Ch 8: Dream a Little Dream of Me
Steve breathed a relieved sigh as Bucky's struggles died and he went still in Banner's hold. His eyes, however, were sharp and hard, darting from face to face. Steve could still read the exhaustion behind those blue eyes. No matter what mental state Bucky was in, his body still obviously ached for sleep.
Moments later, Shuri appeared with a small case in her hand. Her gaze went to the younger Buck briefly, who looked embarrassed by the events, as if somehow whatever was happening to Bucky caused him to doubt his own stability.
Shuri walked over to Bucky and Banner. Bucky gave her a skeptical glare, but he seemed to realize he could not escape Banner's hold and made no further attempts to break free.
"Can you get him to the couch?"
Banner nodded, walking sideways with Bucky to the couch. As he lowered himself, Bucky erupted again. Steve realized the device on the nearby coffee table was in jeopardy and moved swiftly. He grabbed the brown pack and dimly glowing box just as Bucky kicked desperately against the coffee table, sending it crashing through the air and into the refrigerator, demolishing the already slightly battered appliance.
Banner fell backward on the couch but kept his hold on Bucky. He was on his back with Bucky on top of him, firmly in his arms. The former Winter Soldier finally went still again—his expression, however, was seething.
Shuri looked at Wanda. "Can you tell me what exactly happened?"
Wanda was crumpled against the window, her arms folded in front of her. She shook her head. "I was just trying to give him a good memory to help him sleep. I…I…"
"The news showed a photo of Vision at the same time." Steve tried to give Wanda a reassuring look as he set the pack and device on the kitchen counter. "I think some wires got crossed."
Shuri tilted her head as she set the case on the floor. She kneeled and opened it, revealing two small silver discs and a Kimoyo bead. She paused for a moment and looked back up at Wanda. "Would you be able to undo this?"
"That's not a good idea," Steve interjected, knowing his words would sting the young woman. He tried to soften their blow and offered a soft smile to the young Avenger. "You're not in the right emotional state right now. It's okay. No one would be in your situation."
Shuri seemed to accept that explanation as she looked at the younger Buck. "This is not the ideal situation, but in his current state, I believe it is safest to keep him here and restrained by Doctor Banner, with Miss Maximoff close by in case her intervention is required. I cannot ask for his consent. I am asking for yours."
Buck studied her for a moment, then his gaze went to his older self. Steve saw the moment his friend made the decision, followed by a quick nod. "I'm not thrilled about it, and I know he wouldn't be either, but I wouldn't want to risk hurting anyone, so do what you have to do. I'll say the word if…." His voice trailed off, but she nodded her understanding.
Shuri retrieved the metal discs from the case and put one on each of Bucky's temples. His eyes went wide, a flash of panic crossing his face, and his chest heaved tightly against Banner's strong arms as though he were having trouble suddenly getting in enough oxygen.
Banner loosened his grip slightly, but when Bucky took that opportunity to try to slither out, the scientist renewed his firm grip. Bucky went still, but his chest still heaved, and his wide eyes darted upward as if trying to catch a glimpse of the devices on his temples.
"White Wolf," Shuri began, "you have nothing to fear. This will cause you no pain. We did this before in my lab, in Wakanda. I am going to scan your neural pathways and attempt to isolate and modify the connections linked to your past traumas and current mental state."
"What exactly does that mean?" Steve asked.
Buck answered. "She's going to scan his brain to figure out what's going on. I wasn't fully conscious the last time this was done, though."
"The last time we did this," Shuri explained, "my goal was simply to remove the effect of the code words and minimize collateral neural damage. For this scan, I am attempting to identify the reason for his current state and restore normal neural-cognitive functioning." She pointed to the discs on Bucky's temples. "These devices will scan his brain and map out the existing neural pathways. Fortunately, I already have an extensive neural map from our last session, but since time has elapsed, that map will be outdated. These neural-ganglier scanners are interactive and adaptive and will stimulate various regions related to memory and behavior and project them so that I can determine which pathways are closely related to the most intense trauma. By modifying or eliminating those connections, I should be able to bring him out of his current state. The complication is as I told you before. I must exercise care because traumatic memories are often closely linked with nontraumatic personal memories, desires, and emotions, and if I destroy too many, or the wrong ones, I may irreversibly erase parts of the memories and inherent personality traits that make him James Barnes."
Bucky suddenly flailed again, a scream erupting from his throat. He kicked against Banner, but his super soldier struggles were no match for the Hulk's strength.
Shuri grimaced. "I am sorry. I should not have used that name in your current state, White Wolf." She looked back up at Steve as she flicked a comm bead from her Komoyo bracelet. "Hydra could not successfully erase his memories due to the enhancements provided by the serum. However, they did suppress them through intense electrostimulation and conditioning. When certain triggers are presented, neural pathways are stimulated to cause pain that results in the further suppression of memories associated with those triggers. They conditioned a response to his legal name to ensure he would engage in stimulus avoidance if he encountered triggers about his identity in the field. I believe that was also the purpose of the face mask and goggles they sometimes used.
"What, exactly?" Steve asked.
"They conditioned him so that his legal name would cause him so much pain that he'd avoid trying to remember who he was if he heard it…or probably even thought it," Banner explained, his grip on Bucky still firm, though the other man had stopped struggling once again. "It's a twisted form of classical, Pavlovian conditioning."
Suddenly, Steve saw Bucky's reaction in the helicarrier in a whole new light. Remembering had come with a price.
'Your name is James Buchanan Barnes…"
"Shut up!"
Steve pushed that thought aside. It was all in the past, and he had to focus on the present. He watched Shuri flick a bead on her wrist and send it rolling into her palm. An image sprang to life in the air above her palm as small blue lights blinked on the metal discs attached to Bucky's temples. She carefully propped the bead on the edge of the open case lid.
Steve studied the image. It appeared to be a 3-D map of neurons, and as Shuri reached out to touch it, it moved. Some of the neurons were bright and others were dark.
Steve looked over at Buck, who seemed equally fascinated by the image, then dropped his gaze to Bucky on the couch—his eyelids were at half-mast and his eyes rolled upward. His body was limp in Bruce's arms.
Shuri withdrew the other Kimoyo bead from the case and set it on top of open case. With another flick of her finger, its display sprang to life. A face appeared in the air above the disc that Steve recognized immediate—Alexander Pierce.
"This shows the sections of his memories most active now. The discs alter his level of consciousness, but their influence is not sufficient to ensure he remains noncombative. Doctor Banner, we will need you to keep him secure as a precaution."
"Understood," Banner replied.
Pierce's image suddenly sprang to life. "Mission report."
The older man's image morphed to others. Steve on the train, looking down at him, "Bucky…No!"
"Shit," Clint whispered. "We're actually watching his memories?"
Shuri hushed him as she focused on the holographic data.
"Mission report, now." Pierce's face superimposed onto the snowy mountain range, then solidified. There were lights and what looked to be small lock boxes behind him—a bank vault, Steve thought.
