Winter of the White Wolf
Chapter 46 - Silence Between Truths, Songs Between Breaths
It hadn't taken much time at all for Ayo to arrange for agreeable, nutritious food services for Shuri and Sam, though Ayo thought it suitable to request two bendy straws so that the princess did not feel left out.
It was not unusual for Shuri to show relatively little interest in the particulars of what meals she ate when she was hard at work, what was unusual was that she was not up-in-arms at the idea of someone eating in her normally food and beverage-free lab. As far as Ayo was concerned, Shuri was either too focused or tired to care about the self-imposed rule she was breaking, but at least she was not seeking to sustain herself on caffeine alone.
Ayo may or may not have asked Bosana to alert her if the princess tried to sneak in and purchase an espresso drink from the cafe once Ayo was not there to ensure she did not give into the temptation. While Shuri's heart was in the right place, she was clearly exhausted, and a few more hours of a chemical stimulant would keep her awake, but certainly not alert or productive.
Once the matter of scheduled nutrition was dealt with, Ayo passed off instructions to Nailah, one of the Doras stationed just inside the cafeteria, to return to the Diplomatic Quarters before she concluded her shift so that she could collect some of Sam's personal belongings and bring them to him while he recovered in Shuri's Lab.
Those tasks took her no more than twenty minutes to arrange. It was everything else that took time.
Even though her attention was split as she worried about Barnes, Yama, Nomble, and Teela from afar, she knew it was proper to check in with her other charges at the Design Center before she left for the day.
So she did.
Systematically, Ayo worked her way through each floor and room, ensuring that she took time to listen to what her Dora, scientists, and staff had to say, regardless of if she had heard similar from others. It was not her place to rush them or make their concerns appear insignificant in the wake of the day they'd endured.
She made it clear they were free to speak their mind if they wished, and while most conversations remained strictly business, there were a few that brought her decided unease. Their words and concerns were not improper, but when viewed as a whole, it became ever-more clear to her that few could grasp why so much and so many were put at risk for a single man who was not even one of their own.
Ayo was not unaware of the rumors. Over the years, many spoke in whispers of the ailing American man Shuri had healed, but for better or worse: few knew Ayo's own history with who they now rightly viewed as a deranged, violent man. They did not know the details of the years of sacrifice and grueling work it had taken to free his mind and body from the tortures HYDRA had subjected him to. And because her charges remained mostly unaware of her bond to the White Wolf, Ayo was offered a remarkably frank perspective on what it was like on the outside of the complex situation they now found themselves in.
And the truth was: It was ever-more confusing and unnerving.
But regardless of the part of her that worried about those on that distant mountain top off in the woods beyond Warrior Falls, Ayo kept herself focused on the priorities of her present role, which meant taking her time going through the Design Center, including visiting with the injured, including Nareema, who was to make a full recovery, and M'yra... who would not.
Shuri remained certain M'yra would regain the ability to walk in time, but the grievous injury to her arm was decidedly final. The look of horror and denial on her Lieutenant's eyes would haunt her as the younger woman begged, pled for some way to save her lead arm, for she knew it would be a swift end to much of her promising career if it was taken from her.
But her strong words were a lost cause.
Shuri did not make the decision lightly, and it was heartbreaking to watch M'yra resign herself to an uncertain future.
"…What will I do now?" She'd weakly managed once she'd regained consciousness and Ayo slowly helped her turn her head so she could regard the bandaged stump of where her right arm used to be. "What will I do?" she repeated, trying to hold back tears.
In truth: Ayo did not know.
M'yra was not one to easily give into emotion. She remained calm under pressure. Calculated. She operated with the utmost focus and intention. Ayo saw almost a younger version of herself as she looked down into M'yra pained brown eyes, and the sight was hard for her to bear for many reasons, not least of which were because she felt certain if not for her own brash decisions regarding the failsafe, perhaps none would have been injured this day, and M'yra's own life and limb would not have been torn asunder under Ayo's own watch.
Ayo struggled to be mindful of her own expression, as she knew what M'yra needed most at that moment was hope and fellowship, "You will heal," Ayo reassured her, seeking to offer what comforts she could while Shuri and the surrounding medical staff moved about. "Your sisters and I will be with you every step of the way."
Ayo believed the words she'd spoken with conviction, for M'yra's plight would not be one she would be made to suffer alone, but it was of little consolation when her world had been turned sideways in an instant, and so much remained unknown. "I cannot feel my legs," M'yra softly confessed so only Ayo could hear. The brewing terror in her normally bold voice was almost more than Ayo could bear.
"Shuri assures us that feeling will return to them in time. The procedure is still fresh. This will be the first of many."
M'yra numbly nodded, and Ayo could feel the distance could grow between them. The things M'yra wished to say, to confess, that even now, she could not find a way to reveal to her senior officer.
Instead, she kept her strong face trained on Ayo's and pretended to ignore the tears of fear and loss that coursed like silent rivers down her cheeks. Ayo only wished she knew the words that could bring her comfort, but there were no words, no language yet for such a tragic turn of events that M'yra would be forced to live with for every day for the rest of her life.
Ayo stayed with her until it was time for her to be taken to her recovery suite.
When Ayo stopped by her suite a time later, she was relieved to see M'yra surrounded by her family, but she could tell there was still lingering confusion and discontent among some who rightfully did not understand what had happened and why. "Have they caught him yet? That monster that ravaged the Design Center?" M'yra's mother asked.
"They have him in custody," Ayo spoke, being mindful of her words and how she said them, "but he is not a monster. He is simply a gravely ill man."
"Well I want answers," M'yra's mother insisted with hoarse conviction, "And I already told King T'Challa and General Okoye that regardless of how ill he claims to be, what he deserves is swift and decided punishment."
Before Ayo could speak, M'yra's measured voice stepped in, "All the punishment in the world will not grant me back what I have lost. What was done was done, and we know such matters have not escaped notice. It is not for us to dispense justice."
Ayo heard the wisdom in M'yra's words, but did not know what she could say that would be a salve to the rawness of the wounds before her. She only knew if or when James returned to himself, she was certain the guilt and horrors he would feel for his own actions would be far more potent than any in the room could imagine.
Ayo stood and listened as M'yra's family spoke with one another to make plans for her stay and an uncertain future, she pushed aside the pain in her bad leg and shifted her weight, trying to ensure her posture didn't make her appear as though she needed to rely on the butt of her spear for support. Up until today, the host of injuries the Soldier had caused were all able to be mended by Shuri. What stiffness or lingering pain that remained were matters she and her Dora lived with but rarely spoke to, in part, because there was nothing more that could be done, but also because James maintained a standing feeling of deep responsibility for what happened, regardless of if it was by his will and intention or not. And after today? Ayo was not sure if he would be able to forgive himself.
Slowly, Ayo found her own attention drawn to memories from the past. Memories dormant behind the veil of the Decimation, but ones that remained surprisingly, if not painfully fresh.
When James had first arrived in Wakanda and been told of the work he must do with Shuri, he'd found her experiments distressing, but partook in them willingly because he understood and agreed with their underlying purpose. That being as it were, it had taken time and coaxing for him to warm to the idea of testing the code words as well as granting permission for known words to be used against him if the situation necessitated it.
Ayo knew it was a profound act of trust for him to lay those words and permissions at her feet to wield as she saw fit, and she did her best to honor him and his humanity during every step of his recovery, regardless of whether he would remember what happened during such times or not. She swore an oath to him that she would not let him hurt anyone and would not ever, ever command him to do actions that would otherwise be against his will.
