I threw together a quick little mock-up of the projected timeline Shuri shared last chapter below in case it's a helpful visualization to the basic chronology of Barnes's/Bucky's life, and what Barnes does and doesn't remember. Please check out this chapter on Archive of Our Own to see the art!
Simply search for: "KLeCrone Ao3 Winter of the White Wolf"
Winter of the White Wolf
Chapter 56 - Oblers' Paradox
[Close-Up of Chapter Art, featuring a view of Shuri's Lab before Bucky entered the "Dark Place," by me (KLeCrone)]
[Full Image of Chapter Art, featuring Shuri's Projected Wakandan-Style Timeline, by me (KLeCrone)]
Broadly, Shuri's initial timeline is that colorful red, orange, and purple lower section along with the circular data nodes, versus the blue sections on top, which represent the information Barnes contributed. As of the last chapter, Barnes mentioned he has some clear memories from the solid blue sections, and then bits and pieces here and there he believes are from the crosshatched blue section, but it's understandably difficult to place memories that didn't include dates.
So he's still missing… quite a lot.
We'll be getting into the weeds soon enough, but this also goes to show why he doesn't have much to go on regarding Sam, the Wakandans, or even Steve…
And now, back to the story…
The silence that fell over the starlit encampment was only temporary, but Barnes was well-aware it hinged tightly upon his next words, so he chose them carefully.
The recording of the man in the chair, Shuri's timeline, and the mention of the Dark Place had been enough to prompt him to contribute to the conversation, but as eager as he was to understand what was going on around him, it didn't mean he could forget that he still didn't know what their end goal was, or how he fit into their plans. Near as he could tell, they claimed to be acting out of a sense of well-intentioned altruism, but even after escaping from HYDRA's grasp, it had become evermore apparent everyone wanted something. It would be folly to casually trade one master for another, or to give away potentially valuable information without better understanding what their specific goals were.
That being as it was, he didn't feel as though his contributions to the shared timeline projected across the undulating orange shield in front of him had inadvertently overstepped and put him at undue risk. If anything, the visualization served as a surprisingly useful method of sorting out portions of the jumbled mess that his mind insisted were memories, or something like it.
Oddly, he still couldn't pinpoint when he'd been trained on the bead-based interface commands, or why single-handed gestures came more naturally than those utilizing two hands.
Strange.
Yama sat cross-legged in front of him and had stopped working on his foot so she could turn her head and examine the holographic projections spanning across the curved shield to her back. While the colorful timeline and its scattering of data nodes remained the dominant element, Shuri had minimized the recording of the interior of the Wakandan lab to the lower left corner of the display. The image was frozen now, rewound to a timecode a few minutes Barnes had awoken. The six colorful figures assembled around the mostly monotone room looked oddly calm, peaceful.
It was difficult to make out from the angle of the camera, but the man in the chair might even have been smiling as he spoke with Sam.
Barnes didn't remember the experience, but he found part of him wished for not the first time that he did.
The physical manifestation of Sam Wilson was presently sitting on the grass just to Barnes's left. He was clad in a star-crested red, white, and blue uniform, and looked to be doing his best to decipher the latest round of information Barnes had added to the timeline. Rather than continue to crane his neck, Sam had chosen to rotate his body wholesale so he could regard the display while also ensuring he could keep a wary eye on Barnes in his periphery. When he appeared to have gotten his fill of the data spread across the semi-translucent barrier, Barnes caught the moment the other man's eyes glanced at Barnes's right hand. He wasn't sure if it was because Sam was looking at the beads around his wrist, or the trembling, bruised fingers nearby.
The injury had a way of reminding Barnes of how much worse he'd done to Sam's hands.
And M'yra's.
Part of him stirred uncomfortably at the thought that perhaps the severity of their injuries had in some way been masked because their skin didn't show bruising as readily as his did. He wasn't sure what to draw from that conclusion, beyond that it churned up a very particular type of self-awareness that may have been what Nomble called "regret."
Beyond the perimeter of the shield, Shuri, Ayo, and Nomble sat and waited in patient silence for what Barnes might say next. While the Wakandan Princess and Nomble inspected the latest information Barnes had added to the display, Ayo kept her brown eyes focused squarely on him.
As far as he could tell, Ayo was the eldest and highest ranking warrior among the group, and her poise spoke to years of vigorous training. Even still, the intensity of her gaze was different from the others, but it was difficult for Barnes to put his finger on why that was. A part of him assumed it was possibly a residual effect of being his handler. While she continued to insist such an arrangement was formed from his explicit consent, he wondered if some part of what was done to his brain had lasting effects on his perception of her, or if it was something else.
He was still angry with her for speaking the initial code words not only without his consent, but because she continued to speak them aloud even when he'd raised clear objections to them and demanded she stop. But in the wake of her cruel and traitorous actions, he found he didn't feel the same flavor of pointed rage he felt towards the agents of HYDRA that had wronged him in various ways over the years. This was something else entirely. In a strange way, it was almost more personal. More confusing. It was unquestionably betrayal, but it also wasn't. In the end, she had stopped at the ninth word, as she claimed she would, and she waited for him to grant permission before she spoke the tenth and final poisoned term, one that no longer had pull over him.
It meant that the span of her betrayal was only temporary, but it didn't make it any less of a betrayal, especially when some part of him had just begun to trust her.
Maybe not trust, but he'd almost let himself believe maybe she wasn't the monster he feared.
Regardless of her spoken intentions, the act left a lasting sting that renewed every bit of wariness he felt towards her, and freshly reminded him that she'd memorized words that held power over him. Words that, even now, she'd chosen to wield against him.
As they sat, Yama must have sensed something building in the air between he and Ayo, because the younger warrior saw fit to politely scoot herself to one side to clear the line of sight between he and his prior handler. Ayo stayed silent as she did, but Barnes felt as though he was again sitting in her crosshairs, lingering in limbo between the words of power she'd spoken and her proclamation that he was free.
When the silence drew out and he chose not to elaborate on what he'd seen in the Dark Place, Ayo slowly broached the edges of the subject, speaking softly, "Often, it is in the very nature of dreams to fade quickly upon waking."
He knew she sought conversation and clarification, but as Barnes glimpsed back to the timeline hovering innocuously between them, he found himself struggling to drink in the full ramifications of their claims, and what it meant for him. He wasn't willing to be forced to accept their theories without question because he was the one in the cage, but he also knew he would need to learn more so he could determine if there was any lasting value to any of their claims. Simply because they were unlikely to be aligned with HYDRA didn't mean they were without their own goals and motivations, and it was still unclear how those involved him.
That being as it was, it was becoming increasingly apparent that there were not only sizable gaps in his memory, but that it was often frustratingly nebulous as to what precise order the fragments he had occurred in unless a specific date and time happened to appear within the memory itself. In most cases, the massive amount of internal inconsistency proved far too difficult to even determine a rough starting point, no less a baseline.
Some of what might've been memories were crisp. Clear. Where he could hear every word, see every detail, every passing moment in utterly painful fidelity down to the pressure of the fingers probing his flesh or the tension of the straps laced around him. When his mind focused on those experiences, they stayed as they were, bright and poignant, as if they were burned into his mind, regardless of if he wanted them there or not.
But other moments, like those in the Dark Place, weren't nearly as clear. He felt like they were more distinct when he was fresh from waking, but now what little he remembered were closer to impressions, like footprints or castles in the sand that had spent the day being washed over by the ambivalent tide.
He frowned wondering where that particular comparison had even arisen from. Had he ever seen a beach, let alone a sandcastle? He wasn't sure. For whatever reason, he felt as if he could remember the feel of the grit between his toes and the chill of the surf lapping at his bare ankles as the dark granules shifted beneath his feet. As he stood, it was as if he sank further and further down with the pull of each rolling tide.
For a brief moment, it was as if he could faintly recall the salty smell of the brine-encrusted surf before his mind churned back to the memory of the Dark Place, and the surreal sensations of that strange realm that was a dream, but not. A memory, but not. Somewhere he'd been not once, but twice, maybe more.
