyes on the back of his head and wasn't sure whether it was his imagination. He risked a quick glance back and realized from their hasty head turns that it wasn't. He didn't quite know how to act around them, and now that they'd born witness to some of the dark parts of his memory and gotten a hint at some of the even darker stuff he didn't dare vocalize, he felt exposed around them.
Sam walked up and grabbed the empty plate and glass, putting it in the dishwasher.
Buck found that odd. He was being waited on, taken care of. He wasn't quite sure what that was all about. He wondered if that was why they were all being so kind to him now. Did they feel sorry for him? Or did they believe they had to walk on eggshells lest they trip some kind of mental booby trap and set off that other guy?
"About what Tony said," Sam began, pulling up the barstool next to Buck and propping himself on it. "He's right. We're all in your corner. I know this must be a lot for you."
Buck studied the Falcon's face, then nodded. "You could say that."
He still wasn't sure quite what to make of the other man. Sam had really put everything on the line for him back in Berlin, even though he obviously hadn't been too happy about it. Buck's future self's memories were all over the map with Sam—wanting to protect him while, at the same time, dealing with that obvious animosity.
And then there was the letter Sam had written that spoke of genuine friendship. Maybe in this timeline, the two of them would become real friends.
Sam glanced at the other two Avengers in the room. Natasha and Bruce were chatting on the sofa, giving them an illusion of privacy.
When Sam spoke, his voice was low. "I don't want to open up any wounds you're not willing to deal with yet, but in reading between the lines back there when you were talking to T'Challa…."
Buck went cold inside.
"…and, well, just some of what we saw during Shuri's session…." Sam continued. "What I'm trying to say is, there are people who might be able to help you. The Wakandans, of course, but there are other people. People who are experts in trauma recovery…in helping victims who have been violated-"
"Thank you." Buck kept his voice flat. "I'll take that under consideration."
He knew, though, that there wasn't a single person on the planet who was an expert in his particular situation. How could there be? As far as he knew, there weren't any other one-hundred-plus-year-old brainwashed former psycho assassin super soldiers in the world.
Sam obviously read his tone, because he leaned back and studied Buck silently for a few seconds. Buck held his gaze because, if he looked away, he knew it would be all the confirmation the other man needed, and he wasn't ready to give that to anyone.
"Message received, man." Sam slid off the stool.
Buck watched Sam take a few steps toward Natasha and Bruce. The words of his counterpart in the letter came back to him. Shutting down hadn't served that version of him very well, but he knew he wasn't ready yet to open up. Still, Sam seemed genuine, and if Buck wanted to have any kind of a life, he had to start trying to meet people halfway.
"Sam…"
The other man turned toward him.
Buck tilted his head. "Thank you. Really."
"You're welcome." Sam reached into his back pocket and retrieved his phone, then plopped himself into the armchair.
Buck rose from the stool and went to the refrigerator. He eyed the twisted, dented door. He wondered how long the food inside would stay good without a seal. He was still a bit hungry and decided to see what might be salvageable. He grabbed the appliance's bent handle with his vibranium hand and felt a slight resistance due to the warped plastic and metal.
He pulled. The door flew off as if it had been blown off and rocketed across the room. It sailed past the startled Avengers, missing them by a few feet, and crashed through one of the large glass panes.
"Shit!" Buck had no idea what just happened, but he ran to the window to look down, hoping the door hadn't injured anyone below. He saw it on the ground, well away from the nearest tent, and, mercifully, there had been no one in the vicinity.
"Buck?" Sam was suddenly next to him peering down.
Buck looked over at him and shook his head. "I…I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to do that." He raised his vibranium arm and looked down at the black and gold hand, then flexed his fingers experimentally. He made a fist, opening and closing it a few times. "It just…I wasn't expecting that much force."
"What the hell just happened?" The screen in the wall near the kitchen sprang to life with Tony's face. He was in his lab with Shuri behind him.
Buck walked up to the screen and took a breath. "I'm sorry. I just opened the refrigerator door and it…. I used too much force."
"Does any of that deep-seated trauma in your past make you hate refrigerators?" Tony asked, then waved his hand. "Nevermind. Another one's already been on order. What's the damage otherwise?"
"One window pane," Buck answered. Between the refrigerator, the gym wall, the punching bags, and now a window, he and his counterpart were really doing a number on the Avenger's complex.
"Friday, get a new window here ASAP."
"Acknowledged," came the artificial Irish voice.