Even still, the memories the words represented as well as the loss of control each time Ayo spoke the words to him were wholly frightening. And as she stood in M'yra's recovery suite, Ayo could clearly remember the last time she'd uttered the full sequence, and the emotion of the moment when they both realized he was at last free.
It hadn't been a lie, but it pained her to knew he was not truly as free as they'd hoped.
At the sight of M'yra's missing arm, Ayo's thoughts reflected back on the many encounters she'd had with the Soldier when he was drawn out during James's recovery. The vast majority of these tense and scheduled interactions took place in settings so tightly scripted and controlled that no one outside of their closest circle had any idea they took place at all.
But no matter how prepared they were, how many contingencies they put in place, each of the encounters were wholly unnerving. One moment, she could be speaking to her friend, securing him into all manner of restraints, and with a few spoken words, or a few specific sounds or flashes of light, he would lose himself and become someone else.
Not someone else, she reminded herself for not the first time. It was still him, but only parts of him. Some were violent. Catatonic. Others, frighteningly obedient. Depending on the words: he could become many different distressing things at once.
It was not enough to simply restrain the Soldier so Shuri could do her work, because the sheer ferocity he was capable of, the desire to shed blood, the disregard for his own body: it was shocking, and unsettling on a primal level.
Regardless of how much they prepared in safe and controlled settings, each and every time when James came into himself again, he would have bruises to show for the Soldier's vicious efforts, and sometimes worse. More than once, he had awoken with injuries and a raw and bloodied hand only to realize that he'd partaken in violence in the time between. Sometimes he remembered what had happened, sometimes not, but he always saw the bruises for what they were, what they represented.
Failure.
Thanks to the strange serum running through him and Shuri's technologies, the bruises healed quickly enough, but the strife such trials caused his mind was another matter altogether. Long after the last bruise faded, it still took time for him to shuck off what had happened so he could center himself once again, only to prepare for the next trial ahead.
It was an awful, dehumanizing cycle.
But there were other times when things did not go as planned. When the Soldier cruelly emerged without warning due to snares and delayed traps set by HYDRA's programming. These heightened moments were… potent. The close calls had a way of being quickly reframed as learning experiences they rarely dwelled on longer than absolutely necessary, because of the remarkable toll it took on those around James, and James in particular.
While the Soldier had, thank Bast, never managed to kill anyone during such horrific, unexpected turns of events, he had come frighteningly close. One time in particular, Ayo was certain would be seared in her nightmares for the rest of her life, regardless of how much she willed the sharp memory to fade.
Her mind remembered laying on the cool grass as he stood over her, seconds away from ending her life with her own blade. But before the final blow could come, he fell unconscious to Shuri's shouted emergency code word. She could not feel anything but pain, nor anything below her neck as she bled out on the savannah, unable to move, barely able to breathe, choking on her own blood as she wondered if after all they'd gone through together, if this was to be how things were to end.
She did not think she would survive even five minutes. But as she laid there, looking into the hard and unblinking eyes of the fallen man a few feet away, she only hoped he could find a way to forgive himself for what the Soldier had done.
Ayo didn't remember much after that. One moment she was there in the grass, bleeding out, the next she was waking up dazed and confused as she came out of a medically-induced coma in Shuri's Lab.
She was dizzy and her eyes were having difficulty focusing, but she was certain she could hear James's voice through the fog, "Ayo! She's awake! I-"
Ayo wasn't sure where he'd been standing, but moments later she could feel his arm wrap itself tightly across her. His long hair fell over the side of her face and neck as James began sobbing wetly into her shoulder "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." She'd seen him frustrated. Upset, even, but this was something else entirely. He'd whimpered and wept out a barrage of apologies that turned into a solemn plea for her to show support to put him back on ice where he could do no more damage. Risk no more lives.
He was nearly inconsolable in his impassioned insistence, and his blue eyes begged Ayo to agree with him that it was not only wise, but wholly necessary.
Instead, all she saw before her was a scared man, not a monster. An ailing friend that even then, she held no ill-will against. His impassioned insistence only had a way of only further solidifying her resolve to find a way to truly free him of this walking curse of his.
Ayo did not pretend she could speak for James, but as she listened to M'yra's parents discuss what they thought should be done with the violent man who had injured their daughter, Ayo felt certain that if James saw what he'd done here today, he would be the first to request to remain restrained or locked away in a cryogenic freeze until such time that these matters could be sorted out.
But what reparations or punishment were justified in the present for someone who appeared to be acting only as a means to preserve his own life and very identity?
These topics were not suited to M'yra nor her family, but Ayo wondered in passing if this 'Barnes' regretted his actions towards M'yra as he appeared to show at least some type of remorse towards the injuries he inflicted on Sam Wilson. Or were they different to him because he was more familiar with Sam, or because he'd taken the man hostage? Even then: why had he chosen Sam, specifically?
Ayo didn't know, but she wished to understand who it was they were dealing with even now.
In the meantime, she felt guilt wrap itself around her as M'yra's mother gently ran her fingers across her daughter's scalp, seeking to soothe and comfort her. None of them knew about the failsafe that might have saved her arm, if only Ayo had chosen her actions differently. Had tempered the anger that flared brightly in her back in Latvia.
Okoye would never tell them, would never repeat her words she spoke to any of the other Doras, but Ayo would carry the guilt with her for the rest of her days.
Part of her hoped that Shuri's knowledge of the prosthetics might aid M'yra's cause in whatever the next chapter of her life would hold for her, but now was not the time for such discussions. Now was the time for healing. For reflection. For grief.
Ayo searched her words for something worthwhile that was more than simply pleasantries in the face of pain and sorrow, "If you need anything, do not hesitate to let me know." M'yra turned her head to her as Ayo added, "I know King T'Challa and General Okoye have already spoken with you, but I wanted to make clear that your valorous actions undoubtedly saved many lives today. Your sacrifice was not in vain, and Wakanda will be with you through every step of your recovery."
"Yes, my Chief," M'yra acknowledged, ever mindful of protocol.
Her parents said nothing.
Ayo found she could not blame them.
It took Ayo the better part of two hours to see to everything that needed attending before her conscience would permit her to finally leave the Design Center with some semblance of peace, and it was an uneasy peace at that.
Much of the Dora Milaje currently on guard were those fresh to their shifts, and they offered Ayo a respectful two-armed salute as she stepped outside for the first time in hours. While Ayo returned the gesture, she found self-doubt accompanied her as she stepped outside into the afternoon air.
The world came into crisp focus around her as she took in the fresh air and expansive view of the rolling foothills and meandering river that was as beautiful and pristine as ever. Even though seven years had passed since the Battle of Mount Bashenga, she could still pick out the details of where each of her allies had fallen that awful, awful day. With quiet reverence, she turned to regard the spot where Xoliswa had been cut away by N'Jadaka's cruel blade. She had given her life in service to Wakanda with as much unwavering conviction as those that had fought today. The difference was: Ayo felt responsible that things had not been able to be halted before they could spiral further.
Some Chief of Security she was.
As her eyes scanned the mountains in the distance, she found herself in reflection, in an endless cycle of possibilities where different decisions may have led to less pain and heartbreak.
If she hadn't wielded the failsafe against him in Latvia.
If she'd pressed for a more robust failsafe as a contingency against the Soldier.
If she'd only insisted Shuri get more rest.
If she'd suggested they restrain him as a precaution.
If they'd locked-down and better prepared the lab in case the Soldier surfaced.