He didn't recall smelling anything at all when he'd been there, but he did remember the push and pull of temperature shifting against his skin, almost as if he'd been under water, but could still breathe. Or maybe it was that the air itself was heavy? He couldn't be sure. But he hadn't been drowning, and the sensation of his bare feet against a ground he couldn't see was distinct. It felt a lot like sand, but had it been something else? Had he tried to look at his feet while he was there, in the Dark Place? He wasn't sure.
Where was it? Why couldn't he remember?
His confusion must have shown in his expression, because Ayo ducked her bald head forward, as if seeking out connection with him, "I have told you that you do not need to speak of what you saw if you do not wish to. We only ask because we did not experience what the man in the recording did, and it could offer insight into what has happened, so that we might avoid further violence."
Barnes didn't doubt that she wanted to know what he saw. It was clear all of them did. They weren't the only ones. He knew he was missing a lot of pieces to the puzzle of his life, but that didn't mean he was simply willing to casually trade over everything he knew just because he no longer believed these people were agents of HYDRA. It didn't diminish the fact that he knew the information he held in his head from years of subjugation was not only valuable, but could be immensely dangerous in the wrong hands. Yet one of the many problems he faced was that he had little way to gauge whatinformation he had was truly harmless, and what wasn't. And asking too many of the wrong questions to the wrong people could risk further lives.
Or his own life, which he'd only just started to finally reclaim.
…Did they know about the other Soldiers…?
He knew his continued silence wouldn't beget progress, but perhaps if he could get a better idea of their intentions beyond the altruism they repeatedly made claim to, then he could more adequately determine his next steps. While Shuri appeared to be the highest-ranking member of the present group, Barnes felt as though the extended time he'd spent around Yama would allow him to sense if she was lying or not. So far as he could tell, she hadn't lied to him so far, "What's your goal?"
Yama cocked her head slightly, as if she hadn't been expecting him to choose to address her rather than Ayo, "Our goal?"
"Of all this, with me. What's your end goal?"
"We wish to help you."
Insufficient. "That isn't a goal." He pressed.
Shuri stepped in, "That you are able to live out your life free, and without fear."
He didn't think the scientist before him was being intentionally obtuse, but something in the way she regarded him made him feel as if he was a rat in a cage. That they were having two different conversations at once, and weren't acknowledging his need for clear specifics about their intentions beyond the obvious allure of freedom.
Barnes kept his focus on Shuri as he challenged her statement with a pointed question of his own, "Who are you wanting to help: Me, or him?" For emphasis, and to make his question crystal clear, he pointed at the smiling man seated in the digital recording.
And Shuri… yeah, Shuri sucked in a breath of air at that.
From slightly to Barnes's left, Sam spoke up, "...With all respect, I don't think any of us have a damn clue where to draw the line there, Barnes, myself included."
The instant Barnes rapidly redirected his attention to Sam, the man clad in red, white, and blue visibly tensed. Barnes did his best to ignore the reaction, well aware he had no intention of striking him, though his words came out more acrimonious than he intended, "Your goal is to find a way to get rid of me so you can get him back."
Sam sputtered at the accusation, but he also didn't outright deny what was plainly obvious to Barnes, "Hey now! That's not how it is at all," Sam countered, clearly set on trying to explain away the anxiety visibly rising in him. "We don't have much of a clue of what's goin' on. We're being straight with you about that and everything else."
Barnes remained unconvinced, "So if that isn't your end goal, what is it? What are you trying to accomplish now that I'm 'free?'" He gestured to the orange prison encircling him, "This is what you consider 'free?'"
Ayo spoke up at that, her voice firm, "We are not in disagreement. This not true freedom, nor what we wish for you. But as long as we do not understand what happened yesterday, as long as there is a risk of such confusion and violence happening again, we cannot consider this matter resolved."
"Everyone wants something," Barnes met her eyes with defiance.
Before Ayo could even respond, Yama huffed audibly from just to Barnes's right, "So stubborn." When he glanced her way, her face was set in an expression of decided reprimand that had a way of swiftly stilling whatever he'd been feeling a second earlier, "None of us enjoy being in this manner of arrangement," she fluttered the fingers of one hand above her at the shield surrounding them, "but it is unreasonable to be so unnecessarily critical of those who have shown themselves to be allies, and are doing their best to understand and meet you halfway. But that means you also must meet us halfway. And right now, I find that you are asking us riddles with the hope of finding flaws in our words, when we are clearly not in alignment on even the full meaning of the questions you choose to ask."
Yama lifted her chin towards the timeline, "I do not think you would argue that our words and actions have shown remarkable kindness to you in the face of confusion and personal injury. So rather than draw harsh accusations into your voice when you ask 'Me or him?' it is now your turn to be patient and to help us understand."
The unarmed woman beside him hadn't done so much as raise her voice, but her words had a way of upending whatever argument he'd set out to make moments earlier. When he said nothing more, Yama saw fit to fill the brief bout of silence with her voice, "Is this not a reasonable request?"
Part of Barnes bristled with private irritation that Yama'd managed to so swiftly and seemingly effortlessly derail his own questions, but he had to admit that nothing she'd said was explicitly incorrect… even if she was seeing fit to leverage the injuries he'd dealt as a way to draw out his sympathies and encourage what she viewed as proper behavior. "Fine," he grumbled before adding, "But that 'personal injury' bit was manipulative."
The corner of Yama's mouth quirked in a hint of a smug smile while she shrugged her shoulders halfheartedly, "Perhaps it was," she admitted, "but let me be clear about my intentions: I do not believe you owe any one of us blind compliance resulting from what has happened, but I do think it is suitable to consider reflecting the kindness and patience we have shown back to us. It acknowledges your willingness to see things from perspectives other than your own."
"Like the story of the 'Mouse and the Lion,'" Nomble helpfully observed from just across the boundary.
"Wait… like Aesop's Fables?" Sam interjected, confused.
"No, that's 'The Lion and the Mouse.'"
"...Right…" Sam responded noncommittally before turning his attention back to Barnes, "Not to throw my hat in the ring too, but like Yama said, we really are trying to understand where you're comin' from. It's been a challenging last couple'a days for everyone, and we could use a little help."
Barnes found himself chewing his lip at that, in part because he could sense the sincerity in Yama and Sam's requests, but also because he now recognized that a lot of his own interactions with Sam in the last day were now layered with the knowledge that even Sam had repeatedly tried to seek out connection with him, even after Barnes had grievously injured him. The realization had a way of making him feel freshly guilty for the immense pain he'd caused, but also self-conscious that even in the wake of all that, Sam had not only chosen to come back, but had risked further personal injury by stepping inside the shield with him.
"I'm trying," Barnes admitted. He hated how raw the admittance felt in his gut, how immeasurably overwhelming it felt to try to make sense of so many conflicting emotions at once.
Sam's expression softened. A faint smile playing along the corners of his mouth was sincere and not mocking, "I know. We're all a work in progress, but I'm glad you're tryin'. Means a lot." He turned his attention to Yama, as if offering to let her pick up from where she'd left off.
Yama settled herself back into the conversation with ease, "The name you chose, Barnes, it would help us understand if you could tell us when you recall first claiming it as yours." She made a broad gesture to the timeline displayed just over her shoulder, and then bridged her fingers together and waited.
Barnes ruminated on her question as he struggled to pinpoint the very first time that he'd consciously chosen that name, compared to when he'd first seen it or risked speaking it out loud.
After breaking away from HYDRA, the first time he recalled being asked for his name was when he'd called 9-1-1 in an attempt to direct medical transponders to where his previous mission target was bleeding out on the side of the Potomac River. His decision to make the call came about from the dire necessity of the situation, and his perplexing unwillingness to either end Steve Roger's life or abandon him to a likely death. In that moment, neither were acceptable options. He had anticipated that the dispatcher would ask for critical location-based information in order to locate Steve Rogers for pick up, but he hadn't considered that they would ask for his name. When she did, he found himself momentarily stilled at the question, and his resounding lack of a definitive answer. Sensing that it was premature to end the call, but also suboptimal to avoid the question entirely, he'd opted to respond with "Adidas" because that was what had been written across the shirt of the man he'd taken the cell phone from.
It wasn't the first or last time he would be asked for a name, but the difficulty became that he could only pinpoint who he was not, as if seeking out an answer by process of elimination: He was the Asset, but he was also not the Asset. He was the Soldier, but he was also not the Soldier.
