Winter of the White Wolf

Chapter 28 - Desublimation

Dreams and nightmares made way to chilled, semi-conscious thoughts, and soon those familiar waves broke over Bucky again and again. They pulled and pushed his mind like a churning tide, threatening to pull him back under, into the suffocation of the resounding blackness that surrounded him.

Eventually, recognition dawned enough that he understood what was going on in this purgatory between the dreaming and the waking world, but even that breadcrumb of a realization didn't offer any relief.

Bucky had a wealth of life experiences to draw from: Everything from mildly uncomfortable irritations through to downright horrifying decades of existence lived without choice, and right up there in the top ten, maybe even top five, was coming out of cryo.

It didn't matter if it was a deep freeze or a partial freeze: the whole process from top to bottom was not only agonizing, but unnerving on a deeply primal level.

The first sensation was always a resounding numbness and pain that accompanied the nothingness. It was so far beyond cold that his body didn't even register the sensations as anything connected to temperature. This was always accompanied by an instinct to try and wake himself, to open his eyes, but as each and every time before: it failed because his body remained too immobilized to respond to his silent pleas.

The paralysis was frightening as it was disorienting. It meant he not only couldn't sense what was going on around him, but who and what his consciousness was drawing him ever-closer to.

The second sensation that slipped through him was a sudden, blinding awareness of a sea of bitter cold that gripped his body and mind with tight and prickly claws. He knew somewhere deep down that his body was fighting hard against it, trying to push through and live, but he felt like a passive observer in the struggle, unable to do anything but wait out the excruciating, all-encompassing pain.

His mind was too foggy to remember what came directly before, and so all it could do was lay in anxious wait to see what came next. He focused on his senses, on anything that might clue him in to where he was or what had last happened to him. His muffled ears rang, offering no clues to the outside world. The only sound he felt certain of was his own heartbeat, thrumming dully in his head.

Was he being revived because his heart had stopped beating, or in spite of it? He couldn't remember.

He was vulnerable. Exposed. Frozen.

And there was only cold, darkness, and pain.

The world outside was still dark, but slowly it shifted from pure black to dim and dappled behind his eyelids. He tried to force his eyes open, but he couldn't summon up the will to do so. Fear and confusion gripped his mind, coupled with a full-body paralysis he fought but couldn't shake.

Bucky felt his breath suddenly hitch as his diaphragm jolted, filling his lungs with a gasp of icy air. At the motion, he was dully aware that the shadows in front of him shifted ever-so slightly. Were they people? Handlers?

He couldn't remember.

He was just so cold.

With valiant effort, he continued to struggle to open his eyes, but even when they felt like they moved, he only saw more blurs. Hints of color seeped into the brightest parts, though no amount of focus allowed him to identify what or who they were.

Somewhere in the distance, he could make out a muffled voice speaking slowly, "It is Ayo. You are just coming out from partial cryo in Wakanda, James. You are safe and among friends. Can you hear me?"

The tightness in his chest immediately loosened.

Ayo.

Wakanda.

Safe.

He rolled the words over in his head, trying to digest them as he fought to stay buoyant against the sharp pain and continued paralysis. He tried to focus on the promise of safety, even if he couldn't sense it yet.

With sizable effort, he tried to summon a reply, but his throat betrayed him with a wordless, inaudible murmur.

Ayo's calm, muffled voice returned, "It's okay. You do not need to speak. Can you open your eyes for me? When you can. Take your time. There's no rush."

He wanted so desperately for her to know he heard her, but his body was unwilling to listen to his pleas.

Everything was just so tight and so bitter cold.

Bucky put all of his energy into trying to turn his head towards where he'd last heard her voice, and focused on the taunt muscles of his face. Eventually, he felt his eyelids separate, but the world around him was over-bright and still without form. His eyes struggled to focus, to search for anything that would confirm the words Ayo, Wakanda, and safe.

What started as a blur of light, shadow, and over-blown color eventually settled into focus, and he saw her.