If she'd been willing to fight with more intention. With proper force befitting the danger they faced.
If.
If.
If.
But much as her mind circled upon itself, the sight of open grasslands, bushes, and the river far beyond also reminded her of the exact spot she'd first caught sight of James in the distance after the Battle of Mount Bashenga: tired, burnt, bedraggled, but treading ever-closer with decided intention.
His sudden appearance in the aftermath of that bloody battle raised questions, certainly, but those questions quickly fell away as the foreigner found new ways to ask, "How can I help?"
Some were too prideful to accept this stranger's aid, others mistakenly used his injury and sweat-stained appearance as a premature judge of strength of character. But Ayo saw it. She hadn't seen it before, but she saw it then, clear as anything: Even if he was waved aside as if he was unfit to contribute a drop of sweat to the clean-up efforts, as if these were matters of Wakanda and not suited to an outsider, he still found ways to help.
He watched for who needed help walking, and what supplies needed moved or fetched. When he apparently realized some among them were too prideful to ask for help, he took it upon himself to act in their best interests. No one needed to ask him to bring them water, towels, or anything else: he simply did so. He said little, but every action, every moment he spent trying to understand even though he did not speak their language or know their ways was done with both care and decided intention.
Only days earlier, Ayo had spoken with Shuri about her concerns regarding this foreign white man, as well as her very particular worries that surrounded his upbringing around HYDRA and the bigotry and profound cruelty that might lie dormant in him. She did her best not to judge him prematurely for such concerns, but as she watched him work alongside her kin on the somber clean-up efforts that day, she found her worries faded with the passing hours.
She stopped, correcting herself: No, it wasn't her worries that faded, for she knew based on realities like the nails she'd glimpsed in those scans that there was much work ahead of them. What she felt certain of in that moment was that they were not simply seeking to artificially prolong the life of a damaged man simply because their King requested it. That this man, this 'James Buchanan Barnes' was clearly worth their time and effort. That as much as it frustrated her that he had been disobedient to the request for him to stay safe at a distance: he'd chosen instead to risk his own life and be of service to those he owed nothing to.
That remarkable stubbornness of mind and spirit, that quiet compassion was not lost on her.
Her mind's eye could still see the events of that day with piercing clarity as she frowned and turned to walk to the aircraft one of her Doras had returned from their perilous chase earlier: the very same ship Nomble favored and used to deliver Sam and James only hours before. Based on the last communications she'd gotten, it wouldn't be long until the downed vessels would be arriving for repairs.
What a mess.
As Ayo stepped inside and closed the hatch, she let herself lean more heavily on her spear as she walked to the front of the ship and looked out the viewport in front of her.
Shuri didn't need to know how much her leg was bothering her. Ayo knew it was important to keep up appearances, and showing strength was part of that. The nerve dampener Shuri had given her for her knee was sufficient for the time being, and the princess did not need yet more to worry about when other concerns clearly earned greater focus and priority.
With a sigh, she sat in the pilot's chair and adjusted her legs uncomfortably beneath her, drawing up one hand to sync the navigation array to her wrist.
Before she could power up the thrusters, realization dawned on her that this was the first time she'd been truly alone in what felt like a great while. While she'd gone home and collapsed in the early hours of the morning, her only goal had been to reach her bed and fall asleep as rapidly as possible. In that moment, she wasn't even certain she'd managed to shuck off her regalia.
She probably hadn't.
This… This was different.
As she sat cross-legged in the aircraft, she was aware of the silence around her as well as the discontent in her heart. No longer was she tasked with guarding the princess or commanding her Doras: in that moment, she was simply a person again.
Wordlessly, she looked out over the mountaintop view of Birnin Zana, and bid her heart to find a moment of peace, but all she felt was guilt. Shame. She wanted to believe she'd done her best, and yet she'd fallen so immeasurably short.
What she wanted most in that moment was to speak with someone she could be more truly herself with. To confide her fears and worries. The heaviness she felt deep inside. To be able to speak and not be judged for her words. Regardless of their bond, it was not the same with Shuri, nor Ayo's own lieutenants. As Wakanda's Chief of Security and General Okoye's second-in-command, she had a role to uphold as their leader and superior officer. She couldn't allow herself to be too cordial. Too familiar. The mask of her station had to take precedence over all else. That was what Wakanda needed most of all now. Her own wants had to come second.
But right then, much as it frustrated her, what she wanted most was to confide her worries in, of all people: White Wolf.
The ridiculousness of that instinct frustrated her for any number of reasons, but she would be lying to herself if she'd at least acknowledge that there was a time where there was a quiet appeal to the unique bond they shared. He was not one of her Lieutenants, or a member of the royal family in need of protection: He was simply a man. And while there had been trials of bone and blood between the two of them as they worked to free him from the cruel snare of the code words, there were not sour spots between the two of them as people, as peers.
Not until the wake of the Decimation. Until Zemo. Madripoor.
She forced away those thoughts as she sat and looked out across the scenery open before her. The candid conversations, spanning both hopes and worries for the future as well as the time between words where they could both meditate and simply exist. It was special. Unique that she found she could in some way be more herself with him than perhaps anyone else she knew.
It was strange now to think about those old memories, and how they helped sustain her for those five long years, yet to James and others: it was as if no time had passed at all. Perhaps that was part of why his disregard wounded her so deeply: that she thought their friendship was a true one that would span past when the code-words were made benign, and instead, it felt like he'd turned around and thrown it all away without a care in the world.
And now? Now to feel like they were finally speaking again and had begun to make headway, only to have it cruelly ripped away once more.
The irony was not lost on her that each and all of the private grievances she had with James were not missteps that this 'Barnes' was likely even aware of. If the core of his mind was from as far back as Sam believed, then he wouldn't remember her either.
The thought was meant to be benign, a reflection on the idea that she could momentarily quell the quiet anger deep within her surrounding Zemo, but instead, the thought that this Barnes did not know her either…
She didn't feel it coming, the way the realization slowly gripped her throat and tightened around her chest. Before she could allow it to grow further, she fisted her hands together and drew them against her forehead, tucking her head between them as she struggled to control her haggard breathing.
She had no language for what she felt, but out of sight of anyone but a passing pair of African fish eagles on the wing outside, Ayo sat and let her body fold into itself. She said no words as she allowed herself to come to terms with the fear she felt deep within her, but could not speak aloud. She let herself break and grieve the possibility that after all they'd been through together, she might not be forced to coexist in a world where James lived, but wanted no ties with her, but instead: a world where he either remained lost, or didn't know her at all.
And in the moment: That hurt far worse.
Towering waves of guilt and responsibility washed over her, searing reminders of how she'd let everyone down, and in some ways: him most of all.
She wanted to say so much. To tell him she was sorry anger had gotten the best of her with both her words and her actions. To share that the failsafe was not there because they didn't trust him. Or because she didn't trust him. That though what he'd done regarding Zemo angered her, that she understood now that it wasn't intended as a slight, but because he wished to ensure that what had happened to him happened to no others.
She wanted to tell him she forgave him, and that it was okay if he decided he didn't wish to have his actions represent Wakanda, or for her or anyone else to be in his life. That the mere fact he'd returned from the Decimation with the others was miracle enough. That he was alive was enough.
But in that moment, it didn't feel like enough.
Ayo clenched her hands together more tightly and kept her head braced firmly against them until after a time, her breathing finally stilled.
