Winter of the White Wolf

Chapter 32 - Nova

Whether it was thanks to sheer exhaustion or his body still busily burning off Shuri's homebrew chemical concoction from the cryo, Bucky felt more than a little thankful that when he finally woke up, he didn't remember anything his tired mind had thought to dream up.

Sam was already awake by the time Bucky finally saw fit to open his eyes and squint at the bright noonday light that saw fit to try and sneak in around the edges of the curtains. His partner was silently lying on the floor atop his makeshift bed with one hand holding his phone while the other intently scrolled through whatever website he was soaking in stories or memes from.

Was it "memes" or "me-mes?" He kept meaning to ask, but he was sure Sam would take it as an opening for an old man joke. It wasn't like he was any more up-to-date with all these new-fangled terms and weirdly spelled social media sites, though.

Maybe he could ask AJ on the downlow?

"What time is it?" Bucky groaned from his spot on the floor.

"A bit before noon, Sleeping Beauty," Sam offered as he laid his phone aside and rolled towards Bucky. He casually propped up his torso with one elbow, "I don't know if I've ever seen you sleep that deep. You were completely out."

"Did I say anything?"

"Not a word," Sam confirmed, seeing fit to add, "And I can't believe I never put two-and-two together on why you'd take all those cat naps rather than letting yourself sleep through the night. That seriously can't be healthy long-term."

"Sometimes it's just not worth the risk, especially if it's been a rough day," Bucky admitted.

"I thought you said the nightmares were getting less frequent?"

"Less is...still a lot," Bucky admitted. He looked up at the ceiling, "How about you?"

Sam snorted at the redirection but laid back down, coming to a point of acceptance that his well-being was up for discussion too, "Yeah, I get nightmares too. I don't know if they ever really go away, they just kinda change over time." He let out a deep breath, "These days it's less about the past and more about worries for the future, you know? Letting people down. Not livin' up to things. Not doing enough. I knew taking up the shield would have a very particular weight to it, but I guess I thought when I put it down for a bit, it'd be easier to separate Sam Wilson from Captain America. But it's not nearly that easy," he confided.

Sam continued, "Ridiculous as it sounds, and with all respect for what you're going through here, Wakanda's been a nice break from the same-old back home. It feels like no one here is seeing fit trying to look for cracks. Set me up for interviews just so they can pick me apart like vultures. Trying to get a rise out of me like some of those morning show idiots that were on the edge of their damn seats hoping to get me to say something controversial." His voice was measured, but heavy, "Just hoping to get a glimpse of an angry black man so they could spin that into something news-worthy. I just don't have that privilege."

Bucky sat with that statement and the solemn truth in it. He hated it was the way of things, but he'd seen enough of it firsthand to know it wasn't a mirage, "I hadn't thought about it quite that way, but that's awful. You might consider talking to T'Challa about some of it," Bucky offered, "I'm sure he gets that more than most and he certainly has a unique perspective. My own life experiences are… different. But I can sort of understand the 'emotion' thing in my own way."

Sam went back to rolling over in Bucky's direction with that inquisitive expression of his, "In your 'own way?'"

"Well… I guess I feel like it's just… easier to not let myself go to any extremes. Just live in the middle. Like if I'm 'too happy,' isn't that being disrespectful to all the people I've hurt along the way? Or if my tone's deemed 'too aggressive' then it could just turn into some spin about how I'm not really reformed at all?" he sighed, "Like I said, not nearly the same as your struggles, but I get how it's unnecessarily complicated when you know people are looking for any excuse to jump in and judge you." He pivoted the conversation back around, because it was important Sam knew Bucky was there for him as well, even if he still felt altogether awkward about talking about some of this out loud, "But if you ever have stuff, you know you can talk to me about it, right?"

"I know, and I appreciate it. Genuinely." A pause, "But I'm still not callin' you White Wolf."

Bucky snorted and tossed a spare pillow at Sam as he pulled himself so his back was against the wall, "That doesn't sound nearly as good without the accent." He stretched and yawned, "Man, the last twenty-four hours might as well have been two months for how long they felt.* You heard from Shuri or any of the Doras?"

"Shuri sent me a message earlier. She was worried about waking you. That, or she wanted to check from a third-party source that you weren't doin' that broken-up nap thing. It sounds like she and Ayo tapped out just after sunrise, and the plan is for everyone to meet up back at the Design Center after lunch."

Bucky caught a certain flicker of an expression over Sam's face, as if there was a piece of the story he saw fit to omit by casual intention, "...and?"

Sam sighed, his expression falling, "Torres messaged me. There were two other hits overnight. Same M.O. This one's got more eyes on it, though. The last surviving members of the royal family, which has turned up the heat on things. Torres also got wind that there's supposed to be an emergency meeting with one of the UN subcommittees later today. He thinks it's related, and that it's going to turn into an official summons to get some outside help on the books. Symkaria's reps want to find the killer, but now other countries are worried if they need to lockdown their people too. I let Shuri know, since, well."

"Shit," Bucky breathed, "The whole family?"

"And a fair number of their local representatives. They've gotten most of the remaining ones into safe houses or out of the country, but this has become an international incident now, especially since one of the family members was apparently outside of Symkaria when they got taken out."

Bucky made a face at that, "And Torres thinks they're going to ask us to get involved, on the books?"

Sam nodded his head, "Both of us, but specifically you because their running assumption is it's another super soldier, and you're the resident expert on the subject."

Bucky groaned, "Always nice to know they don't just keep me around for my charming personality." He glanced at his empty shoulder. Sam caught the motion, "We… might need to let them know I'm not going to be operating at peak performance here."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Sam reassured him, "And if you need to hang back here and deal with this other stuff, I can cover for you."

The words were supposed to make him feel better, but instead they just had a way of making Bucky increasingly self-aware that the fragile pieces of his life were risking slipping apart, "I'd still go, even without the arm."

"I wasn't talking about the arm," Sam stated in a very clear, non-nonsense tone, "I have no doubt you could be useful, even fight without the arm if you needed to, I just want to make sure you're taking care of you, too. There's always going to be the next international hoop-la, but there's only one of you."

