Winter of the White Wolf

Chapter 27 - Event Horizon

The richness in language is that it is ever changing, evolving.

Sometimes the changes are so slow they are miniscule: A new greeting borne from a low-brow food advertisement, or a new hybrid baked good formed from two longtime staples. Other times, language shifts dramatically as wars are fought and borders are built or crumble to ruin.

At times it is enough to speak broadly, to say "red" and mean nothing more precise than neither yellow nor blue. But the power of language remains its intrinsic ability to say more, to make the nebulous more specific and form bridges across people and cultures so that they can not only communicate, but feel truly heard.

The impact of the Decimation brought about such a wave of new language that many of the terms it prompted still lived only in their mother tongues. As Ayo stood and kept her chin towards the semi-frosted capsule that housed someone she feared she would never see again, many of those terms slipped into her mind, and she realized they had no English equivalents she could adequately express.

Some words existed only in Wakandan, others in Yoruba, Hausa, or smatterings of foreign tongues. These linguistic evolutions grew from a primal need to express very specific things or emotions that in most cases, few or none had needed to before the Decimation.

There was a term in Japanese, for instance, that remarked on the beauty and health of the natural world, while at the same time acknowledging it was the lack of people that had allowed portions of nature to rebound. It was a bittersweet term. A term that she recalled first used to describe whales, and later, a wealth of other vibrant species that sought to regain their natural habitats when they were at once released of the pressure from being so long under mankind's thoughtless thumb.

The French had coined a different term, one that spoke to the duality of how the air had grown cleaner, and how the many inlets and outlets of rivers became ever-more pristine with time the further out the world stepped from that life changing event. In one fragile word, it acknowledged a very particular sort of beauty laced with melancholy and profound loss.

After the dust first settled and half the voices were silenced, there was a surge of confusion to even begin to describe what had happened. There were many terms, then: The Snap, The Great Vanishing, The Blip, but at some point, many in Wakanda had colloquially settled on The Decimation. There had never been any reason that term was chosen above the others, it was simply the one those left behind put to common use enough that it slowly became the proper shorthand for the event.

That was the power of language.

Next came terms for those that were once present, but no longer were: The vanished, the missing, the lost. Some terms implied hope, while others rightfully assumed them dead and in the arms of the ancestors. And the way people chose how they wielded those powerful, loaded words impacted those around them and their own expressions and grief. New genres of music were born, new media, shows, books, and more. They became evolving languages of their own as those left behind struggled to contextualize their past, present, and future.

Still other terms followed with the need to give context to the now-vacant houses of those lost, the surviving pets and their absent owners. It felt like there were entire chapters of words added that described in one or two words specific losses: a sister, a brother, a parent, a child, a friend. There were no words like that in English that Ayo knew beyond "widow," and even that implied the finality of death, not the strange, lingering state of unknowing they'd suffered for so many years.

She felt sometimes that when the missing had returned, they brought with them the expectation that the world and people were as they were, and that all should move forward as one once again.

In short order, there were new words for that too: a word for those that were blinded, through no fault of their own, to the suffering of those left behind, as well as another term for those whose grief was not resolved when the other half returned.

You could teach these new words to someone: But you could necessarily make them understand.

That was the power, and the limitation of language.

In the last twenty-four hours, Ayo felt certain she had lived every emotion possible about the man in front of her, and still she found new emotions that connected to terms that had not existed prior to the Decimation.

One was a very specific feeling of melancholy and deja-vu that recalled something from the time before, and that the emotions it churned up were complicated, beyond simple relief for the present, because the sight of it also reminded you of the pain of all those missing years.

That was the emotion Ayo felt then, looking at a pale but familiar version of James as his body remained strained and chilled inside the frigid, pressurized capsule.

It was a sight she had seen many times before, under better and worse conditions, but also a sight she hadn't seen for over five years, and one she wasn't sure she'd see again. And like the term the Japanese had crafted to apply to their rebounding population of thriving whales: What she saw before her was bittersweet, because on one hand, seeing James in the capsule meant he was alive, meant he had survived, and that made her heart soar in relief, but it also meant he was still not well.

And the moment she stopped to reflect on much else that he'd gone and done after the Decimation, she found she had to stop herself because the potency of those musings still seethed with unresolved emotions that transcended any bittersweet beauty she could find in the moment. It made them even harder to bear, because she never thought, not in a thousand lifetimes, that those harsh, raw and wounded feelings would ever apply to her relationship with him, of all people.

She purposefully shifted her attention away from the capsule and the emotions it drummed up inside of her to take silent inventory of the room around her.

Her eyes scanned the laboratory for changes, anything that would put the Princess's life in danger, and as before: she noted none. She knew this deep in the Wakandan Design Group, they were unlikely to be met with any threats, but her years of training told her that the first sign of weakness was a lax mind that assumed ongoing safety. Shuri's safety, not James, remained her first order of business, her primary charge, even though she'd temporarily shifted that responsibility for Nomble to focus on at the present.

