Winter of the White Wolf
Chapter 30 - Remembrance
Bucky wasn't sure how long they stayed out there stargazing along the trailing edge of Mount Bashenga, but eventually he realized it was not only getting late, but that Nomble was still waiting on them so she could take them back to their lodgings.
In short order, he'd sent a message to her, and within about another fifteen minutes, the three of them were on their way for an uneventful return flight.
While it was commonplace for as long as Bucky could remember for Nomble to be damn-near silent while she was on-duty, he found it immensely difficult to push the words, the tone, the sheer pain of her recordings out of his mind, even though he knew this was very much not the appropriate time to broach delicate topics with her.
Once they landed, she did the honors of guiding them from the tarmac to the door of their suite to ensure they didn't get lost in the winding hallways of the Diplomatic Quarter. When they arrived, she waited patiently to ensure Sam got the door open, but as soon as he did, she offered only a quick nod to let them, specifically Bucky, know her duty was done and she was dismissing herself.
As she briefly met his eyes, her expression remained a Dora's even gaze. The sheer absence of emotion on her face was hard to stomach after the contrast he'd just seen on those raw and emotive recordings, especially considering the entire time he'd known her, he'd never seen her come close to crying. Now he had, but it was belated and distanced months beyond the actual event. Just the fact she was able to stuff that down enough to still be willing to help him… it meant a lot, but it was also unsettling to think about, because it wasn't at all fair to her.
He wanted to say something, but it would have to wait, "Thanks for the help today. Means a lot."
She tilted her head up to him and kept her brown eyes level on his. Still: they betrayed far less emotion than he would have hoped to see there. That fact alone was heartbreaking. He found he would have almost preferred the rage and disappointment he'd once seen on Ayo's eyes to the hollowness of Nomble's own.
He didn't know what else to say, and apparently neither did she, because she offered him only a nod of acknowledgement before she pivoted and strode a soldier's walk down the hallway, striding past the other Doras posted along the way without even a passing glance.
Bucky frowned and silently watched her until she disappeared around the far corner.
"I think I'm going to go out for a little while," Bucky declared about ten minutes later.
Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow in his direction, "Want company?"
"Appreciate the offer, but not this time. I won't go far."
His friend crossed his arms over his chest and leveled his eyes as he evaluated Bucky, "You certainly don't need my good graces, but I'd like to point out you came out of a hell of a thaw not two hours ago. So the look I'm giving you is the same look I'd give to someone who was recently released from the hospital and thought it prudent to go for an unsupervised evening stroll."
Bucky read the well-meaning concern on Sam's expression and did his best to put himself in his friend's place. Usually Bucky was just fine after a round of cryo. Well, as much as could be expected after putting his body into and out-of-a near-death state thanks to a lovely merging of technology, chemicals, and plain old-fashioned below-freezing temperatures. It wasn't like there hadn't been issues with the process or the aftermath now and again. He certainly didn't miss coming out from cryo and going straight into a seizure, for instance.
He likewise had to respect the fact that all of this was new, and no-doubt unsettling for Sam. He'd seen a lot more than most, but that didn't make him invulnerable to worry, "Fair point. What if I connect the live data stream from my beads to the comms on your suit's wrist panel? They're currently set to monitor my vitals and location and send that info over to Shuri. Would that make you feel more at ease?"
Sam's eyebrows crinkled, "The beads, the bracelet is doing all that right now? Man, I need to stop looking at these things like they're jewelry rather than the most covert version of a smart watch anyone's ever seen."
Bucky snorted, "Just remember our vitals are different, so don't get freaked out if the blood pressure or whatever seems low."
"How about the temperature?" Apparently Sam wasn't beating around the bush.
Bucky tilted his head, "That runs low too. It's been that way since, well."
"I mean, how are you feeling now, though?" Sam cut in.
He was certain he made some sort of guilty face at that, but it was a fair question, "Still cold," he admitted, the words slow in coming. "It honestly takes at least a day or so for things to normalize. This isn't out of the ordinary."
Sam put his hand out palm up and Bucky interpreted the gesture and sighed as he extended his own hand and put it in Sam's so he could get a firsthand read on the relative temperature of it.
The warmth of the skin-to-skin contact was immediate, and Bucky felt himself relax into it. It was hard to remember how cold he still was without any basis for comparison.
His friend made a face, scrutinizing his outstretched hand as if if were a viable medical diagnosis, "You're right. It's still cold, but it's not like ice anymore," he paused before adding, "I can feel it trembling though. Is that normal?"
"That won't go away until tomorrow," Bucky admitted self-consciously, "That's holdover from the meds, not the cold. It takes my body a little while to break the chemicals down and get them out of my system. Really though," he turned his attention back to Sam, "I'm okay. I'll be back within an hour or so, tops. If I'm not, you have my full permission to send Redwing after me."
