Winter of the White Wolf

Chapter 11 - Nucleus of the Spiral

The first thought Sam had was that this, this right here might very well be the closest he'd ever been to an out of body experience, and that included the moment he'd been dusted.

He'd managed to stay a step ahead of Shuri's comment by mere seconds, but by the look on Bucky's face, he hadn't seen this coming. They should have, but the days after that bar fight had become so much of a blur that it was easy to just forge ahead and hand-wave away their time in Madripoor because it was altogether convenient. It's not like it made news like the atrocity of what John had done with the shield. For as long as he'd live, he wasn't sure he was ever going to be able to shake the image from his head.

But as Sam watched the video feed hovering in front of him shift between the views of multiple cell phones and security cameras, he had to admit the distinction was a lot less apparent than he was comfortable with, all things considered.

He felt like someone else was talking when he managed to find his voice what felt like a lifetime later, "Before… anyone says anything, can someone tell me how… wide this has gone? I want ta' know if I need to call my sister to let her know she and the boys might need lay low or something if this blows up."

It was Shuri that glanced to him. Her expression was pained, certainly, but there was also a touch of kind understanding at the corner of her mouth as she spoke, "Not wide, currently. It seems someone did a rather thorough job destroying most of the originals, and what's left I only decrypted from a remote server a few hours ago."

Bucky glanced to Sam as they both no-doubt thought Sharon at the same time but said nothing. No reason to bring her into their mess. Bucky opened his mouth, as if he was about to add something, but then shifted uncomfortably and lowered his head as he watched the footage.

Seeing the footage play out was surreal in a very particular way. Sam prided himself of being an all-in kind of guy, and moment-to-moment in the air or on the ground, he'd spent years negotiating with his nerves to stay focused so that he could trust his instincts to keep him alert and alive.

Going into Madripoor had been something else entirely. He wasn't an actor or an "undercover" sort of personality, and being forced to accompany none other than Helmut Zemo into a shady-as-shit foreign city he didn't know with only Bucky as backup was, frankly: incredibly underwhelming and nerve-wracking.

He and Bucky also weren't friends back then, not even close. The furthest he was probably willing to extrapolate was the man had been a friend of a mutual friend, and as far as he'd been concerned: probably had years of unresolved therapy ahead of him before he could be considered fit to hold a conversation no less active duty. He didn't trust the man to have his back, and even then, there was not a world he lived in where he would have thought it was reasonable or remotely advisable to bring the whole Winter Soldier bit into purposeful focus again.

So upon further review of the footage, what Sam saw in his digitized expression was first a moment of realizing they were in way, way over their respective heads, followed by a wave of genuine panic when he thought for a moment, just a moment, that Zemo had actually maybe even just possibly actually managed to somehow trigger that scary-ass Winter Soldier mode of Bucky's, which was promptly followed by a mix of horror and relief that no: Bucky was just trying to act the part, but that that might still escalate into something truly, deeply, awful, and get all of them killed.

You couldn't see much of Bucky's expression as he systematically hurled, punched, and kick-slammed people with well-honed efficiency (Sam hadn't even caught that Zemo had pulled more than one extra body into the fray for sublime punishment: damn that slimy bastard…), but emblazoned into Sam's mind was how dead Bucky's eyes looked as he moved, how absolutely vacant of emotion his whole face was. Part of him had drummed up the reasoning that he was just a far better actor than Sam, but the wiser part of Sam knew that he was probably tapping into things that were better off staying buried.

Sam in that moment then didn't want to see Bucky lose himself completely, but there was a stroke of selfishness preservation wrapped up in there. Watching the video now, though, added layers of context on the man which made the whole outing seem not only absolutely ludicrous in hindsight, but fundamentally damaging in ways he hadn't taken nearly enough time to consider or speak up about, not only to others (including quite notably: the Wakandans), but to Bucky himself. Friends were supposed to look out for each other, and it seemed obvious enough to him that he had done a shit-poor job of doing just that. Bucky'd been willing to do whatever was necessary, even if it was at great cost to himself, just to make sure no one out there could make more super soldiers and, presumably, have happen to them what'd happened to him… or even Isaiah. The fact that he'd been willing to work alongside Zemo was at once, wholly unsettling, but it was also testament that Bucky had been more than willing to hurt himself if it meant doing what he thought was right.