James asking her over to join his conversation was a breach in protocol that he was well-aware of, but it was also excessive to think that Wakanda's Chief of Security and two Lieutenants were needed to defend Shuri this deep in not only Wakanda, but the design center specifically, especially since there were easily another thirty Dora Milaje in the same building.

She could also not tell herself they were present to simply guard their guests. She knew that the closest thing to what they did here also had a term for it, and one that only context provided if it was meant as a favorable thing or not. It was a term that implied your focus was split, and your emotions were compromised enough that your watch was no longer purely duty.

It was a term that was often used for old guards who had watched over someone for years enough to become closer than simply a guard and the guarded. It was Okoye and T'Challa, herself and Shuri. "Ibhondi Yomgcini" the Bodyguard's Bond, some called it.

And language spoke that the same term was used both ways.

But this that they had with James was also not that. Perhaps Sam Wilson's offhanded compliment of joining a "black sisterhood" was closer to the truth, and that it was a truth she danced around because these life experiences they'd shared were not broad like the Decimation, but immensely personal, and that made them evermore hard to describe or pin down.

There was not a single term to adequately describe caring immensely for the well-being of someone who walked with demons of another's making. There were no words for the joy of seeing a face clear headed enough to experience laughter when that same face had on more than one occasion sought to not only harm, but to kill yourself and some of those closest to you.

Sam Wilson's presence, strange and foreign as it was, had actually acted as a lightning rod for her to see things with new eyes. It had begun to break down the complex reality that the situation had not made them simply a special pocket of Dora Milaje and a royal genius charged with a political request to fix a broken white man from another continent, but something altogether different and more complex.

She had no word for it, for what they were, or even how they related to one another differently because of it. And she found, strangely, that her mind no longer sought to fight against it. To normalize it. To pretend what they did was simply duty, when each of them clearly knew it was far more, far deeper than that.

She'd seen it in Sam Wilson's eyes, too. That wordless, but familiar bond. The one that had once glimpsed the darkness inside James and sought to understand it rather than turn from it or condemn him for it. If she knew the word, she would use it to describe their bond as well.

She found she envied him, in a way. Envied that James had sought out connection with him, this war-bonded of Steve's. She still did not begin to understand why James had chosen to turn away from his own bonds in Wakanda, but she hoped one day it would not feel like the dagger in her heart that it did.

Like the heat of a desert mirage, Ayo saw glimpses of the James she once knew, or thought she knew. The sightings were welcome to someone who'd spent the better part of five years in drought surviving on hope alone, but they were still only grains of dry sand, devoid of any life.

She wanted to believe it would be possible to build trust between them again, but it was hard to imagine from words alone. How could he possibly show that he was willing to put the best interests of Wakanda ahead of his own, when he'd shown time and again in the last few months that he was barely cognizant that there were people on the other end of his decisions?

"The last scan is finishing up now," Shuri offered to the room, "Another five minutes or so and then I'll start the reviving procedure."

Ayo caught the way Sam's expression and body shifted uncomfortably at that. To be fair: She and the other Dora Milaje were trained to stand at attention at length, and so their two hour vigil was not anymore a test of physical endurance than any other day. It suitably impressed her that Sam Wilson had remained steadfast and attentive with them.

Ayo thought it prudent to offer what clarity she could for him while Shuri continued her work. It'd been five years, but she still remembered the multi-step thawing procedure they'd developed after numerous trials, "When all is done, Shuri will begin to lower the pressure and raise the temperature inside the capsule, and when appropriate, Yama will administer a medication that will help counteract the anesthesia. It is…" she searched for the words, "It can be a cautious time between sleep and waking, when instincts are engaged and little else."

Sam shifted his weight, grasping the implications of her message immediately, "I've worked with soldiers with PTSD and nightmares, so I think I catch your drift."

She felt certain he did, but she made it a point to be specific, "When coming out of cryo, his senses take time to acclimate, so it's good not to speak too loudly, and to not make any sudden movements or physical contact until his eyes are open and he appears fully present."

The expression on Sam's face shifted into a full-blown frown, but he nodded.

"Have you had to aid him when he was severely wounded or unable to walk?"

Sam raised his chin at that, "Not specifically no. Steve half-carried, half-dragged him the last time we needed to."

"He is… heavier than he looks," Ayo remarked.

"A dense molecular structure," Shuri supplied helpfully.

Sam raised an eyebrow and Ayo caught a hint of amusement in his voice as he spoke, "I helped the doctors move Steve more than once when he was recovering, so yeah I get it: standard Super Soldier mass. Recipe for comedy when a particularly bold nurse isn't expecting it, though."

Ayo nodded, "He will be extremely stiff and far colder than you expect. Keep your hands free from any exposed metal, as your skin will adhere to it." She paused, "You may find the process... difficult to watch."

"It does not get easier with time," Nomble observed from her unofficial post diagonal of Shuri.