Sam looked him in the eyes as if he was searching for cracks. Finding none, he gave Bucky's hand a firm squeeze before letting it go, "Okay. Just set-up those magic beads of yours before you go. And don't blame me if by the time you're back, I've taught Redwing and JB to do some of the maneuvers I saw the drones in the cafeteria were up to."
"I can guarantee the AI in the two of them are more advanced than anything you saw, so if you teach either of them to be baristas, I'm returning them both to Shuri with a note of profound apology, Wilson," Bucky deadpanned.
"Hey? They might have dreams and aspirations too, man. We don't know."
"I'm fine not knowing. Have you not read any science fiction?"
"Hard to read it when you're busy living it," Sam observed with a casual shrug.
"Fair point," Bucky conceded.
Birnin Zana was beautiful at night as it was during the day. Unlike some cities Bucky'd been to over the years, it had a welcoming nighttime ambiance that was likely due in part to the wash of generous lighting that kept away the shadows and dark alleyways other cities had in spades.
The after-hours chatter was even more prominent in the evening when residents returned from work and sought to meet up with friends and family over drinks, a good meal, or one of the many social hubs that opened their doors to welcome guests in to catch the latest film, television show, or sports game. The city became a living, breathing extension of the people in it, and much as he didn't have any interest in slipping into any of the loud and crowded venues, there was something soothing about knowing that not feet away from him, people were just... living and enjoying their lives.
After spending the last day and change mostly stuck on claustrophobic jets or under the watchful eyes of one or more of the Doras, it was borderline exhilarating to spend some time on his own.
The downside was the same as the upside: it meant he had all the more reason to sit in his own head, regardless of his desire to or not.
The city had changed since he'd last been out on his own, but it was still recognizable. Though the streets remained vibrant and welcoming, it took him a moment now and then to parse the curious expressions on those that gave him a second glance. His first impression in nearly any other city in the world would have been that they thought they saw The Winter Soldier. But here? It was a familiar expression: the look of strangers that assumed he was an outsider to Wakanda simply because of the color of his skin. It was a strain of self-consciousness he'd never experienced until coming to this place. In the wake of it, it made him ever-more aware of how Sam and others must feel when they visited countries and places where they stood out from the local color palette.
By the time he'd made it to his first stop of the evening, he was unsurprised that the woman at the market stall greeted him in English, "Ah! Looking for flowers for someone special?" Braids cascaded around her face, framing a warm smile.
"Yes, but I was interested in the bouquet over there with the Night Caps and Queen of the Night Lilies," he used his hand to gesture to the bundles of black flowers that were kept in water in the rear corner of the stall. He pulled his hand back down when he realized it was trembling, and discreetly rubbed his fingers together, as if that act alone might generate some much-needed heat.
She looked at the dark flowers, and her expression shifted, "Oh, they are…"
"Iintyatyambo zokukhumbula, zokuzila. Ndiyazi." Flowers of remembrance, of mourning. I know. Bucky finished for her.
Her eyes glanced up to his, surprised by his easygoing, fluent response in Wakandan, as well as no-doubt his knowledge of the specific meaning behind those particular flowers.
He swapped back to English, "I don't have any local currency on me, but would you take Euros or American bills? I have a credit card too, but I haven't been back here in years so I'm not sure if that's any more useful."
"Your accent is very good," she observed. "You spent time here, yeah?"
"I did," he admitted, "A little over two years."
The woman nodded and pulled the bouquet of black flowers down, running her hand along the outside of the bundle as she wrapped the base of the stems so they didn't drip. The protruding anthers of the lilies shone a bright red, which matched the crimson fabric she chose to encircle the bundle, "We used to go through many of these. So many that some days it felt like I sold nothing else. Other days, the most I could spare was a single stem for those in need."
"I got dusted, so I wasn't around for some of that," Bucky admitted as he watched her tenderly prepare the bouquet for him, "I'm trying to be present now, though."
"That's good," she nodded, "Grief is not so easily captured and released." Once the ribbon was tied, she handed the bouquet across the counter towards him.
"What do I owe you?" Bucky held up his hand and then dug into his pocket for his wallet. Before he could retrieve it, he felt the woman's fingers gently tap his forearm.
"No, they are yours," she pushed the flowers into his hand the moment it retreated from his pocket.
"Are you sure?" He asked, confused at her unnecessary kindness.
Her expression was even, thoughtful, "I have seen enough mourning for many lifetimes," she admitted, "I do not wish to profit from it. If you insist on paying me, you can come by another time and buy other flowers with your American plastic."
Bucky found himself able to manage a small, appreciative smile, "I'll do that," he agreed. "Thank you."
The woman tilted her head in acknowledgement, adding, "Iintsikelelo zokhokho bakho kunye nabo babelana ngentlungu yakho." Ancestors blessings upon you and those you who share your grief.
"Ndiyabulela ngesipho somoya wakho." Thank you for the gift of your spirit. Bucky returned, crossing his arm over his heart as he spoke the words.