On the display, Shuri leaned forward. "Your arm is properly calibrated, but your brain still needs a little time to acclimate to the new limb. I will finish up the task I am doing, and then I will be up there to assist you."
Sam walked up to him as the screen went blank, then sighed. "Well, we might as well finish off everything in the refrigerator before it goes bad."
-0- -0- -0-
Steve was almost to the kitchen when he heard Buck's explanation for the loud crash that rumbled through the building. He slowed his steps and, when he made it to the doorway, stopped to survey the scene. The window pane on the far wall was completely shattered. A few jagged pieces jutted from the frame. The outside breeze whipped gently through the room.
A platter of leftover eggs and bacon were on the kitchen island, as were a couple of muffins. There were also three beers, an assortment of fruit, and a package of string cheese.
Buck, Sam, Natasha, and Banner were clustered around the island, chatting and picking at the food. Buck, Sam, and Natasha each had a beer. Banner held a fork that looked miniscule in his large hand; he used it to stab a pile of eggs, then popped them into his mouth.
"So, what was Steve like before the serum?" Natasha asked Buck.
Her back was to Steve, so he figured she hadn't quite sensed his presence. Buck had noticed, him, however, which was evident by his quick glance and tiny smile.
"A real pain in the ass, actually," Buck said, the beer in his right hand. "Stubborn. Determined. Kind. Irritating. Did I mention stubborn?"
"You did." Steve walked into the room, and all heads turned to him.
Natasha flashed a quick smile at him. "How's the other Bucky?"
"Out for now." Steve leaned forward on the counter and grabbed a piece of bacon, downing it in two quick bites. "He managed to get drunk."
"So, mission accomplished," Buck raised his beer and took a sip. "Well, now we know what it takes. More than this watered down stuff, that's for sure." He set the bottle down on the counter.
"How long do you think he'll be out?" Sam asked.
"Well, my metabolism is four times that of a normal human's," Steve answered. "If his is the same, I'm guessing maybe another hour or two. I supposed we'll just have to see." Steve jerked his chin at Buck's vibranium arm. "So, it's giving you problems?"
Buck glanced at the doorless, smashed refrigerator. "Apparently my brain has to get used to the arm. It wasn't much of a problem during the battle, but then again, I was mainly just firing a weapon with my right one." He gave a quick chuckle of a gasp. "It's a good thing I didn't squish the raccoon."
Shuri and Tony walked through the doorway. Shuri carried a small bag in her right hand about the size of a clutch, but it had a hard case and a silver outline. Tony held the time device in his hand and set it on the counter next to the battered fridge, then he grabbed the last piece of bacon and popped it into his mouth.
He eyed the refrigerator, then the broken window, and finally, Buck. "The refrigerator had a crap ice maker, anyway, and this place could use some fresh air."
Steve smiled. It was actually kind of cute the way Buck could suddenly do no wrong in Tony's eyes.
Shuri walked up to Bucky. She reached into her bag and pulled out a disc that looked very much like one of the two she'd used earlier on Bucky. "James, do you have a moment now?"
Buck gave her a disbelieving look. "My schedule's wide open."
She grinned and walked to the couch. He followed her. Steve moved closer to keep an eye out. Shuri knew what she was doing, of course, and Buck didn't seem at all concerned. In fact, he turned around and lifted his hair. He'd obviously done this at least one time before.
Shuri placed the disc at the base of Buck's skull. He lowered his hair and turned to face her as she reached into her bag and withdrew a small tablet and a gray ball.
Buck held his out his vibranium hand and Shuri placed the ball in his palm. She tapped on the tablet screen a few times.
"Squeeze the ball as lightly as you can," she instructed.
His hand wrapped around the ball, and it sprang to life with a subtle, blue glow.
"I want you to increase pressure as slowly as you can." Shuri kept her gaze on the screen in her hand. She nodded as the ball's blue light show intensified. "Good. 100 kilograms. Keep going." The blue light got stronger still. "Five hundred…Okay, stop now." She glanced up briefly at him. "Relax your grip."
He complied, his fingers loosening around the ball.
"Now, I want you to squeeze it as hard as you can. Try to crush it. You won't be able to, I'm sure you remember. It's solid vibranium almost all the way through."
Buck nodded and squeezed. The blue flared brilliantly on the pressure ball.
Shuri tapped her screen. "Well done, James."