If Sam knew Bucky then even half well as he knew him now, even a fraction: he would like to think he would have squelched that whole damn idea the moment Zemo's poisoned lips dreamt it up.

And the expression on the tapes of that Sokovian Baron's murderous face showed how much he'd enjoyed it. It sickened him to his core.

Ayo still had her back turned to them: Apparently the footage was nothing new to her, and the Dora Milaje around them remained similarly stoic: Yep, they'd seen it too. It was Shuri that was regarding them with the intensity of someone that truly hoped they might be able to explain this away like it was all a misunderstanding.

Sam shifted his weight from one leg to the other, trying to get a read on what was going through Bucky's head, but found his expression painfully blank. His eyes stayed focused on the looping feed of glimpses into their little adventure in Madripoor, and it wasn't altogether clear what exactly was running through his head beyond the obvious sentiment of someone being caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Except in this case: the cookie jar was a jar full of snakes and razor blades.

Bucky just stood there, silent. Doing that staring thing he did when he was on the verge of shutting down.

Sam looked to Shuri, as if hoping she might have some sympathy in her to try to make this a dialogue they could work their way out of. She met his eyes briefly, but returned her attention to Bucky as if she was in no hurry. He had to wonder if she had experience waiting him out.

"Would you have told us if we hadn't found it?" It was Ayo.

There was a long pause, but then Bucky found his voice, "Probably not," he admitted, his voice barely audible over the hum of nearby machines.

It was an honest answer, but it was also clearly not the right answer.

Ayo whirled on him, stalking back their way with a pace so quick that it made even Sam take a step back, "I can't believe your blatant stupidity. After all we went through, after everything, that you would parade around with that –" she cursed something in Wakandan and picked up right where she left off "–with him and feign to be his puppet, for what? The promise of a petal of intel? Were you truly so miserable and self-absorbed that you would intentionally try to walk along the blade's edge just to see what might happen if something pushed you too far?"

Bucky flinched as if visibly struck by her words, "I didn't do it because I enjoyed it. Especially not for Zemo."

"But you did do it," Shuri interjected. "You called upon Zemo's aide without even reaching out to us."

Ouch.

Shuri continued, "No one could have known the footprint The Decimation would leave upon us, but you knew, you knew we had more work ahead of us before Thanos came of us in the Battle for Wakanda. I assumed after The Decimation, you needed time to adjust, to grieve and find new purpose." Her eyes were leveled on Bucky's guilty expression, "But in the weeks and months after, you didn't even have the decency to answer our calls to let us know how you were doing." Her voice showed genuine emotion, "We were worried for you. We wanted you to know you still had a home here, if you wanted it."

That bit… Sam hadn't known. He was well-acquainted to the fact that Bucky'd made an early habit of dodging his own calls and leaving voicemails and text messages unanswered, but he hadn't stopped to think that he wasn't the only one who had tried to get through to him in the wake of those back-to-back fights and Steve… well, Steve being gone.

There was a part of Sam that wanted to come to Bucky's defense, to tell the assembled that it wasn't personal: as the man had done the same to him while he was getting things worked out in his own head, no thanks to an awful government issued therapist that came attached to his pardon. He had no doubt there was a vast mountain of context and subtext he was missing all around, the least of which being why Bucky hadn't mentioned any of this to him either.