Pierce's face got closer, and he leaned down, his eyes scrutinizing, but the point of view of the image was off to the side, as though Bucky were looking just off center.
Another image sprang like a shadow of a ghost in the foreground—Steve's face. He identified the scene immediately. It was that day on the bridge, the moment Steve had recognized Bucky. He saw the shock on his own face and heard the disbelief in his voice as he muttered Bucky's name.
That image was disrupted by Pierce's hand shooting out and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Steve clenched his fists and took a deep breath through his nose. This must be the moment Rumlow had referred to before detonating the bomb. Steve was aware of the younger Buck standing next to him but didn't think he could look over at him without losing it in front of everyone.
"The man on the bridge," Bucky's soft voice came from the hologram, and Pierce's face remained in view, head on—indicating Bucky was making eye contact with him now, "who was he?"
"You met him earlier this week on another assignment."
"I knew him." It was a statement, decisive.
It made something in Steve's chest twist into a painful knot.
More images superimposed over Pierce's face—Steve, as a small, scrawny teenager looking up with trepidation at the Cyclone on Coney Island, then Steve again, older, in 1943 standing in front of Bucky at the recruiting center at the World's Fair. Steve began to realize just what Shuri meant when she said traumatic memories were closely linked to nontraumatic, personal ones. What he was seeing was obviously memories inside of memories—Bucky's fractured mind grasping, piece by piece, at earlier memories, trying to break through the walls Hydra had erected.
Pierce sat down. "Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century."
A ghost of an image rose as seen through a scope—focused on the head of a familiar man sitting in an open-top Limousine—superimposed on Pierce's face. Crowds lined the path behind the target, and a motorcycle cop was just off center.
"He killed JFK?!" Sam exclaimed, and Steve looked over at the Falcon's shocked face. He'd forgotten for a moment that the room was filled with people, and all of them were also focused on the holographic display.
Steve did risk a glance at the younger Buck this time, and he almost immediately regretted it when he saw the utter devastation in the other man's face. This was obviously a piece of information he never wanted out, and Steve couldn't blame him. After Vienna, he'd been the world's most wanted man. If the world found out he'd assassinated JFK, he'd never have a moment's peace.
"This stays in this room," Steve commanded firmly.
"Quiet, please!" Shuri berated, her fingers dancing over the holographic display of Bucky's neural network as some neurons lit up and others went dim.
Pierce's voice sounded again as the image of Kennedy vanished. Once again, Pierce's weathered face came into view, but it was slightly blurry this time. "And I need you to do it one more time. Society's at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're gonna give it a push, but you don't do your part, I can't do mine."
Pierce's face blurred further, then the image shifted to the floor. More memories superimposed on top of Pierce again. A bar. A drink being lowered. Noise in the background.
Steve saw himself again, in uniform, but on the periphery. Bucky's perspective was distorted and distant, as though he were staring at something but not focused on it.
"How about you?" Steve heard himself ask. "You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"
"Hell, no…. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too…dumb…not to run away from a fight…."
Suddenly Steve's face coalesced into a direct, clear image, as Bucky's voice added. "I'm following him."
Then the image faded, replaced again by Pierce's face.
"And Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves," Pierce announced.
"But I knew him."
Pierce leaned back, his lips pressed into a tight line, and sighed. Then, he rose to his feet. "Prep him."
The image of the room blurred further. It wasn't until that moment that Steve realized why the image had been blurring. Rumlow's words came back to him. 'He got all weepy about it, 'til they put his brain back in a blender.'
"He's been out of cryo freeze too long," a man's voice replied, but Steve couldn't see him in the image presented.
"Then wipe him and start over."
Two white-clad figures walked to either side of Bucky, and hands reached out. Bucky jerked backward, the sound of a thump evident as his motion stopped abruptly. A mouthpiece moved toward him, and the image blurred again. Then a mechanical whir sounded, and the image of the room jerked, tilting to the ceiling. Circular mechanical arms came into view above Bucky's head. His breathing sounded hard and fast. The image blinked to darkness a few times.
Then, just as a scream echoed through the room, Steve's attention was pulled to the couch as a strangled croak from the man himself erupted, and he jerked hard in Bruce's arms. The holographic image hanging in the air faded. Shuri's fingers continued their quick dance along the holographic display of firing neurons.
"I am attempting to inhibit the activity of the neural pathways formed by this traumatic experience without damaging the interlinked earlier memories," Shuri explained. "I'll now attempt to isolate the specific pathways associated with the earlier memories."
Her fingers moved into the holographic display, touching a section of lit neurons, and the other bead flared to life again. This time, the image in the air flashed to that of a young Howard Stark dressed in a suit on stage, standing next to several women and a red car.
"With Stark revitic reversion technology, you'll be able to do just that," the young Howard Stark said. Stark turned a knob, and the car began to hum and then float.
"Holy Cow," Bucky's voice sounded.
Steve watched the image in stunned awe. For a moment, he felt like he was back there. If only he'd known back then how tragically intertwined those three lives would become. Steve's gaze snapped to Tony Stark, whose glistening eyes were focused on the 1943 image of his father on stage. Something akin to awe slackened his jaw.
The car sparked and something shorted. The vehicle dropped to the stage.
"Well, I did say a few years, didn't I?" Howard Stark laughed on stage. The audience clapped.
"Hey Steve, what do you say we treat these girls—" the view spun for a second as Buck turned around and noticed the space behind him was empty.
The image shifted again to Steve's face. Bucky was looking down at him at the recruiting center at the World's Exposition Fair.
"You're really gonna do this again?" Bucky's voice rose.
As Steve watched himself shrug, he'd almost forgotten how small his shoulders were. His head had looked too big for his body.
"Well, it's a fair, I'm gonna try my luck," he watched his younger self explain.
"As who? Steve from Ohio? They'll catch you, and worse, they'll actually take you."
"Look, I know you don't think I can do this, but—"
"This isn't a back alley, Steve," Bucky interrupted. "It's war." An image of Steve's small, bloodied body lying on some battlefield flashed briefly before the real memory of him standing in clean clothes coalesced again.
Steve threw another glance at Buck, but the other man's eyes remained riveted on the holographic display. Bucky had always worried about him back then, and Steve pushed himself to prove he could hold his own against everything and everyone. Now that he'd led a team and had lives to look after, he knew what that felt like, and he wished he'd given Bucky less of a hard time when they were young.
"I know it's a war," Steve's holographic self huffed.
"Why you so keen to fight? There's so many important jobs…."
"What do you want me to do? Collect scrap metal-"
"Yes!"
"In my little red wagon?"
"Why not?"
"I'm not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky. BUCKY!" The memory version of himself talked over Bucky's protests, finally silencing his friend. "Come on, there are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me."
"Right," Bucky's said, "cause you got nothing to prove?"
Silence reigned on the image for a few seconds as Steve's image hovered there and Bucky's voice continued, slightly muffled. 'This little fuck is going to keep doing this until he gets arrested or someone signs off on him, and he'll never even make it out of boot camp. Shit! This is not how I wanted to spend my last night.'