Slowly, she ran a slender finger beneath each eye and raised her head. There would be time enough for this later. Now, she needed to be strong. She needed to be Wakanda's Chief of Security, not 'Ayo.'
But she did not feel it in her heart.
She glimpsed her Kimoyo Beads and found herself running a thumb over them in thought. After a moment, she gestured her hand to will a holographic access media panel to life.
Ayo knew the date and time by heart. The last message left for her before the Decimation.
White Wolf's bearded face lit up the display as he gestured from within one of the guest suites within the Diplomatic Quarters. He spoke to her in her native tongue of Wakandan, "Well, not the day any of us saw coming, but since I know you're probably off with Shuri and the others by now, what do you think?" He must have pulled a Kimoyo Bead free from his strand so he could step back from the lens of the onboard camera. He did a ridiculous, casual spin as he showed off the custom blue and black flak jacket Ayo and Shuri had worked together to design for him, as well as his new black and gold vibranium arm they'd discussed at-length. The arm was not supposed to be given to him for another two months or more, as the graft on his shoulder was still raw and healing from his latest round of surgeries.
Though the weight of the arm must not have been pleasant, he didn't complain, taking a moment to clear some of his long hair from his face as he stepped back towards the camera, "T'Challa and Okoye handed it off to me while I was doing chores. Not exactly the timing or prestige any of us were expecting, but I'm not going to turn away from a fight, especially not one coming to our doorstep. I wish you and Shuri could've been there, though, she would have been mortified to see what I was wearing for the hand-off."
He turned his head to one side, as if listening for something a distance away before he turned his attention back to the camera, "Anyway. They said Steve and some of the Avengers are landing soon. I know nothing's guaranteed, but I'm feeling good about this one. Hopefully by this time tomorrow, things will get back to normal, and we'll be celebrating together and you can tell me what's up next on the training docket."
His face fell, "I'm sorry I can't be there with all of you. I asked Okoye if I could help with the princess's guard, but she thinks it's best for me to make myself useful out on the field with some long-range weaponry due to the timing of the arm and all. But this time, I'll stay put, okay? Don't worry about me." He smiled as he added, "Send all of them my best, and see you on the other side."
Those would be the last words he spoke to her for over five years. Until that alleyway in Latvia.
And now…?
Ayo leaned back in her chair and sighed. She did not mean to be needlessly melancholy, but it was hard not to glimpse the fears that sat like bile within her.
Even still, she knew no solutions would come of avoidance. Once she felt sufficiently composed, she looked out over the picturesque green canyons beyond and considered her options.
A passing thought suddenly occurred to her, and she rolled over her wrist in deliberation for only a moment before she placed a call to someone she would not normally have bothered with such matters, but who seemed entirely appropriate given their strange circumstances.
It didn't even take half a second for the call to connect, and for Mamma's warm face to take shape in the vibranium nanites across Ayo's outstretched palm, "Ayo!" she smiled, but then she must have caught a whiff of something in Ayo's expression, because the woman's soft features rapidly grew concerned, "Everything okay?"
Ayo chewed her lip, "No. We've had a setback."
"Oh. Oh…" Mamma intoned processing the underlying meaning of her words. In that moment, Ayo thanked her for not pressing for any details, and switching seamlessly into, "He with you?"
Ayo shook her head, "No. It's... not safe. He…" her voice faded off.
Mamma waved a hand in front of her as if she didn't need to hear another word, "Well why don't you swing on by. I'll get a care package together for you with some of all your favorites. Anyone else that needs fed too?"
Ayo felt relief wash over her simply to talk to someone who understood, "Yama, Nomble, and Teela," she supplied.
"Then we'll get all you fed and sorted, and you can talk as much or as little as you like, alright? I told him what I'll tell you: 'You've always got your family here.'"
"Thank you, Mamma. Truly." Ayo meant every word.
Sam wasn't sure exactly when he and Shuri had fallen into an oddly comfortable silence, but there was something altogether peaceful about just resting his eyes now and then while she did her genius thing somewhere nearby.
"Would it disturb you if I turned on some music while I worked?" said genius politely inquired.
Sam didn't mind the request at all. Anything would be a welcome ambiance to obscure the sounds of the magic healing machines running nearby, "Well, it's your lab, so I was assuming house rules apply," he casually remarked. "But yeah, go for it. Would be nice to have an excuse to take a load off for a while and find out whatever you kids are listening to these days."
"Kids?" Shuri saw fit to respond.
Sam didn't even have to open his eyes to imagine her bemused expression, "I said what I said."
Sam hadn't given the music selection itself much of a second thought since customarily he just traded off DJ duties with whoever was responsible for doing the heavy lifting. Buck had his mostly painfully dated music tastes and his latest interests in Audible, while Sam's interests were a bit more eclectic, and included an ever-changing mix of classic Motown, soul, and familiar high-octane anthems depending on his mood, if he was training, or if he was taking the wings out for a spin.
What Sam hadn't thought about at the time was that handing off the stereo rights to Shuri meant that he'd suddenly be exposed to a whole new assortment of voices, performances, and rhythms that couldn't be a further cry from whatever the Billboard Top 20 was spitting out this week.
He didn't pick up on it immediately, likely because he'd traveled enough to be exposed to music from all over the globe, including loads of pieces sung in languages he could identify if he was lucky, but certainly couldn't speak himself. But what was different in this case was that every song that reverberated through that lab of hers was fresh and new, and while he couldn't understand a word of it, they struck him in a very particular way.
He closed his eyes and found himself tuning in and just… listening. Drinking in the interplay of beats, melodies, and voices with the rapt attention he usually reserved for one-on-one conversations with friends and family. He'd heard some street music when they were out walking around in Birnin Zana, but this was something else. The sheer life in it.
It was like someone had just opened his mind to the realization that there were entire genres of Wakandan music they'd managed to keep to themselves for probably hundreds of years while the country feigned being nothing more than a poor country of farmers. And now? The Decimation lifts and Wakanda and its media are open to the world right along with whatever was generated during the five years he and half the population was dusted.
It was a lot to take in.
But Shuri's music made him feel a very particular sort of way that he wasn't quite sure how to make heads or tails of. On one hand: It wasn't like he grew up here, so the logical part of him respected that while these folks looked like him, it wasn't as if this was his culture.
But even then: he'd be lying to himself if something in the grounded beats, talking drums and energetic voices that wove in and out of many of the tracks in tongues he didn't speak didn't have a way of making him wonder back to the common ancestors they shared. To the broader history lying unspoken between them. Across continents, cultures, and histories lush with both innovation and remarkable brutality.
He didn't have a word for it. Saying the songs had an almost "tribal" sound to them was utterly simplistic. But it was clear as anything that they were inspired by the people that had made their homes here for countless generations. It shared a common thread with how he could feel out the way the blues and jazz sang their way into the collective consciousness from the somber roots of slave songs and spirituals.
There was history here in this music. History he didn't know, but he could feel as sure as anything.
It was something alright. Something he was certain he'd be reflecting on for a nice, long while, and long after he returned home to Delacroix.
"Are you sure you don't want me to toggle on the translation bead?" Shuri offered for not the first time.
Sam cracked an eye open, "Nah, maybe another time. Trackin' the lyrics is liable to just take me out of the moment, you know?"
She smiled before using the back of one hand to cover a yawn. Regardless of if she insisted otherwise, he could tell the day had taken a lot out of her and whatever youthful energy she had in her reserves was finally starting to run dry.