"I get it, I get it," Bucky deflected, trying to push down the thought of how he'd feel if Sam went off to that international adventure and got hurt while he was over in Wakanda having Shuri poke at his damaged brain. "Did Torres get the impression they're trying to put together a task force?"

"No word yet. Personally? I'm hoping we have another round at the subtle approach now that we'll be able to connect with the authorities and ask questions without risking someone crying foul about the Sokovia Accords. If I never see Ross again, it will be too soon." Sam leaned to Bucky, "I ever tell you what he 'convicted' me for without trial before he went and tossed away the key?"

"What?"

"Assaulting the King of Wakanda. Can you believe that shit?"

Bucky made a disgusted face, "There's no way T'Challa had any idea they were keeping you for that long under that pretense."

"Oh I know," Sam reasoned, before he added with a casual shrug, "Just because we're technically playing for the same team as Ross now doesn't mean I haven't had my fantasies about flying out to the Raft just so I can haul him out over the water and drop his ass a respectable distance away."

Bucky flourished his hand like a ringmaster, "Our new Captain America, ladies and gentleman!"

Sam was grinning from ear-to-ear when he chucked a pillow frisbee-style in his direction, "C'mon, let's get some grub. I'm starving."

Lunch was a blissfully straightforward affair. It was just as much of an excuse to see Mamma after seeing the numerous messages she'd left for him during the Decimation, but it was a valid way to introduce Sam to the cafe's zesty and everchanging lunch menu.

Mostly, it was probably an excuse to hug Mamma and Ch'toa.

The two brightly adorned women were over the moon to see the both of them again so soon, and when Bucky mentioned the dream he'd recalled with Ayo from the day before, Mamma launched into sharing a host of her own experiences about Bucky that managed to walk the line between being sweet and entertaining without being uncomfortable or two personal. She was skilled like that.

Bucky had a whole list of things he was certain he'd feel shame and guilt about for the rest of his life, no matter what amends he sought, and he realized one of them was the mere fact that so many people in Wakanda had, for lack of a better explanation: not seen him at his best. He remained quietly ashamed of that fact, and while it had been a contributing factor to why he'd sought out the appeal of a fresh start in Brooklyn, he was beginning to realize that the people here didn't hold it against him in nearly the same way he continued to hold it against himself.

That was at-one refreshing, but it also had a way of making him feel guilty all over again about repeatedly dodging their calls.

The more he listened to their stories, really listened and tried to pretend they were talking about someone else, the more picked up on the joy they had in their voices as they spoke. None of it was ever mocking or made light of what he'd gone through. It was almost as if they had a spot of pride to bear witness to seeing him come into himself and shuck off the weights that had burdened him for so long. Even their unique view of the setbacks he faced along the way had a very particular point of view.

For one: Bucky started to pick up on the fact that Mamma and Ch'toa never spoke of such things framed around the idea that when things had gone wrong, that they were a setback for him specifically, but rather that it was a setback for the communal "we." Like there was a community rallying behind him every step of the way, whether he had been conscious of it or not.

The more he picked up on the "us" and the "we" and the "our," the more Bucky realized he'd somehow been a part of their stories as well, rather than them simply being a part of his.

It made him feel a lot of things at once, but it also made him aware that even after Ayo suggested he make himself scarce for a while after Zemo, she'd been willing to grant him a favor to help Sam step up into that complicated mantle of his. And after that? When he'd reached out to her to ask if she'd remembered him ever saying anything about Symkaria, she'd responded by promptly summoning him back to Wakanda. If she hadn't, he might've missed out on the opportunity to realize just how much the people and this place meant to him, and that the sentiment truly went both ways.

Things may be rough around the edges, but he had an awful lot to be thankful for.

Mamma had on one of those toothy smiles of hers as she went on about how refreshing it had been to teach a "lost soul" about food when he came at it with caution, but without preconceptions. "Usually people turn up their noses at delicious if they weren't raised around a certain strain," Mamma said, "But our White Wolf here was so curious about everything. And if somethin' went wrong with that stuff Shuri was up to and it rolled back his opinions, he'd be just as content to try it again a second time. And seein' that excitement of discovery again had a way of makin' the colors of the world seem a little brighter all around. A little sweeter."

The sincere fondness in her voice as she spoke had a way of making his bubbling concerns feel a little more distant as well.

The meal was fantastic as always, but the company was what made it filling.

When they'd finally finished-up, paid their bill, and gotten a second or third round of hugs, Ch'toa chatted with Sam and Mamma took Bucky by the shoulders and regarded him seriously. She kept her deep brown eyes on his in a way that made him self-conscious enough to worry she'd somehow learned to mind read during the Decimation, "I can tell you have weight and worry bearing down on you," she spoke in her rich Wakandan accent, "But just remember you don't need to make that burden yours alone. Usapho lwakho lulapha ngenxa yakho." Your family is here for you.

Bucky nodded and used his hand to pull her into a warm hug, the one he'd been waiting to give her since he'd seen those recordings from the night before, "Ndiyaxolisa ukuba kuthathe de kwavuka isiQinisekiso sokuba ndiqonde into wena nabanye eniyibone ngokucacileyo ixesha elide." I'm sorry it took until the wake of the Decimation for me to understand what you and the others saw clearly for so long.

She gave him a tight squeeze, "You are stubborn and we are patient," she offered as a way of simple explanation.

Nomble was already waiting with her spear in-hand as Bucky and Sam approached the nearest tarmac where they'd agreed to meet up after lunch. Her expression may have been a Dora's neutral, but her eyes were calmer and more collected than they'd been the day before. It was welcome relief to see.

"I hope you slept well," Bucky offered as she led them into the back of the black jet.

"I did," she confirmed.

"Thanks for the flower," Sam added, and Bucky caught just the hint of a smile at the side of her mouth as she bobbed her head in acknowledgement and stepped into the pilot's seat, crossing her legs as she settled into place and adjusted the holographic arrays that acted as the ship's controls.

"The others are already there," Nomble offered as explanation as the two men took a seat. Once they saw all was in order, she moved her hands and the jet smoothly lifted off.

"Did they say anything?"

Nomble looked back at him briefly, as if she was weighing the scales between her desire to remain quiet while on the job, and her willingness to indulge his question, "When I took first shift this morning, Shuri was still reviewing data."