Ayo shot her a look, reminding her that her attention was supposed to be focused on guarding the princess, and Nomble responded with a small shrug of apology.

"I take it, you had to do this often?" Sam ventured.

Ayo turned her attention back to Sam as she considered the question, "The frequency varied. It was not so much a scheduled procedure as much as a necessary one in the aftermath of Events."

"Both if you've used that term enough that I feel like I should understand it plainly, but I'm missing years of context," he admitted, "Can you define it for me? Feel free to use small words and pretend I don't understand near-enough about any of this, but that I'd genuinely like to."

Ayo met his honest expression: he really did want to understand. It was hard to remember this was all new to him. At least back before the Decimation, most anyone who helped James in this manner were Doras from her guard or skilled scientists who'd familiarized themselves with Jame's unique case and sought to learn. "Shuri can probably answer it better than I," Ayo deferred.

"I can, but I'd like to hear your take," Shuri immediately responded from a short distance away. Her tone was not a tease, but it was indeed curious, "Your brevity serves his question more than my specifics."

Ayo had known Shuri since she was merely a promise in Ramonda's belly, and she wasn't fool enough not to see what the princess was doing. She normally appreciated Shuri for her youthful directness, but Ayo was unaccustomed to having such unabashed meddling directed back at her.

It was not as if she and Shuri hadn't talked privately of this, of James and his trespasses and of Sam Wilson and the complex mantle he bore, but it was Shuri specifically who'd called attention to what she felt was the need for Sam Wilson to know he had more than just words of support from a foreign nation who shared a similar skin tone to his own.

"Their ways are not ours. It is not unreasonable for you to know him outside his connection to James," Shuri had observed months ago while she'd toiled on his new flight suit, "Perhaps that is precisely why you should seek to know him: because you have both glimpsed shadows, but chose not to turn away from him. That is a rare common language few alive share. A strength of character."

"So who do you make this suit for? As a favor to the White Wolf? Or a black American man with no armor of his own?" Ayo asked, well aware this was a question that stretched well-beyond words a Dora Milaje, even a Security Chief and Okoye's Second-in-Command, would have normally dared ask a royal charge.

But the two of them and their unspoken Bodyguard's Bond meant that Shuri would seek to indulge her just the same.

Shuri stopped what she was doing a moment and considered the question before she replied, spinning her chair around to face Ayo, "Both and neither. I know in my heart that it is the right thing to do, and so I do it. And I would be remiss if I didn't. Duty without purpose is empty as purpose without reason."

Ayo let just a hint of playfulness slip into her voice, "So you are hopeful to see your designs and hard work shared on the American television then?"

Shuri had laughed and waved her hand dismissively at that, but her expression held her usual brand of pleasant confidence, "It is not wrong to be proud of ingenuity and fashionable work, Ayo, but you know I certainly do not do it for their praise."

"He has a difficult path before him," Ayo observed, not needing to speak aloud the gravity of the observation.

"He does," Shuri agreed as she paused to regard the early stages of the suit at her fingertips, "and he will need friends and allies."

"I'm sure Sam Wilson has plenty," Ayo said with all assurance, "He has the Avengers."

Shuri shook her head, "Do you know for certain they are one in the same? Or do you presume, like outsiders that have glimpsed our culture and ways?" She'd gone back to working on the flight suit on her table as she'd waved a hand dismissively in Ayo's direction, "You should speak with him at some point. Don't make me order you to, because then you will make that face."

Ayo would willingly fight for the princess, give her very life for her, but that didn't make Shuri any less infuriating at times.

Ayo's focus returned to the present. What Shuri had just said was "Your brevity serves his question more than my specifics," but what she'd meant was "The two of you should have reason to talk candidly, so Sam can see beneath the armor you seek to surround yourself with, Ayo."

Like James in the cryo chamber: Shuri's words had a way of making her feel many frustrating emotions at once, the least of which was that she didn't need the princess implying she should be better at making friends. Such a childish claim.

Sam glanced between them, but his attention returned back to Ayo.

Ayo forced herself to consider Shuri's actual words rather than the social subtext. Trying to simplify anything dealing with James and his HYDRA-mutilated brain was anything but straightforward. Perhaps a metaphor would be easier for the airman. She thought on this before she spoke up between quiet beeps of a nearby heart monitor, "Imagine our conscious thoughts are a river, or an airstream. They flow in a certain direction, at a certain speed. Even when we dream, when we wake, the river continues to flow as it did the night before. When we say 'Event,' that is the closest word we have for another term we have in Wakandan that normally would not be used in this context. It only really applies to James."

"What's the closest straight translation?" Sam asked, "I don't know a drop of Wakandan, but I'm open to try."

