In the wee hours of the morning, I painted something special to go along with a scene from this chapter. The complete illustration and other goodies can be found alongside this chapter on Archive of Our Own.
Simply search for: "KLeCrone Ao3 Winter of the White Wolf"
Winter of the White Wolf
Chapter 50 - Snell's Window
The movement to Ayo's left was so lightning-fast that her mind initially marked it as a startled creature of the shadows moving deep within the surrounding woods. But her instincts were sharp, and without a conscious thought, she tightened her grip around the cylinder of her collapsed spear, readying herself to extend her weapon.
She was already to her feet when the figure beside her slammed into the orange-tinted shield. The impact was soundless, but a burst of bright orange light erupted at the source of the strike. It crackled and reverberated across the dome, sparking a cascade of responsive energy that momentarily illuminated the surrounding shelter of leaves like a localized lightning strike.
Ayo squinted as her eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden flare of light, and her attention immediately shot to the source of the movement inside. At first she thought the alert figure sought an opportunity to escape, but something struck her as fundamentally wrong with what she saw before her. The man with her friend's face had his back plastered against the shield, sending a continued deluge of bright orange light arching across it in waves as his huddled shoulders made contact with the boundary with each heaving breath. Ayo could see the whites of his eyes as his head swiveled around rapidly, wildly taking inventory of his surroundings like he'd seen a ghost.
His throat made a short, choked noise but no words emerged. There'd been no transition, no notice at all on what provoked him to go from lying prone and deep asleep to suddenly scrambling to his feet and rapidly backpedaling away from the cliff-facing side of the shield.
Ayo's years of training screamed conflicting demands at the sight of his obvious distress: That she needed to remain vigilant, prepared to use the disabling electrical node T'Challa'd placed on his shoulder if he showed even the slightest inclination to harm himself or anyone else. His frantic movements were fresh, unsettling reminders that his mind was not well, and though he was contained within a one-way force field, their choice to display ways through the field had certainly not gone unnoticed. Their casual observance of its bounds had the potential to be able to be leveraged against them if they were not careful.
The pain in her ailing leg was quick to remind her that even though they had recently shared food and stories, he was still remarkably dangerous. It would be poor judgement indeed to assume that given the opportunity, he would not try to reclaim his freedom with both hands and through whatever methods he deemed necessary.
Her eyes briefly flicked to her Lieutenants slumbering nearby then back to the man in the dome. Her commander's quick math assured her that they would need to depend on the electrical node if it came down to it, because she and her Dora were likely to be outmatched if he broke free and decided to level his full ferocity against them.
Ayo remained poised and ready as she stood in a guard's stance and watched for what the man beside her planned to do next. The two of them stood mere feet away from one another, separated only by the orange glow of the shield. Her instincts screamed at her that she should extend her spear, but something deep in her gut bid her to wait before acting on her impulse. She honed her focus, adjusting her balance as she tensed the muscles of her body so she was ready to act at a moment's notice.
Ayo struggled to decipher his intentions, but there was precious little to go on beyond the fact that he appeared panicked and disoriented.
He breathed in heavy, rapid breaths, and glanced over his left shoulder only briefly, as if to see what had suddenly stalled his backwards retreat. His right hand was gripped tightly in a fist, and he glanced down to it before opening trembling fingers. Why was he compelled to inspect his palm? His attention pivoted to his left hand before his head swiveled right. Ayo caught the moment his wild eyes darted to where Yama and Nomble slept undisturbed on their bedrolls on the far side of the largest of the three campfires. He shifted his weight as his eyes found them in the half-darkness, but she couldn't read his expression.
Ayo realized she was holding her breath as she wondered for a fleeting second if it was still the man that had finally fallen asleep hours earlier, and if it was right to hope it might be otherwise…
...but somewhere deep in her gut, she also prayed to Bast it would not be someone far worse...
She considered speaking to draw his attention, but held off as his alarmed eyes flitted across his surroundings, trying to take in all of them at once. Then, without notice, he turned his head sharply right and suddenly the full weight of his attention focused explicitly on her.
It was not James that looked back at her, not exactly, but she felt certain the man's panicked blue eyes were different from the ones she'd seen when he'd fallen asleep mere hours before.