Bucky let out a breath it felt like he'd been holding since the night before, "Well, we'll find out soon enough," he admitted. "After a certain number of trips to the Design Center, it seems like I should be at least somewhat acclimated to the anxiety, but this time feels different. Probably on account of the fact I convinced myself I was cured."

He caught her glance back in Sam's direction and Bucky thought to offer her an out, "...You don't have to respond if you're working."

"Do not be insufferable," Nomble remarked, keeping her eyes forward, but her expression was sisterly rather than cross. "I am not presently tasked with guarding either of you and I do not need my words to pilot a jet. I can spare some for you."

He snorted lightly as he turned back to Sam so his friend was aware he was talking to both of them. Sam offered his best 'huh, she can talk' expression as Bucky elaborated, "I think it's just nervous energy. Worst-case scenarios."

Sam frowned, but before he could say anything, Nomble spoke up again, "You speak of 'cured' as if it is a destination. I do not think it is. Do you remember when the trigger words were made benign, yet they still caused you distress for months after?"

"Yeah, I do," he admitted. "It was... frustrating."

"Then perhaps consider this may be another leaf of the same tree that may require regular tending. You cannot simply ask a plant or cub to cease their growing simply because you are content with how they are. Perhaps you should stop seeking to ask the same of your mind."

"I like her," Sam said approvingly from Bucky's right.

"Don't encourage her," Bucky quipped back as he caught Nomble glancing back at the two of them, "But you have a fair point. I have been thinking about it more like a destination, and maybe that's why it's so easy to slip into worst-case scenarios when it doesn't work out."

"You are quick to give Shuri credit for all her innovations, Ayo for her patience, but I think you do not spend enough time offering yourself and your mind accolades for how far you've come. All of the tireless tending you've done along the way continues to be energy well-spent, not an indication of a trajectory towards eventual failure."

Bucky wasn't quite sure what to say to that, but he decided it couldn't hurt to chew on it.

By the time they landed and made their way through the Wakandan Design Group, they found Shuri in the rear of her lab. The genius princess was flanked by Ayo and Yama who both appeared to be on guard duty. The fact that there were no other scientists present told Bucky there was news she planned to share after the formalities.

Nomble took up watch over the entrance to the lab and Shuri popped her head up as he and Sam approached. He did what he could to get a quick read on her expression, but she didn't give him a lot to work with because she was wearing that pleasant politician's smile she'd learned along the way, "Ah! Good morning! I hope both of you slept well."

Bucky wanted so much to cut through the pleasantries and hurry to the point, to the findings, but he knew Shuri wouldn't drag things out unnecessarily. If she'd stayed up past sunrise on his account, he could manage his need to know for a little longer, "We did. Did the three of you manage any?"

When Ayo and Yama turned their attention to him, Bucky felt his concerns about the findings momentarily still. Seeing Yama's face in the wake of those recordings was… it was something… he felt like he owed her a wealth of belated conversations about all she'd shared with him: the food, the photos, the videos, the bits and pieces of her life that she saw fit to share with a friend on the other side of some unreachable void just because that was who she was.

He wanted to tell her he had a heaping amount of respect for her for her desire to learn more about science and medicine, and that he was proud of her for taking it seriously.

He wasn't sure what exact expression his face was making, but he felt certain Yama knew he'd watched those videos. Whether it was because Ayo'd told her or because she'd been present for that scene in the museum the day before, something in her eyes looked almost… satisfied. Like they were closer to being on the same page. Maybe he could ask her if she'd take them to see the 'Screaming Avengers' later in the afternoon? Hopefully at least some of the goats from way back were still around. How long did they live, anyway?

In comparison, Ayo's expression was not hard, but it was evidently distracted. He wasn't sure what to make of it, especially since he'd thought the two of them ended things on fair terms the night before.

In response to Bucky's question about how they'd slept, Yama casually shrugged, Ayo remained silent, and Shuri simply offered, "Enough. But before we talk of the data…" Shuri looked significantly to Ayo, who did a peculiar thing with her face.

Ayo tilted her head to Yama which Bucky had long-since learned to interpret as 'You are now tasked with the responsibility of guarding our princess,' before she stepped off to one side of the lab to procure a medium-sized black and gold chest Bucky immediately recognized. That chest.

She placed it on the table between them and met his eyes with measured intention as she carefully articulated, "I have spoken with my General, King, Princess, and Queen Mother. I still feel in my heart that this gift of Wakanda was misused in an unspeakably shameful, dishonorable way, but…" her eyes glanced to Sam before she continued. Interesting. "I also feel it was reclaimed with permission but in haste, and without sufficient consideration for the boons it provided as a tool rather than a weapon." She turned her attention back to Bucky, "So we have agreed to allow you to continue to use it until we fashion you a suitable substitute. It is unfair to presume others should find themselves capable of crafting something that blends seamlessly to our technology, and it would be cruel to leave you without, or to think it humane to have that which is grafted onto your flesh, stripped away. That is not our intent."

Her voice shifted then to something darker, a feral tone Bucky remembered straight from Latvia, "But if you ever seek to raise a weapon against us, against me, I will not hesitate to disable it and put you in your place." The "again" was silent, but Bucky felt that in his gut too.

Bucky swallowed, hoping she could see the blend of apology, appreciation, and candor in his eyes, "Message received. Loud and clear," Bucky confirmed, "...and thank you. That's very kind of both of you."

Ayo might've said something under her breath, but even Bucky's super-hearing couldn't make it out. That being as it was, Shuri offered him a hint of a smile as Ayo lifted open the chest and revealed the familiar shape of his vibranium arm. The last time he'd seen it presented like this it had been out of the blue and under very different setting and circumstances. This time, even with all that had happened, it felt more like a step forward. He didn't feel like he'd truly earned it, not really, but he hoped there might still be a path to even that. He was certainly going to try.

"I cleaned it and upgraded the firmware," Shuri volunteered cheerily from a few steps behind Ayo. Yama's face twitched as she evidently tried to repress a smile.

Ayo shot Shuri a discreet look, but the princess shrugged it off, "The code was ancient, from 2018," she offered as way of an explanation, "And there was a discreet foreign tracker that I removed. It was transmitting your location to an unknown satellite. I was unable to complete the trace before the signal was cut remotely."