As Bucky walked with an armful of remembrance flowers, he was reminded of the last time he'd done anything close to this, and even then: it was not a perfect comparison.
Making amends for things he'd done as the Winter Soldier was hard, but it was different. When he'd finally drummed up the courage to speak with Yori*, it had only been after months of slowly befriending him, growing ever-closer in some feeble attempt to hope that when he finally saw fit to rip the bandaid off, that it would lessen the sting.
He'd never know if that was the case, if what he'd done had been any kinder than telling Yori the truth of his son's death, his murder, soon after he'd originally tracked him down, but he hoped somehow his cowardice had served some purpose.
He wasn't sure he'd ever shake the nightmares of not only the killing itself, but the way Yori had simply broken before him when learning the news.
This with Nomble was different. She and he had years of history, and now neither of them were oblivious to the pain he'd caused her by his own poor decisions. In some ways, it made it hurt worse, but it also didn't make him feel inclined to believe that space and time would do either of them any favors. It was squarely on him to make amends.
He had no way of knowing if she still lived where she did before the Decimation, but as he rang the doorbell and held his breath, he hoped she did. If not, well… he supposed he could ask one of the other Doras where she lived, but he figured that was a last resort since he wasn't doing any of this as some performance to look good on their account.
He wasn't sure if it was super-hearing or regular hearing that allowed him to overhear someone pause on the other side of the door, but eventually the wooden door swung open to reveal Nomble. She was dressed in casual clothing meant for a comfy evening at home, composed of white and black leggings and a geometric-patterned purple top. While one hand remained on the doorknob, the other was pressed together in a loose fist, almost as if she was unaccustomed to being without her spear.
Her normally stoic, tattooed face betrayed some amount of surprise at his unexpected appearance as well as that of the flowers. She recognized their very specific meaning, and he could sense something in her shift as she evaluated him.
"I know it's a little out of the norm to just show up, but I… I wanted to talk. To apologize."
She regarded at his face and gestured for him to step inside, "Come," she said simply, "It's warmer inside."
Bucky did as requested, dipping his head as he entered her home and offering her the bouquet of flowers after she'd closed the door behind them. She regarded the black flowers with a calm intensity he recognized immediately: the look of someone who was intent to keep their emotions in-check. She did not say anything as she accepted the flowers, but she did accept them.
The front room was arranged just like he remembered it, with shelves of books and an assortment of colorful, overstuffed chairs surrounding a central fireplace. Her vibranium spear stood at the ready nearby, a visual reminder of her chosen calling. The fireplace was off when he entered, but as he bent down to slip his shoes off, Nomble made a point to press the ignition switch as she stepped into the kitchen to retrieve a vase.
Though the heat of the fire was overkill considering the current temperature outside, it was clear Nomble must've thought it would be a boon to his continued recovery.
That was simply how she operated.
Bucky took her departure as a prompt for him to take a seat by the fire. As he settled into the chair closest to the welcoming heat, he found his mind wandering back to all the other times he'd visited. Framed art hung proudly on the tan walls next to photographs of Nomble's brother, M'Bahi, poised with a wide smile next to his wife Jado and their two boys. There were older photographs of a younger Nomble and M'Bahi and their parents, and still others with Nomble and other members of the Dora Milaje. They did not smile in those warrior glamour photos, as it was deemed disrespectful to do so, but the eyes of each and every one of those women shone with immense pride and purpose.
What Bucky was not expecting to see was a framed photo of him standing out by that lake by his old hut. He was flanked on either side by Ayo, Nomble, Tasdi, and Yama, the latter of which was holding the brown and white goat he'd named "Steve." Yama had a hint of a devious smile on her face, and without even meaning to, he found himself starting to sink into that picture. Into that time in his life where things felt altogether simpler. Who'd even taken it? Shuri, perhaps?
By the time Nomble stepped back into the room with the vase of black and red flowers, she managed to catch his gaze, and the weight of her expression made him feel like he'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, "I… I don't even know where to start, Nomble," he confessed.
She placed the flowers on the table between them and carefully removed a leatherbound book from the nearest cushion so she didn't sit on it: Apparently he'd interrupted her reading.
Another thing they had in common.
She seated herself across from him, "Well, you are here. That is a start."
"I didn't get your messages until today. I had no idea," he said, trying to steady his voice, "I'm not saying that makes it better, but I didn't know. If I'd known, I'd like to think I would have come."
She evaluated his eyes, and he saw some of her Dora's armor slowly loosen.
"Why did you not answer?"
"I had it on silent. For months. It wasn't just you. I shut down and ignored pretty much everyone I knew before the Decimation hit." He was trying to figure out the next words to say when she found her voice.
"I needed you," her voice was soft, pained.
"I know. And I wasn't there. And I should have been." He lowered his head, but forced his head back up so he could continue to meet her eyes, "I'm so sorry. I was too deep in my own head to feel like I had anything to offer anyone. It was like living without being alive."
"Was it because of Steve?"