She was older than the Ayo he'd last seen in the dream, but the recognition was instant. Her steadfast, familiar countenance was an immediate balm to his chilled and exhausted mind. He focused on her as he struggled to breathe, willing the cold away so he could understand why it seemed as though there was so much emotion in her eyes. Had something gone wrong? Had he tried to hurt her or someone else?

He concentrated fully on her expression and the openness of it.

It was at once relief, joy, and marmalade.

"Are you ready for us to help get you to the recovery area? Yama and Sam have offered to help too."

Others were here too? His mind tried to sort things out as his unfocused eyes searched for them. Though they were blurry, he felt certain he could identify the blue and red-clad figures of Sam and Yama, and beyond them: Shuri and Nomble. Yes, they'd been there when he'd been placed in partial cryo. Shuri wanted scans. He'd agreed.

He did his best to summon energy to speak or acknowledge them, but still nothing came. When he put force into the effort, his body spasmed with another jolt of excruciating pain as his frozen nerves sought to surge back to life in unison.

The next thing he knew, a warm hand had slipped into his, steadying him, grounding him. When his eyes opened again, he just saw Ayo. He was confused. Wasn't she still cross with him? Part of him was certain that was where they'd left off, but in that moment, she didn't seem angry. Her glassy brown eyes spoke to many emotions he couldn't pinpoint, but her grip on his hand remained firm.

As the events of the last twenty-four hours rolled through his mind in fresh waves, he wished so much that he had a better way to express just how profoundly sorry he was to have hurt her, of all people. It went far beyond simply wanting to make amends and check off a name in a book. He wanted so much to tell her he'd been too much in his own head, but as repugnant as his actions had been, he'd never forgotten all they'd done for him, all she'd done for him.

He tried to speak again, but as before: nothing came.

So he just kept looking at her, hoping she could somehow sense the apology in his thoughts while cold continued to grip him with sharp icy claws. He focused on her, on her solemn expression and the warmth of her hand that continued to ground him.

"Let us get you out of there and warmed up, then," she moved beside him and slowly, carefully wrapped his arm over her shoulder. Though he couldn't easily turn his head, he was dully aware of another body that took up position on his other side: Sam. Still another worked to undo the restraints that held him upright: Yama. Once they were free, he felt the three of them heft him up and lift him out of the cryo chamber.

He tried to move his legs to help, but was dead weight for all intents and purposes. Somehow the three of them kept him mostly upright as they made their way to the recovery chair a short distance away.

His head pounded and pain continued to radiate with each movement, but every time it seemed like it was too much, that the cold agony would send him back to the void, he focused on the people around him, and that hand in his that kept him steady and safe.

When they finally got to the chair, it took all three of them to slowly recline him so he didn't simply collapse under his own weight. Once his body settled, he felt someone wrap a heated blanket around him while someone undid his shoes and slid them off.

"The socks too," it was Ayo's calm but commanding voice, "And make sure to continue to check the blanket. It's easy to let it get too hot. Yama, can you show him how we fold it around the side there, so the metal doesn't get too warm?"

It was difficult to focus, but he took comfort in the familiarity of her voice.

Yama's voice spoke up next, "Like this, Sam," Bucky couldn't make out either of their faces, but he knew they were there. "See? You can keep your hand here where the two touch so you can monitor them both."

Ayo's voice, "It's okay."

Bucky wasn't following what they were talking about until he felt the side of the heated blanket curl around his left side and shoulder, and then another warm hand slipped beneath the material and came to rest at the crest of his shoulder, right where the metal mounting met his skin. The area was sensitive, scarred, and one no one outside of him and the Wakandans had touched it since the last time he'd been pulled out of cryo and sat at this very same chair.

He didn't prickle at Sam being the one to make sure the metal mounting around his torso didn't overheat and burn him, he just… he'd forgotten how vulnerable the whole thing made him feel, how beholden he was to other people tending to him because he wasn't able to even do so much as pull the blanket around himself or make sure the metal didn't roast him from the inside out. Bucky tried to turn his head to look at Sam, to read his expression, but he couldn't turn his neck enough.