Barnes's expressions had been remarkably difficult to parse, so painfully neutral that it was impossible to tell what if any emotions lay hidden under the surface. But the expression the man before her wore plainly across his features was something undeniably raw and new. The shifting glow of campfire cast sharp shadows across his expression, betraying the wavering uncertainty of his face. He kept his frightened blue eyes focused on her own, but they darted back and forth between each of her eyes, as if he was searching for something.
But what?
He appeared confused, certainly, but not violent or unhinged. He didn't regard her with those eyes that were full of so much hate and distrust, but something else. Though his posture didn't change, she could see his chest heaving as his fingers continued to fidget with one another. Quick jolts of orange light betrayed that his unseen left hand still frantically searched out the boundaries of the dome at his back, as if he considered moving away from her. She got the distinct impression that he hadn't intended to end up so altogether closeby someone he clearly did not trust.
He was terrified.
The silence between them was heavy and foreboding, and Ayo questioned if it was wise to let Nomble and Yama continue to rest while this new development transpired nearby. Ayo forced herself to become aware of her own rigid pose and wary, self-conscious expression. With great effort, she sought to reframe the muscles of her face into something she hoped resembled goodwill. If it was "Barnes," she wasn't sure he'd be able to parse it, but she tried anyway, wishing there was yet a way to truly reach him. To have him see her as more than a lingering threat.
As he stood there, half-cowering along the edge of the shield, she tried to think if there were any warning signs she'd missed while he was sleeping, but she could think of nothing. One moment he'd been fast asleep, the next, he'd suddenly awoken and scrambled backwards. She didn't think his actions were propelled by ill intention as much as a potent fear he'd given no name to.
Though it had been many years, she'd borne witness to seeing James awaken from the throws of nightmares on many occasions. This before her was not the same thing. There was recognition across this man's face as clear as anything, but it was far more nuanced than before. More searching.
In the time before he'd gone to sleep, it was apparent Barnes was uncomfortable with her gaze, but it wasn't necessarily incorrect to recall that James had recently been as well. Their reasons may have been remarkably different, but James carried a profound amount of shame for his actions and inactions, and it wasn't as if she'd done much to encourage otherwise. She'd been so lost in her own misgivings she hadn't even stopped to consider if some portion of his mind might have even locked away portions of his time in Wakanda too. Shuri had only recently discovered he couldn't recall a memory from the snows of Jabari Land. What was to say many more memories might not also have been locked away by the ailments assaulting his mind?
Ayo resisted the urge to frown as she kept her eyes steady on the man before her. This was too important a moment to give into her desire to look away because he wasn't acting like the man she wished him to be.
Though Ayo said nothing out loud, she hoped he might hear the silent prayer she spoke with her eyes.
You do not need to be afraid. I am trying my best to see you as you are.To accept who is before me with an open mind and heart.
Though she knew he could not read her mind, his eyebrows furled together as his wild eyes settled on hers.
It was as if he was looking for something too.
When he did not move, Ayo took a deep breath and inclined her head, hoping that the motion acknowledged the attention they had on one another. When the man locking eyes with her did not startle, she gently telegraphed the motion of her hands. With calm, purposeful poise, she loosened her right hand from its tight grip on the cylinder of her weapon. Slowly, carefully, she lifted her hand with her palm open to him in what she hoped read as a placating gesture.
Ayo extended her index finger and pointed at his torso before collapsing her hand into a fist with her thumb pointing upwards and circling her hand, "Are you okay?"
He didn't say anything as he glanced between the sheathed weapon in her left hand and back to her eyes. There was a very particular expression on his face, but what? Was it still Barnes behind those eyes, or someone else?
If not him, who?
Ayo felt certain the man before her could understand the meaning behind her gestures, but did not feel inclined to respond. Was it because it was her that was asking the question? She thought to change her approach as she signed, "Would you prefer I wake Yama or Nomble to speak with you instead?"
His attention shifted to where her Lieutenants rested a short distance away, confirming that he still understood this silent language even if he chose not to use it. His gaze lingered over them, as if allowing himself time to suitably consider her question. When he returned his focus back to her she found those strange, unwavering eyes of his were no longer dripping with unrepentant hate she saw only hours earlier. They were still frightened and wary, but she felt as if he saw someone different when he looked at her now.
He stayed still for a moment longer before he shifted his weight and raised his right hand, bringing his thumb, index, and middle fingers together. He pointed them in her direction.