Steve didn't remember Bucky saying that, and he sure as hell never cursed like that in public—in private was a whole different story—so those had to be his inner thoughts. The machine was actually able to access and project stray thoughts from that long ago?
"Hey, Sarge! We going dancing?"
'The ladies. Right.'
Bucky leaned closer to the display and looked over at the young scientist. "Uh, Shuri, did my thoughts come through like this last time?"
She paused the display and nodded at him. "Yes, but not frequently. The algorithm focuses on external experiences. However, occasionally, if the thought is particularly powerful or closely intertwined with an experience it will come through. I can make some adjustments to minimize that if you would like."
Bucky kept his gaze on the display he nodded. "Please do." He gave a shaky, almost nervous smile. "No one needs to hear how stupid I was in my youth."
Shuri's mouth quirked upward as her fingers danced over the display, and the image spun. The two women Steve recognized from that night appeared.
"Yes, we are!" Bucky said.
The image spun again, and Steve's face appeared again.
"Don't do anything stupid until I get back." Steve's image retreated as Bucky backed away, and for the first time, Steve noticed Dr. Erskine standing in the background and wondered how much of that conversation the doctor had overheard.
"How can I?" his holographic self said. "You're taking all the stupid with you."
'This might be the last time I see him.' Bucky's inner voice rose, and the scene distorted, shaking for a moment before the image went clear again. Steve wondered whether that was Shuri making additional adjustments to block out the thoughts or that memory was so emotional, it got tangled up in the algorithm.
Suddenly Steve's image got closer. Bucky was hurrying toward him. "You're a punk."
Steve remembered that hug. It thankfully hadn't been the last time he'd seen Bucky, but the next time was when he'd found his friend strapped to a table in the German base. He shouldn't have blown Bucky off that night at the Fair. If he hadn't, he probably wouldn't have become Captain America, but he had no way to know that back then. Bucky had wanted to spend that last night with him, and Steve had spent it filling out paperwork in the recruitment center.
"Jerk," he heard himself say.
Shuri's hands continued to play along the display of neurons in the air. The image shifted again to that of a tall man dressed in an MP uniform standing several yards away.
"Hey, Paulie!" the MP turned toward the sound.
The image bounced a bit. Bucky was obviously running, then it steadied, and the man appeared inches away.
"Barnes? You shipping out tomorrow?"
"Yeah, look I need a favor."
"What?" the man gave him a skeptical look.
"Before I tell you, I need your word it stays between us. You don't breathe a word of this to anyone."
Paulie shook his head. "What's in it for me?"
"You can have anything out of my record collection."
The man's eyebrows shot up. "Three."
"Fine, your pick, except for one that goes to my little sister if I don't make it back."
"What's the favor?"
"You know Steve Rogers, right?"
"That little guy who hangs around you?"
"Yeah. He's—Look, your word, right? You don't tell a soul?"
"You got it. Jesus. What?"
"He's falsifying enlistment forms, trying to get in."
Paulie laughed. "Why? No one's taking him. He won't last a day."
"Look, he's either going to end up arrested or dead. I need you to go in the recruitment center and put the fear of jail or something in him. Get him to give this up."
"You want me to rough him up?"
"Hell, no! Jesus. Don't touch him. Don't actually arrest him. Just make him think you're about to, but you don't, and you're keeping an eye out on him so if he tries again, you'll cart him off. Something like that. But don't lay a hand on him. Understand?"
"Why? I mean, if that wimpy little guy wants to get himself killed—"
"He's not a wimp. That little guy has more heart than you and I put together. Look, the world needs more guys like Steve Rogers and fewer assholes like Adolf Hitler, and I'm just trying to make sure the balance stays in the positive, okay?"
Steve felt the sting of tears touch his eyes. His eyes drifted over the faces of his friends. They had been seeing him and Bucky as they were back then, and it was both somewhat embarrassing and heartwarming at the same time. He'd been so small and definitely kind of a punk, and Bucky had always been there to protect him.
He wasn't sure whether Bucky wanted the others in the room. He considered asking them to leave, but that was ultimately Bucky's call. Maybe his friend wanted them to see him as something other than the Winter Soldier. He looked over at Buck beside him to gauge his reaction, and this time his friend was looking at him, a hint of embarrassment on his face and a shadow of a smile on his lips.
Steve felt the warmth of his friend's humble stare. "You're the reason that MP came into the exam room?" He'd thought either the medical doctor or Erskine had sent the officer, but no, it had been Bucky trying to protect him yet again.
Buck shook his head. "Nope. This is probably a dream, not really a memory."
"Dreams are indicated by different colors on the neural display," Shuri said. "This is a memory."
Bucky gave her a hard stare, but she didn't seem to notice. "Thanks for the clarification."
"You are welcome, White Wolf."
Steve's gaze dropped to Bucky on the couch, still being held by Banner even though he appeared mostly unconscious. Bucky's eyelids were closed now, and his face looked almost peaceful.
Shuri tinkered some more with the neural display and the image shifted again. Gunfire erupted. Men shouted. Soldiers in Nazi uniforms were everywhere. Blood spattered, men fell, screamed. It was chaos on a battlefield.
The sound of coughing. Explosions. Bucky's voice, "Tell them we need cover!" Then Bucky was looking down the barrel of a rifle, firing deliberately and steadily in the night at Nazi soldiers and taking them out one by one. His breathing sounded raspy and heavy. Blue electric charges snaked out over the dark landscape, disintegrating several allied soldiers. Bucky rose, watching the allied forced decimated in seconds…then the image of a large tank, bright lights, and a wide barrel turning toward them...
"Duck!" Bucky shouted, then everything went dark.
The image sprang to life again. Steve recognized it immediately as the inside of the German facility in Austria. From the perspective, Bucky appeared to be on his knees and staring up into the face of an angry Nazi officer.
"You will work, or you will die!" the man shouted, his voice hard and heavy with a German accent. His fist came down, and Bucky grunted, then slammed into the floor.
Another German voice, different, "This one is too sick to work. He'll die."
"Then he'll die, or you can take him to the lab."
The display went blank. When the image sprung up again, Bucky was in a cell, looking up into the face of another prisoner—Steve smiled at the familiar mug of Timothy Dugan.
On the display, Bucky coughed and then took a wheezing breath. Pain was evident in the sound of his breaths. Dugan's face showed compassion, his eyes worried. "We took care of him, Jimmy. They can't prove anything, but they're reducing our rations for a week."
Bucky wheezed heavily. "Stop calling me Jimmy."
Dugan laughed. "Okay, Sarge, whatever you say."
An image of Bucky's mom coalesced on the screen, tears in her eyes. "Oh, my little Jimmy. Stay safe. Come back home." She raised a hand toward his face.
'Sorry, mom.' Bucky's inner voice rose again from the hologram.
"Hold it here, please…for a moment," Buck asked softly.
Shuri flashed a palm at the bead and gave Buck a sympathetic look. Steve glanced over at the flesh and blood version of the man standing a few feet away and saw the sudden hint of tears in his eyes. He could imagine what he'd feel like if he saw an image of his mother hovering in mid-air. It had been so long, and he had only one faded, cracked photo of her.