Sam's childlike eagerness to understand was a welcome change from many foreigners she'd met, but she knew the rhythm of the words would not be any more palatable to an American tongue. That being as it was, Ayo considered his question as she thought how best to translate the term they'd once coined as a group, "It is a slang astronomy term, "Umsitho womngxunya omnyama:" a 'Black Hole Event.' It is the idea that if that same river of consciousness is flowing, in that same direction, and then something happens: If the old HYDRA trigger words were said, or a certain pattern of hypnotic flashing lights: There is something that happens in his mind that briefly blocks or swallows up the normal flow of his thoughts, like a beaver's dam."

"Following you so far," Sam supplied.

"But once the peak of that moment clears, and the bulk of the twigs and debris are removed, his consciousness didn't always return to flowing precisely in the way it was before. Sometimes it did. Sometimes the waters were tumultuous or slow for a time before they returned to their usual speed. But sometimes the flow shifted in strange ways, at least for a time. It was still James but…" she searched for the proper words, but found the language of it insufficient, "but it was not all of him. Only parts."

Sam appeared to chew on that information for a moment, "I think I might've seen something like that, but only once. He'd hit his head pretty hard after spending probably a half hour as Zemo's murder puppet, and when he came to, he was fixated on stuff from way back when he and Steve were kids. Eventually he came around, but it probably took the better part of another half hour or so. Even then… I hadn't exactly had a conversation right before, but it was obvious things were still foggy."

"We would call that an 'Event,'" Ayo confirmed, "And Shuri would run tests to compare how his mind operated during them, as well as in the aftermath of such things."

Shuri saw fit to chime in, since apparently Ayo'd satisfactorily met her social quota with Sam Wilson, "It was important to search out trends on why his mind would settle in certain ways based on various stimuli, intentional or not. We needed to not only be able to clear the programming from being able to take control of or disable James, but to ensure that once the Event passed, that he was still himself, or that we knew what to do to return him to that point, or as close as we could."

"Because he wasn't always fully himself," Sam finished, mulling it over. "I… yeah, I never really thought about any of this that way. The things I saw were pretty limited, and made me assume he was either fully 'Winter Soldier' mode or 'Bucky.'"

"It was a great deal more nuanced," Shuri spoke, her words a profound understatement as far as Ayo was concerned, "As I said before: he is not one person with two minds."

The room fell to the silence between heartbeats before he spoke again.

"So…" Sam began, drawing the question out, "You're gonna tell me that's why he spent two years without a second arm?"

Ayo regarded him quizzically. It was a change of topic, and there was something of an unspoken accusation in the tone, but... it was a fair question: The sort of question she'd hoped James might have explained to him. Had he really been so profoundly and unnecessarily secretive about his time here?

Shuri was focused on her console, back to pretending she hadn't heard the question, but Ayo felt Sam's eyes remain upon Ayo's own, waiting.

"Well, it wasn't forced upon him, if that's the nature of your query. It was a mutual decision," her tone sounded more defensive than she intended, but perhaps it was because her own mind was slipping to think of the vibranium arm she'd recently reclaimed.

Sam folded his arms across his chest, "Okay, well, let's say I go along with the idea that having a high-powered arm attached to a skilled and potentially unstable super soldier is a risky proposition at the best of times. There are more traditional prosthetics that could have been helpful to him."

Ayo was struck again by how little they must have discussed of this time, but she felt it prudent to explain on Jame's own behalf, "Yes, but James also felt that arm was tainted. That it was a symbol of the atrocities HYDRA forced upon him. He was often awake and without any sort of local anesthetic during the multitude of surgeries brought upon him over the years. He lived in a state of near-constant pain, and when he first came to Wakanda with a severed limb, the decision was made that the kindest, most humane thing we could do was to remove the hardware, all of it, so that his broken body could at once begin to truly heal for the first time in so many years. But even that required numerous surgeries, as there was a frightful amount of underlying material as well as scar tissue and nerve damage. They were butchers," Ayo emphasized, vile in her voice for those that had done this to him.

She continued, acquiescing, "So yes, the lack of a limb served a boon in the times when his mind reverted to sharpened intent, but those times were infrequent, and the continued absence of it was through his own choice, much as it was his own decision to eventually request a suitable replacement. And that meant more pain, more surgeries, and more physical therapy, as he prefered an approach that would be a more permanent mounting, like the originals. The intent was that once he was fully healed and ready, he would receive a suitable prosthetic, but Thanos and the Battle for Wakanda advanced that timeline. It was not what any of us wanted, him least of all. He barely had hours to train with what we had for him, which is why he chose to stay at range with a firing weapon rather than join the fray."

That information appeared to still Sam at least, though Ayo could tell by the intensity of his expression that he still remained not-so-subtly upset about the current status of Jame's arm, and she waited for the inevitable follow-up question.

"Okay. Fair enough then," Sam supplied, meeting her gaze, "So an amputee not having an arm for the better part of two years was at his own request."

"It was," she confirmed, because it was the truth.

Sam regarded her, with those steady eyes that sought to see through her armor as the sound of Bucky's artificially slow heartbeats continued to play through the monitors, "So this is what I'm going to say to that. A lot of this," He used one hand to gesture around him, "Frankly isn't my place. I get that. I can respect that. But I've also met enough people that have lived through all manner of awful injuries and amputations enough to tell you that it doesn't sit right by me to see something like that taken back, no matter the justifications you have."