He hadn't missed when she'd seen fit to transmute her attention from overseeing the progress on his own injuries back to a series of holographic scans she poured over nearby. At first, Sam thought she was reviewing his charts. Then, he thought maybe she was looking into Bucky's own scans. But finally, he realized she was doing a bit of, well… everything really. She was covering that, but she was also looking over information from others who were injured in the day's events, and one in particular.
Sam wasn't sure if Shuri realized she was being watched as she sat and reflected on that particular scan, but he didn't need to be able to speak a word of Wakandan to know who it was from where the amputation sat high up on her right arm. What he hadn't seen was the other stuff, how M'yra's spine had been fractured and twisted, and was… well, it made his own hands look like no-big-deal by comparison.
He could've remained quiet, and debated doing just that, but it didn't seem like the right thing to do, "I'm sure you did everything you could."
She glanced over to him as a defeated sigh escaped her lips, "I did. But it does not mean I do not question the decisions I made that led to such an awful outcome."
"...Are we talking about M'yra, or Bucky?"
Shuri looked away as she uneasily replied, "Both in equal measure, I suppose. But though I know it is a Dora's job to take on such risks, I cannot help but wish that it was I that paid the price for my pride and oversights, and not her."
There it was: the guilt he knew was floating under the surface of all that genius, "You were tryin' to help. You had no way of knowing any of this would happen."
"I didn't," she reasoned honestly, "but I could have taken steps to ensure we were far better prepared."
"Could'a, would'a, should'a," Sam agreed in his counselor's even tone, "Been a visitor to that dark place of self-doubt a lot more times than I care to admit, so just know you have company." He looked back up at the ceiling, because it seemed as good a place as any for a confessional, "You've said more than once this brain stuff hasn't been a linear path to recovery. I'd believe that, especially after what I saw today, but I played a part in things too. I can't help second guessing if I'd taken a different approach, if I might've gotten through to Barnes earlier. Might've been able to talk him down to a point where he didn't…" he faded off, "I take it you saw some of what went down in the Propulsion Laboratory?"
"I did," Shuri supplied from somewhere off to his left, "Through the cameras."
"So you know I have some responsibility in all this too. Because I came between what I'm assuming was either a kill order, or someone set on defending their own friend."
He took a deep breath before he continued, "I don't regret it, but I did it. Did the best I could in the moment. So if you don't think I'm over here feeling out my own flavors of guilt for what happened: you'd be wrong. Because I just keep thinking how everything after that moment was on account of me. If people'd been hurt, killed in the lab, on any of those ships, or in the city, that would have been squarely on me."
Sam didn't even hear her step over, but one moment he was staring at that ornate ceiling of hers, and the next, Shuri was standing by his recovery bed, "Those in the disabled ships are fine," she saw fit to reassure him, "And no one blames you for seeking to spare his life. I would like to think I would have done the same in your position."
"Can we agree for the time being that there's enough guilt to go around, then? I'm sure there are a few licks we can spare for Ayo. She looked..." he tried to find the proper words for Wakanda's Chief of security, "Look: I didn't know that about the failsafe. I'm sure Buck didn't either. But it's obvious she's kicking herself for her role in all this too."
"She would not share the blame," Shuri stated evenly, "She places it all at her own feet." The cat-suited genius tilted her head, "What you said to her though, it was something she needed to hear. But it meant far more coming from you."
Sam was sure he made a face at that as he tried to trace-back his words, "About visiting Barnes?"
"Of a sort." Shuri appeared to deliberate her words before she continued, "I suspect it is easy for me to see because I have known her my whole life, but this is more than duty to her. It is a personal quest. A promise. Much as I try to be a good influence, Ayo is not... an open person. It is not that she is closed, I think. But she believes her duty to me, to her Dora, to Wakanda takes precedence over all else in her life. It is safe that way, you see? Orderly."
Shuri extended a hand as if the gesture was an extension of her thoughts, "But the bond she shared with White Wolf was none of those things, and it was good for her. Good for them both. But the world has changed while we glimpsed the realm of our ancestors. For some, like Ayo: it stood still. Even before what happened today, she has not allowed herself to be made whole since the wake of the Decimation."
Shuri shrugged her shoulders, "I am not her keeper, and she would likely be coarse with me for speaking of this at all, but I think it is important, especially after today, for you to understand. Because I think some part of her is jealous. Not by intention, and not with malice, but for fear she has been replaced. Your request to weather this storm with her did not fall on deaf ears, and regardless of if she is too stubborn to say it herself or not: it was a good thing to speak aloud. A healing thing that speaks to stronger bonds, not weaker."
It took Sam a moment to process all of that. He'd pegged Ayo for many things, but passingly jealous of his friendship with Bucky? That… hadn't been among them, but it certainly tracked now that he was becoming increasingly aware that the years he spent in Wakanda were anything but a deep-freeze followed by a relaxing time at a five-star resort vacation package. "Yeah I… I'm glad you told me. If we're being honest here: He didn't talk much about this part of his life. Not until we came to visit this time around. But it's pretty clear to me that the last two days have been a much-needed wake-up call in more ways than one, and he was trying to do the work to get things back on-track. Up until. Well…"
Shuri nodded as she stepped away to resume pouring over the scans in front of her, "I believe he was," she agreed. "And I remain hopeful for further reconciliation, but in the meantime, I retain the solemn right to the guilt I choose to carry from today." She gestured a gloved hand towards him as she smoothly changed the subject, "You spoke of Colonel Rhodes earlier. Did you want assistance responding to his summons?"
This was not a follow-up call Sam was looking forward to, but he knew it was better to nip in the bud before things spiraled anymore out of control, or worse: He chose to give Barnes a ring and the other guy actually picked up.
Well, assuming he hadn't already.
"Yeah, yeah. Good call. Do you have his number?"
Shuri gave him a significant look before he promptly backpedaled, "Of course you do."
That remark earned him a small smile as she silenced the music playing in the lab, "Did you want me to set up a call on a secure line for you? I can step out so that you can take it in private."
Sam had already rolled the reality of the situation around his head for long enough to have his answer ready, "No, let's tank this one together. I just have to remind myself he's seen weirder first hand. We all have."
"Video?" Shuri inquired.
Sam cringed at that, but acquiesced, "Sure, but keep it focused on you. I don't think seeing my face is going to do either of us any favors."
"You do not give the skill behind my handiwork enough credit," Shuri lightly teased before she made a series of gestures with her left palm and rolled it open. After a few seconds, Rhodey's face and torso took shape in a sprawl of colorful particles above Shur's open palm, "Shuri! Hope you've been well. Seems you were able to put those measurements to good use."
Sam mouthed, 'Measurements?' but Shuri's smile just brightened.
"Thank you again for getting them for me. The suit's fit would have suffered greatly if not for your valuable contributions. Speaking of: The man of the hour is with me now, actually," Shuri supplied, dropping into that cordial tone of hers that was noticeably more formal.
Wait... So either Shuri or Buck had… what? Reached out to Rhodey to get the specs for the flight suit that went along with the custom EXO-7 Falcon get-up Stark had built for him, just so Shuri would have a starting point for the fit of the newest Wakandan special?
...Exactly how many people had Buck roped in a favor with to pull that off?
The thought, sweet and sentimental as it was, had a way of making Sam feel sick to his stomach, acting as a lightning-rod to remind him that things were far still from okay about now, and Barnes, not Bucky, was off somewhere on that distant mountain top.
"Oh?" Sam watched Rhodes's expression shift just slightly, as if he was beginning to put two-and-two together that this might not necessarily be a social call. "I take it this has to do with why you rang using the encrypted line?"