And he was of course not "Adidas," the man from the running trail by the river with the matching cell phone, jacket, and warm wrapped nutrient bundle.
After a week of maintaining a hard wrought perimeter around the hospital, he was also convinced he was not the man Steve spoke so fondly of. "Bucky," he called him sometimes, "Buck," others. Maybe there was a time in the past when someone had once responded to that name, but it wasn't who he was now. He knew that much.
In contrast, the way Sam referred to him appeared to be broader, leveraging names such as the Winter Soldier, as well as "Ghost," "Bucky," "Cyborg Assassin," and "Asshole."
None of these names resonated either.
One of the first things Steve had insisted upon after being released from the hospital was a visit to what he called "the Smithsonian." The man who was not Adidas didn't understand why, after all he'd recently been through, his last mission target would seek to enter a crowded, public place. At the time, he was struggling with understanding even basic emotional cues, but in hindsight, he acknowledged that the sudden change of plans had been mildly infuriating. The location could be hiding any number of HYDRA agents, but the blond, broad shouldered man didn't look the least bit concerned as he and Sam called a Taxi wearing what could only be considered a pathetic attempt at personal concealment that included the supplementary addition of coats, ballcaps, and sunglasses.
The sunglasses looked ridiculous.
Prior to their inconsiderate decision to make a detour on the way back to Sam's place of residence, the man trailing them at a distance had been keeping watch from a nearby rooftop through the scope of a sniper rifle while a demanding white cat nuzzled the side of her face against his elbow. He had no intention of entering the expansive building, but once his targets casually padded inside, he quickly resolved that there was enough of a possibility of HYDRA infiltration that the developing situation warranted maintaining firsthand surveillance on Steve Rogers, which meant following them.
The prevalence of a security detail and broad use of metal detectors positioned along the entrances and exits meant that it was paramount to locate an alternative route into the towering downtown facility. An adjoining service entrance offered an acceptable, if suboptimal approach, but once he'd stowed the largest of his firearms and ensured that his chosen clothing provided suitable coverage for the weapons he was carrying, he dropped to the ground and efficiently worked his way inside.
It didn't take him long to track down his two targets as they worked their way through the lower hallway to an exhibition entitled Captain America.
He kept his hands in his pockets, where they hovered protectively around the grip and handle of his weapons while he lingered casually among the trailing edge of crowds. He did what he could to lean into his training and remain inconspicuous while his battle-trained senses remained on high alert for any signs of trouble, any whisper of conversations that implied he or the men he was tracking had been spotted. He found it oddly unnerving to be forced to 'blend in' at-length among so many people who appeared to be preoccupied with conversing and casually traversing from one location to another with a rambling, unhurried pace that couldn't have been slower if they'd tried.
There was a surprising amount of prominent reading material that was emblazoned onto walls, and etched into plaques cast in front of interactive displays. While a part of him was curious to catalogue the contents, he knew he had to keep his attention focused on the mission at-hand, which… the parameters were a bit vague, but he felt certain it equated to ensuring that Steve and optionally Sam were protected from any incognito HYDRA agents that were lying in wait to finish the job.
Both of them were painfully oblivious to the present danger.
He did what he could to ignore the pain in his head and shoulder as he stayed far enough away from Steve Rogers to avoid overt suspicion, but found his task to be complicated the moment that a passing child in the exhibit recognized Steve. Within what felt like seconds, he was quickly surrounded by a gaggle of children and adults asking him questions and imploring him for autographs and information on a variety of topics, including something called the 'Battle of New York.'
The man tailing them found he had to physically resist the urge to intervene, but instead stayed far enough away that he could still listen into their conversations without risking being seen. It took too long, but he was undeniably relieved when the cluster of loud and distracting schoolchildren finally dispersed, saving him from darker considerations on what non-lethal options he had at his disposal to silence one particularly shrill and obnoxious child.
Oblivious to his private musings, Steve led Sam around to specific objectives within the display area, hovering while they appeared to wait their turn to delve deeper into the exhibit. From the context of their ongoing conversations, it seemed likely this was the first time the two had visited the museum together.
"One of your super friends gonna be able to make you a new shield?" Sam inquired as they looked over a black and white photo of Steve wielding a M1911A1 pistol in one hand and a round shield. While it was difficult to be sure, it appeared to be the same shield he'd discarded into the water during their most recent brawl.
"It's one-of-a-kind," Steve noted, "But since it's made of a rare metal, I'm hoping Tony might be able to locate it. Well. Once I let him know it's missing. Not really in any rush to have that particular conversation."
"Because it was a gift from his dad?"
Steve made an expression with his eyes and then his lips parted to show a bit of his teeth. The man keeping tabs on them hadn't been able to recognize it at the time, but the flicker of memory now told him it was confusion that made way into a smile. He was amused at Sam's comment, "You kept up with your history lessons."
Sam puffed his chest at that, "Says the physical manifestation of at least two or three pages from my ninth grade history book."
"Only two or three?"
"Were you always this modest, or are you just makin' up for lost time?"
Steve smiled, but his expression grew distant as Sam continued talking, "You know, Howard Stark was a pretty big deal growing up, even in my neck of the woods." He crossed his arms, "Still seems strange to think you two were war buddies with him during his prime, and now you're on a first-name basis with his son. You know. The one on the front cover of Time Magazine at least a few times a year. And the one with his name plastered over that tower of his in Midtown Manhattan."
"Tony rebranded it the Avengers Tower," Steve casually observed. "I could probably put in a good word to see if he might be able to help get your wings put back in one piece so you could get airborne again. Least I could do after that mess back there."
"Stark tech?" Sam whistled quietly, "Not about to turn that offer down. But if I was lookin' for legitimate favors, you know I wouldn't mind seeing what the inside of the Tower looks like one of these days."
Steve smirked, "That can probably be arranged." His smile faded slightly as he added, "In the meantime, you think you could keep our 'missing persons' case… off the books?"
"I was assuming those were the marching orders 'til we had a better idea just what or who we were dealing with."
The broad shouldered man beside him nodded, "Thanks."
"Don't mention it. Just don't forget about the little guys next time those friends of yours throw a fancy party with an open bar and you're languishing over picking out a plus-one."
Steve snorted, "Deal."
As time drew on, the man monitoring them from a distance grew increasingly perplexed as to why his targets would choose to quietly converse here rather than safely within a semi-secure residential setting. Once a lingering guest filed away from a nearby display, Steve and Sam quickly stepped in to take their place, and he realized the other two men had been buying their time.
"That's him," Steve had all-but whispered, "there."
Steve didn't make any overt gestures, and while the man keeping watch over them couldn't get a clear view of the particular display they were inspecting, he did his best to listen in as Sam kept his voice low and responded, "I remember learning about both of you and the rest of the Howling Commandos back in school. But you're sure the guy we saw, that's him?"
"Yeah, that's Buck," Steve confirmed.
He didn't miss the name.
"Guessing he didn't have the metal arm way back then?"
"Nah. Must've been something to do with HYDRA. Something they did to him."
Sam ducked his head slightly to inspect the etched placard more closely, "So he went missing a few months before you went into the ice?"
Steve's frown deepened, "Not 'missing,'" he corrected, "At least not in the usual sense. He shouldn't've been able to survive that fall. No one should've. If I'd have thought there was even a chance…"
Sam's voice was quick to step in, "You couldn't 've known."
"That doesn't excuse it," Steve firmly concluded, "They must've done something to him after Azzano. But he never said anything about it. I asked. I'm sure I asked. I must've missed something." His frown deepened, "But what happened? How do you get from being blown off the side of a train to what we saw last week? It doesn't make any sense."
"Nat says she's looking into things," Sam offered, "But you've got me, man. This whole thing is well outside my wheelhouse. Sky's my thing. This…" Sam looked back at the obscured display, "This is some decidedly weird shit. You're sure he didn't say anything else to you?"
Steve shook his head, "He just repeated 'You're my mission.' It was like he didn't know me, but some part of him did. I'm sure of it." He looked back to an etched face the man keeping tabs on them couldn't quite make out, "I know it was him."
Sam regarded the portrait Steve was still searching for understanding, "It just… doesn't make any sense. If you think he recognized you, especially enough to have maybe even pulled you out of the drink, why didn't he stick around? Why drop and run?"