Sam continued, "And believe me: I'm not saying you don't have valid justifications, I'm just saying pulling away a piece of someone's bodily autonomy as a punishment doesn't settle well with me, even if the both of you can round-robin about how that's how it was for so long, so it shouldn't be an altogether big deal now." He gestured a hand toward the capsule where Bucky remained in stasis, "He can be infuriatingly stubborn beyond belief, so maybe he won't say a damn word because he hopes that by keeping quiet about it, he can play along with the idea that an arm is some sort of reward to be earned for good behavior, and taken away for bad behavior. But is that really the message you're trying to send home for after all he's gone through?"

Ayo remained steadfast, keeping her voice flat, but above a warning, "It was a symbol of Wakanda. And he knowingly abused and misused it." She could see Shuri leaning her head out to follow their exchange, to make sure it did not escalate. Ayo would not let it, and Yama and Nomble knew better than to speak.

"It is, but it's also an arm. His arm." Sam waved a hand before Ayo could respond, "Look, I'm not trying to get into it with you. Genuinely I'm not. I have an incredible amount of respect for you as a person and everything all of you've done for Buck. This is all way out of my wheelhouse and a little much on my frayed nerves if we're being honest here. My partner is a couple feet away looking like he's at the brink of death and he's looking to me for support about, frankly: a lot of stuff I still don't begin to understand, but he's looking for support from all of you too. I guess all I'm trying to say is if you feel like you need to punish him, just realize he's probably gonna go along with it and take it because he's a veritable expert at shoving down whatever he's feeling, especially if he thinks he deserves it. And I'm not playing at saying he's owed some Masserati of Wakandan ingenuity. I'm not the judge of that and I don't pretend to be. But in my opinion, making sure he at least has a secondhand Buick of an arm to use while he's here gettin' things sorted out with his mind would go a long way to clarify what exact message you're trying to send."

Sam held up his hands in early surrender, "That's it. That's all I have, Ayo. I wouldn't be sayin' any of this if I didn't care and didn't think you did too."

Ayo felt her grip tighten around her spear. She wanted to snap back at him, and some primal part of her felt a need to put him in his place, to tell him to watch his tone and that he couldn't possibly grasp the depths of just how out-of-line Jame's actions had been. To defend that he had given it up freely, willingly, with consent.

But instead as she stood there glaring at Sam, letting her frustration show in her eyes, he met them with understanding and didn't budge. She wanted to be cross with him, to find fault, anything she could latch onto to topple his statements, but instead she felt the fight slip out of her as she saw the genuine care and concern that were laid bare and unflinching in his eyes.

His emotions sat there, plain as day, hovering out in the open without any ill-will. Without condemnation. Without any accusations that she did what she did out of callousness, or that under it all: she didn't care. He told her because he knew she did. And the act of him telling her, for being willing to speak up on Bucky's behalf, actually made her respect him more, not less.

Like Shuri and her meddling: it was infuriating.

And she knew she'd have to sit with it, too.

She also knew it was on her to respond, to accept the words as they were or counter them with her own. The best she could offer through a tight jaw was, "I appreciate your candor, Sam Wilson" and she did. She also didn't even need to look at Shuri to know the expression she bore would be one of understanding and mutual respect, perhaps even with a hint of "I told you so" in regards to Sam's quiet accusation that James would silently suffer whatever punishment they thought suitable for the crimes he'd committed.

Sam responded simply by offering his own dove of peace, "Likewise. Thanks for hearing me out."

Once six of Bucky's slowed heartbeats played through the monitors and it was clear their conversation was concluded, Shuri spoke up, "I'm lowering the pressure inside the cryogenics chamber now. Yama, you can proceed with the injection once the reading reaches 31 inches of mercury. I'm going to have to monitor and adjust the temperature and cross compare it to his vitals by hand because someone saw fit to adjust the parameters of some of my automated settings," she complained to herself.

"Such things will happen when years pass and you are not around to teach curious hands to be mindful, or to make and use their own profiles," Yama supplied.

"You could have told them," Shuri stated, her voice an easy tease.

"You think Ayo would have seen me critique your scientists?" Yama's voice was almost amused, but Ayo sent her lieutenant a very particular look that spoke that now was not the time for needless chatter: she was on-duty. Well, on duty of a sort. Yama's interest in taking up some amount of basic medical training meant she was presently performing outside of a Dora's typical role, which made this, as much else, a bit of a grey area. A Dora or King's Guard that were on-duty were meant to be seen and not heard unless there was good reason.

Were they outside, Ayo would have tapped the shoe of her spear to reclaim Yama's attention, but that hardly seemed appropriate when the other Dora had a needle in-hand. That was likely why she thought she could get away with it.