"You would be correct," Shuri supplied, looking over to Sam as if passing the baton to him.
"Heyyyy Rhodey," Sam began from decidedly off-screen.
"That's not a suspicious tone at all," the figure over Shuri's palm deadpanned.
"So it's been a day, Brother."
"On your Wakandan vacation for two," Rhodes calmly observed.
"So about that…"
"Barnes switched his phone off about an hour after we talked. Now it's going straight to his voicemail, which is still full, I might add. And your phone's going straight to voicemail too. This about that?"
It took Sam's brain a moment to get caught up to realize Rhodey didn't mean 'Barnes' but their 'Bucky.' God, he remembered back to a time when his life had been so much simpler… "Sort of. We have a…. A bit of a situation here."
"I kinda guessed that by the fact that you're talking and Shuri's keeping the camera squarely off you, but go on."
Sam cringed, "Yeah so… How deep into plausible deniability do you want to go with this conversation?"
Rhodes shifted and pursed his lips, "Well, if it helps: The moment I get a call from the Princess of Wakanda on a secure line in the middle of a workday, I'm inclined to assume something's up. I'm one step ahead of you and toggled on the discreet AV blocker before I even picked-up."
"Okay then," Sam began, taking a deep breath before he continued, "Something's wrong with Bucky. We're working to get it sorted out, but… things went South today in a big way. I'd rather the news didn't get out, so if you could run interference on our behalf, that'd be great."
Rhodey's frown deepened, "Just how far 'South' are we talking here?"
"Not Zemo-level stuff. At least we don't think so. No one's pulling the strings that we know of, but it got violent. Some people got hurt pretty bad."
"...He didn't… did he?"
"No one died," Shuri saw fit to step in and assure him.
Rhodey nodded, visibly relieved, but he took a moment to chew on the information before he inquired, "He okay now?"
"Not exactly. Contained, but they still don't know what's going on."
"He was 'contained' in Berlin, too. We both know how that went."
Sam swallowed, trying to shake the image that the person they'd held captive in the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre back then must've still had the nails in his damn skull from way-back-when, "Fair… things are a bit different now though. It's hard to explain. He's not just… that. The Winter Soldier, I mean. Our best guess is it's more like his mind's trapped back somewhere in 2014, shortly after he dragged Steve out of the Potomac. You know he's the one that called 9-1-1?"
"Seriously?"
"It's what he claims." Sam took a deep breath before he continued, "Anyway. A lot is up in the air at the moment over here, so we'll need to steer clear of any missions, at least until we get things sorted out."
"Fair enough. I'll do what I can. You two focus on what you need to there." He stopped and backpedaled, "Wait, how recently did all this go down?"
"It was actively 'going down' when I last talked to you on the phone. Barnes made me take the call and listened in. I'm not going to say it was a hostage situation, but it wasn't not a hostage situation. It was something close."
Sam felt a pressing need to shift the subject away from that mess, "Speaking of: Do you have any idea why Barnes, like '2014 Barnes' would have had any working knowledge of Symkaria? Bucky didn't seem to know anything, and I looked into the declassified HYDRA files and didn't see anything of interest. There wasn't anything related to the Winter Soldier in particular, but I got the distinct impression Barnes might know more than he's letting on. Not sure if it relates to any of the recent hits, but I figured it couldn't hurt to mention."
Rhodey shook his head, trying to follow, "You're losing me with 'the Winter Soldier,' 'Bucky,' and 'Barnes.'"
"Sorry," Sam apologized, "It's more than a little confusing to me too. Our current guy prefers to go by 'Barnes.'"
Rhodey looked like he had questions, but he forced past them and returned to Sam's original question, "Regarding Symkaria and '2014 Barnes:' You got me. Symkaria and Latvia both have a messy history. Lots of wars and occupations. So I wouldn't be surprised if HYDRA or one of the organizations they allied with had some involvement somewhere along the way, but I haven't read anything definitive. You know how insidious they are. If HYDRA could infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D. without us knowing, who knows what else they've been involved in over the years."
He continued, "That said, as far as we can tell, this particular brand of turmoil we're seeing is recent, and most-likely political in nature." He paused before adding, "Also, unless you are utterly indecent, could you please turn the damn phone around, because whatever I'm imagining is probably worse than-"
Sam offered Shuri a shrug as he acquiesced to Rhodey's request and she responded by making a motion with her hand to pivot the central bead to face Sam.
Rhodes stammered as Sam must have come into view, "-holy shit. Barnes did that to your face?"
"And hands. And some other stuff, but anyways, yeah..."
"It looked far worse before," Shuri helpfully supplied from off-camera nearby.
Rhodey's figure cringed, "Christ. Okay.. Sometimes it's easy to forget he..."
"His punches land a little harder than you and me." Sam offered, "Yeah. I know."
"...Well... I'm glad it was just a warning and not the real deal," Rhodey factually observed. "Anything else I can do on this end beyond sending a sympathy card for your face and covering for the two of you?"
Sam snorted, "That's it for now. I don't like asking you to lie on our behalf but…"
Rhodes waved a hand dismissively, "No, I get it. Doesn't help his case if Secretary Ross or anyone else gets a whiff, especially if they want to pull his pardon into whatever this is. Just hang tight and I'll take care of things on this end. You planning to let any of the others know?"
"Not for the moment, no," Sam admitted, "I figure the less that know, the better. Frankly: I'm hoping maybe there's a world where things'll be behind us given a few more days, but there's no guarantee of that either. And if the U.N. wants some boots on the ground ASAP, well, we're going to need to sit this one out."
"Well then do me a favor and keep on dodging calls until I've had time to think through some excuses and get our stories straight," Rhodey promised him.
"That won't be hard on account of my phone being used as a projectile," Sam remarked.
"You know, I'm not even going ask," Rhodey cooly observed, "I assume I can use this secure line for the time being, Shuri?"
"That would be best," Shuri admitted as she turned the camera back on herself. "We'll get him fixed up in no time. You will not even have to procure a Go Fund Me campaign to take donations on behalf of Captain America."
"Really, Shuri?" Sam groaned.
Shuri simply smiled that wicked smile of hers.
In response, the hologram of Rhodey shook his head, "Wakandan tech, man. Never gets old. I almost forgot youhaven't seen much of it firsthand. The last time I did, both of you were freshly dusted, but it's good you're getting the royal treatment now." Rhodey turned his attention back to Shuri, "Anyway, thanks for helping out these two, and I'll be in touch."
Shuri inclined her head and concluded the call.
Sam sighed, "Well, that went better than expected."
"It is impressive how far honesty can carry us, is it not?" Shuri calmly observed as she stepped closer to him. "Speaking of… I think I might visit the cafe a short while so you could call your sister. Do you want me to grab you anything?"
Sam was certain he made a face at that, "You really cut to the chase, don't you?"
Shuri shrugged easily, "It is one of my many virtues. Besides: it would be best to call her before I set up the overnight systems for your face and hands. I will need to lightly sedate you to ensure you are completely still while those run so as to ensure proper alignment."
"You must be gettin' tired too if you're seeing fit to use words I can actually understand without Googling them," Sam teased, "If you can grab me another one of those smoothies, that'd be great. Maybe an energy bar too?"
"Solid foods will need to wait until tomorrow," she apologized, "Your teeth will need a bit more time to set properly."
Yeah, Sam found he didn't need any more details about that, "In that case, another smoothie sounds golden. Thanks."