"No."
Okay. That was something.
But if not them, did he desire to speak with her?
He kept his eyes on her, and she got the impression he was waiting for her to respond. There was so much palpable fear in him, in how he stood, how his eyes moved. It didn't feel right to ask him any further questions without first acknowledging his distress, though she was uncertain if her silent words had the potential to soothe his frayed nerves.
With carefully orchestrated motions so slow they would not have startled even the most skittish songbird, Ayo signed words of reassurance, easily falling back into patterns she once recited so many years ago. It was strange how they were not muffled by the wake of the Decimation, "You are safe and among friends. You are in Wakanda. You are here because you sought our help. Others once forced you to act against your will, but your mind is now your own. Earlier this afternoon, you suffered a setback. In the wake of it, we seek to aid you and mend your injuries."
His unwavering gaze didn't imply he was inclined to believe her words at face-value, but he didn't flare in agitation or spit back at her either. Instead, he simply watched her face as if searching for cracks. His eyes glanced at the weapon in her left hand, and in response, she made a point of setting the cylinder of her spear atop the log she'd been seated on before they'd both been startled to their feet.
Ayo wasn't certain what his play was, or if he had one at all. Was he simply reacting to something he'd experienced while he was asleep? If so, what?
She did her best to try to coax out a reply, some piece of information that might help her understand just what had caused him so much strife.
And exactly who this was before her.
Slowly, she used the fingers of her hands to silently ask, "Did something wake you?"
His frightened eyes darted around their surroundings, and Ayo couldn't shake the feeling that he might be fearful that others could be lurking in the shadows. As if to reassure him, she signed, "The four of us are alone out here. Others maintain vigilance from a distance, but we are safe and secure. No harm will come to you here."
The man threaded the fingers of his right hand through the short-cropped hair along the back of his scalp before placing his trembling fingers securely within the palm of his other hand. He regarded his hands a moment longer before looking up at her with that profoundly distressed expression of his. The confusion in his eyes was laid bare with no attempts to mask it, and Ayo felt increasingly certain it was not a misdirect, "Is there anything I could offer you to help? Was it pain that woke you?" She gestured to the bandages of his left foot.
His jaw shifted uncomfortably, but he said nothing with his lip or with his hands. What was going through his mind to earn her such a reaction?
She repeated her first question, "Are you okay?"
This time, he flinched and considered the question only briefly before slowly responding with his hands.
"No."
A new silence hung between them, then. It was as if the crackle of the nearby fire, the rustle of the sheltering leaves, and the distant cry of a lone lion were pulled further into the background as Ayo focused every bit of her attention on the ailing man in front of her.
Before she could consider how to respond, his balance wavered and he slowly slipped to the ground with an unsettling amount of defeat and resignation. He made himself small as he settled into the grass and became no more than a piece of the surrounding scenery.
He held both hands in a fist side by side horizontally, then moved them apart and twisted them so they were aligned vertically. Like snapping a twig.
"Broken."
The single gesture made Ayo's heart ache in a very particular way. She frowned and slowly lowered herself so that she sat in place where she'd been standing only moments earlier. She had so much she wanted to ask him, but she could see his attention turn inward as he drew his left arm around his chest, as if for reassurance. While Ayo knew the gesture didn't have anything to do with her, she could feel the guilt in her spring up at the sight of it, at how he held the arm like anyone else would.
Like it was a part of him.
Which it clearly was.
Sam and Okoye were right. In that moment, it didn't matter if Ayo'd chosen to view it as a symbol of Wakanda, because it was his. Regardless of who this man believed himself to be now, it felt fundamentally wrong to consider taking it away from him again, and she chastised herself for her brash decisions that spoke to heightened emotions and the need to punish James. She felt no sting for his choices now. Only sorrow that she could not properly apologize for her actions and promise him she would not act so unrighteously again.
But this man beside her did not know of the complicated feelings she struggled with. It was doubtful he remembered anything good about her, no less Zemo.
And that solemn fact made everything feel even worse.
As the man cradled his body with his vibranium arm, Ayo did what she could to try to read his body language, but like his expression, it was remarkably nuanced. Though it was cool out, beads of sweat collected along his hairline, and when they grew large enough, they ran down his stubbled cheeks and over his open lips. His attention shifted back to the fire, though Ayo felt it was not so much that he desired to watch the flames dance, but that he was slipping back into the depths of the shadows in his own mind. He was alert, aware of his surroundings, but he was no longer simply driven by fear, anger, or the impassioned desire to escape.