He was still just so cold.

"How long does this usually take?" Sam's voice. Close-by his left ear. It sounded shaky. Frightened. "He's ice-cold."

"Usually about five minutes to start to stabilize," Shuri offered from somewhere nearby. "And another twenty to thirty after to get close to his normal vitals. It varies. We have to go slow so we don't risk burning him or sending his system into fight or flight-mode."

He felt his body momentarily seize and the hand on his shoulder and the one still gripping his hand responded by squeezing back.

"I know it hurts, but try to keep your eyes open, James. We don't want you to slip back to sleep."

Logic told him this was normal, under control, but that didn't mean much when the heated blanket felt like it was burning through his skin. He let his head roll back so he could finally see Sam. He hadn't assumed Ayo would pull him into this.

When he found Sam's face, it was pinned down with a tight mask of concern. Bucky tried his voice again, "~-ey." Close enough.

Bucky saw Sam's eyes immediately move from his own, across him to Ayo, and back to his. "It's okay, Buck, we're here. You don't need to do anything, just keep your eyes open and they said the blankets and IV Yama's giving you will do their thing."

Bucky was finding it a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he did what he could, trying to force his throat to work, "~-orry-~"

Sam's expression shifted to confusion. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke, "About what, Buck?"

"~-This-~"

Sam snorted derisively, though his tone was gentle, "Seen worse. Pararescue, remember?"

Bucky groaned, "~-Show-off.-~" every part of his body hurt at once, but it was nice to have something else to focus on.

Shuri approached from his left side, her eyes were kind, but she wore a scientist's expression, "How are you feeling, James?"

"~-Forgot.-How much.-Fun.-This is.-~"

He saw a smile crack the corner of the young genius's mouth, "Good to know your humor survived the thaw."

He tried to summon the strength to shift his legs, but they pointedly ignored his request, "~-You get.-What.-You needed?-~"

Shuri's face fell back to neutral, and he frowned inwardly when he saw it: It said more than words, "I did, and I see some possible trends, but I need time to go over the data and cross-compare it to your other scans."

"~-Guess.-It was.-too much.-To hope.-The second snap.-Fixed things.-~"

The princess nodded, "It would have been a welcome boon, but let us not get ahead of ourselves and assume that anything is truly dire. You've done your part, and I will spend the evening and if needed, all of the week doing mine if that's what it takes. But I'm not going to do any of us the disservice of entertaining anyone's curiosity with half-formed calculations."

He accepted her statement and justification with as much grace as he could manage as a human popsicle. He made the mistake of trying to take a deeper breath of air in a feeble attempt to warm himself from the inside out, but all that managed to do was cause another sudden wave of pain to peak and jolt through him.

"You doing okay?" he felt Sam's steady hand on his shoulder.

"~-Yeah.-Forgot how when.-You're really cold it.-Seems like the blanket.-Is burning my skin.-~"

Bucky was casually aware of Yama preparing to feed another injection into his IV.

Closeby, Ayo spoke, "It should pass soon. You are over halfway to the next milestone." She squeezed his hand once before she carefully slipped it under the blanket and placed it over his chest. Wordlessly, she tucked the blanket around him and moved towards his feet where she and Yama inspected their progress. Bucky was pretty sure they were still mostly numb, but he was dully aware of gentle hands making contact with his toes. The fact that he could feel them was a good sign.

"Do you remember any of your dreams?" This was Shuri.

He rolled the question over in his mind, "~Yeah.-I think so.~"

"Do you think them simple dreams, or possible memories?"

He didn't have to consider this question for long. They were too grounded in reality to have been anything but memories. They were too clear. Too specific. Too vivid. The Nazi serum that'd honed aspects of his recall insisted these were distinct echos from the past, "~Can't be sure, but.-Probably memories.~"

Shuri's eyes stayed steady on his, but she'd already begun to log the answers to his question in a display along her wrist. "Were they ones you recalled prior to being under?"