Buck walked closer to the projected image of his mother's tearful face, her hand hovering toward him. He stood inches from her, silent, then raised his hand and brushed the fingers of her holographic one.
"I almost forgot what she really looked like…the details," Buck said softly, a note of sad awe in his voice.
"Your brain knows." Shuri's words were soft. "The device accesses the neural pathways directly where memories are created. The projected recollections are therefore more…accurate than if you attempted to access them."
Steve looked at the other Avengers and noticed they were all affected by the scene. Even Natasha's normally stoic face was softer, her eyes sad. Tony…Well, Steve wasn't sure what the expression on Tony's face indicated, but he thought the man might have a similar look if he'd just run over someone's beloved pet.
Buck took a breath and pressed the fingers of his right hand against his eyes. Steve knew Buck wasn't quite as physically affectionate these days as he used to be, but he didn't know what else to do to comfort his friend. He walked up and placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. When Steve's mother had died, Buck had been there for him, but Buck never really had the chance to truly mourn his parents or siblings.
Buck turned and gave Steve an appreciative look, then waved his hand in the air at Shuri. "Go on." His voice was raspy, strained.
Shuri nodded solemnly, then flashed fingers at the bead. The projection morphed. Guards arrived, men spoke in German, the cell door opened. Hands grabbed Bucky, dragging him, and Steve watched the boots walking stiffly on the floor—Bucky's view.
A room spun into view—dimly lit with red brick. Another allied prisoner was limp on the table, bare-chested, a machine above him. Steve couldn't tell if the man was dead or alive. Dr. Zola's face swam into view before Bucky.
"Sergeant Barnes, right? Today is your lucky day. You will be granted a chance at life. At greatness…if you survive."
"Go to hell," Bucky wheezed. "I'm not telling you anything. Might as well just kill me now."
"Don't worry. I won't ask you any questions about your silly allied strategies. That is not why you are here today. Today, you will help advance science."
"They didn't." The real-life Buck glanced over at Steve. "I thought they were going to interrogate me, and they never even asked me a single question about our forces or plans."
Steve tried not to imagine what Buck had endured back then, but it was worse knowing that whatever Zola had done to Bucky during that session was nothing compared to what had happened to the man later.
The holoscene continued. The soldiers unstrapped the body on the table and dragged it away. The room tilted as arms grabbed and lifted Bucky, then straps came into view and hands held him down. A syringe rose above him, then came down.
The image blanked again, and Shuri's hands moved within the holographic display, touching lit neurons.
The image sprang to life with the sound of Bucky's weak voice. "Barnes, James Buchanan, Sergeant 32557038.."
Zola's face hovered above. "Sergeant Barnes, Congratulations. You survived the initial procedure. You are to be the new fist of Hydra. Say it."
"Barnes, James Buchanan, Sergeant 32—"
The sharp crackle of electricity and then a scream. The image blanked out for a second and came back to life with the face of Zola.
"No, that is not correct. You are the fist of Hydra. Again, I ask you. Who are you?"
"Barnes, James Buchanan, Sergeant, 325—"
Another snap of electricity. Another scream. The image went dark.
Steve saw Bucky flinch in Banner's arms. He hoped those memories weren't actually causing his friend physical distress.
"Shuri…" Steve swallowed, glancing at Buck beside him. The other man's jaw was tight. He looked over at Steve, then turned away and moved to the kitchen, sitting on a bar stool and focusing his gaze on the crumpled remains of the coffee table.
"I'm aware." Shuri replied. "Each memory allows me to map out specific neural pathways. The algorithm I created will compare pathways to memories and begin to isolate the traumatic ones separate from the nontraumatic personal memories that make up who the man you know."
"But you did this before." Steve couldn't stand to watch much more of this, and he was beginning to get a sick feeling in his gut about allowing Shuri to continue. "Don't you have enough data?"
"One cannot go through a lifetime of memories in mere minutes or hours," she explained. "Do you wish me to stop?" She looked over at Buck at the counter.
He eyed her, then shifted his gaze to Steve. Something that looked like fear and regret darkened his face.
"Hey, Buck," Steve walked over to Buck and leaned in to whisper. "We can ask the others to leave, if you prefer."
Bucky tossed a furtive glance at the other Avengers, then dropped his gaze to the floor as he seemed to ponder the situation. Finally, he looked up and shook his head. "It's a little late for that."
"No, it isn't."
Buck shrugged. "Most of the people in this room paid a heavy price for helping you and me in Berlin. They became criminals. They kind of have a right to know more about the guy they sacrificed their lives for." His thumb played at the plates on his vibranium hand. "Besides, didn't that letter from future me say I should let people in? Well, these people are your friends, and they'll trust me a whole lot more if they get a peek under the hood."
Steve wrapped a palm around Bucky's neck. "Are you sure?"
Buck gave a shaky smile and sucked in a breath. "Not at all." Then he looked at Shuri and gestured for her to proceed.
She nodded and continued.
Another holographic image rose with the sound of Steve's voice. "Bucky." Steve's face, a helmet on his head. "Oh my God." The sound of tearing, then metal hitting the floor.
A soft, unintelligible whisper, then a distorted thought from Bucky. "Is that…?"
Steve's image above—tall, broad shoulders. "It's me, It's Steve."
"Steve?... Steve."
"Come on." The room tilted as arms yanked him upward. Steve's voice. "I thought you were dead.
Bucky looked him up and down. "I thought you were smaller."
Shuri touched a few more glowing neurons on the hologram, and another image came up. Explosions. A collapsing metal beam above fiery chaos below. A railing. A jump. Looking down at the impossible drop, then up at Steve's face, across the void.
"There's gotta be a rope or something!"
"Just go!" Steve waved him away. "Get out of here!"
"NO, not without you!"
Steve bent the rail, backed up, and—
Shuri's fingers danced within the hologram, and Steve figured she was categorizing and moving along. He began to realize just how right she had been—they couldn't categorize a lifetime of memories in mere hours.
The hologram shifted. A dark sky filled to the brim with stars hung in the air.
Steve's voice. "You should sleep. I'll take first watch."
The image tilted to look at Steve leaning against a tank in a wooded area. Steve recognized it as one of their resting stops in the trek across Austria back to base camp.
"I will." The starry sky came into focus again, then Bucky's soft voice added, "It's a shame."
"What?"
"That everything's so messed up down here. I wonder if anyone's up there, and if they got it right?"
"How are you feeling?" holo-Steve asked.
"Tired, but otherwise…good. Maybe they gave me penicillin or something to keep me alive long enough for whatever…."
The sound of a grumbling stomach became evident.
"First light, we'll figure out food," Steve said.
Bucky chuckled. "Man, what I wouldn't give for a hero from Paddleworth's right now."
The image vanished suddenly, then switched to a dark room. A door opened. A man in a Russian uniform entered, a newspaper in his hand. He threw it on the floor.