Not even from her.
When Ayo'd first stepped off her ship, Barnes had made a point of backing himself into the furthest corner of the energy dome. His positioning ensured he had an optimal vantage point to observe his captors.
Particularly her.
He hated her.
Even when they ate, he made a point of taking time to approach to join them but had retreated immediately afterwards. Now? He was closer to her than he'd allowed himself to be since the mess in Shuri's lab, and he'd chosen to sit beside her. There was still a shield between them, certainly, but if they'd both stretched out their hands, they would have just barely been able to touch.
It meant something.
But why the sudden change?
Though he remained seated, he was visibly distressed and his hands continued to tremble as he choked down another breath of air, like he was having difficulty remembering how to breathe around swallowing his fears. His eyes darted around him, but they kept returning to hers as if they were an anchor.
Something had changed. But what?
"Why 'broken?'" she responded, hoping his statement had been meant to prompt conversation rather than halt it. Conversing in this manner was limiting, if a bit tricky because some gestures could mean multiple things given context. She was thankful in that moment that it was standard practice for all Dora Milaje and King's Guard to know sign language, even if she sometimes felt a bit rusty for prolonged or particularly nuanced conversation.
He hadn't taken his eyes off hers, but they briefly flicked back to the palm of his right hand as a wave of frustration rolled over his features. Ayo hated how freshly familiar the expression was on his face, and how much it reminded her of James. She had so many questions she wished to ask, but she knew this fragile accord between them was not about indulging her own curiosities.
Slowly, methodically, he formed letters with the fingers of his nearest hand, "M-A-L-F-U-N-C-T-I-O-N-I-N-G."
Ayo swallowed, trying to follow the implications of what the man beside her was attempting to convey, "You believe you are malfunctioning?"
He made a fist and moved it up and down slowly miming a nod.
"Yes."
Ayo extended her index finger and curved it, bringing it up to the top of her head above her temple and squiggling it away from her head, "Dream?"
Something in his expression shifted, as if he was considering either her question, or the person asking it. Ayo knew he was perfectly capable of ending the conversation on his own accord, but she got the impression the man before her desired to engage with her, and she did not want to discourage him.
When he didn't immediately respond, she reconsidered her question, spelling out the word in the hope it might bridge the gap between them and prompt him to explain the reason behind his purposeful focus, "D-R-E-A-M. When we are asleep, sometimes we see images or hear voices. Some are experiences of pure imagination, others may be memories. Events we have experienced."
He considered the language of her silent words as he looked between her and his own hands. Then he frowned and held up two fingers with one hand before pulling them through the cupped fingers of his other hand, pressing the moving fingers together as he completed the motion.
"Both."
Ayo considered the long-reaching implications of his claim and tried to put herself in his position. She remembered James had once told her of the fraughtful confusion he suffered under and after HYDRA, about how he couldn't understand the images he saw or how they connected with who he'd once been and the things he'd done. That there was an "otherness," to them. A profound disconnect he'd struggled with for many years, even after he'd originally come to Wakanda.
Now, in this fragile moment, how could she begin to broach such complex topics with the man before her, when he did not even trust her? Did not know her or himself?
Tentatively, she signed back, "Could you tell them apart? The things you experienced and those you had not?"
The man beside her flinched and licked his lips self-consciously, but he answered with two pointed gestures, "Now, yes."
He sucked in a breath of air and then his gestures grew faster, more erratic, almost as if he was struggling to properly express himself. His bruised fingers moved so quickly that Ayo found it increasingly difficult to follow them, "Why now? More. Time wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Broken. More. Later. Sooner. Faces. Meaning. Can see. Why? Not wipe. Self. Pushed down. Down. Down. Drowning. Drowning.-"
Ayo could tell his frantic thoughts were threatening to swallow him whole, so she rotated her body so she was fully facing him and extended a hand towards him, "Breathe. You are safe."
His chest heaved as he regarded her and he lowered his trembling hands, collapsing them into tight fists. His emotive eyes fell on her with an expression that was a cry for help. For guidance.