"Focus, on your task," Ayo stated plainly, her message directed to Yama. She put just enough warning into her voice to make it clear that she felt this was not the time for such things.

Shuri glanced to Ayo as if she considered making her own smart remark, but the genius opted to hold her tongue. Good.

"Starting the injection now," Yama supplied.

"Vitals are currently trending at the anticipated rates," Shuri observed, cross-comparing them to prior data.

Four more heartbeats sounded over the monitors as the group watched and waited. The predictable tempo was broken by a quiet buzz from Sam's pocket.

Ayo's natural state was irritation, but she forced her expression back to neutral as she watched him hurriedly rush to silence the device and pull it out onto his palm so he could regard the caller's number. He frowned, putting the device to his ear and pivoting in place as he took a few steps away, as if that might offer a buffer between his conversation and the sensitive medical procedure going on nearby, "Oh hey, Sarah. Yeah. Anything up, or just calling to check in and say hi?" Only his side of the conversation was audible in the quiet room. And it was audible.

"Of course I'm not trying to hurry you off the phone. Sorry. Everything okay?"

"Yeah? That's good."

Did he really have to take the call now? Ayo felt her irritation rear up, and she focused on keeping her expression neutral, her eyes towards the capsule. Sam Wilson did not deserve to earn her ire simply for accepting a phone call from his sister.

"No, I'm not trying to be short with you. You said you appreciated if I picked up more often rather than letting it go to voicemail, so here's me picking up."

"I don't have a tone. It's just been a day, okay?" He sighed, "Yes, of course everything's fine."

"Oh. No I hadn't heard."

"Another one? Christ." Ayo caught the shift in his tone and glanced across to Shuri: she heard it too. The tempered fear in his voice. "I'm sorry to hear that. God."

"Yeah, this stuff never ends. Anyone we knew?"

"No?" cautious relief slipped into his voice, but only so much, "How are the boys taking it?"

"I hate that you even have to give 'em talks like that, but I understand."

"Yeah, of course I know they're not all bad, but they're the ones that keep gettin' on the news because they shoot first and ask questions later."

His voice was apologetic, "I'm sorry I'm not there too. You should take the afternoon off. You don't need to be working."

"Oh, they wanted to talk to Bucky?" Sam turned and looked back at the capsule and caught Ayo's eye before turning back away, "Maybe later, he's busy at the moment." A pause, "Wakanda stuff. We'll give you a call later though, promise."

Whatever messages Shuri had for Yama and the continuing procedure, she saw prudent to send via her Kimoyo Beads instead.

"Yeah, I'll let him know."

"I love you too. You sure you don't need anything else? I'm always here to talk if you need me, you know that."

"Okay, well say hi to the boys for me, and tell them I love them and it's okay to be upset. This stuff hits everyone differently and it isn't fair."

"That goes both ways, you know. You're a royal pain in my ass too, but I still love you."

He ended the call and stayed facing away from them for a few more broadcast heartbeats while he ran his fingers over his phone like Ayo'd seen sages press their thumb along worry stones in an attempt to center themselves. He used his free hand to rub his temple with three trembling fingers before he pocketed the phone, heaved his shoulders, and looked back to the women regarding him with genuine concern. He caught Ayo's eyes first, "Sorry about that. My sister..."

"Are Sarah and your nephews alright?" Shuri cut to the question that was on everyone's mind.

Sam nodded, "Yeah just… back home, there was another officer-involved shooting with a kid in a nearby county and…there's just always one more, you know?" his voice faded off.

Ayo held up a hand, cutting him off from the need to elaborate further on their account. She made an effort to keep her voice soft, compassionate, "It's okay. You don't need to explain more."

Sam nodded appreciatively and took another steadying breath.

"We have about another minute before it would be prudent for us to open the cryogenics chamber so that James does not risk waking with it still closed," Shuri's voice was all apology.

"Yeah, of course," Sam replied, stepping back to stand behind Ayo and Yama near the chamber.

It was obvious his attention was split, and Ayo thought it a kindness to remind him what steps were expected next, "Try to stay still and quiet as he comes too. Once awareness dawns, we'll move him to the chair there so he can recover, okay?" she gestured to the gently reclined, padded chair Shuri'd prepared about ten feet away. Jame's patterned blue, black, and gold shawl had been folded and placed on a nearby table, the fragile material saved from the icy grip of the chamber.

Ayo continued, "It usually takes just a few minutes, and there'll be a timer so we know how much time has elapsed. We try to get him seated as soon as possible since he finds being restrained distressing, even if it's simply to keep him upright," she questioned if sharing that final part was necessary, but she could not walk it back.

"Okay," was all Sam had the strength and attention to reply. It was clear he was trying, and Ayo appreciated his effort.

"Remember: Don't touch the exposed metal near his shoulder. It's chilled and might stick to your skin," Ayo advised, noting that the monitors that broadcast Bucky's heartbeats were now chirping at a faster pace.

Yama saw fit to add, "His muscles might spasm a little. It's completely normal. Nothing to be concerned about."