Bucky frowned, "On the arm? I didn't know anything about that one."

"It was very sly," Shuri specified, "slipped between the plates. No maker's mark."

"We have separate trackers for when we're doing government work," Sam volunteered, "But we know about those. 'Least, I'd like to think we do. The original deal we signed with the Accords was they had to be on at all times, but they got a little more lenient after the whole 'saving the world' bit."

Ayo made a disgusted face at that, "During the Decimation, the Accords continued, but the supplementary trackers you speak of were also misused, as many things with grand intentions often are." She watched as Bucky gently pulled the vibranium arm free from the case and regarded it. He knew both the arm and Sam's suit had Wakandan trackers in them. They'd made no secret about it, either, but it was to be expected when you were outfitted with what amounted to probably millions of dollars worth of tech that came with a lifetime of free software updates, so all-in-all he considered it a fair tradeoff.

He still wasn't so thrilled about them not telling him about the failsafe they'd thought to put into the arm, but he felt like this clearly wasn't the right time to approach that particular topic. It could wait.

He pulled the trailing end of the blue shawl out of the way and cleared the opening of his t-shirt as he angled the vibranium arm, pressing it together until he heard the keys align and heard it audibly click back into place. Warm yellow light briefly illuminated the golden inner sections beneath the plates, flowing like a Japanese kintsugi piece come to life. There was a very particular sensation and fleeting hum as it drew power and initialized. It was easy to imagine the plates singing out in thanks as they shifted and settled into position, doing their best to mimic the dynamic muscles of a real arm.

After being without it for only a day and a half, he had a renewed appreciation for everything about it, and then some.

He wheeled his arm around once, resetting the position and then used his other hand to pull the sleeve of his T-shirt and then the blue, black, and gold shawl back over the shoulder. He didn't know what the protocol was here, but he was guessing continuing to view the gift from T'Challa as a sign that he was still a work-in-progress so far as the amends and reconciliation went wasn't a bad take. Ayo's expression alone told him he'd made the right move.

Something felt different about the arm, though, and just as he was opening his mouth to ask Shuri about it, the princess tossed a metal orb the size of a tennis ball his way with an easy, underhanded motion.

He caught it smoothly in his right hand and she rolled her eyes, "Hold it in your other hand," she instructed with her usual amount of patience.

He wasn't sure what she was going for, but he did as requested. The moment he transferred the silver orb to his vibranium hand, he realized he could feel it.

It wasn't the same as his other hand, certainly, but there was some ghost of a sensation there that his mind equated to something like weight and pressure. That was new. "Whoa…"

Shuri was all smiles, though Ayo didn't look quite as pleased, likely on account of her recent monologue about the very same offending arm. The one that was a placeholder. A foot away from the chief of security, the princess bubbled with enthusiasm and probably more than a little caffeine, "You can sense the updates, yes? I modified a number of the pressure pads to communicate two-ways to the receptors so you have the perception of feedback on your grip strength, weight, and relative positioning."

"That's… that's incredible, Shuri." He found himself trying to pace his words so they didn't risk dropping into emotions he clearly didn't have the time or space for right now.

HYDRA's operations had been so blunt and numerous that the sensations he had with their chrome monstrosity was limited to the ongoing and constant pain it bore into whatever remained of his shoulder blade and clavicle. That damn thing was heavy too. It definitely hadn't come with any bells and whistles, unless you thought the star decal that matched the flourish on the stupid instruction manual was a nice touch.

This… this was something else. It wasn't the sensation of having a second arm, but there was some sensation alright. He hadn't thought anything of the sort was even possible after everything that'd been done to him. His best hope was just… less nerve pain. Not this. Not a hint of sensation.

"We will talk more about it later," Shuri assured him, "but that is not why we have gathered."

Her expression shifted into that thoughtful manner she got when she was trying to simplify complex ideas down to something more readily digestible. The fact that she was still so animated told Bucky she'd not only discovered something, but hopefully had a game plan of how to approach it rather than simply a dead-end.

That was encouraging, at least.

"The scans we took yesterday provided a wealth of useful information because they added a series of unique data points we hadn't bore witness to previously." She stopped and shook her head, "I'm getting ahead of myself."

She flicked a hand over her wrist and it popped up a holographic array of columns and rows of small, colored boxes. It took Bucky a moment to realize he was looking at a calendar of sorts that spanned a little under three years' time, which, judging by the date, started from when he first arrived in Wakanda.

"We once spoke at-length about how HYDRA managed your periods of consciousness. That beyond the initial experiments, once they considered the Winter Soldier ready for active deployment, at minimum, they permitted you out of full cryo from anywhere around two days to four weeks per cycle."

They were apparently jumping into this discussion feet-first, which was fine by him, but a pivot away from that surreal ghost of a sensation of that metal ball in his left hand. Bucky adjusted himself so he was leaning against the nearest pillar. "Yeah," he agreed, "because by about that time, things they didn't want would start to resurface. Fragments of memories and such. Or I'd start asking questions. Which is when I'd get wiped and fried so they could start over or toss me into cold storage for safe-keeping until they needed me next."

"Right," Shuri agreed, "We obviously don't have the data they had on the project, and their goals were very different from ours, but we have to assume they were attempting to create a very particular rhythm, and that in time, they refined it to their specific purpose, which was to keep you compliant and extraneous memories buried." She gestured back to the holographic calendar of hers, "We obviously didn't do any wipes here in Wakanda, but we do have ongoing data from once we started to view patterns in the aftermath of Events."

"Our first priority was obviously to ensure that you could become non-responsive to the various stimuli HYDRA embedded in your mind. Trigger words, various ocular frequencies, patterns of flashing lights, tactile responses, electrical stimulation, and so on. When by intention or accident we stumbled over these occurrences, I began to log the Events. But it is only recently that I began to pay closer attention to the time between events. What I see now is that when there were longer spans of time between them, particularly a month or more, there were greater changes between the scans, the greatest yet being the most recent from before and after the Decimation, which span almost a nine-month period if we do not account for the time lost to the Decimation itself."