The headline read:
Captain America is dead!
Plane crashes off the coast of Greenland
"No one will ever come for you." The man said, his voice thick with a Russian accent.
The image of the newspaper blurred. "I already knew that."
Damnit. Steve closed his eyes at the sad resignation in Bucky's holographic voice. He hated himself for giving Bucky up for dead and leaving him to suffer for decades at the hands of Hydra.
"Your friend is dead." The Russian holographic voice asked. "What do you say to that?"
Steve forced himself to look at the display again and watched as Bucky's hand—too thin, with red, busted knuckles—picked up the newspaper and his gaze scanned the small, blurry print. He blinked and tears plopped on the page, but the word in black type suddenly became clear. "Rogers' sacrifice saved the United States from a massive German attack."
Bucky raised his gaze to look at the Russian soldier. "It says here he took out a bunch of Nazi's and saved a lot of lives, so, all I have to say is, 'Way to go, Steve.'"
The butt of a gun whipped out, and the image went blank.
There was a bleak silence in the room for the briefest of moments as Shuri navigated again through the holographic neural projection. Steve looked down at Bucky. There were glistening tear tracks on his cheeks and redness at the edges of his eyes that revealed the memories catalogued by Shuri's scan were evoking real emotions.
He knew what that pain felt like. They'd both mourned one another in that other life.
The image shifted again, showing a dimly-lit room with metal walls. A face came into view, and Steve gasped. He recognized it immediately as the Russian Colonel, Karpov, that he and the Howlies had encountered during their search for Bucky's body.
Son of a bitch…
"Who do you serve, soldier?" Karpov asked.
"Technically," Bucky's voice answered, raspy and laced with fatigue, "I think I'm still an army sergeant, so that would mean the U.S. Government."
The baton came up hard between Bucky's legs, landing unforgivingly on his testicles. He dropped to his knees, and it was then that Steve noticed Bucky had only one arm and it was cuffed to a thick belt around his waist. He was naked, thinner than Steve could ever imagine him being, with ribs that seemed as though they would poke through his skin.
"There is no United States government," Karpov said flatly. "Hydra destroyed it. Now, you serve Hydra."
Bucky's breathing was quick and ragged as he straightened to look up at Karpov.
"Say it," Karpov ordered.
There was an image of Steve's face, just a flash on the screen, before Karpov's face replaced it.
"No," Bucky grunted.
The baton clipped him on the jaw, sending him backward. A hand grabbed his hair and yanked him to his knees. He looked up into Karpov's angry face.
The Colonel held a blade in his hand. "Say Heil Hydra, or I'll carve into you."
"No."
Shuri cleared her throat, and when Steve looked at her, she was staring wide-eyed at the display, a shimmer in her eyes as her hands navigated, changing the scene. The display went dark.
"Thank God," Sam muttered.
Shuri glanced at Buck and Steve. "I…I need to find an activation moment."
Steve closed his eyes for a moment. How much more of this did they have to go through?
The display came back to life with the familiar face of a man wearing glasses.
Zemo.
"I mean…your real home." The holoview focused on the red book with the star on the cover.
'So you're the one who bombed the U.N…to find me. Please, no….' The thought was shaky, desperate.
Steve realized they were seeing what had happened when Zemo had gotten to Bucky in Berlin. Zemo had taken out the power grid, which took all cameras off-line.
"My apologies." Shuri paused the display and looked at Buck. "To properly catalog the neurological pathways of the activation sequence, it will be necessary for the algorithm to collect more extensive data. This will result in the projection of your inner thoughts."
Bucky grimaced and nodded. "I understand…but just for this part here?" His voice was steady, but by the way he held himself—still and stiff—Steve knew this was torture for Bucky to watch.
Shuri nodded curtly, her eyes fixed on the display.
"Zhelaniye." Zemo's holo-voice continued.
The image went dark. "No." It was a whisper.
The image snapped back and tilted upward as Bucky looked at the ceiling of his cage.
"Rzhavyy." Zemo said, the flashlight held in his hand over the page.
"Stop."
A hum rose slowly, distorted and high-pitched. Steve wasn't sure if it was real or in Bucky's head, but the next words were obviously thoughts. 'I knew this would happen.'
Steve sucked in a deep, angry breath as he watched his friend struggle against the inevitable. He had failed Bucky then. They all had. He now understood why Bucky had run. It was to avoid the very thing that was happening right in front of him.
"Semnadtsat."
'Who is he?' The hum shifted to a hollow ringing sound. Bucky looked down at his metal arm, straining. "Stop!" 'What does he want?'
An image of Steve's face on the helicarrier flashed quickly. 'That mission? Don't make me. I won't…' Bucky's gaze was on Zemo. 'He's not gonna stop.'
"Rassvet."
'I have to get out of here!' The muffled thought sounded shaky, desperate. The view of the cage tilted then went dark. Bucky screamed. Suddenly, the arm was in view, the fist clenched, and the metal restraint busted, punctuated by the sounds of Bucky's screams.
'He's gonna make me kill! They always make me kill.'
His metal hand tore the restraint off his other arm.
Zemo continued the words.
Bucky stood. His fist pounded against the transparent barrier over and over again. 'Break, goddamnit!' The words were muffled, overlayed by a weird static-ringing sound.
Zemo continued the litany of words.
'Focus. Don't kill Steve! Steve is your friend.'
Another image of Steve's bloody face on the disintegrating helicarrier. "I'm not gonna fight you." The shield dropping. "You're my friend."
Then the metal fist again, smashing against the barrier. The ringing sound became louder and the pounding of his fist more desperate. 'Fight this!' The glass began to crack.
"Odeen."
Bucky yelled, his fist pounding again.
"gruzovoy vagon"
The door gave just as everything went white.
Steve closed his eyes. Bucky had fought with everything he had. Steve never realized that. He hadn't known exactly what had happened between the time the lights went out and Bucky got loose. He wondered if Bucky's inner litany not to kill him explained why Bucky hadn't immediately attacked when Steve had rushed into the room. Had Zemo told him not to attack? And if so, why not? Or had Bucky been able to hold on to that silent, inner command he'd given himself…at least for a few minutes?
He glanced down at the actual man himself, who was motionless in Bruce's arms, his brow furrowed. A slight tremor shook his right hand.
Then he looked over to the younger Buck nearby and caught his pained gaze. "I'm sorry."
Buck simply shook his head in response.
The display shifted again. This time the face was different, but even more familiar. It was Sam, and he was sitting in a dim room. He was close, a blank wall behind him.
"You know what, Doc?" Sam said, his eyes angry. "I don't have time for this. We have some real serious shit going on."
The living, breathing Sam in the room was suddenly at Steve's side. "This never happened. I don't know what this is."
"So, how 'bout this?" Sam's holographic voice continued.
Shuri's brow furrowed. "These are novel neural pathways, recent."'
"Are we looking at the future?" Tony asked.
Shuri nodded. I believe so.
The holoscene continued. "I will squash it, right now. We go deal with that, and when we're done, we both can go on separate long vacations and NEVER. SEE. EACH. OTHER. AGAIN."