Sam flinched at that but nodded, and Ayo tilted her head to acknowledge the wisdom in Yama's observation. Hopefully if Sam knew what to expect, what he'd see would be less… distressing.

Shuri's voice was soft as she noted, "The pressure's stabilized and the temperature is less than eight degrees from room temperature. I'm going to open the release in ten seconds, and I'll put up the timers so we can track each of the milestones." She flicked her fingers, and a number of nearly displays began counting upwards from -10 in unison.

The princess looked around the room to ensure that everyone present had heard her, and once she was satisfied, she made a gesture on her console and looked to Ayo as if to say, "The next steps are yours."

Ayo tipped her head and positioned herself about three feet from the capsule with her spear in-hand. Though the memories of this were no longer fresh, she knew how far she needed to be to be out of reach, and she was pleased to see Yama automatically take up her spear and step back to usher Sam so he was slightly behind her.

The countdown was silent and the seconds felt long, but after ten of them, the outer shell retracted. Chilled air poured out, revealing James' rigid figure within the frosty enclosure.

At first, there was no change beyond the slow pings as the monitors read the gradual shift in his vitals. Ayo stood still, momentarily berating herself when her eyes sought to glimpse the socket of his missing arm. After Sam's words, the sight of its absence felt different to her. Not necessarily guilty, but less justified.

None of this was new to Ayo, but after five years, she found the sight as uncomfortable as any time before. James was pale, almost ashen, with a light coating of frost dappling his dark hair and profoundly American clothes. His chest moved, but only barely, as if the effort to raise and lower it remained a personal struggle. She'd learned that the easiest way to see hints of life was to focus on the slight tremble of his lips and fingers, which slowly seeped away their blue undertones as the seconds passed and his skin began to warm.

His breath hitched, and Ayo had to put a hand up to block Sam's natural inclination to step forward and offer aid. His soulful, worried brown eyes met hers, and she silently mouthed "He's okay."

He didn't look entirely convinced, but remained alert and still.

It took a little over two and a half painfully long minutes for the first sign of movement under Bucky's eyelids, but even then: Ayo knew not to rush things. Doing so would only run the risk of triggering the sleeping wolf's instincts if they did.

There came a point where she was certain she'd seen the first signs of his frosted eyelids starting separate and flutter, and she kept her voice soft and barely above a whisper as she spoke, easily slipping back into the familiar patterns they'd established what felt like half a lifetime ago. She remained just out of range of his hands in case he was reactive, "It is Ayo. You are just coming out from partial cryo in Wakanda, James. You are safe and among friends. Can you hear me?"

He made something of a noise, but it wasn't yet words. His throat must still be too chilled.

"It's okay. You do not need to speak," she spoke slowly, quietly, trying to tune out the sounds of the medical machinery and focus solely on him, "Can you open your eyes for me? When you can. Take your time. There's no rush."

The response was far from immediate, but after another forty seconds, James rotated his head in her direction and appeared to strain his face in an attempt to force his eyes open. Initially they were rolled back and unfocused, but eventually they found her. When they did, she felt like it was in some strange way: the most precious and miraculous thing in the world. To see her friend she worried for, for so long, at once awake and alive.

They'd done this reviving procedure many times before, a dozen, easily. Probably more. Though his body was strong and resilient and had arguably dealt with much worse, each successful time stepping through the process itself was cause for relief.

But as much as the procedure was hardly new or outside of the norm, she felt tears she did not understand mist her eyes.

There was no reason to be emotional. She'd seen him alive and well only hours earlier, and times before that too.

Yet something struck her differently this time. It was like the part of her that had been frozen with worry during the years of the Decimation was, like him, finally starting to thaw. And when she saw him, with those blue eyes of his looking back at her, she felt a very particular sort of… relief. Not that things were well, but that there was hope again. That the strange connection between them, strained as it was, had not been irreparably broken as she'd feared.

Until that moment, she was not aware how much that mattered: but it did.

She had to temper her voice to keep it steady, "Are you ready for us to help get you to the recovery area? Yama and Sam have offered to help too," she said encouragingly to the man in front of her.

Bucky's eyes slowly blinked away the frost on his eyelashes and he glanced past Ayo to Sam, then Yama and the others. Though his lips trembled, he gave a weak, almost imperceivable nod he understood her words. Moments later, his whole body twitched, and his frozen expression flinched as he closed his eyes in response to a sudden surge of nerve pain as his body's systems came online and sought to stabilize themselves.

When his fingers spasmed reflexively, Ayo automatically switched her spear to her left hand so she could quickly slip her right hand into his to silence its shaking. It was ice cold, but she felt his weak grip attempt to return the contact. When his eyes opened again, they remained steady and focused on hers as if they were his lifeline, or perhaps as if he was trying to use them to communicate his thoughts without relying on the pesky nebulousness of language alone. She swore she saw apology and tears at the corners of those soulful, emotive blue eyes of his.