The sight of his spiraling confusion was somehow almost more painful to bear witness to than his certainty that the woman before him was merely a monster.
Did he look to her because his memory marked her as a handler, or in spite of it?
...Did it matter which it was in the moment at all?
"Take deep breaths. In and out," she signed, miming the action of it as she pulled air into her lungs and opened her mouth to let it trail out in slow, calming breaths. The man watched her closely before he twisted his body around to face her, and by all accounts attempted to follow along with her actions. He even went so far as to try to mime her modified cross-legged pose, which, all things considered, was rather impressive considering the state of that awful foot of his.
Who was he?
Ayo sat across from him and continued emulating the calming, meditative cycle she'd once taught James near this very spot. She knew it wasn't him, not really, but as she watched the warm light of the fire illuminate the side of his face, it was almost as if the boundary and years between them fell away. Did he sense it in some way too?
After about ten minutes, his breathing stabilized and the resounding panic faded from his eyes. Slowly, silently he raised a hand and asked a question she was not expecting, "When is now?"
She swallowed and tried to clear her mind, to imagine there was not nearly so much weight riding on the flourish of her fingers as she did what she could to offer clarification, "It is August of 2024." When he did not offer resistance to her claim, she added, "You escaped from HYDRA in 2014. You were brought to Wakanda of your own free-will in 2016 to help heal your mind from what was done to you."
The explanation was simple, straightforward, but it felt hollow and immensely incomplete. She wanted to say so much more, to tell him that his confusion did not have to be a means to an end, that she and the others would help him however she could, but she knew she must tread carefully. To remember that he likely still believed her to be HYDRA, that she and those around him could be intending ill will against him.
The man before her considered his fingers again, and she could read the frustration on his face as clear as anything. It was as if he intended to speak his hands again, but held back.
She felt compelled to try to reach him, and she moved her fingers to form words, "I know you may not believe my intentions do not carry malice, but I am not your enemy." She considered her words carefully before she signed, "You once told us that when you were on the run from HYDRA, you wrote down everything you could think of in journals so that if they ever caught you and suppressed your memories again, your writings might one day help you remember what you'd lost. I do not know what became of those journals. But none of your memories have been truly stripped from you. They are only hidden. Locked away within your own mind."
Ayo wasn't sure what response she expected from him. Anger, perhaps? Denial? Something strong and directed at her that showed that his underlying disbeliefs ran counter to her claims.
Instead, the man before her continued to sit and regard her with those confused, soulful eyes of his as he asked simply:
"Why am I broken?"
The world that surrounded him was cast in confusion and turmoil, but he did what he could to focus on the woman in front of him. He was quick to remind himself that simply because she claimed she wished him no ill will, it didn't mean she'd act accordingly.
Or that she was telling the truth.
He'd been trained how to tell if others were lying, but those same lessons were explicitly forbidden to be used against other members of HYDRA. They only told him the truth and what was necessary for him to know. It was important he not question them, or any other mission objectives. They told him his contributions were valuable. That he was a tool sharpened to do righteous things. To protect those that needed protecting. To do dirty work others would turn away from because it was needed for the greater good.
He'd believed them. That everything he went through was necessary, correct. That it wasn't his place to question, complain, or offer resistance when others around him knew better than he did, could see things he could not.
But now…?
Something had happened while he was asleep. Something he couldn't understand, and the waves breaking from it were so heavy and suffocating that his mind struggled to piece together where he could even begin. What thread could he even latch onto when it seemed like everything he knew had suddenly unraveled unto an tangled sprawl of torn shreds of stained cloth?
They'd lied.
Not just pointed mistruths to aid his mission objectives: this was something far, far worse.
The voices and images saw when he slept for too long… they'd once simply been fractured pieces he didn't understand. Couldn't understand. His mind felt no relevance to them, no pull of recognition. Nothing.
Since he'd broken free in Washington D.C., he'd only glimpsed a few of those strange sleeping images, and he'd struggled to parse anything meaningful from them. But now…? When he'd awoken, it was as if many months had suddenly passed since he'd escaped HYDRA's grasp, and with them, a scattered collection of strange dreams he recalled in painfully fine detail.
Not only that, but he remembered desperately logging their scattered contents into journals. The journals Ayo somehow knew of.