Shuri smiled as she opened a nearby case and plucked a small, nickel-sized device from it, "This communication module is set-up much like one I gave you before the Battle of Wakanda. It is voice activated and defaulted to be audio-only unless you wish it otherwise. I am going to place it behind your ear. When you are done with your call, simply message me. My machines will continue to work on your hands while I am gone, so it would be wise to refrain from theatrics if you wish your fingers to be the proper lengths."
He felt her press the device behind his ear as he responded, "...I'm so tired, Shuri, that I can't tell if you're joking or not. About the fingers."
Shuri just grinned noncommittally, "Say hello to your sister for me," she insisted before she stifled a yawn and waved a hand over her shoulder, dismissing herself.
Sam could hear her say something to one of the Doras stationed just out-of-sight at the entrance to the room, and he waited until he heard the door close behind them before he turned his attention squarely back on the spiraling ceiling above him.
It wasn't that he was necessarily uncomfortable about the idea of Shuri listening in, it was just… he needed a moment to collect his thoughts before he made this particular call.
He turned his head enough to his right to look out the window-lined wall that opened to the hole in the center of the Design Center. Up until a couple hours ago, he had no idea it led directly into the vibranium mines, or how absolutely massive those mines were, but now it seemed almost surreal to be not only completely still, but alone for the first time in… how long had it been? Maybe that morning run back along the waterfront? Before he and Buck had their heart-to-heart over some lemonade and ran tandems?
Before Buck'd confessed about how he'd considered adding the Winter Soldier's name to that list of his?
Sam sighed, thinking. Over the last hour, the light outside shifted and warmed as it grew closer to welcoming in the approaching sunset, and though Sam couldn't catch a whiff of it from where he was laying, he kept thinking back to how less than a day ago, he and Bucky were laying out on the grass a few stories up just… talking. About life. Missions. Grief. Sunsets, and the plans they had for the future.
Now it almost felt wrong to want to see what all the fuss was about when Buck wasn't there to give him a guided tour of Wakanda, himself.
He wasn't gonna lie: there was a part of him that was looking forward to whatever sedatives Shuri had planned just so he could rest his brain from all these worries, if even for a little while. His body hurt, sure, but it was everything else that was risking dragging him under.
He was sure he spent at least a few minutes just trying to plan out the conversation he wanted with Sarah like some glorified Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book, but eventually he summoned up the courage to call her when he realized his only real options were to have Shuri lie to her, lie to her himself, or try to find some sort of middle-ground for honesty in this mess they'd found themselves in.
"Uh," he spoke aloud, "call Sarah Wilson?"
A crystal-clear female voice with, of all things, a southern belle accent spoke into his ear, "Confirmation request: Place outgoing, audio-only call to Sarah Wilson using preset for 'Soaring Cap,' Sam Wilson? Local time: 10:27am."
Shuri. Sam rolled his eyes, "Yeah, that's the one."
"Attempting to connect call now," the voice helpfully supplied.
Sam cleared his throat as the line beeped twice before it chimed and Sam led with the part he'd rehearsed, trying to channel ease into his voice he wasn't exactly feeling in the moment, "Heya sis, how're things out there?"
"If it isn't Mr. Safari himself!" Sarah teased, "You know you're callin' off-hours. If you wanted to catch Cass and AJ, you're a little late. They're already off at school."
"Yeah, I know," he admitted, "I wanted to talk to you."
"Just me, huh?" He could hear her tone shift from sibling-playful to just a hint concerned, "Everything okay out there?"
Sam took a deep breath as he allowed himself to approach that moment of truth he usually did a damn good job avoiding, "Not exactly," he did his best to be mindful of his tone, but it was finding it increasingly difficult to keep down the panic he'd been chewing on for the last few hours. He didn't need to be able to see Sarah's face to know she was waiting him out, "It's about Buck. I...I didn't want to worry you but… something's happened."
Sam felt the silence as Sarah caught up to his words, "...Is he…?"
"Oh, he's alive," Sam quickly reassured her as he caught the implication of her words, "But he's not… okay. Not himself. He… he hurt some people out here. Pretty badly. We're trying to-"
"Are you okay?" She cut in with a question part of him hoped she wouldn't have thought to ask.
"I'm… I've been better," he admitted, hating how his voice cracked as he said the words, and how weak they felt on his swollen lips.
"Are you okay?" she repeated, "I don't need no news headlines about Captain America. I'm askin' about you. Sam? Are you okay?"
Sam felt emotion forming at the corners of his eyes as his sister's words hung in the air between them. This was that moment when he had to choose to lie or play it straight, and he already knew which one he was going to choose, "No I… It's awful, Sarah. I'll mend but… Shuri and the Wakandans don't know what's going on. It's too early to tell but… It's more than a little scary. It's like he's someone else."
He found himself taking a deep breath in and out to steady himself when she spoke next, "Like that stuff they had on the news about him a few months back?"
This was… not necessarily a topic he'd broached overly much with Sarah. Back then just after the Blip, the two of them were just... trying to get caught up on the five years of history they'd missed. While he'd certainly mentioned James Buchanan Barnes in passing on more than one occasion, he hadn't exactly thought it necessary or appropriate to go into any sort of graphic detail about what he'd done when he was forced into servitude under HYDRA during his time as the Winter Soldier. There were skeletons aplenty in that closet, but they weren't his business.
Hell: Sam'd barely offered Sarah much at all about what'd happened to Riley, and he'd been over to the house a host of times. They just… didn't talk about this stuff. He didn't offer, and she didn't ask. Things were simpler that way, right?
He knew she'd caught some whiff of the news about Buck eventually, though, because at one point she'd taken her solemn brother aside to see fit to ask if he was safe for the other man to be asleep around the boys. Sam'd taken it as an inquiry about the status of the Winter Soldier, but Sarah'd waved him off, specifying that wasn't what she was getting at. She wasn't a stranger to men returning home from war with PTSD and nightmares: Sam included.
Sam was pretty sure he'd defended both their solemn honor, because the last thing he needed was his sister worrying about if he had PTSD or he had nightmares. And Buck? Even though he wasn't aware at the time that Bucky was probably doing that stupid stuff with his alarms so that he never slept for more than ninety minutes at a time, Sam'd been around him long enough to know he wasn't violent when he slept, which was the question Sarah was digging for.
But now? Now Sam was breaking that fragile place between them and owning up to the fact that maybe he was a little more human than he sometimes let on, and maybe Bucky wasn't as healed-up as they all hoped.
He hated it, hated being the one to put the truth out there in the open and make her potentially uneasy around Bucky in the future, but Sam also knew it wouldn't be right to hold the information back from her. "The stuff that's going on now isn't quite like the stuff they had on the news about him way back, but it's close enough that it's not safe right now," he admitted. "I wanted to be straight with you because I don't know how it's gonna go, but I don't want to risk you or the boys either."
Sam could hear the nervousness in her voice from the other side of the line, "That bad, huh?"
"That bad," he agreed, letting out another deep, deep breath, "I didn't wanna to worry you, but it didn't seem right to leave you in the dark. Not with something this important."
"I'm always gonna worry about you regardless of what you tell me or not. It's what sisters do."
Sam snorted, "Yeah, I guess so. And I know we talked last night about the Decimation-"
She cut him off with a flicker of bonafide southern teasing, "That's your new word of the week, hmm?"
"It's a hell of a lot better than 'The Blip,'" Sam admitted, leaning into the teasing, and how the familiarity of it managed to soothe his bone-frail nerves, "I don't know who in their right mind thought that was a fitting term."