"Let us get you out of there and warmed up, then," Ayo spoke with measured grace as she stepped forward to take some of his weight and gestured for Sam to do the same so Yama could unbuckle the cloth restraints around his chest and legs.

While Shuri watched and Nomble stood fast under the pretense of guard duty, Ayo, Sam, and Yama slowly, carefully, guided Bucky's stiff form towards the recovery chair Shuri set for him nearby.

All the while: Bucky kept his trembling fingers clenched carefully around Ayo's hand. She let it rest where it was, squeezing it once to reassure him, and to let him know she was still there, regardless of how raw and confused his chilled senses were.

For the first time in so many years, Ayo allowed herself to believe in the possibility that a dear friend she had not glimpsed in so long might not be so truly lost as she'd once feared.

And like so much that the Decimation had wrought upon them: she had no language to encapsulate all she felt. Yet in that moment: that was okay.

It was enough to believe.

Author's Remarks:

First off, I want to give a major shout-out to Cookies_and_Milk on AO3 for not only being generally awesome, but for surprising me with a piece of gift art for this fic featuring Bucky and Ayo! My heart! I am so utterly humbled by her work, and you should check it out on AO3, as unfortunately I cannot link the URL from this site.

Regarding this chapter specifically, … I've gotta be honest here: I don't know if I've ever actively cried while writing this story thus far, but holy WOW did the scene with Bucky coming out of partial cryo and seeing Ayo just REALLY hit me in the feels. The man may have just had a whirlwind of dreams, but it just made me think back to Chapter 24 and that scene with Ayo and just… oof OOF! I just imagine him feeling reminded about how much he's messed up, and then coming out of cryo and just… seeing her there, just ready to help him however she can, and realizing how thankful he is to have her in his life, and that his worries about him just being a "project" to the Wakandans are truly unfounded, and couldn't be further from the truth, regardless of if his brain insists he's just a burden.

;_;

And Ayo just, just getting it. That message in his eyes that says more than language and apology alone ever could.

I also just want all of you to know that though I am continuing to stick to the trajectory of my beloved outlines for this story, I feel like for every chapter I write... I add two or three more. I suppose I am just too stubborn to leave any stone unturned, so help me: I have so many topics I want to address and get closure on along the way, and I'm appreciative to be able to take the time to really dive-in and explore scenes like these.

Separately: " …. :( ….." to Sarah calling Sam to tell him there'd been another shooting of some sort. I just… I wish our world was a better place and that such things weren't grounded in harsh reality.

I actually considered writing this chapter from Sam's PoV, but it felt much more appropriate to have it from Ayo's PoV. I feel like we've learned enough about her by this point that it was fitting to step into her mind and see her perceptions of a number of things, particularly surrounding the arm (I want to say "Good on Sam" for being willing to broach that topic), and for also being willing to let her armor down a little. I think it's generally easier to put up a strong front when things around her are within the established norm, but seeing Bucky like this is a reminder of just SO much for her, and I think it's sweet to imagine Shuri trying to encourage Ayo to converse with Sam, too.

I don't imagine Ayo's really the "hugging" or "physical contact" type. We haven't really seen any of that in the MCU Canon (even in that "You're Free" scene in Wakanda, and I don't really consider using the cheat code to remove the arm positive physical contact). It was intentional for me to avoid anything of the sort up until this point. The only thing at all I offered was that flashback from Chapter 9 where she put her hand on Bucky's shoulder. That's it.

This stuff, including showing any vulnerability, is just… really hard for her. Especially after five YEARS of just hoping someone you considered a friend was still alive, only to have then turn away from even so much as a phone call.

I feel like Ayo probably spent the last few months bitter and just so profoundly hurt that she convinced herself amends were just not remotely in the realm of possibility. That if and when she saw Bucky again, she'd just focus on her duty and that was it since clearly their friendship didn't matter to him.

But that's all well and good in concept, but when you see someone you care about hurting, really hurting, it's liable to have a ways of cutting through the noise and reminding you that deep down yes: You still really do wish them well. That at the end of the day, all that other bullshit only matters so much as you let it matter.

Friends matter more.

How you treat one another when the cards are down matters more.

Likewise: I honestly think the MCU hasn't really done enough about the sheer impact of the Blip/Decimation. In particular, I have to imagine the sheer amount of ways it changed language across the board, especially for those that were left behind. I wish I was a better linguist, as it would have been a wonderful challenge to craft nuanced terms for so many very specific emotions and expressions.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed this chapter (heavy as it was). I felt it was important to try to allow some trickier topics to surface.

Thank you again (and again) for all of your comments, questions, kudos, observations, and support. It truly keeps my creative fires lit during these long days, and it is just such an immense and continued pleasure to continue to share this story with you. Thank you again and again for joining me on this journey.

Written to "Ask the Saints," Joseph Trapanese & the Budapest Art Orchestra and "Birds of Paradise" by Gisli Gunnarsson.