"I like that." Bucky's voice was barely a whisper, raw with a pain that made Steve desperate to know what happened leading up to that moment.
"Great. Well, let's get to work. Thanks, Doc, for making it weird." Sam looked to his left at someone. "I feel much better. See you outside." His arm came up and slapped Bucky's left one, evoking a subtle clinking sound of metal, then he got up and left.
"Thank you," a woman's voice replied. "That was…really great."
Bucky stared at the empty chair for a few seconds, then looked over. A woman's face came into view. She wore a light brown jacket and scarf. A notebook lay open in front of her on an empty table. Bucky rose and walked to the door. The room looked like an interrogation room of some sort.
"I know that look. What's wrong?" she asked.
The room rotated as Bucky turned to look at her. "What was rule number two again?"
"Don't hurt anyone."
Bucky stared at her. An image of him kicking Sam over the side of the helicarrier flashed briefly. "Goodbye, Doc."
The scene shifted again, this time to dimly-lit room. A woman with short platinum blonde hair sat on the couch, surrounded by armed men. Sam stood near a wall, dressed in an outfit Steve was pretty sure the man wouldn't be caught dead in under normal circumstances, but these were obviously not normal circumstances…because Zemo was sitting in a chair.
How the hell had that man gotten out of prison?
"Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum," Zemo said, rising from the chair and walking out of sight, behind Bucky, "and I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course."
There was a sharp intake of breath from his right, and Steve looked over to see Buck staring wide-eyed at the display. He pulled his eyes away for a moment to glance at Steve and shake his head with a look that was part denial and part raw terror.
This wasn't possible. Shuri said she had removed the activation words… and in the scene before them, Sam was there, and Sam wouldn't stand by and let anyone use Bucky like that. This was an operation of some kind. They were undercover. They had to be, but why on earth would either of them work with Zemo? How did he play into whatever the hell was happening?
On the display, the blonde woman on the couch smiled as Zemo's hand came into view, grabbing Bucky's chin. "He will do anything you want."
There was a confirmation in Zemo's tone that hit Steve like a punch to the gut, and he glanced at the flesh and blood version of his friend standing next to him. Buck folded his arms and seemed to curl in on himself, even though he barely moved, and dropped his gaze to the floor.
Something beeped frantically from near the display, and Shuri's brow crinkled as she navigated through the display. "Let me try to go back a bit."
Thank God. Even though part of Steve wanted very much to see the scene play out, he knew it was better to move on. Bucky and Sam had obviously gotten through whatever happened.
As Shuri made her adjustments, Steve caught Sam's gaze and saw the same confusion he felt reflected in the other man's dark eyes. Exactly what had happened between Sam and Bucky in the future to get them to that point? And why would Sam end up in danger? Why would they work with Zemo, and why the hell would Bucky have to take on the mantle of the Winter Soldier again?
The image vanished and morphed. Sam stood dressed in his Falcon suit. He looked to be inside the cargo area of a plane. "Enjoy your ride, Buck."
"Nah, you can't call me that."
"Why not? That's what Steve called you."
"Steve knew me longer, and Steve had a plan."
"Fifteen seconds to drop!" a man's voice announced.
Sam walked away. "I have a plan."
Bucky rose. "Really? What is it?"
Sam jumped out of the plane's door. A young man dressed in a uniform peered out after him.
"Great." Bucky's gaze scanned the interior of the plane. "Where's the chute?"
"We're 200 feet," the man answered, sounding slightly nervous. "It's too low for a chute."
Bucky hurried to the door. "I don't need it, anyway."
Bucky peered out, looking at the blur of treetops. His breath and pulse quickened in his ears. Another image sprang forth. A blur of a snowy mountain range. Gazing down over a dizzying drop from a speeding train.
"You sure about that?" the young airman asked.
Bucky's gaze tore from the nauseating view below to look over at the other man. "Yeah." The word was low and shaky.
He looked down at his leather sleeve. His right hand came up and tore it off, revealing his black and gold vibranium arm, then his gaze once again went to the blur of trees below.
He jumped. A scream erupted from him. Another memory popped forward. Falling. Screaming. Steve's face high above him, calling his name. Then the flashback vanished as tree branches slammed into him. He hit one after another, grunting, twisting, until the world stopped abruptly with a hard thud.
The sky and treetops loomed above him. Leaves floated down around him, rustling with soft whispers. A pained gasp escaped him.
For a moment, the scene changed again. There were trees, but also snow. Steve knew they were once again looking at a flashback inside a memory.
Footsteps crunched in the ice. 'Steve?'
A man in a beige coat and criss-crossed straps appeared, his face hovered overhead. The unfamiliar soldier barked words in Russian. Then Bucky was being dragged through the snow, the raw stump of his severed arm leaving a trail of blood.
Steve rubbed his eyes. Jesus, how long had Bucky laid there in the snow clinging to life, hoping for rescue?
The flashback was abruptly interrupted by Sam's loud holographic voice. "I have all of that on camera," the snow faded to blue sky and falling leaves once again, "you know that, right?"
A red drone appeared against the treetops, whirring and beeping.
Bucky's strained voice muttered, "Get…out of my face, Sam, or I'll break it."
The Sam standing in the flesh released an audible sigh. "Uh…so future me is a bit of a jerk."
Steve didn't know what to say to that. From the memories presented, something had apparently happened that caused a rift between the two men in the future. What worried him even more was that he obviously wasn't around for Buck, and without Sam, his friend would have no one in his corner to help him find his way to a new, normal life.
Shuri navigated through the maze of neurons again. "I will try further back into the past to tap into memories tied closely to his sense of self."
She navigated through the neural maze and moved the projection to a section of the brain deep in the center, near the brain stem. Her fingers expanded the image until individual neurons were visible, and her fingers tapped a cluster of the cells.
The projection shifted, and Steve saw an image of himself as a small child being pushed to the snowy ground by two larger boys. One of them punched him while the other reached into his pockets. Steve remembered that day well. It was the day he met Bucky, when two school bullies—John Marone and Vinnie Calhoun—tried to steal his money.
"Hey!" Bucky's young voice sounded.
John Marone was the larger of the two kids, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. His head whipped up. "What do you want, Jimmy?"
"I want you to give him back his money and leave him alone."
John stood up and Vinnie pocketed the money. Steve watched as his younger self wiped at his bloody nose and then pushed himself to his feet.
"Make me," Vinnie dared.
Bucky's gaze drifted upward momentarily, then he moved toward the two boys. Marone took a swing at him. The scene pivoted as Bucky ducked, coming up behind the boy and kicking him face-first into the snow.
Vinnie laughed, and John looked back at the other boy with a glare. "Shut up."
"Give it to me," Bucky's gray mitten became visible in front of him as he stared at Vinnie, "or I'll clobber you."
Vinnie reached into his pocket and pulled out the money, slapping a couple of coins in Bucky's palm. Then the two boys ran off.
Steve could hear John's voice in the distance. "Mr. Anderson! Mr. Anderson!"