That was a decidedly harder question. The memories were still so fresh and clear in his mind that it was difficult to recall if they'd been there, or if they'd only lived as broad strokes from a time before. His jaw still ached, but he found it easier to speak, "I'm honestly not sure. They're clear now, really clear, but I… I don't remember how much was there before I was under."

"It would be good to log them," Shuri's voice was gentle, but not insistent.

Yeah, he knew that was coming next but... He was also not-so-subtly aware of Sam's quiet presence standing over his left shoulder, "Yeah, I know."

And right on cue, "Swear to god, Buck, if the next thing out of your mouth is you apologizing to me…"

Bucky tilted his head to meet Sam's steadfast gaze.

It was easy for Sam to say that, but the truth was that they'd never really talked about what either of them dreamed. Bucky knew Sam had nightmares sometimes too, and they'd developed a sort of social shorthand for it, for the idea of being there for each other whenever their respective minds had a bad time of things. But they'd also never gone into details. It hadn't been necessary. It wasn't as if talking about the specifics made them go away.

But there was a decided difference between the idea of just talking about dreams for the sake of conversation, for ruminating over symbolism, what seeing a pair of animals meant to your subconsciousness of whatever, and what Shuri was trying to do. Her questions weren't for the simple sake of curiosity, but to try to add to the catalog of dreams and memories they'd discussed previously. In addition to trying to take a ballpark at carbon dating when the memories were from, they'd learned there were sometimes valuable breadcrumbs of data in there, too. Not always, but sometimes. He used to log some of them in his Kimoyo Beads until he'd gotten lazy about such things, preferring not to recount what he'd seen unless someone nudged him into doing so.

But the crispness of the memories also tended to fade quickly, which was why Shuri had wasted no time in asking him about them.

"I get it: 'In for a penny, in for a pound,'" Bucky admitted to Sam through teeth a hair beyond a chatter. There were other things he considered saying, about how speaking this stuff out loud had a way of making the events seem more real, but Sam beat him to it.

"They're uncomfortable and highly personal. If they only live in your head, then no one else needs to deal with 'em, or the details only you know." Sam just looked at him with those steady eyes of his, and Bucky met his expression: he got it.

Sometimes it was easy to forget Sam had his own demons and nightmares. He was just better at keeping them at-bay.

"It's that, yeah, but I guess… this is going to sound stupid but…" Bucky tried to figure out what he wanted to say into words, "You remember how you told me you used to assume I just came to Wakanda and just got into a cryo tube and was magically cured? How you just didn't know any differently, so your mind took a stab at a theory and went with it until you were told otherwise?"

"Yeah?"

Bucky did what he could to fight down the emotions he felt building up somewhere in him, "I guess this is a little like that. I mean, you met him, it's not like you're naive, I'm not playing at that. I just… I guess there's a part of me that still thinks that whatever you're imagining is still infinitely kinder than a lot of what actually happened."

He didn't know how he'd managed to get all of that out, but Sam just kept his eyes on him as he frowned, "And that it'll make me see you differently?"

"I mean yeah, I guess."

"And then what?" Sam pressed.

Bucky did his best impersonation of a shrug from beneath the blankets, "I don't know." He honestly hadn't thought that far ahead. "That you'll pity me or something?"

Ayo spoke up at that, "Even I do not pity you."

Both Sam and Bucky looked to the Dora Milaje stationed with spear in-hand at Bucky's right side, "I have seen more than most, and I do not pity you. I think you too easily confuse pity with empathy, and in doing so: shy away from emotions that could serve you."

Ayo didn't pity him? After all she'd seen? That stilled the crux of Bucky's argument dead in the water.

Ayo saw fit to add, "If you continue to pick and choose what parts of yourself you share with those around you, you will continue to do both yourself and those relationships a disservice. It does not shield them as you believe it does." There were layers to her observation that Bucky was certain his cold-chilled mind still didn't fully-grasp, but he got the drift.