Bucky's head pivoted up so rapidly he was certain he'd be feeling the whiplash in his neck for days to come. Of all the words she could have said then, of all the questions: he hadn't heard that particular one coming.
She must have seen the surprise in his expression, because she saw fit to add, "Okoye told us he was not taken by the Decimation, but she had no answers for what became of him long after the Battle of Earth. I thought perhaps, hoped, you'd at least gotten to see one another after. You always spoke so highly of him."
Bucky let out what felt like every bit of air in his lungs, "I'd hoped to introduce him to all of you after I was done with my training here, but that... didn't end up happening. He was gone within a few days of the Battle of Earth."
Nomble wasn't the sort of person to press for details, and what she did or didn't know about Steve's time-travel shenanigans were clearly not as important as piecing together how the cascading impact had led Bucky to forgo his relationships with she and the other Wakandans. Very slowly, she found her voice, "We would have grieved with you."
It was hard to hear the emotion and candor in her words, "I know you would have," Bucky spoke with all sincerity, "I tried to tackle it on my own. And… it was a bad call. I single handedly sabotaged all of my relationships without even realizing what I was doing." He shook his head clear, "This isn't about me, though. I just… I know it might not amount to much, but I didn't mean to hurt you. All of you. I wish I could take it back, but I don't know what else I can do now other than to say I'm sorry and to try and be more present. I know actions matter more than words. That's why I came as soon as I heard your messages."
The room slipped into the quiet crackling of the fire again as he found the strength of will to ask, "I don't know what the proper social grace is here. I have so many questions, but it feels unfair for me to ask anything of you when what I really want to do is to understand so I can help you in whatever ways I can. But I don't know if the time for even that has passed." He felt his eyes lower back to the fire.
"Why do you wish to offer aid now?" Her voice was measured, but not cruel.
He was going to say something, but he caught his tongue as he realized she wasn't trying to be smart about it. That wasn't the sort of person Nomble was. She wasn't one for riddles or games. She took the direct approach. He appreciated that about her, "Because it's the right thing to do, and because I care about all of you."
She tilted her head as if the answer met some of her inquiry but not the full subtext she was prodding at, "And what then?"
He wasn't following, "What then?"
She nodded, "So we talk. We confide and share our grief. I speak words to you that make you feel as if all is forgiven, or enough. What then?"
He… honestly hadn't thought that far ahead. It must have shown on his face.
"The thought of sharing grief with you is not an empty sentiment, but it is hollow if you only choose to be present when it is convenient for you."
In that moment, the way she kept her eyes steady on him reminded Bucky so much of his little sister, Rebecca. The intensity of her expression was unyielding and so direct it was almost uncomfortable. But he got what Nomble was getting at, "This is your way of pointing out you don't have interest in a fair-weather, or one-way friendship."
She nodded and leaned back in her chair, "It is," she agreed.
Bucky needed a moment to chew on that, not because it wasn't a fair request, but it was a statement that carried weight. He found himself glancing back around the room at the various art and photos on the walls. They hadn't changed much at all over the last few years, and it made him wonder who'd taken up residence there while Nomble'd been caught up in being dusted as well. He wanted to imagine maybe it was one of her family members. It didn't seem like more than a few months ago that he was sitting in this same chair, keeping a close eye on her brother's two children as they ran circles around the couches, tables, and chairs while the adults chatted nearby. Nomble always made it a point to invite him and others over when she'd host little gatherings like that. It was her way of opening her life and interests to those around her, including those that grew accustomed to the work persona she proudly wore as a badge of honor.
This home was a safe place where even Doras could lay down their burdens, smile, and relax.
Men haunted by firsthand nightmares of the Winter Soldier could as well.
"I don't want a one-sided friendship with you either," Bucky finally said after clearing a lump from his throat, "That's not fair to you."
"So you plan to keep in touch even when you are not inside Wakanda's borders?"
"That's the plan going forward," he admitted, "I'm a work in progress. Might always be. But I'm trying. All of you were always there for me even when I wasn't at my best, and I'd like to do the same in return. I guess for awhile there I thought all of you were simply doing it out of a sense of duty but-"
"-If you think any of us continue to stand by you for a sense of duty alone, you are not only sorely mistaken, but impressively dense," she casually observed.
He snorted softly as he regarded the fire and the warmth it afforded him, "You aren't the first person to point that out to me today. Might not even be the second." He glanced back to her, trying to be mindful of her posture and expression. She'd unraveled her legs from the chair and regarded him with evaluating eyes. He knew not to press, but he could feel the tangible weight of her gaze upon him as she determined if his words were spoken with truth and intention or not.
"I will get us some hot tea," she said conclusively as she got to her feet and padded silently to the kitchen.
She returned with an ornate gold and black serving tray laden with seven handless clay teacups and a matching teapot decorated with a golden panther. With great care, she laid five of the cups out on the table and poured tea into each of them before pouring tea for Bucky. Next, she placed the teapot between them so he could return the favor and pour tea into her cup.