"Wish I knew. Maybe someone's after him?"
"Maybe," Sam considered. "Or maybe he just went back underground with the rest of HYDRA. I know you don't want to think he's still workin' with them, but we just don't know."
"Bucky wouldn't. Not ever."
Sam leaned his weight to one side as he quietly observed, "I know you don't want to hear it, but it might not be him anymore."
"I'm not going to give up on him. Not yet at least. Not until we understand what happened."
Sam nodded once and waited patiently until Steve had his fill of whatever it was they were looking at. Then, without another word, he led them deeper into the exhibit.
Once they were far enough inside that they were cushioned by yet another unruly school group, the man trailing them casually approached the display. He regarded the etched face on the left panel with curiosity, but not recognition. It was a face like any other. Cleanly shaven. Stoic. Indistinct.
A FALLEN COMRADE
James "Bucky" Barnes first met Steve Rogers on the playgrounds of Brooklyn, little did he know that he was forging a bond that would take him to the battlefields of Europe and beyond.
James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes
Born in 1917, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom, Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After inter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, depravation, and torture, but his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.
Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America's newly formed unit, The Howling Commandos. Barnes's marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.
Bucky Barnes
1917 - 1945
The man regarding the dedication wasn't sure what he'd expected, but none of the words stirred anything profound in him beyond more questions that ran alongside the adjoining jittery black and white newsreel footage of Captain America and The Howling Commandos. As he watched the recording, he found himself wishing he understood more about what he was seeing and the relevance all of this had to Steve, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate when his head was throbbing and he was still struggling to make out the conversation between Steve and Sam amid the droning of the nearby crowds. There were so many faces. So many expressions he couldn't begin to parse at the time, and now a part of him wondered what might have happened if he'd understood? What if he could have noticed the sadness in Steve's expression when he sank into those clips? Would it have changed anything?
He'd never know.
In the days thereafter, he'd snuck into Sam's apartment and carefully read through the KGB dossier Natasha Romanoff tracked down on their behalf. Even then, he wasn't sure how to make sense of the collection of names, faces, news clippings, and raw data. Most of them he didn't remember, but now and then, he'd see a face that bore more than a passing resemblance to figures he glimpsed in his dreams. The nebulous connections were often incomplete at best, but their existence only further fueled his compulsion to learn about them because they might prove valuable later.
As he sat on the cool mountain grass, he didn't recall glancing down at his black and gold left hand as his mind's eye compared it to the shiny chrome prosthetic that was still clear in his memory, but somewhere amid his ruminations to Yama's question, it must have drawn his focus.
"The name you chose, Barnes, it would help us understand if you could tell us when you recall first claiming it as yours."
It was after the hospital, the Smithsonian, the dossier.
"Thursday, January 23rd, 2014," Barnes concluded aloud to the group of people situated around him.
Sam cocked a confused eyebrow at that, "Wait, all the way back then?"
"Yes?" Barnes wasn't sure why he felt the compulsion to defend his statement, but Sam wasn't letting up.
"Wait. Hold up a minute here." Sam interjected with both hands and a heavy dose of disbelief, "That wasn't something you decided yesterday in the jet? It was from way back in the beginning of 2014?"
When Barnes didn't offer up any objection, Sam just kept right on going, "So that whole time I was chasin' after you in 2014 and onwards, thinking you were some glorified amnesia case, you were legit callin' yourself 'Barnes?' You don't see any irony there?"
"You aren't very skilled at tracking," Barnes remarked under his breath.
Sam's lips visibly flapped at the accusation, "Oh my god! Well you're a terrible pilot," He flourished a hand towards one of the solid blue sections Barnes had recently added to the timeline projected in front of them, one that signified his last clear period of recollection from 2014, "Well and you're telling me that during that little adventure yesterday, you didn't remember anything past January 2014? But now, after a good night's sleep, you're recalling all the way through April of that same year? That doesn't seem at all weird to you?"
Barnes was rather certain he heard Sam mutter "smartass" under his breath, but he chose to ignore it, because he didn't have any reasonable explanation for Sam's observation either. His lack of a response didn't appear to deter Sam in the least, because he was apparently just as chatty as Yama given the opportunity, "But if you can remember through April of that year now, then you know we didn't cross paths again until after you dipped out of D.C. in early February."
He knew he didn't need to, but at that, Barnes felt compelled to clarify, "I was still in D.C. in April."
Sam made a face of cautious denial, "What? No. I found that spot you'd been using before you—" Sam stopped himself mid-sentence as he rapidly put things together, "—Wait. That was a misdirect? That early on?"
Barnes didn't know why it felt prudent for him to exemplify his own skills and how they compared and contrasted against Sam's meager tracking abilities, but he added, "Once you were led to believe I'd left the area, it made it easier to continue my reconnaissance objectives unimpeded."
"Your reconnaissance–?"
Barnes made a face he hoped properly conveyed profound disbelief at that as he slowly added, "...Did you think I was the only operative HYDRA sent after Steve?"
That got a decided reaction.
Yama looked as if she'd planned to interject something, but she closed her lips and regarded the two of them, letting their conversation continue organically while she opted to return to her work on Barnes's ailing foot. He was casually aware of the contact and blue light being projected over his skin, but was far more intrigued by his present conversation with Sam, who appeared to be struggling to keep up on the topic at-hand.
"Hold up. Wait. You don't mean…?"
"...Don't mean what?"
"They sent more people after Steve? When he was in the hospital?"
"Yes. To complete the mission. They clearly believed he was still a viable target, especially in his weakened state."
Something like recognition dawned on Sam's face, "Wait. You– The other guy, whatever. He once said he kept watch from the 'business end of a sniper rifle.' That doesn't mean you…?"
Barnes frowned, confused why this appeared to be a topic Sam was seeing fit to be intentionally obtuse about, "I ensured they did not complete their mission."
"You were out there shooting people?!" Sam's voice increased in both volume and pitch.
"Firearms were involved less than forty-percent of the time."
"Killing people?"
Of course he killed them. What was he expected to do? Wound them so they could slither away and come back in even greater numbers? "They were HYDRA agents," Barnes clarified, "Who were tasked with either eliminating Steve or taking me alive."
There was an utter void of silence that was filled only with the crackle of the fire, the hum of Yama's handheld medical device, and the subtle push and pull of heightened breathing from those around him. Eventually, Barnes spoke again, because it was oddly important to ensure they understood that his actions had been crafted with clear intention, not blind violence, "It was imperative none of them were permitted to complete their mission objectives."
Sam licked his lips once, and his expression shifted to something different, like he was trying to parse Barnes's face and read his mind, "...I thought you– other you had meant he was keeping watch, not that you were picking anyone off who was–," he waved a hand in a bold attempt at charades. "Anyway! We were really careful to make sure we weren't being tailed once we went back to my place after Steve was out of the hospital."
"HYDRA were able to easily locate your private residence," Barnes coolly noted. "So I modified my active perimeter to ensure I could eliminate their operatives in advance of any attempts at contact. Eventually, they stopped coming."
In response, Sam shot open his mouth and slowly leaned back, settling his weight onto his hands as he visibly absorbed the wide-reaching implications of Barnes's latest statement. "I…. Okay. I'm normally not a big fan of the killin' angle unless it's absolutely necessary, but… I… thank you? That's an appropriate thing to say, right? Considering you probably had the opportunity to take shots at me, but–?"
"Numerous opportunities."
Sam squinted slightly, "...You're not joking..."
Barnes shrugged offhandedly, "Your long range objectives were unclear, but it appeared as though you didn't intend to harm Steve Rogers. If I thought you planned to make any attempts, I–"
Before Barnes could finish his thought, Sam abruptly leaned forward and waved his hands in front of him "-Yeah yeah. Loud and clear." His words were quick and easy, but his brown eyes were searching. They were awash with a complex mix of emotions, highlighted prominently by something deeper Barnes couldn't quite grasp, but some part of him concluded this was not the proper moment to inquire about what that expression meant.
While Sam processed his latest statements and Barnes wondered why debating aloud with him came so easily, Yama regained the reins of the conversation and casually pivoted it away from ruminations about dealing death, "On Wednesday the 22nd, the day before you felt it prudent to claim this name as your own, was that man still you?"