Shuri saw fit to speak up and play devil's advocate, "But as always: It's up to you. We don't have to log them here, or you can do it on your own."

Bucky made a face and bit his lip, acquiescing, "Nah, let's get it over with. It's better when you log them anyway. You pick up on more details than I do, and stuff usually starts to fade pretty quickly." He felt Sam gently squeeze his shoulder in solidarity. That or he was checking if he was still doing alright with whatever defrost setting Ayo'd set the heated blanket on. It still felt like it was burning him.

"I can step out, too," Sam offered diplomatically, "I'm not offended. Doctor patient confidentiality and all."

Bucky saw fit to try and mime a snort that only succeeded in hurting one of the frozen muscles beneath his sternum, "It's not that," he admitted, "It's the stuff you and Ayo said."

He was realizing it went deeper than even that, though.

There was a fantasy to his recovery that went something like this:

Back after the Decimation, after Steve and his time-travel bon voyage, Bucky remembered for a brief moment, considering going back to the Wakandans. A string of bad decisions and avoidance aside, he'd always felt like they'd just seen a little too much of his many sides to see him as anything other than a project. To just see him as a person first, not him.

So in his not unsubstantial stubbornness and probably more than a little unsung grief, he'd decided he'd try that "fresh start" ideal and see how that shoe fit.

There was a certain appeal to the idea of living in Brooklyn and putting on some long-sleeved shirts and gloves and just trying to blend in and play along that there was nothing altogether interesting about him and his past beyond having circulation issues with his hands.

In some ways, it had honestly been a refreshing change. For people to just treat him like anyone else, and not think anything more of it.

The problem was: It also meant he couldn't get too close to people or it risked destroying that fragile fantasy he'd wrapped himself up in. The one where he felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing trying to explain away even little things like his age, past, hobbies, music tastes, or what he did for work because the real answers he'd deemed inappropriate for polite company. For "normal" people.

So in his efforts to play along, to blend in and pretend like he was someone else, he later respected that he'd also managed to pull away from people when he'd probably needed them most.

And so, because he was too stubborn to try to figure out a way to fix things, he'd just sunk deeper and deeper, until Walker and that damn shield had finally rattled him enough to draw him out of his self-imposed cave of misery.

So therein he had a solid test case of how the virtues of trying to pretend to be someone else hadn't actually gifted him the hand of peace and friendship he'd hoped it might.

Add to that, he suddenly had an astoundingly fresh recollection on how much good it'd done when he'd hidden away things from Steve with the best of intentions for years. Part of him was impressed he'd managed to pull it off, to not have Steve suspect anything after Azzano, but looking back at what he knew now, he didn't know why he'd felt the need to buy into that whole ruse to begin with. All the lies and misdirection certainly didn't bring the two of them closer together. Add to that: if Steve'd known Bucky had that HYDRA serum running through his veins when he'd been blown off the train, maybe he would have come looking for him?

Maybe the fact they'd found him at all was his own damn fault?

His body shuddered as he rapidly shook the thought away. That was nearly eighty years ago. He couldn't change the past. He knew that.

But he also wasn't going to make that same mistake again and again and expect or hope for a different outcome. If he was going to treat Sam like a partner, a real partner, it started with not simply keeping him in the dark when suited Bucky's own internal dialogue.

He looked back to Sam's concerned face and solidified his resolve, "No, I'd like you to stay." he found he meant every word he said, hard as they were to say, "I have enough skeletons in my closet to fill at least a dozen natural history museums and a few of those Halloween stores, probably more, but I think I'm past the point of believing that keeping people out has ever done me any genuine good." He found his eyes glancing at Ayo's, and they rested there for a moment. His words were for her too.

Sam acknowledged the statement with an affirmative, "Well, you know you've got my support, Buck. Whatever you need."

Bucky took a glance back to Sam and offered him as best of an approximation as his face could manage of a smile. He hoped it looked like a smile, at least. It felt like a grimace, "Thanks." He took a deep breath and focused his attention back to Shuri and her steadfast expression. She'd already taken up position in front of him with Nomble a few steps behind her. Yama flanked the Princess's other side, and kept her eyes steady on Bucky, encouraging him with silent compassion.