As they went through the ceremony of the movements like a dance, Bucky could sense the conscious change in her, the way she'd willed herself to remove her armor so the two could speak again as friends rather than a guard and the guarded. While he respected her as a strong and steadfast warrior, this was the side of her he preferred by far.
When she was done, she settled herself cross legged in her chair with her tea cup in her lap. She stared into it, obviously at a loss for where to begin.
It felt wrong to watch her and say nothing, so Bucky spoke first, eyeing the five teacups on the table, "Who was the first?" He tried to keep his voice respectful, gentle.
"Tasdi passed during the Battle of Wakanda," Nomble said softly, speaking of the Dora Milaje she'd served beside and sparing a moment to glance up and rest her attention on the nearest group photo. Bucky followed her gaze and regarded Tasdi and the intense, focused expression he'd come to expect from her. When she hadn't showed up in the recordings taken during the Decimation, he'd assumed, wrongly apparently, that she'd simply been dusted as well.
Nomble kept her eyes on the photograph as she spoke, "The living grieved her, but it is strange to think many years would pass before myself and others like yourself would learn of the loss. They made a term for it, you know? 'Ukuzila okwesibini.'"
The Second Mourning.
"During the Decimation, they erected Memorials to the Fallen and to the Vanished. Our names may have been struck from the dust of those lists when we returned, but the dead did not return with us."
"I didn't know about Tasdi…" Bucky began, deciding he didn't have the energy to process that by the sound of it, the Wakandans had thought to add his name among their Vanished, "It's hard to believe the Battle of Wakanda was over five years ago for the other half."
Nomble nodded agreement, "Many lost their lives that day. Hers, like so many, was a warrior's death, but it does not make the loss any lighter to carry. It is easy to think ourselves immortal for a time when battles wage only in the distance." Her eyes moved from Tasdi's image back to Bucky, "What do you remember most about her?"
He took a deep, pained breath as he turned his attention back to the photograph where Tasdi stood proud among the other Dora Milaje. She was the second-tallest among them, and the ornate tattoos across her cheeks had always reminded him a bit of warpaint, which fit her personality perfectly. "I was always struck by how no-nonsense she was, but how she was able to tune that to whatever the situation required. If it was time to focus, she was fully present, and would make sure everyone around her was too,"
"Even Yama," Nomble added helpfully.
"Even Yama," Bucky agreed, "But she had a certain empathy about her, an energy that allowed her to also key into the times where some of us could use a little levity, and she allowed us that without making it feel like a point of weakness. It was like when you saw her relax her shoulders, you knew it was not only okay to breathe, but that she wanted you to. Like part of her gift was that quiet presence of hers. It took awhile for me to realize she made that work for her regardless of if she was on-duty or not. I know at first, I thought it odd she spoke so little when I thought she was off-duty. It took me a bit to key into the fact that was her natural state. That she preferred to listen. But if she had something to say, oh! Do you remember how the room would just go silent in anticipation?"
"She wielded a powerful economy of language," Nomble confirmed, "each word counted tenfold, perhaps more."
"Tasdi could have been a sage with some of those one-liners she said over the years. Especially to Ayo. She even got in a few impressive ones on Shuri. Never on-duty, though. It was like she'd save them up for just the right moment." He exhaled, reminded again that he'd hear any of those quips again, "I miss her. When I didn't see her with you in Riga, I'd thought maybe she'd just gotten another assignment."
Nomble bowed her head slightly, "She had aspirations, certainly, but like so many others, they were cut short."
The fire continued to crackle nearby as they both took a sip of their tea and looked back to the small cups of tea Nomble had arranged nearby. After a respectful silence, she found her voice again, "My umama* survived the Decimation, but her health grew frail during it. She breathed her last before I returned from the realm of our ancestors. I still carry guilt for not being at her bedside, even though I know the logic of it makes no sense, for I could not have done otherwise."
Bucky's face dropped as he looked over to a family photo and the shorter woman with the braided bundles of hair and warm smile. He remembered taking that photo, "My condolences. Your mother was a wonderful, giving woman. Always had a way of lighting up a room and making me feel welcome, even back when I was furthest from myself. Was your brother…?"
"He was with her, I'm told," Nomble stated softly, "And the thought of that is kindness to my heart, but it still aches even though the world insists that was three years ago. For me, it is not. It is still fresh and new and the color of that pain does not wash from my hands, no matter how much I will it to."
The fire crackled nearby, and they each took a sip of their tea.
Nomble took a deep breath and collected herself before she continued, "And M'Bahi, Blade of the Royal Guard, protector of Golden Tribe, esteemed of Wakanda... my only brother survived the Decimation only to fall in the Battle of Earth. A hero's death, they say, but death all the same." Her lower lip trembled as she spoke, "The loss hit Jado hard, and she and my nephews moved back to be closer to their grandmother in Nigeria a few months ago."