Bucky turned toward Steve. "Here." He held out the money.
Steve swiped again at his nose as he took the coins. "Thanks."
"What's your name?"
"Steve. I know who you are."
Steve smiled. Back then, everyone in their school knew Bucky. He was one of those guys that just did well in sports and managed to keep up his grades—except when a cute girl got in the way.
"James Buchanan Barnes!"
The image pivoted again, and the large figure of a man appeared. Steve recognized him immediately. Mr. Anderson, the history teacher. That was the only teacher in school Bucky could never charm. Mr. Anderson had it out for Bucky from day one for some reason Steve could never figure out.
"Mr. Anderson, I—" Bucky began, but the man reached down and grabbed Bucky's collar.
"Did you kick Johnny into the snow?"
"Well, yeah, but—"
"You're coming with me. Kicking Johnny, giving Steve a bloody nose, you like to beat up on people?"
Buck glanced back at Steve as he was yanked forward.
"He didn't give me a bloody nose!" Steve ran after them.
"Don't lie, Steve, he's not going to come after you. Two boys saw him. I'll make sure he doesn't do this again."
"I didn't!" Bucky protested, scrambling and tripping as the teacher pulled him into the classroom.
Mr. Anderson's pale, round face and light blue eyes loomed in the projection. "You right handed?"
"Y-Yes, but I didn't—"
"Hold out your left hand." A ruler came up.
"No! I didn't do it!"
"Hold out your left hand, James, or I'll do it for you."
"I'm not going to! I didn't punch Steve."
"He's telling the truth," Steve yelled. "It was Johnny!"
Bucky's gaze turned to him, and Steve saw his own small frame standing in the doorway. His tiny face was contorted with the emotions he knew he'd felt back then—guilt, remorse, even self-loathing for being so small that someone like Bucky had to pay the price for coming to his defense.
Anderson's right hand whipped out and grabbed Bucky's left wrist while his other yanked off the mitten. The ruler came down with a sharp "slap!" Then again.
Bucky yelped, and the image blurred. "I didn't do it!"
The ruler came down again, harder.
"That one's for lying."
Bucky let out a cry and yanked his hand away.
"Now get out of here!" the teacher bellowed, and Bucky turned and ran past Steve.
The image jumped around, blurred, and then shifted to snow outside. They could hear soft sobbing. Tears fell onto the ice as Bucky looked at his bloody knuckles. A couple of crimson drops fell onto the slush.
"I'm sorry." Steve heard his holographic childhood self say.
The image tilted as Bucky looked up at Steve, tears blurring his vision. "It's not your fault."
"It wouldn't have happened if you weren't trying to help me." Steve reached down and picked up some snow in his gloved hand. "This might help, Buckaroo." With a gentle smile, he spread the ice over Bucky's torn knuckles. In his other hand, he held the dark mitten the teacher had yanked off.
"My Mom's going to be so upset," Bucky said softly.
"Jesus," Sam's voice interrupted. "They did that back then, didn't they?"
Shuri moved through the neural projection again, her eyes studying the firing neurons. Her brow furrowed and her fingers moved once again through the maze. "I think we may be close to bringing him out of his current state. Powerful memories are what originally allowed you to break through the programming, and by accessing them, I can overcome the altered state induced by…" Shuri looked almost apologetically at Wanda, "…the unintended telepathic, uh, glitch. There's a cluster here that is particularly strong." Her fingers selected the neurons.
The image shifted to the landing in front of Steve's apartment. He recognized the moment instantly. It was after his mother's funeral. He was patting his pockets, searching for his key.
"I was gonna ask," Bucky said as Steve watched his younger, smaller self head for the front door of the tiny apartment he once shared with his mother.
"I know what you're gonna say, Buck." Steve put his hands his pockets in search of the key. "It's just…"
"We can put the couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids. It'll be fun. All you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash." Bucky kicked over a brick and picked up the key it had been hiding. He handed it to Steve. "Come on."
"Thank you, Buck," his teenage self looked up, "but I can get by on my own."
Steve remembered this conversation like it was yesterday. He had carried a chip on his shoulder, never wanting to show weakness, especially not to Bucky, who was always so strong.
"This seems to be a particular powerful memory," Shuri announced, her attention focused on the display. "I believe we're almost there."
"The thing is," that younger version of Bucky said, with an almost shy shake his head as he met Steve's solemn gaze, "you don't have to." He reached out and grabbed Steve's shoulder.
"Uh…" the flesh version of Buck muttered in a breathy whisper as he stared at their younger selves, into a time when life was simpler. His brow furrowed as though he were trying to remember something.
"Because I'm with you 'til the end of the line, Pal," holographic Bucky continued. 'And I'm in love with you, you stupid punk.'
Steve stood frozen, feeling as though a truck was on his chest. The image paused on Steve's young face looking up at Bucky with a sad smile and broken eyes. The room was silent. Buck stood motionless next to him, so still and quiet Steve wasn't sure he was breathing.
All these years. How had he not seen it? Maybe they'd danced around it a couple of times, even joked once or twice, but he never knew. Not really.
Had he?
Oh, Buck. Steve looked over at his friend. The tight expression told him Buck was too affected to speak, but he threw a shattered look at Steve with wet, pinched eyes, shook his head, and took a single, heaving breath.
"Damnit, Shuri." With a rough shake of his head, Buck turned and walked stiffly out of the room.
It was time to end this. They could continue later, someplace where Bucky could stay longer and have more privacy, if need be, but not here. Not now. Buck's pale face and shell-shocked eyes would haunt him forever.
Sam walked up to Steve. "Christ, what a way to be shoved out of the closet."
"Was he in the closet?" Tony asked.
"What is going on?" T'Challa's voice interrupted. Steve looked over at the Black Panther as he walked in wearing his vibranium suit, his head uncovered. His Dora Milaje Ayo stood at his side.
"There has been an episode with White Wolf," Shuri announced.
"It's gone a bit too far," Steve explained. That was an understatement. He was still trying to wrap his mind around what happened. "We have to stop this, at least for now." He needed to go find Buck. "Shuri, can you bring him out of his Winter Soldier state yet?"
She sighed. "I am not sure without completing the process, but I can try. If not, we can take appropriate measures and return him to Wakanda to continue the work there. I will keep the discs active just in case. It will be easier to calm him with them should he be combative."
Her fingers swiped at a bead on her wrist, and the blue lights on the discs attached to Bucky's temples blinked several times. He opened his eyes, looking confused as he tried to move. His gaze darted around, and suddenly everyone was looking someplace other than at him.
Buck peered down at the green arms around his torso and closed his eyes for a moment. Steve could swear he saw a shudder go through Bucky's body. "Dr. Banner?"
"Yes?" Banner answered hesitantly.
"Thank you. You can let me go now. Please." Bucky opened his eyes with a shaky sigh.
Steve released the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, grateful to have Bucky back. He nodded at Bruce, and the scientist released his hold on Bucky. Bucky slid to his knees on the floor, looking up in obvious shame at Steve, then Shuri, but when his eyes focused on the holographic image of teenager Steve, his brow furrowed skeptically.