Shuri silently gestured for him to begin, and he did what he could to push away the pain and chill deep inside his core as he focused on his words, "Well, there were three separate strands of memories that I remember…"

And he told them. He kept his eyes unfocused on the ceiling above as he recounted the memories that'd surfaced about Mamma and Ch'toa's Cafe where Ayo had patiently helped him come back into himself. About the confusion that had made way to marmalade and a renewed feeling of self. He even shared the part about the laughter, because in the moment, that felt just as important as the rest of it.

He told them about the memory with Steve and the private shame he had as he tried to figure out what was happening to him, all the while choosing to keep it to himself to protect Steve so he didn't have to worry on his account. About the eggs and the berries and the plums and the knives.

When he was done with that, he tried to remind himself where he was, and that he was safe in Wakanda, among friends, and free from HYDRA as he recounted just a few early notes in the sheer symphony of horrors they'd played out upon his mind and body and slowly broke him bit-by-bit.

He'd somehow managed to detach himself enough from the events to keep from drowning in the emotion of it all, on how it felt to reflect on feeling like he was a failure for not being stronger, for cracking under the yoke of their torture and manipulation. And somewhere in there, he was able to confess how they'd been able to fold his mind up like an origami crane and convince him he'd been responsible for Steve's death, and that playing into their obedience was supposed to stop the same thing from happening again to other people.

There was so much that barely made sense in his own mind, but when he'd finally stopped speaking, the room was quiet. Shuri'd long-since silenced the steady beeps of nearby monitors that tracked the recovery of his own vitals. He found he didn't need them, then, because he could hear his heartbeat rapidly thumping inside his chest as well as his own head.

Everything still hurt.

He wasn't sure if he had the strength to look away from the ceiling.

Ayo's voice was the first to speak. Her voice smooth, steadfast, "As we have said many times before: You are not to blame for what happened. Any of it. Your past and your memories do not define you, nor the man you are capable of becoming."

His glossy eyes came off the ceiling long enough to chance a glimpse in her direction, and he found her expression lacked the judgement he was certain he'd find there. There was no pity, either: only a resounding empathy from someone who'd seen a lot more, and knew him a lot better, than he'd given her credit for as of late.

Which had a way of only making him feel more guilty.

He felt Sam squeeze the crest of his left shoulder, and he caught his friend's expression It was obvious he was at a loss for exactly the words to say after what felt like something of a winding confessional from Bucky. He wore that counselor's expression of his, the genuine one, and offered simply, "Ayo's right, HYDRA are still assholes, and Buck?" Sam's eyes rested seriously on his, "You don't need to go through any of this alone inside your own head anymore. You got that? You weren't a burden then, and you're not a burden now."

Bucky closed his eyes and steadied his breath, trying to keep his emotions in check, "Work in progress on that."

"We all are," Sam observed candidly. "The person that tells you they've got themselves all figured-out is just lying to you, themselves, or both."

"If you say so," Bucky said, not entirely convinced, but unwilling to make an argument out of it as he continued to wait out the cold that surrounded him.

He found the chill wasn't as biting anymore.

It took another half-hour until Bucky's vitals were at a point where Shuri thought it appropriate for him to reclaim his socks and shoes and get to his feet to test his balance and reflexes.

Once she was satisfied he was recovered and in good order, Shuri insisted the two of them hurry along and get some dinner so she could focus on her work, "There's nothing more for you to do here tonight," she'd insisted, "But I will give you an update on where things stand after lunchtime tomorrow. It might take a few hours or a few days. It's too early to tell, but there's no use hovering here like nosey wild dogs while I work. You should go eat, it's past dinnertime."

Ayo nodded her understanding, using her spear to gesture to Yama, "Yama and I shall stay." She turned to address Nomble, "Show them the way to the cafeteria, then the evening is yours."