Barnes frowned, returning his attention to her, but not entirely sure what she was getting at. Of course it was still him. Who else would it have been? "Yes…?"
Yama met his eyes and lifted her shoulders in a casual shrug that doubled as a form of communication for 'You may not like what I choose to say next, but I will speak it anyway,' "Then, without knowing more, why cast aside the possibility that we might not all want the same thing in the end? That we also seek understanding, and a way to help ensure you do not needlessly hurt others again, and can regain more of yourself and your memories? Is it not reasonable to consider that in learning more about the man in the recording, it is possible you might discover more about yourself too?"
He held her gaze and did what he could to resist the urge to instinctively seek out the numerous flaws and potential pitfalls in her words. It was hard to imagine they could possibly want the same thing, but as difficult as it was to admit, he didn't know that for sure.
Ayo spoke up from just beyond the shield that separated him from Shuri, Nomble, and the warrior chief. Her voice was slow and measured as it often was. A tone of voice that sought to meet him with reason, even as he found himself wishing she'd stay silent so he wouldn't have to be reminded of the words she'd recently spoken against his will, "The situation we find ourselves in is confusing for all of us. What you are experiencing is new, a life like nothing any of us have ever lived. We do not wish to diminish it or presume to know the throws of what you are going through. It would do us immeasurable good to try and form a common language so that you can feel truly heard and understood."
Her words were benign enough, but Barnes found that Ayo's expression held something far heavier than that of Yama or even Sam, and as she sat placidly on the grass, he got the impression she was carefully debating the next words she wished to speak aloud. While her eyes stayed focused on his, her fingertips moved gently across the shaft of the collapsed spear laying across her lap, betraying that though she attempted to remain composed, private thoughts nagged at her periphery.
"If something is now wholly broken between you and I from my choice to speak the words that once controlled you, I would understand. If that is the case, I will remove myself so others might be empowered to help you, and not be hindered by the wake of my own decisions. I do not wish for my presence to cause you further distress, though I understand why it does."
Barnes caught Shuri glance over her shoulder at Ayo's proclamation, but some part of him felt certain Shuri's expression wasn't an attempt at private communication, as it so often was, but a mark of sympathy. Hints of it were mirrored on the other faces surrounding him, even Sam's, but it was as if Ayo forcibly chose to ignore them. Her gaze did not waver. It was steadfast, as it often was, but it was at that precise moment as their eyes met across the barrier that Barnes was able to pull out a very specific thread from her expression and swiftly identify it without question:
Somehow, Ayo knew that as she'd spoken each of the nine words, that had the shield wavered, like the HYDRA agents in Washington D.C., Barnes had intended to kill her.
She knew.
And yet… for some inexplicable reason, she still wanted to help him.
What he saw in her solemn face and rigid expression wasn't resignation or an excuse to abandon her post or the oaths she'd made to him, but pain, the depths of which he found he couldn't even begin to broach. He saw it along the corners of her eyes, the tightness at the sides of her lips, the way her breathing shifted and grew ever-more shallow, as if she was wholly willing to accept whatever words he had for her.
In that quiet moment, it was as if the crackle of the fire and the measured ambiance of the night sky and the rest of the world faded away, and it was just the two of them sitting across from one another on the damp grass again.
His mind was quick to draw comparisons to when he'd startled awake from a mismatched fragments of memories and waking dreams in the middle of night, and how immeasurably panicked he'd been at the time.
Confused.
Ungrounded.
Broken.
Even though most of the words he'd exchanged with Ayo up until that point had been laced with vile distrust, rather than ignore him, she'd chosen to lower herself to the ground and sit near him, as if to show empathy for his plight. In those alarming first moments when it felt as if his heart threatened to beat out of his chest, Ayo made silent gestures with her hands to encourage him to breathe and center himself until the rush of the confusion surrounding him had passed.
Even then, she spoke with her hands, as if she understood that what he feared most about her were the words she held ready on her tongue.
He hadn't been able to grasp the subtleties of the expressions cast over her face prior to when he'd fallen asleep, but upon waking, he could see more. Intensity. Resolve. Pain. Frustration. Sorrow. Hope. They were each distinct, yet somehow even more potent when they were all rolled into one.
As complex as her expression was now, Barnes realized Ayo was not asking for permission to break her oath, but for direction on how she could best continue to fulfill it. And something about that, put against the startling realization that she'd known he'd intended to kill her and yet still wanted to help him… he found himself at a loss of how to respond.
The silence that met Ayo was not specifically tense, but it was lingering.
The ambiance was neither peaceful nor meditative, and it was clear that the moment she opened her lips to speak, the man sitting across from her had tensed reflexively, as if bracing himself for whatever words she prepared to toss at his feet.
It had a way of reminding her of how James had flinched at the words she lashed at him before she'd sought to strip him of his arm, because a part of her she was not proud of wished to see him know the depths of the pain he'd caused her. The hurt. When words did not suffice, she'd shown them through actions that she now felt only shame for.
Oddly, she found she did not find herself harboring private anger for Barnes. He was many things, but everything he'd done had been with intention, misguided as it had initially been. Even his distaste for her was made clear, and not masked in misdirects. She knew her speaking the first of the code words was due to fan the flame of his anger towards her. Perhaps that was why, even now, she did not fear inordinately for Yama or Sam's safety even so soon after Barnes had been drawn to violence. She was confident he held no ill will towards either of them, and that his permission to let them step into the dome was tantamount to a promise. A code of honor of his own design.
But he did not look at her the same way.
Rather than continue to speak, to press him for a decision on if they were so strictly at-odds that he wished her to leave, Ayo decided there was wisdom in allowing herself to sit with her thoughts and roll them over in her hands. She knew better than to set them aside in the transient promise of a time when such introspection would be deemed not only desirable, but easy in coming. Such a day would never come.
She remembered when she was still a child learning how to see the world, that her mother had once instructed her to collect stones so that she could find new meaning in her thoughts and words. Her mother's lessons were rarely straightforward, and that was part of why she always looked forward to them. They were meant to be a challenge, and Ayo met them head-on.
The task she'd been given was to gather choice stones that made her think of particular emotions and people around her. She thought perhaps her mother intended to quiz her on them, so she'd spent the better part of two days scouring her small hands over every nook and cranny, every riverbed and rockface to find the best possible stones to represent these physical manifestations of what her young heart felt were the most important emotions and people in the world around her. She'd chosen a striped red agate and quartz crystals for her two closest friends, some watermelon tourmaline for one of her favorite teachers, and a piece of polished blue topaz for her mother. After settling on these most important decisions, she sorted through a veritable rainbow of colorful pebbles and stones that she'd carefully selected to correspond with emotions like strength, love, joy, and other notable friends and family members she interacted with on a regular basis.
When Ayo felt as though she'd suitably memorized the stones, she laid the colorful treasure trove out on the tablecloth spread across their kitchen table and called her mother over so she could teach her the detailed meaning behind each of her selections. She took pride in sharing how she'd taken into account things like the size and shape of them, their color and qualities, down to each mark and cherished blemish that shone across their polished surfaces. As Ayo spoke about each one, she felt pride in her belief that she'd suitably fulfilled the assignment she'd been given, but once she finished speaking, her mother's gentle smile grew with the knowledge that Ayo had somehow not fully completed the challenge she'd laid out for her.
"You have collected many precious stones for beautiful people and desirable thoughts," her mother observed, "But what stones have you searched out to represent the difficult people and emotions around you? What about the girl at school that teases you? Where is her stone? Or the pieces of rock for anger, sadness, or jealousy?"
"But mamma," young Ayo had argued, "Why would I spend time collecting stones for bad things, or to represent snotty people like Ollolah?"
"After you find them, we will talk again."
And just like that, her mother had patted her on the head and dismissed her to her task, carefully collecting Ayo's stones and placing them on a carved wooden tray to the side of the table where they would not be forgotten.
It had taken Ayo another three days to find stones that suited the challenge her mother had laid out for her, and when she was satisfied with her findings, she placed them out across their kitchen table, nestling them in neat rows over their patterned tablecloth. Many of the stones were rougher and more muted than the first set of stones she'd collected, but when arranged across the vibrant tapestry, they no longer seemed as dull as they one did in her small hands. How odd.