"Someone who didn't live it. Or didn't lose much during it," Sarah coolly observed. Sam could hear all sorts of things layered thick in her voice at that.
"Probably," Sam agreed, "But anyway, the Wakandans call it the Decimation. The way they say it just… it's heavier than 'The Blip,' you know? And it's not like I didn't know it had to be hard on you and the boys, but the more time I've spent out here, the more I feel like I'm finally starting to get it in a different way. It's like back home, the news almost makes it out to be a bit of a joke, replaying those home videos of people dustin' back into form, whereas out here, it's… hard to describe. It's like they view it as almost a shared experience. They have a way of acknowledging the lasting impact of it rather than brushing away like it's dealt with. In the past."
He swallowed and continued, "I think it's easy for me to look forward, you know? I was just… realizing we haven't talked much about it. And I was wonderin' if maybe you were holding back for maybe the same reasons maybe I don't really talk about my work."
"Hmmh," Sarah deliberated into the open line, "Could be. You askin' now because you're hopped up on painkillers?"
Sam snorted, "No, I just… I guess I'm feeling more'n a little bit sentimental and a heaping dose reflective, and I just… The two of us always had a certain way about tough topics even before all that happened. And we're still trying to sort out the new normal, you know? And I know you're supportive in spades. You've always been. Both back then and especially now. But that doesn't mean we can't be better about putting our cards out on the table. I wanna be. Better, I mean. And I'm trying."
"I know. I can tell." Her voice was soft, with that quiet, genuine 'Wilson' compassion she was so good at, "And yeah. It was hard. Maybe harder than I've let on, but I didn't need you worryin' about me neither. Speaking of: Is someone out there takin' care of you both?"
"Yeah. Shuri's getting me fixed up. Buck's not with me right now, but he's in good hands, too."
"Well, we made it through those five years and so did you. Fightin' aliens and whatever else. And besides: that boy of yours has survived worse, right?"
Sarah didn't know the half of it, "I guess so, yeah."
Her voice went back to that compassionate place of hers, "Then hopefully things'll work themselves out this time too," she reasoned. "You and I can talk about that 'Decimation' of yours some other time, too. Preferably over some of that peach sweet tea, because I'm havin' none of that serious talk over a phone line when you're too far away for me to shove ya or hug ya proper."
Her remark got the smallest of smiles out of Sam as she added, "Is there anything I can do in the meantime to help?"
"Just hearing your voice and talkin' to you's done a lotta good," Sam admitted.
"Magic of family, and having an altogether wise big sister."
"Little sister," Sam corrected.
"Not after that 'Decimation,' you ain't."
"That's not how that works."
"That's exactly how that works, little bro."
"God, I hate you sometimes," Sam said with not an ounce of truth to his solemn proclamation.
"Oh, you love it," he could practically hear her grinning through the phone line, "And don't worry about your nephews. We'll tell 'em if we need to cross that bridge. Can't be any harder of a talk than trying to explain why half the birds, fish, and people suddenly went missing all of a sudden."
Up until that moment, Sam had never stopped to think that Sarah even had to have a conversation like that with the two of them. It tracked but… Lord almighty...
"In the meantime," Sarah continued as if her statement was no big thing, "Bucky's just on a secret mission or something close-enough, alright? You just keep bein' straight with me and we're good."
"Thanks," he said seriously. "You're the best."
"Oh, I know. But if Captain Sam Wilson over there needs a few drops of added encouragement, he oughta know his sister has his back. You got this, Sam. And you got me, ya hear?"
He snorted, "I hear, alright. Love ya. Talk soon."
"Love ya too."
He heard the familiar chime as the communicator's voice returned, "Call ended."
Sam let out a deep breath as he lay there, looking up at the ceiling. That was… not an easy talk, but he had to admit, he did feel a bit lighter for having it.
That didn't necessarily mean he was going to tell Shuri she was right, not exactly. He couldn't have it going to her head.
"Message Shuri," he instructed, "Tell her I've finished my call with Sarah, so she's welcome to come back. Oh! And can you ask her to turn the music back on?"
The female voice with that southern belle accent replied, "Message delivered." After a short delay, it added, "Message received from Shuri:" The voice reconfigured itself to play back Shuri's words in her own voice, "You can toggle the music yourself. I've added you as an authorized user, so all you need to do is ask. You best not sully my equipment with any lackluster selections, though. I am not above revoking Captain America's music privileges, regardless of whether he's injured or not."
Sam snorted, wondering just how advanced this tech was, "Okay then, uh do you happen to have access to the music library from my suit that's stored in the cloud?"
"Affirmative," the voice supplied.
Yeah, this was weird. Useful, but… he supposed this was what he got for not finishing up Shuri's flight suit tutorials.
"Okay then, I guess… can you shuffle some of my music in now and then with whatever Shuri was playing before she left? More of hers, less of mine."
"Request confirmed. Resuming modified music program now."
And just like that, the empty lab sprung back to life and was filled with a renewed wave of hearty bass, strings, drums, and rhythmic voices he couldn't understand, but found he didn't need to.
As he closed his eyes and lay there, listening, he concluded he'd have to talk to Shuri about sending Sarah and the boys, and maybe even Rhodey a mix tape of some of this.
Speaking of: he wondered offhand if Barnes had ever had the opportunity to hear much music. Back then. He couldn't imagine HYDRA was big on music history, but now he wondered if Barnes remembered being exposed to much of any music at all. Sam just hoped that wherever he was now, that he was doing okay. Hopefully Ayo'd made some headway by now, too. Maybe when Shuri got back, he could ask her about another pen pal photo-exchange before they tapped out for the night?
At the thought, Sam opened his eyes as he put two-and-two together and realized that this meant his Buckyhad probably listened to some of the same music playing in the lab over the years, too. At least whatever was released pre-Decimation.
That gave him an idea.
"Hey? Do you have any music libraries from Bucky on record? Or White Wolf, maybe?"
He'd never get used to that name for as long as he lived.
"Affirmative."
"...Okay then…" Sam breathed, "Well, let's spin some of his questionable tastes into the boiling pot of this cultural music share of ours then, too."
Author's Remarks:
This chapter ran longer than expected, but it was one where it felt like the characters needed a bit more time and space to breathe before we dive back into the thick of things with Ayo confronting Barnes, as well as finding out what the other Dora have been up to...
There's certainly enough guilt to go around!
While I think sometimes it's okay for conversations to occur "offscreen," it felt important for me to offer a glimpse into not only how M'yra is coping, but also the nitty-gritty of those calls with Rhodey and Sarah.
Additionally, I hoped you enjoyed learning a little bit more about my head-canon for some of Bucky's time in Wakanda, as well as his unique relationship with Ayo.
Also: Here's to the power of music, and being heard.
As always: Thank you *so* much for all your comments, kudos, conversations, questions, and kind words of support on this ongoing story and labor of love. This is a living story, and I can't begin to thank you enough for keeping me company as we turn the next page of this ongoing journey together!
As I've mentioned previously, I'm still aiming for 1-2 updates per week, but sometimes that may stretch out a bit longer depending on the length of any given chapter, if there's an illustration attached, and whatever else I'm juggling on the side. But I'm fully committed to this adventure, and I'm so thankful for your support on this project. It truly makes a difference.
Ayo section written to: "Saturn (Instrumental)," by Sleeping at Last
Shuri section written to: "Shuri's Lab Playlist," which is searchable on Spotify