Yama and Nomble each nodded in acknowledgement before Ayo continued, "I will send message to you with tomorrow's plans when we see how late the princess finds herself in the design center tonight."

Shuri was already head-down into her data, but she was perfectly capable of multitasking, "I would think it ill-advised to see if you can outlast me," she teased, "My youth gives me an edge you lack."

"Not if the bistro is out of that awful, syrupy flavored espresso you favor," Ayo smoothly countered without missing a beat.

Shuri waved a hand dismissively, "I cannot be responsible for your perpetual poor taste." Her attention returned to Sam and then Bucky, "But we will talk again tomorrow. Cryo is very hard on your body, make sure you eat enough calories."

"Yes, princess," Bucky remarked with as much of a Brooklyn accent as he could interject into the two words.

"Don't you start that," Shuri warned, but her expression was soft. She shooed them off with another wave of her slender fingers, "Now let me work."

Bucky was sure he caught a hint of a smirk on the side of Ayo's face, but it fell away the moment she glanced back to regard Bucky. He had a feeling they still had words for one another, but that tonight was not that night. If nothing else, he was relieved to no longer see that latent anger in her eyes, though her usual armor was back up. It was hard to watch when he'd recently glimpsed the Ayo in his memories, and how open she once was with him before he'd gone and messed things up. Even now as he struggled to focus on the memories, he could feel the details of the dream start to slip away, fading back to somewhere unreachable.

The Ayo in front of him looked as though she was going to say something, but instead she glanced back at the blue, black, and gold shawl that was folded up on a nearby table. While still holding her spear in-hand, she strode over and took the edge of it and fanned it out before grabbing the far corner and tying the ends together with a few well-placed knots. Satisfied, she wordlessly handed it to Bucky before tapping the shoe of her spear on the ground twice to let the other Doras know they were dismissed to their respective tasks.

Ayo and Yama moved to wordlessly stand guard on either side of Shuri and her console, their expressions a matched pair of two straight-faced on-duty Doras. Nearby, Nomble stepped in front of Bucky and Sam to lead the way out of the lab towards the design center's on-site cafeteria.

Bucky regarded the shawl for only a moment before he threaded his head through the opening and adjusted the longer edge to rest over his absent shoulder.

Sam fell into place beside him as they started off behind Nomble. As they passed by Ayo, Shuri, and Yama, Bucky mouthed a quick "thank you" in Ayo's direction. Her expression didn't change, but her attentive brown eyes watched him go.

Ayo was many things, but insincere was not among them. He knew it wasn't up to chance that she'd specifically chosen to tie, of all things, a double friendship knot into the shawl.

He knew all was not well, not by a long shot. In his periphery, he was aware they'd been boots-down in Symkaria only twenty-four hours ago and still had an international case to try and crack, even if the concerns felt like a lifetime ago. Beyond that? He still didn't know what was going on with his mind, his memories, or his broken bonds with the Wakandans.

But with Sam close by his side, as he looked down to regard the two firm knots Ayo tied in the shawl: It felt like a start.

Author's Remarks:

The idea of how many times Bucky's been in cryo (many of them during his time with HYDRA, and many more here in Wakanda), and it just being this terrifying, paralyzing experience where he doesn't know what he's going to awaken TO… oof!

I also think it's really tragic that Bucky believes if he'd simply told Steve about the serum, it might have meant Steve would have found him after he'd been blown off the train, rather than HYDRA.

:(

In any case... I certainly wouldn't have seen it coming two months ago when I started this story, but this chapter brings us to up over 100k words. Wow! That number is still a bit surreal to consider when I feel like we are right near the cusp ahead of another big drop of the rollercoaster ahead. I have so much more story to explore!

It may have only been a little under 24 hours since Bucky and Sam flew in from Symkaria, but the world isn't waiting for either of them…

As always: Thank you so much for all the encouraging comments and great discussions. It means so very much to me to know others are following along on these adventures, and I love hearing your thoughts as the story unfolds!