When she called her mother over, she'd taken a seat and leaned over, inspecting them appreciatively, "These are also very beautiful stones," her mother observed. "What does each mean?"
"This shard of black obsidian," Ayo's small hand grasped it as she handed it to her mother for inspection. "It is meant to represent anger. The color is deep and the edges are sharp. Like anger, it can hurt if you press too hard or aren't careful."
"And the tiger's eye?"
"Ollolah."
Her mother tilted her head curiously, "A surprisingly pretty stone for someone you do not favor."
Ayo rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, "She has a cruel tongue, but the color of it reminded me of the striped dresses she likes to wear." Ayo looked up to her mother and might have pouted, "But why spend time collecting stones for people like her?"
In response, her mother smiled that quiet, knowing smile of hers, "For many reasons. Come, carry all of your stones with you and let us go outside."
With that, her mother had gotten to her feet and patiently waited by the door while Ayo regarded the pile of stones spread across the table in front of her as well as the carved wooden tray holding the first set of stones she'd collected.
When she'd started to step away to pull the tray down to her so she could put all of the stones together in it to make it easier to carry, her mother had stopped her, "No, leave the tray there. You can find a way to carry the stones you've collected without it."
Young Ayo frowned in confusion at her mother's request. There were far too many rocks for her to carry in her hands, but not to be outdone, she held out the hem of her shirt and slowly plucked the stones off the tablecloth and placed them snugly in place. Her mother didn't rush her, and by the smile on her face, Ayo felt certain this had been an intentional part of her lesson.
Adults could be so needlessly perplexing sometimes.
Once the stones were secure in the outstretched fabric of her shirt, Ayo followed her mother outside to their garden, and off to a spot nearest a small fountain they'd built in reverence to those that were no longer with them and walked among their ancestors. As they approached, her mother tucked the hem of her blue dress beneath her and sat on the ground, pulling her long box braids behind her shoulders as she waited patiently for Ayo to take a seat beside her.
The earth under Ayo's legs was warm and inviting, and she could remember the weight of the stones tucked into folds of the fabric across her lap as she listened to her mother speak, "You have learned in school how seeds, when watered and met with warmth, can sprout and grow. Watering a rock will of course not prompt more rocks to grow, but there are sentiments stones can teach that are important you understand. They are truths that are too important to ignore. The first is this," her mother lifted one hand and opened her palm to the sky, "Our hands and hearts are only so large, we can only carry so much at once." She pointed to the stones sitting in Ayo's lap, "So we must choose what emotions and people we focus our attention on. It will change often, as it should, but if we try to carry too many at once, we risk dropping them, or not giving each the attention they deserve. It is important, you see, to be mindful of which stones you intend to hold in your hands, and to hold them tightly and with intention."
Ayo's eyes drifted to the stones in her lap. There were far too many for even four or five hands her size, and as they were now all intermingled with one-another, it was almost difficult to casually pinpoint the 'good' stones she'd picked out from her initial outing, and the 'bad' stones from her recent foraging.
"Throughout our lives, there will be emotions and even people that challenge us, and it is important we do not ignore them, or choose to simply bury them away from the light because we do not wish to deal with them. If we do, then we are ignoring the very lessons they might teach us."
Her mother lifted a hand and cast it across the garden, where fresh berries, and hearty vegetables were already beginning to ripen, "If you choose to bury seeds in the soil, it should be because you wish to water them and see them bloom. For these stones and feelings that are difficult? Carry them when the time is proper, but do not bury them. Do not ignore them. Instead leave them out in the light where you can find them and sit with them when you are ready. Because in many cases, we can never truly escape these trying people and heavy emotions. We must learn to sit with them. To reflect. To face them and learn from them when we are able. And to realize that it is up to us to determine what stones come inside with us, and what should stay outside for when we are ready to face them or find closure with them. But know that ignoring them, or burying them only serves to hurt us in the end."
The lesson was a tricky one for a child Ayo's age, but she could tell by her mother's tone that these were important lessons that went well beyond appreciating the stones for their shapes, colors, and textures. She remembered struggling to simplify the lessons down into something palatable that her young mind could swallow. But her mother did not seek to teach her only simple things, but the importance of challenging things.
At the time, she remembered looking down at the pile of stones across her lap and noticed how the tiger's eye caught the light. The golden bands dancing across it seemed to sparkle, and somehow even Ollolah's teasing felt more manageable in that moment.
She reached down and ran the tip of her fingers across the cool, smooth stone, "I would like to put down Ollolah's stone," Ayo volunteered, "I do not like how irritated she makes me. I do not like who I am when I am around her."
Her mother nodded approval, flourishing a hand to a bare outcropping of rock along the side of the fountain, "Place it there, then. You do not need to carry Ollolah's stone with you all the time if it does not serve you. You can place it outside with other stones so that you may choose to visit them and reflect on your feelings towards them whenever it suits you. But you should place enough here that you are able to carry the remainder in your hands rather than the cup of your shirt."
And just like that, Ayo did. With quiet intention, she sat and plucked free stones, arranging them in a design around the rim of the fountain. As she worked, she realized her mother did not ask her about the stones she placed, about who or what they represented. She only sat beside her and kept her company as she completed her task.
Once she was done, Ayo regarded her work, and realized she felt somehow lighter for the task she'd completed. Set out in the light like this, the stones arranged around the fountain were no longer nearly as heavy or intimidating as when she'd carried them outside. Satisfied, she poured her small hands into the folds of her shirt, feeling the cool touch of the pebbles against her skin. With a child's enthusiasm, she grasped the remaining rocks in both hands and stood up, feeling the way they moved about her hands as if they were whispering secret stories.
At the motion, her mother touched her shoulder and rose to her feet. Ayo regarded the fruits of her labor spread over the rim of the fountain before she followed her mother back inside. Once they made their way to the kitchen, her mother used her bare foot to pull over a small step stool so Ayo could easily reach over the counter. "For the stones you wish to carry with you, let us lay them out along the window where you will see them often, and they can remind you of the people around you and feelings you wish to focus on. Perhaps there will even come a time when you feel it is suitable to travel out of our home and into other hands and windowsills that would appreciate them."
And with that, Ayo opened her small hands and regarded the stones nestled among her palms. Carefully, she plucked them free and stood on her toes so she could set them out the counter along the window where they caught the warm afternoon light. She placed the most important ones in prominent positions, and arranged the ones representing her mother, closest friends, and favorite teacher in a central grouping. Nearby, she placed the shard of black obsidian. When her hands were finally empty, she watched how the light danced within the crystals and cast colorful shadows on the windowsill, and realized she felt lighter for the exercise and the time she'd taken to consider each person and emotion so carefully.
"I see you put the obsidian here by the window, rather than outside," her mother observed.
"I am not proud of how angry I get at school sometimes," Ayo admitted aloud. "I want to place it here on the counter so I can try to be more mindful of how anger clouds my thoughts."
Her mother smiled approvingly, "It is a wise decision, to be willing to hold it in your hand, and yet to know it does not control you."
Her mother rested her hand gently on Ayo's shoulder before pulling her in for a side hug, "Remember these lessons. That it is up to you to take the time and make the space to examine these things in your life. When your hands ache from trying to hold too many things at once, know it is okay to put them down, and it is wiser yet to know when it is time to sit yourself down to open yourself to the lessons the stones might teach you, if only you choose to listen."
As Ayo sat out in the grass and regarded Barnes, she couldn't help but think back to the stones her mother had asked her to collect and sort, teaching her through the rhythm of self-discovery how important it was to be self-aware of what she was feeling, when all-too-often it was easier to simply bury uncomfortable things away from the light.
What she found herself reflecting on in that moment was how in the time she'd known the man before her, she'd gone through periods of great purpose as well as more recent times where the sting of his actions made her want to bury her feelings so deep she would never be forced to revisit them again ever again. But now? Now she knew she must sit with them, for as uncomfortable as they were, they were important, and she needed to acknowledge the impact of her own words and decisions too.