Shuri flicked a few specific scans up for comparison. They were taken at different dates, but the colors and brain activity shown them appeared remarkably similar, "The good news I see is that when we review the scans made just a few days after most Events, once your mind settled, it appears the Events themselves appeared to act as an effective reset of sorts. What I see here is we are not looking at an uncontrolled decline over time. This is a very encouraging discovery!" She put force into that declaration, though Bucky was waiting for the eventual "But…" There always seemed to be one of those attached to any good news.

Shuri continued, "Likewise, it appears your brain's ability to add new memories to its collective archive is not innately restricted. The memories themselves may just not be accessible long after they were initially recorded. But the fact they are still there is very important. The memory we took yesterday, the one from the cafe is proof that such things are still intact, only hidden."

He made a bit of a face of that, "I can barely remember it now," he admitted.

The enthusiasm in Shuri's face became tempered with sympathy, as if she was seeing fit to remember they were talking about his own mind and not simply a hypothetical, "I suspected as much. It appears that the further we get from an Event, the ability for your brain to access memories grows more and more restricted, as does the pool of available memories. It is not atrophy so much as perhaps imagining doors closing so that the memories remain hidden, like the secrets HYDRA sought to keep."

"None of this sounds particularly encouraging, Shuri," Bucky stated honestly to her and the room at-large.

"I realize that," she acknowledged before clarifying, "But I have to believe we can find a method that will…" she faded off a moment as she searched for a suitable way to express herself in common-speak.

"That is short of turning my brain off and on again with a wipe, which we aren't doing, or triggering an Event, which is no longer an option on account of the trigger words no longer working on me."

Shuri made a very specific expression when he said that last part, and it was uncomfortable enough that he didn't want to stand there and wonder what was going on in that genius brain of hers, "...What's that about?"

"It is only the fallback plan if all else fails," she admitted, "But it is not what I wish to do."

"And what's that?" Bucky was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

"If you felt it necessary to force an Event in order to preserve access to certain collections of memories, it might be possible for me to reactivate select trigger words. This is clearly not a path I wish to pursue," she quickly clarified, "But as a last resort I feel it is important for you to know the option may exist, should it be necessary."

Bucky felt his stomach fall out from him and he had to use his free hand to steady him against the pillar. That… not in a million years would he have imagined those words coming out of Shuri's mouth. He knew she didn't say them lightly, but the fact she'd even taken the time to consider that option told him this whole thing was definitely serious. He could feel Sam's steady presence beside him, squeezing his arm as he caught his breath and tried to think. It was hard when part of him just wanted to go hide under a rock and pretend that everything was okay.

Everything did not feel okay.

Shuri. Shuri had said a contingency plan for this mess was to potentially reconnect some of the words. Those words.

That was.

That was a lot to process.

When he finally had the courage to pull his eyes back to Shuri, he first caught Ayo's expression. It was calm and sympathetic, and it had a way of saying without words that she understood his frustration, but that they'd figure it out together.

"I do not wish to spend more time on this dire and dehumanizing option when others might exist," Shuri specified, adding, "It is the last I will speak of it unless there comes a time to revisit it."

Bucky's voice was quiet, almost timid as his mind returned to that dark place where he could only glimpse the fantasy of being even partially 'cured,' when in actuality, the curse of HYDRA's meddling remained, "So what are you proposing?"

"I would like to see if we can focus on accessing the memories themselves, as the process may offer insight into how we might simulate and select positive effects of an Event without the negative."

Bucky practically snorted at the ridiculousness of that one, "The 'positive'?"

"Yes," Shuri insisted, her tone patient, instructional, "Under certain circumstances, a handler was able to ask you to recall very specific memories, even those that came before your time with HYDRA, and you were able to access them. If we can figure out the way that access is granted, it may allow you further freedom to recall memories at will, rather than the current status that is a blend of conscious thought where some are spotty and inaccessible, and others only make themselves known in an uncontrolled dreaming state."

Bucky couldn't help the fact that his eyes drifted to Ayo's own when Shuri spoke. There was a sort of… very specific intimacy that came from the fact she'd been tasked on more than one occasion to ask him all variety of questions about HYDRA and the Winter Soldier program like some sort of walking instruction manual. Apparently HYDRA'd put in a failsafe for asking too much about the wrong sorts of questions, too, because that ordeal had triggered some sort of violence he didn't even recall. He just knew it happened on account of all the blood later.

Both his blood and Ayo's, because when the Soldier hadn't been able to take her down, he'd considered the next-best alternative.

Apparently, that's what you got for asking too many questions up against HYDRA's programming.

In contrast, Bucky sometimes made requests of her to ask questions that had nothing to do with HYDRA. Of memories he thought he once knew but could no longer remember, usually from the time before. She'd recorded those interactions at his request, and though they were a hard watch, they helped him fill in the blanks. He hadn't watched those recordings in at least a year, maybe more. It'd been like watching the Winter Soldier and that stupid Russian accent of his factually recount parts of a long-forgotten past while dressed up in his own clothes. Ayo had to do a lot of heavy coaxing to get much of anything useful out of him because his tendency was for straightforward efficiency rather than any remote emotional depth. It was like listening to someone passively read the story of his early life from the back of a cereal box. Hollow and lifeless, yet he hung on every word in an effort to just remember himself, rather than have to rely on others for the opportunity.

The fact that it was the Winter Soldier that seemingly had those bits and pieces locked away was like adding insult to injury.

It was backwards as all-hell. And he hadn't even spared a moment to consider that without those trigger words and how they squeezed his brain in a very particular way, they had no way to pull anything out of him, even stuff he yearned to remember. He hadn't even stopped to consider it a tradeoff. He just knew he couldn't really live if had to be in fear of him being turned into a weapon against his own will again.

He took a deep breath and found himself looking back to Ayo, who let some of her own emotions slip through that armor of hers. Her brown eyes were a wash of an immense amount of sympathy for his ongoing, and by the feel of it, never-ending plight.

It was Yama that spoke up next, her calm words were intended to be encouraging, so much so that Ayo didn't even spare a glare of reprimand for speaking out-of-turn while guarding Shuri, "Do not forget there have been advances during the time of the Decimation as well."

Shuri nodded, "There have. What work we've done here blends more with research on Artificial Intelligence than it ever has. I choose to believe we will find a method that serves our purpose."