More confusing yet, while many of the places and faces he recalled still lacked context, some had relevance, and the expressions cast over them were no longer mysteries lost on him.
His eyes shifted left, and out of his peripheral, he caught sight of the far bounds of the undulating orange shield that separated him from the surrounding darkness. He recognized it for what it was, but for a moment, that wasn't what he'd seen. What he'd feared.
The dome was smooth and curved gracefully to where it touched the ground, but his mind freshly remembered the vertical wall of water he'd seen in crisp detail. It was familiar, somehow, like he'd seen it before. When the light from his arm had touched the churning surface of it, he'd realized he could see through it. Not clearly, but enough.
Behold the veil of rough, moving water were shadowed forms. He'd glimpsed them for only fractions of a second, but his mind committed them to memory in a way that made him feel as if they were important. Like the object in his hand he couldn't quite make out. Some of the forms within the water remained still, while others moved within the alcove like shadowed figures.
Further behind them were other panels of deep, living water that branched away from him like the view within a monotone kaleidoscope.
He'd struggled for relevance, for understanding. To make out the faces or expressions of the flickers of forms moving about within.
Then, when the light from his arm hit just right, it was as if the reflections on the water-cast wall fell away. For a fraction of a moment, a breath between heartbeats, he'd been see through the veil on what came before the last time he'd awakened in that HYDRA lab in Washington D.C.
He saw them.
Not just images: He could remember.
His handler, Pierce. Others assigned to his team. A man named Rumlow, Batroc, and countless others. He'd believed them to be allies, but now his mind reflected back on not only what they'd done to him, but ordered done to him.
And their faces…
...They had enjoyed it.
He could hear the echo of voices…
"...He's unstable..."
"...Erratic..."
Now he remembered his handler, Pierce, striking him, and his own impropriety for asking about the man on the bridge. He knew he wasn't supposed to ask questions, but the man that had called him "Bucky,"...he'd known him...
...How...?
...When...?
He hadn't understood the meaning of that name. The implications. He knew a good soldier wasn't supposed to ask questions, didn't question his handler's orders. He would have obeyed any commands without pause or delay...
...So why had his question led to his handler demanding he be wiped and subjected to further enrichment?
Why hadn't he fought it?
And why had his next mission objective been set to eliminate the same man: Steve Rogers?
It was as if his mind had suddenly cracked open, revealing the cycles of perpetual horror he'd encountered and been made to forget. He hadn't just been wiped once or even a handful of times, but repeatedly, sometimes multiple times within the same day.
The revelation in that discovery was powerful as it was stifling in its horrifying implications.
He realized he'd encountered Nikoli not once, but multiple times spanning years. The man had extinguished cigarettes on flesh, struck him, carved knives into him, and all the while, he'd never understood. He'd assumed each time it happened it was what was required for his role, but he saw now that the expression on his face, like Rumlow's, Batroc's, and countless others, were grins of satisfaction at his expense.
They enjoyed seeing him in pain.
Why?
The wipes weren't there to help him. To heighten his focus and performance: They were meant to make him submissive, drowning his mind so that he remained unquestioning, obedient. So he wouldn't fight the captors holding him hostage of his own free-will, or what he at least believed to be his own free will.
He didn't remember much, just little pockets. Glimpses. But now they weren't simply voices and images disconnected from anything he knew, they were more.
What about the people they'd instructed him to hurt. To kill...?
His stomach twisted at the far-reaching implications running through his mind. The revelations present in them were stifling. Numbing in a way he couldn't begin to come to terms with.
He struggled simply to breathe, and his mind flashed back to the last thing he'd seen before waking.
Behind the compounding walls of water, hidden among the shadowed objects and subtle shift of figures were other faces. One of them repeated endlessly into the distant darkness like warped carnival mirrors. He was screaming.
Someone with his face.
Him.
He'd been so deep in his own head that he nearly startled when Ayo moved her hands to sign a reply to him, "You are not broken. You are ailing from cruel actions done to you by evil people over many years. Even after you came to Wakanda and we removed the nails in your head, your mind still suffers. It is to be expected, but you persevere."
He didn't remember arriving in Wakanda, but some part of him didn't resist that portion of her claim.
He was willing to believe he was in Wakanda now. So had he ever left?