Steve wondered just how much of the session, if any, Bucky remembered.
"What is this?" He rose to his feet, looking from the display to Shuri, and wiped away the wetness on his cheeks.
That answered the question of how much he remembered—not much, if any—which meant they'd have to tell him. Somehow. Or the younger Buck would.
Damn.
Bruce rose off the couch and moved to the window next to Wanda.
Shuri grabbed the Kimoyo beads, ending the display, and walked over to stand next to her brother. "You experienced a Winter Soldier episode…."
Wanda hurried forward. "I'm so sorry, I—"
Bucky's head whipped toward her, and he stumbled back, tripping over the case and almost losing his balance. He held a palm out at her. "Stay away from me and stay out of my head!"
Wanda's face crumpled, and she put a hand over her mouth as she turned and hurried out of the room. Steve regretted that he'd have to wait until later to console her, but he was relieved to see Natasha go after her.
Bucky turned an angry glare to Shuri. "What is this?" he asked again, the fingers of his right hand drifting up to feel the disc on his right temple.
"A neural reconstruction session."
"I didn't consent to this." He plucked each disc off his temple.
She nodded. "You did in Wakanda."
"To that one session in the lab." Bucky hissed, walking up to her and holding out his hand. "Not here."
Shuri opened her palm, and he dropped the discs into her hand, though his eyes never left hers.
T'Challa spoke, his voice deep and calm. "I understand your anger, White Wolf, but you must trust by now that we mean only to help."
Shuri raised a hand. "Brother, please…you do not know what has transpired here."
Bucky turned his head to T'Challa and stared at him for several long seconds, and that silent gaze caused Ayo to tense.
Bucky finally spoke. "I know that, and I'm grateful for everything you've done, but trust is a two-way thing."
"Speak your mind," T'Challa prodded, his gaze firm.
"You don't really trust me, do you? This arm was given to me so I could join the fight. You let me keep it, and I appreciate that, but you didn't tell me about your little failsafe. Did it occur to you," he looked at Shuri, "that that bit of information might come in handy someday, in some situation?"
Shuri swallowed and glanced up at her brother.
Bucky nodded. "Yeah, I found out the arm comes off. It was a bit of a surprise at the time." His gaze switched to Ayo briefly before returning to T'Challa. "What other hidden gems did you include and not tell me about? GPS? A kill switch?"
"We would never put in a kill switch!" Shuri's face flashed with insult.
Bucky took a deep breath. "It's okay. I get it." He swallowed, and his voice went soft, his tone suddenly deferential. "Turns out, you were right not to trust me." He glanced back at Steve, a flash of pained apology in his eyes. "I can't even trust myself."
"Hey," Clint's took a step forward. "This wasn't your fault," Clint finished. "I've seen this happen to others in this room, and I've been on the bad end of mind control myself."
Steve was glad Wanda was no longer in the room for this discussion. No one blamed her for her past actions. She and her brother had been victims, just like Natasha, Clint, and Bucky, but he knew it was still a sensitive subject for her.
Bruce cleared his throat. "Yeah. You had your head messed with, and that other guy inside of you came out and tried to hurt people. It's not your fault, but you still feel responsible. I know, believe me. We all understand."
Bucky looked at Banner, and his expression softened. He swallowed hard, then spun and looked at Tony. "That vodka's in the lobby?"
Tony nodded. "It's all yours. Do me a favor and don't kill yourself with it, or Cap'll be all over my ass."
"Thanks." Bucky turned toward the door.
Tony waved a hand. "By the way, it's 2023. No one cares about that, you know."
Bucky's paused mid-stride, glancing back with a furrowed brow, a deep groove settled between his confused eyes.
"Hey, Buck," Steve reached out to grab Bucky's arm. They had so much to unpack from Shuri's session. He tried to imagine what his friend must be going through.
Bucky pulled away from him. "Leave me alone, man."
"Don't do this. We have to talk. In your letter, you said you shut down…"
"No! No! No!" Bucky waved a hand in the air, shaking his head. "You don't get to do that."
Steve was dumbfounded by Bucky's reaction. "Do what?"
"Refer to my death letter," Bucky shot him a hard glare.
"What are you talking about?" Steve glanced at the other Buck, who shook his head.
"When your buddy who thinks he's going to die writes you a death letter," Bucky explained, pacing, "but he doesn't die because you save his ass, you don't get to refer to the death letter. You pretend it never existed."
Steve shook his head. "That's not how it works, Bucky."
"Oh, yeah, it is." Bucky looked at Sam who seemed anxious and put on the spot. "Sam?"
Sam took a breath and shrugged as he gazed almost apologetically at Steve. "Well, I mean, it's not a rule, but he kind of has a point."
Steve shook his head and looked at Clint, who gave a nod, and then Tony.
"I vote the way he does," Stark jabbed his chin toward Bucky.
"Thank you." Bucky nodded at everyone, then looked at Steve.
"Bucky, will you just listen for a moment? You should be dead, but you're not, thank God, and—"
"God," Bucky hissed, "had nothing to do with this. There's no God, and if there is, he's a sadistic asshole."
Steve was flabbergasted at the vitriol behind Bucky's words. He couldn't remember hearing that tone in his friend's voice before, not even when he'd gone up against him on the helicarrier. "You can't mean that."
Bucky marched closer to Steve and looked him straight in the eye. "Do you know how many people prayed to God to save them from me? Do you know how many times I prayed?" He practically spat the last sentence, then took a deep, shuddering breath. "Not one of those prayers were ever answered."
Steve's legs almost gave way right there at the images those words evoked in his mind, but somehow, he kept himself upright. "Bucky—"
"Now," Bucky interrupted, spinning toward the door. "I'm going to engage in some self-destructive behavior and try to get shit-faced for the first time since 1943, and all I ask is that you leave me alone for the next few hours." He gave a quick glance at Steve over his shoulder. "Hopefully, I'll be nursing a hangover by then, and I'll feel like an ass, but that's par for the course, lately."
Steve took a breath. He didn't like the thought of leaving Bucky alone in his current emotional state, and they really needed to talk. "Do you want some company?"
"No." Bucky sailed past the Wakandans and disappeared through the doorway.
A heavy silence reigned for several very long, awkward seconds. Clint, Banner, and Tony hovered near the dining table. Tony eyed Steve with a pained expression. Clint and Banner were avoiding Steve's scrutiny, but Sam was in the corner near the window, his gaze drifting between Steve and the others.
"Well, shit," Clint sighed, breaking the suffocating silence. "That sucks."
Finally, Shuri said, "Leave him be for a bit. The procedure I put him through takes a psychological toll, even though he does not remember it in detail, the emotions he experienced are fresh."
"Damn." Steve headed into the hallway. The older Bucky might not want anything to do with him right now, but he needed to check on the younger one who just had the rug pulled out from beneath him.
Hell, the rug had been yanked out from beneath both of them.
Bucky was in love with him?