"And if we did, you're saying maybe I'd have to come back every month or so to keep things tuned-up? Assuming HYDRA did their due-diligence and figured out an ideal cycle?"

"Perhaps," Shuri's words were offhanded, "Or perhaps it could be something you manage yourself. We do not know. There are those around the world that rely on the application of medicines and machinery to persist. It is not unimaginable that a solution we decide on might require upkeep and diligence. Such things are not bespoke of weakness." He could practically hear the silent "James" as she waved a hand towards the arm, as if it was a clear example of her message.

"I take it there isn't a point for me to ask you about a timeline of how long you think this might take?" Bucky saw fit to inquire, trying not to let his tone slip into that familiar hopeless, dire place.

Shuri offered him an understanding smile, "You would be correct. This is untread territory for all of us, and while there is a certain sense of urgency that comes from not knowing and wanting to seek a resolution as quickly as possible, taking a thorough, methodical approach continues to be ideal. The quiet urgency is that we have data as of yet that shows that as far as we know, Events allowed for a soft reset beyond four to six weeks without any ill effects, but we do not know if there is a point where that is no longer true. Therefore, my recommendation would be that you make time as you can, as we do not know how long it might take until we can reliably simulate the benefit of an Event that is not a true Black Hole Event."

"Well… we're still in a holding pattern concerning Symkaria, so my schedule's currently wide-open. Did you have something specific in-mind that you wanted to start with, or are you still in the investigation phase?" His voice betrayed that he was honestly hoping it was the latter.

"I did have some initial experiments I wanted to run, but they are lightweight and should be neither painful nor invasive."

"Has anyone complimented you on your bedside manner lately?"

"You would be the first," Shuri smirked and gestured him over to the recovery chair they'd used the day prior, "Come, let us get started."

Shuri was a whirlwind of motion as she moved around the lab, "I was thinking we could limit today's experiments to an hour, give or take. The mind fatigues quickly, and I would prefer to approach this chapter of our study as a marathon and not a sprint."

"Won't argue with you there," Bucky agreed, looking up at Sam, who stood a few feet away: just far enough to not block Shuri from her work, but close enough to give the sensation he was in that protective, vigilant mode of his. Bucky regarded his partner, "At least if we get deployed back to Symkaria, we won't have to bring up the arm. That's a silver lining, right?"

Sam rolled his eyes, seeing fit to inject a heavy dose of sarcasm into his voice as he saw fit to add, "You don't have to think about work all the time, Buck."

"Pot. Kettle, Cap."

"Smartass," Sam muttered with a significant roll of his eyes.

"Maybe after Shuri does her thing, I can take you out to see where I used to live?" His eyes glanced to Yama, who he knew was focused on guarding Shuri, so he tried his best to be respectful of the Doras and their posts as he spoke, "Depending on how the day's scheduled, it would be great if some of our friends could join us. There's a lot of beautiful natural spots out that way too. Might be worth grabbing the wings, too."

Bucky didn't miss the discreet but knowing glances of the troop of Dora Milaje stationed in the lab: yeah, they caught it too.

"I am so ready to be a tourist for a while," Sam confirmed as he folded his hands over his chest and kept an ever-watchful eye on things. "How're you holding up there?"

Bucky shrugged, "About as well as you'd expect, but I'm trying to look on the bright side that it doesn't sound like my brain's deteriorating. Just that it apparently needs a jump-start of some sort every month or so it can stay under warranty."

Sam snorted, but Shuri saw fit to wave a hand in his direction, as if the simplistic way he'd referred to his mind might've been a tangential insult to the subject of her work, "Most brains would be unable to recover even partial function from the that degree of butchery. The amount of scar tissue generated was horrific. For most, it would have limited any possibility of recovery, yet both your white matter and grey matter continue to show improvement over time, particularly in the grey matter density of the hippocampus."

Blessed Sam asked for clarification, "...What does that part control again?"

That teacher's smile returned to her face, "It plays an important role in the limbic system. Key to learning and memory, particularly the formation of new memories, and in structures associated with self-awareness, compassion, and introspection," Shuri supplied, seeing fit to add, "Your American Universities would do well to cover such basic concepts."

"If you think this is bad, you should see what they choose to cover in our history books," Sam remarked offhandedly before he turned back to the topic at-hand, "But you're saying what you're seeing bodes well for Bucky's recovery?"

"I am," she confirmed, "The fact that his brain continues to attempt to shuck off scar tissue and form new connections this long after the initial injuries means that it is still in the process of healing, which is no small feat." As her bustling slowed, she stepped in front of Bucky with that expression of hers, the one that sung consent and transparency above all-else and the very particular caveat she'd had for so long, "As ever, we are treading on new territory, and I would be remiss if I didn't remind you that I can't be certain of any outcomes, though I would like to think the risks of today's explorations are minimal."

"If there was a waiver, I signed it away years ago," Bucky admitted, perhaps a bit more sadly than he intended, "But I trust you. I know you're doing your best to help with the mess inside of my head, and I'd like to think we're past the worst of it."

"I'd like to believe that as well," Shuri agreed as she began the process of applying a series of wireless diodes to his brow and temple, "but it still bears mentioning."

"The alternative of ignoring it altogether sounds worse."

"It does." Shuri didn't say anything more as she applied a mild adhesive to a second pair of sensors and parted his hair behind his temples so she could place them directly against his scalp.

While it'd been years since anyone with HYDRA had laid a hand on him like this, even now, even this many years later, he could feel that strange tension shoot through his body. The one that instructed him to remain still, compliant, even though the hands that made contact with him now were remarkably gentle, and a far-cry from how he'd been manhandled like a piece of meat in the past.

The first time they'd done anything like this here in Wakanda, Ayo'd insisted on using restraints because while she trusted the intention of his words, each of them remained on-edge about the possibility of eliciting an instinctual reaction from the Winter Soldier.

It was fair reasoning even if deep down he knew it was unlikely to be necessary for completely different, but related reasons.