He frowned, unsure of what to make of the endless wave of questions that only led to more questions and uncertainties. He took another breath as he regarded the woman in front of him. Ayo. He'd been certain, so certain that she was a prior handler, and that marked her as a fundamentally dangerous member of HYDRA.
But now… he wasn't so sure.
His mind floated back to the visions he'd had while he'd been asleep, as well as the frightening new clarity he had on the events of the months stretching before and after he'd finally escaped his captors. Neither she, nor any of the people here in Wakanda ever showed up in those memories, and the only time he recalled seeing Sam was on the bridge and surrounding the helicopters and hospital in Washington D.C. Beyond that, Sam had been hell-bent on trying to unsuccessfully track him down at Steve's request.
But Ayo was not there in those HYDRA labs. She was not in Washington D.C. or New York. She did not order wipes, articles of enrichment, or mission objectives.
She did not order him to hurt and kill others.
The only glimpse he had of her was from the dream he'd just had, which his mind insisted was rooted in memory. Though the scene that played out was brief and poignant, his waking mind remembered more.
It remembered the hours before and the hours after she'd spoken the code words. The private conversations and remarkable contrast to brief interactions those in HYDRA had subjected him to. Ayo not only permitted him to ask questions, but she encouraged him to do so. When they walked together outside, neither his head nor shoulder throbbed with pain nor was he outfitted with weapons and mission objectives. He registered no attempts at lies or subterfuge across her features, and he didn't feel as though his mind had been artificially dampened. They did not strike him, cut at his flesh, or extinguish cigarettes on him. The hands he registered as belonging to the Wakandans sought to reassure him. And he now registered their touch as kind, gentle. The expressions on each of their faces were unique, but also unlike anything he'd ever witnessed from his handlers and their associates under HYDRA.
Concern.
Empathy.
Compassion.
He hadn't been able to place that expression when he'd fallen asleep out on the mountain earlier, but he remembered it now. He'd seen it other times today without even realizing it: On Shuri, Yama, Nomble, T'Challa, Okoye, Ayo…
Sam.
"What will you do with Sam?" he felt compelled to ask the woman sitting across from him.
"Shuri will help mend his injuries until he is well." She paused before adding, "He is concerned for you."
He considered this before inquiring, "What do you plan to do with me?"
Ayo frowned, signing, "I do not yet know. We wish your mind to be well, but we do not want others to be hurt. Like Sam. Like M'yra."
He looked down, regarding the wrapping around her injured knee. She was quick to redirect his gaze and add, "My leg will be fine. It is not the first time it has seen injury and will not be the last." She paused a moment before adding, "I am not angry with you. Neither is Sam."
He struggled to understand the implication behind her words as he signed another question, "What do you want from me?"
Though she didn't answer immediately, he saw her slender fingers waver as she found what she wished to say, "For you to find your way to trust again and be made whole on your own terms. To believe that though you may feel broken from the world around you, you are not alone."
From what he could tell, she didn't appear to be lying, but he couldn't help but think there was more to her claim. Even if she wasn't HYDRA, there were valuable secrets in his mind she could be attempting to access. "Were you a handler?" he felt he already knew the answer, but needed to hear her admit it.
Ayo nodded her head slowly, kept her eyes on his as she made simple gestures with her right hand, "Yes. But only for you, and at your request in 2016. It was necessary to help understand and undo what was done to your mind."
He wasn't sure what to make of her claim. It didn't feel like he'd been the one to make such a request, but based on what he'd seen in the memory of his dreams, he wasn't sure how to reconcile the fractured pieces of his mind and time between.
He found himself searching the dreams he'd had and the memories stretching out from them for cracks and clues. He didn't remember the Wakandans attempting to wipe him before Ayo spoke words of compliance. They didn't speak of enrichment. Even after they'd activated him with the proper sequence and call command, they never referred to him as "the Asset." They used other names: James, Sergeant Barnes…
...Bucky.
Why could he remember the code words now? He hadn't been able to before. He wasn't supposed to know them. Wasn't supposed to remember his past handlers' names, either.
Why had he remembered hers? Why had he made such a point to commit it to memory?
Stranger yet: Why did he know gestures for her name and others here in Wakanda rather than simply the letters that spelled them?
He made the gesture for her name, forming a fist and extending his pinky out. He arched his pinky up as he placed it against the crown of his head and pivoted the tip up and down. "This is your name?" He asked, because questions were now permitted, "But what does it mean?"