It remained challenging to begin to guess at what Barnes was feeling, no less what he was thinking. While he appeared collected and no longer under the throes of raw distress, it was clear to Ayo that her decision to do what she knew to be right had come at a great cost they might not ever be able to truly recover from. Regardless of how honorable her intentions were, how justified she felt in knowing that after speaking nine words, she would ensure the final choice was placed at his feet … it did not take away the profound hatred and betrayal she'd seen in his eyes, heard in his voice and the lash of his words.
He tolerated her now, but Ayo felt certain the fragile trust between them was already eroded, and whatever fractured pieces were left could easily be washed away in only a few misplaced words.
Ayo respected the wisdom of Yama's direct approach, even Sam's oddly lively banter, but she found it skirted around the fact that they were not all on the same page, especially not Ayo and Barnes.
Some part of her was quick to clarify: Neither were she and their White Wolf.
There were any number of reasons she had not sought permission to enter the shielded area since her arrival on their sacred mountain. Chief among them was the firm reality that it was wise to always have at least one Dora tasked to guard from the outside in case the electrical node behind Barnes's shoulder needed to be remotely activated to subdue him. Especially now that their princess was in attendance, it was ever-more important to ensure she remained safe.
It was not a pleasant thought, but it rang true.
That being as it was, over the last day, there had been opportunities where Ayo might have traded off her post outside with one of her Lieutenants, though none of them had made a show of broaching such options. For whatever reason, as she sat facing him now, it was oddly important for her to determine why that was.
If there had been any need, she had no doubt she would have stepped inside the barrier without a moment's hesitation. Regardless of the injury to her leg, it was not fear that stalled her. She knew firsthand what the man bearing a lion's cunning and strength was capable of, and that had never stopped her from stepping forward to face him time and time again. But why now? Why when he was safely behind the shield did she have no compulsion to even ask to follow Yama, Nomble, and now Sam inside when it was clear he respected such displays of mutual trust, and he did not intend ill will against them? Was it because she believed he had no desire to include her among that close inner-circle of his?
Or was it something else?
Ayo's mind stretched back to when she'd fought Barnes in the lab, comparing and contrasting it to the repeated times she'd sparred in practice with James, or with intention with the Soldier. She searched for understanding on why she felt as she did, why she would not hesitate to enter the shield if duty required it, but why she shucked off interest when it did not.
All at once, it was as if a levy broke free in her mind when she remembered James's words from Riga, Latvia.
"Ayo! Let's talk about this!"
In all their time knowing one another, they had never crossed spears as they had in that heated encounter, where he was fully present, and she was reacting from a place of blind emotion. He hadn't been trying to harm her, that much was clear, but each time he deflected and fought back against her blows, it was as if something inside her twisted and finally broke when she sought to punish him by freeing him of his arm.
And what had she done after? She had turned away and buried it, like her mother had warned her not to do. Ignored it, because the poignant emotions she felt did not suit their mission of bringing Zemo back to justice. And whatever betrayal she felt, she swallowed whole and ignored because she didn't have the time or desire to inspect what had happened to cause someone she'd once valued to to turn against all of them so sharply and silently that he could not even be bothered to return a simple call, no less a summons for a Wakandan funeral.
But the most recent time they'd fought, she and James? She'd cut him down with only words. Upon second thought, she acknowledged that it couldn't so much be called a 'fight' as a 'surrender' that he willingly submitted to. In the wake of that encounter, they'd each licked their respective wounds, and begun to craft small overtures cast in olive branches, but she was certain neither of them had been made truly whole. Not yet. But she had hoped.
Some part of her still hoped.
Maybe that was part of why she did not feel as though she deserved to be included as a part of those assembled around Barnes? Because it was in some way a shade of lie to pretend all was well between them before this had happened. Even now, it wasn't. And it had been her choice to betray Barnes's trust for what she viewed as the greater good.
The words he rose against her as he repeatedly slammed his fist against the shield not twenty minutes earlier had not been posturing or empty threats. He'd fully intended to cut her down if given the opportunity.
Not the Soldier.
Barnes.
His venom was pointed and sincere as he hurled his truths at her in the very mother tongue she'd taught him, "Akwaba ndandikubulele xa ndifumene ithuba!"
"I wish I'd killed you when I had the chance!"
Though the Soldier had tried to end her life many times over the years, she found Barnes's raw words cut deeper still. Right to the very core of her. Perhaps it was because in some way, she felt as though she deserved at least a portion of that anger to be directed at her.
And now? Now as they sat on the grass, Ayo was certain Barnes had heard her words, and with it, the offer that she was willing to step back and let the others help him in ways she clearly could not. She couldn't fault him for not trusting her. Perhaps some part of him even remembered her actions in Riga, or in the Design Center when she'd divested him of his arm? Either way, it didn't feel right to now plead for his understanding when it was she that had chosen again to cross a line without his consent.
As they sat in shared silence and she found her attention returning to the present, to where she braced herself for whatever judgment awaited her, she was surprised to find that the blue eyes that met hers were no longer full of rage or even simmering anger and distrust. Oddly, Ayo found she no longer saw specifically Barnes or White Wolf in those eyes, but some amalgam of the two. His clear eyes evaluated her own, as if searching for something.
Ayo wasn't certain how much time might've passed, but eventually Barnes shifted his weight. With careful intention, he slowly raised his bruised and battered right hand into a loose fist and placed it over his heart. He held it there for a long moment before he rotated it clockwise twice across his chest in a gesture for a word that Ayo had never seen him make or speak aloud before.
"Sorry."
He balled his other hand into a matching fist and slowly telegraphed the motion of moving them to either side of him. Once he glanced to either side of him and confirmed that neither Yama or Sam were presently interpreting the motion of his hands as a threat, Barnes brought his hands in front of him so one came to hover over his chest and the other over his stomach. At the same time, he spread his fingers open so his palms were facing inward and wavered them in place like leaves shuddering under a mournful breeze.
"I was afraid."
Ayo felt her breath catch in her throat as she absorbed the full meaning of his apology. She did her best to ignore the fresh tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she rapidly lifted her fingers from the shaft of her collapsed spear and used her hands to sign back a reply.
"I am sorry I made you afraid."
He blinked in surprise at the silent gestures her fingers had woven in the air. All at once, it was as if the tightness fell away from his bruised face, replaced by something new and far more poignant than Ayo thought the man facing her was capable of expressing. It made no logical sense how so precious few gestures had a way of lifting the heaviness on her heart, but it was as if they each knew the other's words came only with great difficulty, and were anything but empty.
In that moment, Ayo felt certain the man across from her could not only grasp the sincerity of her own apology, but that he accepted it without hesitation or caveat.
In response, Barnes took a deep breath. And in that moment, it was clear he was struggling to challenge and overcome years of torture meant to physically and psychologically suppress not only his emotions, but how he interpreted the world and people around him. The man in front of her grappled against the suffocating weight of unseen demons, yet it was obvious how much he was trying to push past his own limitations, both the ones HYDRA had wrapped around him, as well as ones of his own making. Amid the countless unanswered questions encircling Ayo's mind, he chose to sign three distinct gestures, turning them into not a question, but a solemn request.
"Please stay?"
Ayo fought to keep her lips from trembling as she quickly nodded agreement and used the nearest edge of her fingers to discreetly wipe once underneath each eye.
Given freedom of choice, after all that had happened, he wanted her to stay.
There were times the world seemed upside down, when the snap of a Mad Titan sent the world into grief and chaos, or when beings from other worlds landed at their doorstep and demanded obedience or blood. There were moments of action, when lines were drawn and allegiances were tested. But there were also moments like this. Moments so trying and unexpected that no collection of precious stones or combination of languages could adequately encapsulate just what she felt.
She didn't have a word for it, but the closest feeling she could compare it to was that first wave of resounding relief when she saw the Vanished begin to reappear from thin air like thin pieces or precious bark coalescing from an ancestral plane.
The sudden feeling of building wholeness in her chest she felt looking back at the man before her reminded her of that. As if she could finally begin to set down at least one of the many heavy stones she'd carried with her for nearly six years.
She kept her eyes focused on Barnes's own, for she dared not look away. But as she did, she was aware of Shuri's hand coming to clasp her own. It stayed where it was, firm and unwavering, and Ayo allowed herself the wisdom to take the strength from it she needed.