Bucky may not have been saying anything out loud, but it was clear a lot was running through his head, and Sam was pretty sure his eyes were getting glossier by the moment as he struggled to keep himself together. It was a painful thing to see, and it finally reached a point where Sam heard himself coming to his friend's defense, "Look, I don't know a little about a lot of this," he tried to keep his voice even as he spoke, even Bucky'd managed to take his eyes off that damn display long enough to see what counselor Sam was trying to negotiate. God. The hurt in those eyes of his, though. Sam pushed on, "And I respect the two of you have spent a lot more time around Bucky than I have. There's a lotta things going on here I can't begin to understand. I get that. And there's been some painfully awful decided lapses in judgement that I'd be lying if I didn't admit to being a part of. And for that I'm sorry. Truly."

Ayo regarded him with those intense eyes of hers. There wasn't anger there, not exactly, but there was still certainly frustration. The two of them were obviously well-aware that wasn't the real Smiling Tiger in that footage, but he suspected neither of them believed the scheme had been Sam's idea. That sickening smile captured on Zemo's face alone confirmed that. "I do believe you are," Ayo stated plainly to Sam, before turning her attention back to Bucky, "But he knew his actions represented Wakanda, and," she gestured to the screen, though her words were for Bucky alone, "That. That was who you chose to be. Who you chose to represent. How many people were hurt or died that night by your actions?"

"I didn't kill anyone," Bucky was able to mumble out, but Ayo had already closed the distance between them, "And what of Zemo? He killed dozens when he bombed the U.N., our King T'Chaka with them." She circled him like a shark, "And how many fell by your own hands when he'd cornered you with the trigger words?"

Bucky's eyes were pained as he regarded her, his voice hoarse, "That's not fair, you know I didn't have a choi—"

Her expression flickered something darker, "So while Zemo was under your watch, poor as we've concluded that watch was: How many more were hurt, killed?" She was inches away from his face as she pointedly added, "Make no mistake: Their blood is on your hands too, James."

Bucky closed his eyes briefly, and Sam felt the strain in his expression. No matter which way you looked at it: the number wasn't zero.

"And then when he escaped, you left the matter in our care to pursue. Do you not see how dishonorable that is? You were supposed to be better than this," the Dora Milaje standing over Bucky practically spat before she adding something pointed in Wakandan.

"Yeka ukundifihla!" Ayo commanded as she bore her eyes into Bucky. Stop hiding from me!

He forced his eyes open to meet her gaze, trying to change his approach for all the good it might do him, "Ayo, andazi nokuba ndiqale ngaphi. Uxolo ndikonile. Kuya kufuneka uyazi, akukho nanye kwezi yayingezonjongo zam." Ayo, I don't even know where to start. I'm sorry I wounded you. You have to know, none of this was my intention.

"Iinjongo azithethi nto ukuba uyaqhubeka nokuphila ubomi bakho uyimfama kwindlela ezenzeka ngayo izinto eziphembelela abo bakungqongileyo." Intentions mean nothing if you continue to live your life blind to how the cascade of your actions impacts those around you. Her face twisted into a pained sneer, "Sikuncedile, wopha kuwe, sibeka ubomi bethu emgceni wokuba ubuyekezwe ngoluhlobo? Ngaba ukungakhathali kuya kuhoywa? Kukungazi?" We helped you, bled for you, put our very lives on the line for you to be repaid like this? With callous disregard? With feigned ignorance?

He was hoping that speaking in her native tongue, the language she herself had taught him might somehow get through how profoundly sorry he was, but instead it made her emotions more raw and closer to the surface than he'd ever glimpsed as she continued, "Ucinga ukuba yasenza saziva njani, ukuyibona loo nto?" How do you think it made us feel, to see that? She gestured a hand at the looping display. "Ndenziwe ndaziva? Kwaye uShuri? Ngaba ubenomdla wokulahla ixesha lakho apha ngenxa yokuba singasakulungelanga? Iluncedo?" Made me feel? And Shuri? Were you so eager to throw away your time here simply because we are no longer convenient? Useful?