He saw confusion briefly pass over her face, but it was accompanied by a small smile that showed just a little bit of her white teeth. She signed back, "You remember? You made that shorthand for my name. A blend of 'stubborn' and 'rhino.'"
"I gave you a name?" he didn't understand.
"You gave a new meaning to my name." She silently replied with her hands, "You combined two gestures into one and insisted it was shorter than spelling out three simple letters," She was definitely smiling now, and some part of him was oddly encouraged by her expression.
Strange.
He didn't know her, not really, and some part of him was still deeply conflicted on laying even a crumb of trust at her feet, but in that moment, he found himself compelled to clarify, "I'm not who you believe me to be. Or who Steve remembered. I am B-A-R-N-E-S."
The smile across her lips faltered, but she inclined her head, acknowledging his statement.
They sat in silence for a moment as her features grew solemn, focused on his, "Then I will swear a new oath to you, Barnes. I will help you however I can. It is a burden I take willingly. An oath I will uphold with all conviction." With the ceremony of intention, she closed her left hand into a fist and placed her arm snugly across her chest.
He thought he saw firelight reflected in the tears huddled in the corners of her deep brown eyes. He didn't understand them, but he wanted to.
For a moment, Barnes found himself wishing he knew the "Bucky" Steve spoke so highly of...
...the "Buck" Sam thought he saw...
...and the "James" reflected in Ayo's expression.
But right then, as he and Ayo sat opposite of one another, this felt like enough.
And for the first time since he could remember, he didn't feel quite so alone.
In the wee hours of the morning, I painted something special to go along with a scene from this chapter. The complete illustration and other goodies can be found alongside this chapter on Archive of Our Own.
Simply search for: "KLeCrone Ao3 Winter of the White Wolf"
[Ayo Painting]
So I wrapped up edits on this chapter and found that I had the itch to do a bit of art and so I spent about seven hours painting this illustration of Ayo!
I really wanted to capture the moment where she renewed/made her oath to Barnes at the end of this chapter, and I'm glad I took the time to chase the idea for all it was worth. While I knew she'd play an important part in this story way back when I started writing it, I have enjoyed seeing the added levels of nuance to her evolve over time with each passing chapter.
It was important to me to find a suitable way to display her steadfast resolve, and to try to put some of the complex emotions she was feeling into her expression. I hope you like it!
[Okoye Art]
A few days earlier, I decided that one of my Discord servers could use a "memeoji," so during one prolonged dinner break, I made a sticker and emoji based on a meme from "The Legend of Korra" and Lin Beifong. I imagine she has similar energy to Okoye, and while this isn't *technically* art for this story… it's close enough that I thought you might enjoy seeing it. (You're welcome to use them as well!)
[Birthday Photo]
I hope all of you had a wonderful week, and thank you so much for the Birthday wishes! I had a great (and safe!) Birthday, and prior to the festivities, some of my friends surprised me in the morning with a bunch of Avengers, Dinosaurs, and other friends right outside my front door! It was incredible, and I felt so very loved. And now I know it's *POSSIBLE* to wake up to the Avengers outside your front door, so there's that!
Author's Remarks:
- First off, regardless of whether you are a new reader or someone that's been with me since we started this journey back in May, thank you so much for your continued support!
- This update marks 50 chapters and over six months of regular updates! That is an incredible milestone on this ongoing story, and I can't thank you enough for keeping my muses well-fed with such great conversations!
- Ayo is definitely seeing Barnes and his vibranium arm in a whole new light this chapter… :/
- In terms of this chapter itself: *Something* certainly happened while Barnes was asleep. It's as if he has a fraction more understanding about certain things, but so much is still cast in confusion and shadow, and it's not as if any of the painful revelations make anything he went through a drop more palatable... :/ (This poor man…)
- Even still, progress is progress, right? And at least he and Ayo have finally made some solid headway. (Though my heart breaks for both of them.) I hope the closing scene with Ayo renewing her oath felt as powerful to you as it did to me when I was writing it.
These two will certainly be needing everything they've got for what's ahead…
As always, thank you for all your wonderful comments, questions, thoughts, and words of encouragement on this story. Knowing that others out there are following alongside me on this crazy journey truly keeps me fueled to keep on writing, and I can't wait to share all that's ahead!