...Meaning that Nomble had fought in the Battle of Wakanda, entered and exited the Decimation, and fought in the Battle of Earth... only to learn that in the timespan of those five missing years, she'd lost all of her closest remaining family members.
"It was hard," she admitted to her tea, "Very hard. There were many to grieve all at once. So many beyond even those closest to me. The others were supportive through their own pain, but it's not the same thing. We of the Dora Milaje, we spend much of our days shuttering our voices and emotions for the role we must play, which leaves holes when those same emotions seek to swallow us whole. And they consumed me for a time."
Bucky was about to say something, but Nomble continued, keeping her eyes on the teacup in her lap. She was not crying, but her voice was full of emotion as she spoke, "No time had passed for me, and so I'd reached out to you for comfort, and because I suppose I'd come to view you as a…" she searched for the word in English but could not find a suitable substitute, 'isalamane sentliziyo.'"
Kin of the Heart. Bucky felt his face tighten with emotion he struggled to keep in-check.
Nomble continued, "So when you did not did not respond, did not return to Wakanda or come to the funerals... it made me feel as if I truly lost the very last of my family." He saw her eyes flick up towards his, as if she was worried she'd said too much.
He swallowed, trying to absorb the candor in her words. He was familiar with the term, an 'adopted sibling.' But it was not just that, it was more profound. It implied a bond of brother or sisterhood made by conscious choice. In Wakanda, such bonds were viewed as being strong and deep as a biological family, "I...I'd never considered you'd viewed me in that way," Bucky admitted, quickly adding, "And I mean that respectfully. You and your family always treated me with kindness, I just… I guess I viewed myself as more of an exchange student. A passing curiosity in your lives until I was cured. I realize now that it was a shallow story in my own head."
He regarded the five teacups that sat on the table, "It brings me so much shame to think that in your time of need, you reached out to an 'isalamane sentliziyo' and were met with only silence. I'm deeply sorry, Nomble. I don't know if that is a title I deserve."
He tried to keep talking, because he was worried if he didn't, he'd break, "The last of my own family passed away while HYDRA had me on ice. My sister, Rebecca. It's… it's hard. I don't talk about this stuff because it doesn't seem like it will do much good. And honestly? After everything they did to my head, I can barely remember her. Some days I don't know if that's better or worse." He confessed, trying to pivot the conversation back away from him towards the topic at-hand, "But I certainly remember your brother. He was so talkative that sometimes it seemed suspect you two were related at all."
That got the smallest of smiles out of her, "That's because you did not see him much when he was working. He liked you, though. Even if the nicknames he came up with were all dreadful."
"Remember when he started up with 'Black Wolf' for a few weeks just to see how people would react?"
"He only stopped when umama overheard his boys repeating it that one time at dinner," Nomble recalled, "She was in a suitable uproar over that one and made him apologize, but he wasn't permitted dessert for the better part of a month." Her eyes settled onto Bucky's own, "What is your fondest memory of him?"
Bucky paused for a moment, but he found he didn't have to think long about that one, "Probably when I'd mentioned I'd asked one of you about being trained with a spear for the Dora Milaje. He was not only horrified at the sheer impropriety of the idea, but that if given the choice, I would consider that over the Royal Guard. For hours afterwards, he kept coming back around to the topic, as if making sure he hadn't misheard, do you remember?"
Nomble did her best impersonation of her late brother, "'But you would have to shave your lovely head! You would catch a cold within minutes!'" she chuckled lightly, "He truly didn't let up on that one for quite some time. Even in private, he would bemoan that you would have preferred our training over his own."
Bucky smiled at the memory, but his face fell as he thought about how neither of them would again be treated to M'Bahi's jovial teasing and playful humor.
They both quieted and listened to the crackling of the fire as they took another sip of tea and took turns refilling one another's cups.
Bucky turned his attention back to the five cups of tea on the table, "Who are the other two for?"
Nomble motioned to the cup nearest to him and spoke softly, "Steve Rogers," her hand swapt over the second one, "and for everyone else lost and remembered."
Bucky's expression faltered at the sentiment of the gesture, "I wasn't coming here to make this about me," he insisted.
The woman across from him offered only a small shrug, "I know. And I did not pour that cup out of obligation, but because I wish to be present for the grief of my isalamane sentliziyo."
He wasn't sure exactly what to say to that, especially because he had no plans to dive into anything about Steve tonight, but it felt wrong to shut her out completely, not when he'd just promised he'd try to be more open with her, "That's a hard one," he admitted, "Steve... made some decisions towards the end there that were... probably done with the best of intentions. But it made things complicated. Even grief. Especially grief." This next part he'd never admitted aloud, but it felt right to be forthright with her, "Looking back, I think I was probably depressed. My pardon, the one I was granted in some gesture to wipe away all the atrocities I'd had a hand in as the Winter Soldier? It had a stipulation of me seeing this awful therapist. I tried to go into it with the best of intentions. I know all of you here in Wakanda put a big emphasis on the value of mental health alongside physical health, but... I felt like I spent each session just lying to her about how I was doing, because the moment I said anything real, she'd find a way to twist it or pick it apart."