She took the ball from him and placed it back in her pack. "Now, we'll need to help your cerebellum with coordinating push and pull force." She pointed to the dining table. "Pull one of the chairs out from beneath the table."
Buck hesitated, glancing at the broken window. "Is that a good idea? I've already done enough damage to this place."
Steve saw his chance to be useful and moved forward, hoping he and Buck could get back to a sense of normalcy between them after the earlier revelation. "Can I help?"
Shuri eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "That will work."
Steve extended his left arm and smiled at his friend. "You're not gonna be able to throw me out a window."
Buck grinned. "Oh, cocky, are we?" After a brief hesitation, he grasped Steve's forearm with his vibranium hand.
"Okay, James, pull very lightly," Shuri instructed.
Steve felt the light tug. So far, so good. He was happy to finally be able to be of some use to Shuri and Buck, even though it wasn't much. He'd only been able to visit Buck once during his two years in Wakanda, and that had been when they'd removed Buck from the cryo chamber. Being on the run had been hard. He'd gotten his friend back, only to have to vanish and leave him with strangers.
"This is all showing very nicely. Now, try to replicate the amount of force you used to open the refrigerator door."
Buck tilted his head at Steve. "Are you ready?"
Steve grinned. "Oh, I'm more than ready."
Buck took a breath. "Okay."
Steve felt the tug, then a quick jerk, but it was nothing compared to what must have happened to the appliance door.
Shuri's quick fingers flew over the tablet screen. Buck scratched at the back of his neck.
"Hand down," she berated.
With a sigh, he complied, bringing his right arm back to his side.
"Is it painful?" she asked, looking up at him.
"No," he shrugged a shoulder, "it just feels weird. Almost like something's crawling inside."
"The disc acts like a biofeedback mechanism for your cerebellum. It helps your cerebellum learn how to interpret and control the arm. Now, I want you to pull on Steve's arm with as much force as you can."
Buck looked uncertainly at Steve. "I don't want you take this the wrong way, but maybe we ought to use Bruce for this one."
Steve shook his head. "No way. I've got this."
"I mean it, man. I don't know how this arm is going to function right now."
Steve tightened his grip on the vibranium arm. "Twenty bucks says you can't move me."
Buck smiled. "I don't have twenty bucks, man. Have you forgotten I'm unemployed?"
"Well, we'll have to work on that." And this time, I'll be there with you every step of the way. Steve jerked his chin at Buck, then prodded, "Come on. Let's see what this arm of yours is made of."
"Vibranium." Buck quipped, shaking his head with a doubtful smile. "Okay, brace yourself."
Steve adjusted his stance and bent his knees slightly. "I'm ready."
Buck's grip on his forearm tightened until it was almost painful.
"On three," Buck said. "One…two…three."
Steve pulled backward as Buck yanked him forward. He'd anticipated the supersoldier-sized force, but the vibranium arm added a whole new element. Despite his best efforts to plant his feet, he found himself instead being dragged forward, his feet sliding against the hard floor, and then he was stumbling into Buck chest first.
Buck caught him and clapped him on the back with his right hand, then teased, "Looks like I'm twenty bucks richer."
Steve chuckled. It felt good to mess around with Buck like this after all that had happened, and slamming chest-first into his best friend wasn't awkward at all. Mostly. "I want a rematch." He pulled away from Buck and gave him an affectionate tap on his shoulder.
Shuri lowered the tablet and looked at them. "You males and your testosterone. It's really quite primitive."
"Yes, it is." Natasha walked up to them. "But it has a certain charm sometimes." She flashed a grin at Steve, then Buck, and looked back at Shuri. "So, what's the verdict? Are the rest of our appliances safe?"
Shuri nodded "The more James uses the arm, the more his cerebellum and nervous system will adapt to it." She looked over at her patient. "There may be some minor incidents during this process, but the exercises we just completed have already helped your system acclimate to the artificial limb's function and strength. Had we had more time back in Wakanda prior to the war, we could have done a more thorough process with your neural-motor therapy, but actual use of the arm will get you there shortly."
Buck turned to her. "Thank you, Shuri." He raised the arm. "For everything."
She nodded, and Steve understood the message his friend relayed to the young woman. They were good. Whatever issues future Bucky might have with the Wakandans didn't apply to him.
Steve glanced at the dwindling sunlight outside. He had another friend that needed a check-in. "I have to go make sure the other you is still breathing and hasn't thrown up all over my bed."
Buck's face scrunched. "Gross. Good luck with that."