The morbid part of it was: If it was a medical procedure, he could keep himself remarkably still because most of what'd been done to him was done without any sort of anesthetic. It was hardly a fact he was proud of, and a shitty parlor trick or bragging right to be able to say he'd had people drill into his skull multiple times while he was fully conscious. And as Shuri carefully parted his hair and placed the diodes, he knew she could see the scars he'd earned over the course of years at hands of at least a half-dozen different "scientists" and "doctors." Sure: the holes in his skull were healed and scarred over now, but you didn't just forget about that, even if the memories themselves were faded.

The body had a way of remembering.

As she touched him, he remembered those other hands.

"I would like to start with small goals," Shuri said as she stepped back to regard him after placing the last sensor, "Simple goals. The first is for us to see if we can find a way for you to use conscious choice to pull memories that are currently in shadow. Even just a part of one, like pulling on a loose thread. I will be taking scans as we work, as I would like to see how your brain responds to the various discrete methods of stimuli we will be testing today. You will be in full control," she reassured him.

The approach she'd come up with was simple enough: Shuri had a list of memories she'd logged over the years, and once they got to a relatively recent one he wasn't having any luck recollecting in the slightest, that became the specific puzzle piece they were going to focus on. "I'm not going to tell you all of the details I have here, because that would erase the purpose of this exercise, but it's from your time here in Wakanda, so it is not too old, and it is not distressing. It should be a good memory to reconnect with, a desirable memory."

The fact that it wasn't too old and yet he couldn't remember a damn thing about it was actually more distressing than he was probably letting on, but, well: that's why he was here in the lab, in the recovery chair they'd made custom for him, that someone had thought to keep around even during the damn Decimation, just in case he might have need of it again. "So the clues we're running with are: it's a positive memory from Wakanda that involves snow and at least one person from here." He frowned, adding, "...I honestly don't remember ever seeing snow while I was here." He debated saying the second part, but figured it could only help this ridiculous cause of theirs, "And I know I was stationed out of Siberia for a while but… I'm having a hard time remembering much of that either."

Shuri nodded confirmation, seeing fit to retrieve the metal orb from him, "Our minds sometimes seek to shield us from the trauma of painful memories. We know many of yours have related to the cold, so there is little wonder why some of it remains buried, even ones that are not themselves harmful or troubling. In theory, more recent memories that were formed after your time with HYDRA should be easier for us to access."

Bucky did his best to take comfort in Shuri's steadfast, encouraging expression, but Sam's face was another matter entirely. It was as if his friend had somehow found a way to channel Bucky's own fears and let them rest in uncomfortable honesty across his face.

"You will be in full control," Shuri repeated.

Bucky'd spent so many years being without control, without choice that he knew her words were meant to be encouraging, but there was a part of him that reflected back to the poor decisions he'd made about Zemo, the messages, and more that made him feel not nearly as confident in his own decision-making as he probably ought to be, "Let's get to it, then."

Whatever Bucky'd woke up expecting Shuri might put him up to today, this hadn't been it.

It was a relief, really. The next hour felt more like some sort of extended guided Wakandan meditation session than anything else, which was weird, but hardly terrible. It reminded Bucky a little bit of the work he and Ayo'd done together in the wake of getting the trigger words removed so that his mind had time to process that bucket of trauma and not slip into a dark place just on accounts of hearing them out of context again.

What had she called it? Exposure-response therapy?

What Shuri did now was a shade similar to that, only a lot less distressing. She'd have him close his eyes and talk him through imagining certain things, certain sensations, trying to hone-in on whatever the snowy Wakandan memory was that was just out of reach. She wasn't so much trying to form it for him as to try to keep him focused on what they were trying to accomplish. It was helpful, honestly, because anytime there was too much silence, his mind had a way of veering off to think about a whole truckload of things that had nothing to do with pulling up the veil on that specific memory.

Other times, she'd ask him to tell her what he was seeing, which wasn't altogether much. He didn't really see pictures in his head in the same way she implied he might, but he did his best to try.

After an initial set of attempts with no success, Shuri set up some sort of slow-fire strobes that he was supposed to track with his eyes while his eyes remained closed. That didn't seem to make much of a difference in any memory-recollecting, but it was actually nice to have something to focus on besides just her voice and the nothingness.

"We're almost done for today, but I'd like to try one more approach. I want to remotely stimulate rapid eye movement, as you would normally have during deep REM sleep. Try to relax your eyes. It may be disorienting at first, but keep your eyes closed and let me know if it is at all uncomfortable. The intent is to generate the desired effect without making you conscious of the electrical pulses."

"Okay," he thought he followed enough of what she was saying, and he braced for whatever jolt of electricity was coming his way.

"It will be mild," Shuri gently chided, "You do not need to be so stiff."

"Easy for you to say," Bucky grumbled.

From somewhere off to his right, he heard Ayo speak up, "Our princess tested them on herself earlier this morning." She added, "Against my wishes."

Bucky cocked a smile at the thought of how well that must have went over, "Okay, just give me a countdown, I guess?"

Shuri sighed, exasperated, "Of course I was going to give you a countdown. I felt it appropriate to explain its purpose first. Now: three, two, one…"

He felt the initial trickle of current, so faint it was almost a flicker in his periphery. It was as if his eyes were moving around slightly without him consciously asking them to, which was strange, certainly, but not painful. As he kept his eyes closed and tried to resist the urge to force control over the way his eyes were subtly moving under his eyelids, he could feel a strange shift in his thoughts.

"That's... different..." he said out loud.

"Good? Bad? In what way?" Shuri asked, all-business. "Is it too strong?"

"No, it's not too strong. It doesn't hurt. Just different. Hard to explain. Almost like stepping into water."

"I would like to tune it." A pause, "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, it's okay. The sensation is stronger now. Deeper?"

"Do you see anything?"

"No, but it's like I'm aware of things in the shadows…"

"Describe it to me."

He felt oddly present, though a void of nothingness surrounded him.

It was almost like stepping into the place between dreams. He was mindful to keep his eyes closed, but in this strange place, when he imagined himself reaching out to look at his own hands, he saw no change.

He simply was.

He found he didn't have any emotional reaction to this strange sensation beyond a subtle curiosity to understand where he was and what he was seeing. Was this realm something of substance, or simply the dark behind his eyes? He wasn't sure, but he couldn't shake the feeling this was something, something new and hidden. Something that called-out to be explored.