Bucky focused his attention back on the fire, "After awhile, I just… went through the motions. It took me a while to start to claw my way out of the hole I made for myself, and in the last twenty-four hours, I feel like someone shined a light on the fact I'd dug it even deeper than I'd initially realized."
"I understand. I was there in my own way," Nomble quietly admitted to the row of teacups, "I fear some part of me still is."
Bucky found he understood that too.
"But seeing you again, talking. It is hard because you were not here when I wished to grieve with you, but knowing it was not done out of callousness or intention… it quiets the sharpness of the bite. It is a good thing."
Her eyes wandered back to the photographs, "When people pass from our lives, one of the hardest parts few speak of is that you cannot make new memories with them, or share in their lives with others around you. Their legacy lives on only in the people they knew in life, and it is a heavy burden as much as it is a gift. And seeing you tonight, sharing memories with you… it is a gift I did not expect, but one I find myself thankful for."
Bucky dipped his head in acknowledgement, "I'm glad you feel that way. I do too."
Right as he said the last word, the Kimoyo Bead on the inside of his wrist blinked a soft blue to let him know he had a message. He briefly glanced up at Nomble and she made a gesture with her hand to let him know she would not be offended if he responded to it.
[Text Messages Between Bucky and Sam]:
Sam:
Saw your vitals spike.
Just checking that you're doing okay.
Bucky:
All good.
Keeping warm.
Should be heading back in a little while.
Sam:
Take your time. I'll be up.
"I see you still remember the shorthand gestures," Nomble observed as he turned off the overhead display.
"Two years of muscle memory sticks around, apparently. Speaking of: I'm going to make it a point to be better about replies." He quickly added, "If you ever send me a message, I mean. There might be a delay if I'm out in the field, but I never want anything like this to come between us again. I made Sam the same promise because I dodged all his calls, voicemails, and messages too."
"Good to know," Nomble stated placidly, "But do not expect chatter from me when I am on-duty. I am not so tolerant as Ayo."
Bucky hazarded a guess, "Yama told you about that from the museum? I'd also like to point out that you used 'Ayo' and 'tolerant' in the same sentence. Might be a world first."
That remark did pull a smile out of Nomble, "If she were here, I suspect you would be gilded with a bruise for that remark. But…" She acquiesced, "she is not here, and my own spear is out of reach."
Her expression shifted as subtle humor made way for curiosity, "Have you spoken with her yet? Like this?" She gestured between them.
Bucky shook his head, "No, just you. I'm sure she and I will talk at-length at some point, but it will take time. Right now it's still touch and go," he made a discreet gesture to his missing arm as if that was evidence enough. "I didn't realize until today that anyone had left me messages during the Decimation either. I'm hoping to get through as many recordings as I can tonight, since I don't know what tomorrow holds."
Nomble frowned but nodded, "You and she have a different bond. It is not "Isalamane Sentliziyo" nor "Ibhondi Yomgcini*." I do not have a name for it, if such a name even exists, but it is clear that it has not been washed away. You are both stubborn, but I feel certain you will find the language for it in time."
"I hope so," Bucky admitted before focusing his attention back on his host, "This is nice, though. I'd forgotten how easy it is to talk with you when you're not working."
"I could say the same," she offered simply as she sat cross legged and listened to the fire. "This did my heart good this night. Thank you for seeking to draw me out."
With careful, ceremonious grace, she extended her hands to the row of five teacups, and one-by-one, she reverently poured the lukewarm liquids back into the teapot. When the cups were again empty, she took the black and gold kettle in her hand and sat quietly, reflecting.
Her voice was soft when she found it again, "These people we love, our parents and grandparents, our brother and sister, our bonded and friends, they may have stepped away to be with our ancestors, but they are not forgotten. Their legacies live on in us. Like droplets of pooled water, the memories we carry from each of them will remain forever intertwined with our own lives."
Nomble took the teapot and delicately poured the mixture of teas into Bucky's cup. Once she was done, Bucky laid his cup to one side so he could take the teapot from her and pour the tea into hers. He wasn't sure if this was a Wakandan ceremony he'd never bore witness to, something new from the Decimation, or a private ritual of Nomble's own making, but the symbolism of it was immensely moving. The idea of physically manifesting cups of memories, of grief, to be combined together and shared with one another… the power of the act was staggering.
He waited until Nomble took a slow, thoughtful drink of her tea before he put his lips to his own cup and drank deeply of it.
They fell back into an easy silence before he found his voice again, "At some point, do you think you could tell me more about the Memorial of the Fallen and if there is any etiquette I should be aware of before visiting so I can show my respects?"
"Of course. I can take you there when next I visit," she promised. "It would do us both good to have company, I think. It is a heavy but healing place."