Bucky wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Ayo so close to the verge of tears. It was a foreign look on the face of the normally stoic woman's face. Her eyes were a potent mix of so much pain and betrayal and he found his own eyes tight as he held back waves of his own feelings in a desperate attempt to connect with her. "Ndiyaxolisa. Andazi ukuba ndizilungisa njani izinto, kodwa kufuneka undikholelwe, ndiyafuna." I'm sorry. I don't know how to make things right, but you have to believe me, I want to. He looked between Ayo, Shuri, Nomble, and Yama, hoping they could feel the sincerity in his words. He meant them with everything in him. "Ndixelele nje into ekufuneka ndiyenzile. Nantoni na." Just tell me what I need to do. Anything.

Shuri met his eyes with a tired and profoundly disappointed sigh and hung her head as she turned and nodded something to Ayo that was apparently hanging unspoken between the two women.

Ayo continued, "Ufunge ukwenza konke onokukwenza ukukhusela iimfuno zikaWakanda, kodwa ndiyabona ngoku ukuba izithembiso ezinjalo ziyakhawuleza ukuphela xa zinganyanzeliswa kwimbono yakho ebuhlungu." You swore an oath to do everything you could to protect Wakanda's best interests, but I see now that such promises are quick to fade when they are not forced into your painfully insular view.

"Bendicinga ngcono ngawe, James. Sikholelwe ngcono kuwe. Ngoku andazi nokuba ngubani na ome phambi kwam, kodwa andimazi. Kwaye andisacingi ukuba ndiyafuna." I thought better of you, James. We believed better of you. Now I don't even know who stands before me, but I do not recognize him. And I no longer think I want to.

At that, Bucky felt his heart break. His legs give out as he found himself on his knees in a desperate attempt to communicate how sorry he was, but she was no longer hearing any of it. When he opened his mouth to speak and lifted a hand towards her in surrender, she used the base of her spear to slap it away without a second thought before spinning it and leveling the point of it squarely at his face.

Bucky was passingly aware that Sam had taken a step closer, obviously unable to understand the words of the exchange, but his concern was palpable. Shuri stilled him with a touch on his shoulder.

When Ayo spoke next, it was in slow, weighty English, "That vibranium arm was crafted for an honorable man who was to be our White Wolf. But I see now that it was not only premature, but that we have been poor judges of character." She regarded him with purpose, "It is no longer yours to wield and do with as you please," Her eyes leveled at him with profound emotion as she concluded in perfect, pointed Russian, "солдат." Soldier.

Bucky squinted his eyes closed as fresh tears coursed down his cheeks. He didn't move as he felt pressure at his shoulder and a sudden shift in weight as his vibranium arm was freed, reclaimed by hands that had once sought to strengthen and comfort him when all felt lost.

But this feeling now, the one that felt like it was crushing him from the inside out: This somehow felt worse.

Author's Remarks:

;_;

It's good they got that out in the open but… yeaaaaaaah. Yeaaaaaaahhhhh.

It breaks my heart to imagine Bucky just… dodging calls from anyone who was trying to reach out to him after that fight with Thanos, Tony's funeral, Steve being "gone," and Sam giving up the shield. I imagine him just trying to wrestle with his own demons, and feeling like he didn't want to be a burden on anyone, so he'd just deal with things his way.

That said, there is something immensely sweet to me about the idea that the people he bonded with in Wakanda were running with the assumption that he still had a "home" there waiting for him, even after The Decimation/Snap, but he was too deep in his own stuff to reciprocate the friendship properly for awhile there. As someone who struggled with major depression some years ago, I totally understand the struggle, and how hard it is to move past it and re-establish healthy relationships when there have been missteps (conscious or not, intentional or not) along the way.

In any case, I hope you're enjoying the story (and this pointed pit of angst). I plan to have another update for you this weekend! Thank you for all your encouragement to keep on writing: it truly means so very much to me.