But whatever it was, there was a whole lot of nothing, and no landmarks to go by.

He heard Shuri's voice from somewhere far off, "If you can't see anything, can you feel anything with your senses?"

Considering he couldn't see his hands, it seemed like a strange question, but as he reached out, he felt his hand brush against something. He couldn't piece together the sensation, so he reached out with his other hand and began to move in the darkness, like trying to navigate around a room with the lights out. He found there was a strange pressure against his hands as he moved them, almost as if they were being met with resistance. Not a lot of it, but enough.

Was he under water?

"Can you feel anything?" Shuri's voice repeated.

"Sort of, but I don't know what to make of it. Like I'm in liquid?"

"Describe it for me."

"There are objects around me, I think. It's as if I can tell they're there for how the pitch of the space changes when I move and turn my head. I can feel them, but I can't see them. I'm not sure what they are, but there's a lot of them."

"But can you guess based on their size and shape?"

He considered her words, and tried to push away the innate discontent he felt from not being able to see what was around him. Instead he tried to imagine it was dark out and he was having to navigate by touch alone. He told himself this was a safe place, a place of his own making. There was nothing to be afraid of.

He extended one hand outward, and when it brushed against something. Had it moved, or was the motion from his hand? He shifted his hand to the side and found it again, running his fingers over it in a feeble attempt to understand the strange shape of it. It was neither a geometric shape or something he could readily identify. Something organic, perhaps? But what?

He gave it a testing tug, but the strange mass wouldn't break free. Was it welded on, like some sort of metal-fused contemporary art sculpture?

Why couldn't even his damn mind behave more sensibly?

He ran his hands over the object-not object, concentrating. The sensation wasn't entirely substantive. It was as if when he pressed his fingers into the shape, it gave way a little in his hands, only to rebound the moment he stopped applying pressure. It felt slightly cooler than the other objects, but then it didn't seem like anything here really made any damn sense at all. It felt like he'd wandered into some flooded hoarder's house while being blindfolded.

He took a few careful steps, and it was then that he could sense a temperature shift. It was colder, but only just. He moved cautiously in that direction, trying to get a read on what direction the chill was coming from. It was less of a breeze, and more as if he was surrounded by liquid, trying to track where a cold water jet was leaking into the pool.

"I can't identify that object," he admitted, "But I can sense it's colder in one direction down here. I think."

"Do not go too far," Shuri's voice cautioned from somewhere in the distance. "Remember we are trying to recollect a recent memory from the snows of Wakanda. Are there any things around you that remind you of that?"

His hand ran over jumbles of objects he tried to envision with his mind's eye as he continued towards the origin of the cold, as if it was calling to him. The further he went, the more it slowed him, until it was as if he reached a thick wall of almost impenetrable liquid. He could push his hand into the strange barrier, but somehow he knew better than to force his way through. His whole body was screaming at him to remain on this side of the strange division, and he did.

He stepped back and away and focused his attention on the unseen objects piled nearby.

Certain shapes he could almost make out, though the associations to them were dim and dull. A bowl, something like a ladle, a book, perhaps? He felt like he should have some sort of emotional reaction to them, but they were only just out of reach, and when he pressed his fingers into them, they would give way like sand, as if intent to obscure their true forms.

"Does anything you sense connect you to a memory from the snows of Wakanda?" Shuri's voice was more distant. "Remember that you are in control. You are safe. You are not merely a passenger in what you see."

There was something comforting in that. Empowering.

When his palm searched and settled over a smooth, pointed shape, he felt a chill run through him. It was solid, and there was some sort of connection with it he was seeking out. It was a strange sensation, like walking along the bottom of the pool and reaching out your hand to find a long-lost trinket unexpectedly lying just a little out of reach. He felt like he was having to stretch himself to make contact with it, but he strained to do just that. Bucky heard Shuri saying something to him, but he didn't catch it because he was so focused trying to lean into the strange sensation playing at his fingertips.

He leveraged the fingers of his other hand to cup the rear side of the precious object. It felt right, purposeful, solid. This was something he'd been searching for with intent. He was certain of it.

He pulled, strained, and the object broke free in his hands.

When his eyelids bolted open, he was momentarily blinded by bright light. His unfocused eyes darted around, and he had to concentrate to force them to obey him and take quick inventory of his surroundings. As they did, he felt his body coil and tighten at the sudden realization that he didn't recognize where he was.

How had he gotten here?

When had he been captured?

He sprung forward without another thought.

There would be time for questions later.

Author's Remarks:

*two months - So this is a bit of a tongue-in-cheek remark because the last 24-hours of story time here in Wakanda actually covered nearly two months of real-life writing time (May 13th through July 13! So if you've been following along and it seems like we've been in Wakanda awhile…. you're not just imagining things. ;)

Please enjoy the mental image of Sam picking up Ross from the Raft, and flying off before dropping him in the drink. You're welcome.

I think it's sweet Bucky is *finally* starting to realize the power of the communal "we."

I imagine Shuri felt guilty how things went down with Bucky on that first night, and it was then that she went about upgrading the firmware and such on the arm. She likely kept it on the mum from Ayo, but Shuri's hope was that it would find its way back to Bucky eventually. It felt the current resolution Ayo returning the arm in the interim felt very fair and in-character to me, as well as the idea that they would (to quote Sam), make him a "secondhand Buick"-of an arm as a replacement if they deem him unfit to wield this fancy one.

There's a lot of little beats in this chapter that I'm really glad to have the opportunity to share, one of which is the idea that at some point in the past here in Wakanda, Bucky admitted he couldn't remember much about who he was prior to HYDRA, and somewhere along the way, Ayo'd assured him that the next time she had to use the words, she would take the time to try to find out more so that she could share it with Bucky. And just the idea of the Winter Soldier struggling to answer those questions, and not grasping any of the context, subtext, or nuance, just… OOF. :(

I know there is a lot here, so likewise: If you have any questions on anything at all, certainly let me know!

As always, thank you so much for the comments, kudos, and kind words of support. It means *so* much and helps keep me going. There are a lot of exciting developments ahead, and I can't want to share them with you.

To quote Samuel L. Jackson in one of my favorite films, "Hold onto your butts!"