Bucky inclined his head in appreciation, "I'd appreciate that. He debated a moment before adding, "...Would it be okay for me to give you a hug? If it's not-"
"I would like that very much," Nomble spoke without hesitation as she got to her feet and used one hand to gesture him forward.
The embrace was wordless, but had a way of saying so much at once. It was a hug of reuniting, grief, and the quiet spaces in between. Bucky felt himself relax into it, and the moment he did, he had to fight the tears he felt forming in the corners of his eyes. He could feel Nomble's hands trembling as she pressed them against his back and quietly held them there as if she was grounding herself. She kept her face hidden against the inside of his good shoulder as she worked to steady her breath.
He let her stay there for as long as she needed.
When they finally parted, her eyes were red, but the emotion on her face was raw and genuine, "Thank you," she said simply before she reached for a tissue and dabbed at her nose.
Her hand idly trailed along a nearby shelf and came to rest on a book she pulled free from its surrounding tomes, "This book, "The Dragon Who Learned to Code," was written during the Decimation. It is to your taste." She extended it to him, but when he reached his hand out to take it from her, she briefly pulled it back, "It is the only copy I have, so it is a loan, not a gift. Like a library, you must visit and return it here once you're done with it. And then we must discuss it."
Bucky smiled, accepting the book, "Deal. I'm surprised you still get physical copies."
"It is a different experience holding a book," Nomble admitted as she waited for him to slip on his shoes, "The old ways are still more satisfying to me than tablets or projections." As she spoke, she leaned over to the vase and pulled out two Queen of the Night Lilies and handed them to Bucky. "One for each you and Samuel. For your own time of remembrance."
"Thanks," he replied quietly, accepting the stems. She simply nodded in reply as she led the way to the front door.
"I know you have an uncertain road ahead of you, but I have faith Shuri will figure something out. When I say my prayers tonight, I will say one for you as well." She lifted her head to face him, "I hope good dreams find you tonight. You deserve that."
"I'm not sure that's necessarily in the cards for tonight," Bucky admitted.
Nomble shrugged as she opened the door for him, "Then I shall believe for you. Good night, White Wolf," she spoke with a small smile that conveyed exactly what she meant.
He snorted softly, returning the smile before tipping his head slightly to acknowledge he'd caught the name, "Good night, Nomble. Until tomorrow."
Author's Remarks:
Grief is complicated, and I'd like to dedicate this chapter to anyone who's suffered loss, as well as to my late friends Caroline Muchmore, Kevin Kenai Griffith, and Matthew M. Robinson, my grandmother, and those lost during the ongoing pandemic. Links and images are available on where this story is cross-posted on AO3/ArchiveOfOurOwn
- [Blog with Art and Photos] Searchable: Of Dragons and Demons: The Art and Legacy of Kevin Kanai Griffith
- [Blog with Art and Photos] Searchable: Of Hummingbirds and Memories: The Art and Legacy of Caroline Muchmore
* [Story] Closure for Yori Nakajima - I wrote an extended scene for Episode 6 of TFATWS where Bucky goes and seeks closure with Yori for murdering his son. I imagine the Bucky I'm writing for here experienced that extended series of events. That standalone story is about three pages in length and linked in my profile if you're interested in reading it.
* Isalamane Sentliziyo - Wakandan Translation: Kin of the Heart
* Ibhondi Yomgcini - Wakandan Translation: Bodyguard's Bond
* Umama - Wakandan Translation: Mom/Mother
The tea ceremony I offered in this chapter is inspired in part by something I've done with soil for many years:
Sometime many years ago, when I'd find a spot out in the woods or wherever, where it was just... for lack of a better word a "sacred space," I'd take a little bit of dirt from there and add it to a ceramic dish I kept on my mantle. Over time, I asked friends if they had a special spot or memory they wanted to share with me, and if they'd be willing to donate some soil, sand, what-have you to my dish.
I'd ask them their stories, to tell me about the soil's origins, about its journey. Sometimes, the stories were simple, other times they were more complex: from ashes of pets and loved ones to tumbled rock. Bits of crushed shell, sand, or the soil of a potted plant. Each story was as unique and wonderful as the person that shared it with me.
I think one of the things I really love about it is just that... there is something cohesive and wonderful about just ...sharing my life with people, and people sharing theirs back. The soil becomes something new and wonderful. Individual grains of soil and sand can't be picked out and laid aside even when a friendship has ended or evolved over time.
Instead, it's there, forever intermixed with love. Forever part of the greater picture just like the memories of people around me, past and present, that continue to enrich my own life.
"What is grief, if not love persevering?" indeed.
As always: My immense and deepest thanks for reading this story and continuing to share your thoughts and comments with me as we travel this interwoven journey together. It truly makes a difference
While we are soon set to turn a corner where the pace of things will pick up, I appreciate the opportunity to dive into quieter topics like these seen in the last few chapters which I feel like we so rarely see explored at-length on-screen in the MCU.