In the wake of those silent words being exchanged and received, those around Ayo strove to not upset the fresh accord of understanding that had been struck, but Ayo would have been lying to herself if she didn't find that the satisfied smile on Yama's had a way of lightening her own. If Ayo had to guess, Sam probably hadn't been able to follow the nuances of their silent gestures, but the warmth in his expression showed that he'd grasped the broad strokes, and was altogether relieved Barnes had seen fit to request that Ayo remain with their mismatched camping group.
And Barnes? He did not smile, for that was not an expression Ayo thought he knew how to naturally leverage just yet, but he looked more… peaceful… than she had seen. More attentive. As if he now genuinely desired to seek out connection with her.
It was a good look, even though his face was still bruised.
When Ayo managed to sufficiently collect herself, she spoke aloud, "Alright. Let us try to find common language between us." She lifted a hand to the timeline displayed between them, "This is how those around you presently view what you have said. It is through the lens of ordered dates. Is this how you prefer to view events you have glimpsed or experienced? Or is there another way you could help us understand?"
It was clear Barnes needed a moment to deliberate how best to convey his thoughts, and those around him did not rush him. When he came to a decision, he made a gesture with his right fingers to resume the remote connection between the Kimoyo Beads around his wrist and the graphical overlay Shuri'd placed over the shield. He did it smoothly, as if it was so second nature to him that he could even easily swap from controlling the heads-up display with one hand to both so he could work more quickly and efficiently. The intensity of his concentration at the display and the rapid pace of his movements had a way of reminding Ayo of Shuri when she was deep in exploration of her latest science experiments. Ayo wanted so much to ask him if he recalled when he'd been gifted the Kimoyo Beads around his wrist or been taught the commands and shortcuts for it, but she knew those were topics best left for a later time. Even so, it was oddly comforting to see him using them with such ease. As if even his connection to Wakanda had not been truly broken.
Within moments, Barnes cloned the timeline in-whole and shifted Shuri's to one side so he could more easily regard the copy he'd made. With smooth intention, he removed all of the dates and data nodes before 1950 and mostly everything after April of 2014, aside from a few stray data points, including the orange data node and blue section that represented the memory from 2016 that Barnes claimed to remember that represented the first time she had spoken the full sequence of obedience code words to James. Barnes also kept a thin blue sliver that was labeled with the dates for August 10th and 11th, 2024.
Yesterday and today.
What Barnes did next was to rearrange the events shown on the timeline. He shuffled them into not simply ordered chronological dates based on the calendar months and years, but a strange, mismatched progression that must have somehow correlated to his own experiences. They started with a block of time from January of 2014, then yesterday's date, then an assortment of pieces he plucked free from 1950 through 2013, as well as many others with no dates at all, followed by the orange data nodes from 2016. He regarded his work a moment before he continued pulling other blue slivers free and placing them one after the other in succession. His unsteady fingers inputted text commands that he used to swiftly label additional pieces of data. Up against the data node and small blue section from 2016, he listed, "Barnes, Dark Place #1?," "JBB, Dark Place #2?," then more dates from 1950 through 2014, more unlabeled slivers, and finally "August 11th, 2024," "Witnessed Lab Recording, August 10th, 2024," and "August 11th, 2024" again.
Today's date.
Everyone watched as he made minute changes to various nodes and repeatedly labeled and re-labeled things, as if he was trying to fine-tune the revised timeline to be as clear to other people as possible. But he didn't re-order the dates he'd placed. They always stayed right where they were, as if the order was unequivocal.
Ayo was certain he was doing his best to convey his perception of his experiences, but it was a struggle for her to find any logic in the placement of the events, since it was anything but truly chronological.
Even though to him, perhaps it was? Or something close.
As Shuri searched for patterns in Barnes's revised timeline, Sam was the first to speak, "Christ I… okay. I hadn't stopped to consider this wasn't like…" he faded off as he searched for the proper words.
Ayo didn't have any either. To say it was confusing was an understatement. And it appeared as though perhaps years of his life were subject to being poorly cataloged? It was no wonder he was so troubled and overwhelmed.
Shuri chimed in, her voice eager for understanding, "Your chosen approach is not like trying to fill an incomplete calendar's timeline or a puzzle with defined bounds. You are…" she considered aloud, "Sitting with the experiences themselves? Is this meant to be the relative order that you acquired the memories?"
Nomble spoke up at that from just to Ayo's left, and Ayo found it odd that not a single muscle in her tensed at her charge speaking up after their Princess, even though it was not she that was being addressed. This situation they'd found themselves in had a way of altering their accepted dynamic, but given the circumstances… Ayo found her inclination towards accepted protocol… flexible. "What some of us have thought to accept as 'before' and 'after' are in some cases opposite of how you define your own experiences," Nomble observed, pointing at one of the recent sections labeled with yesterday's date, which was followed by dates ranging from 1950 to 2013 then 2016.
"I don't want to go backwards," Barnes stated firmly, and his bright blue eyes sought out connection with Ayo, as if hoping she might be able to grasp his underlying meaning, and the language that evaded him for these complex topics.
It took Ayo a moment to realize what he was getting at, "...For you, everything before now is the past." As she said the statement out loud, she realized it was one of the many subtleties she'd missed. They'd all missed: For at least some of the time, they'd been looking at this one way, trying to figure out how to put things right again, and in doing so, get James, White Wolf, Bucky, back to how his mind had been a little over a day ago. It had been with the best of intentions, of course, but they'd been viewing it through a lens of finding a way to revert Barnes back to something else, someone else, because they'd all taken it for granted that that was the ultimate, if unspoken goal. That a silent determination had been made that that man from yesterday was the 'superior' version of him. The 'correct' one. That the man before them, Barnes, was merely an incomplete shadow of the man they knew.
But what if they were wrong?
His words stuck with her, and his solemn plea for her to understand the true depths of his continued plight.
"I don't want to go backwards."
Ayo had been thinking of it chronologically, but now she realized going 'backwards' for him meant something different entirely. That he didn't want himself or his experiences to be erased. That as frightening and confusing as those pockets of memory were, he didn't want to be set back again and again to someone else's interpretation of who he should be.
Even if that person was who they called their White Wolf.
By the way her charge was silently comparing the timelines, Shuri'd put some of the pieces together too, and was rapidly trying to deduce the sweeping implications.
"It is not unlike those of us that returned from the Decimation," Shuri observed, "That time passed differently, but that our definition of how time passes cannot equally account for the experiences of both groups." She inclined her head to the timelines in front of her as she acknowledged, "How Barnes has experienced time, how he continues to, is fundamentally different from us." Her charge looked across to Barnes as she added, "This will take us time to grasp with both hands, but it helps us start to understand how you see things." She paused a beat before adding with all sincerity, "Thank you."
Ayo found herself nodding agreement as she regarded Shuri's timeline set beside the one Barnes had modified and restructured based on what appeared to be the acquisition of certain core, dated memories. The confusion of his addled mind must be so overwhelming, especially when such large chunks lacked any resemblance of dates at all.
As she looked at the points and recollections of the Dark Place Barnes had labeled, "JBB, Dark Place #2?," she thought it prudent they attempt to bridge their understanding of what these symbols she took for James's given name truly meant in context to Barnes. She moved a finger to point towards the paused recording from the lab, where the image of James sat placidly in a chair, "I do not wish to speak for you or assume anything, so I ask you: Do you believe that man in the recording, the one who you said you were with in the Dark Place, that he is in some way also you? I see you chose to label this in blue, like the other periods around Washington D.C. in 2014, and I do not know if this was for the sake of convenience or intention. If you have another meaning, would you share it with us so we might better understand how you see these things?
Barnes chewed on her words as he looked at the section in blue on his revised timeline that Ayo'd referred to, but surprisingly, he didn't bristle at her question. With decided intention, he traced the bruised fingers of his right hand across his scalp, as if reminded about the phantoms of the nails that once plagued him. Or was it perhaps that he recognized that his hair was shorter than he remembered, matching the smiling man in the recording? He didn't speak his private thoughts aloud, but once he withdrew his hand back to his lap, he turned his attention to each of the people sitting around him, as if feeling the need to read their expressions before he spoke again. "I don't know yet," he admitted, visibly struggling to articulate where he stood on the matter. "It's possible, but it doesn't fit in as easily as the rest."
"The rest?" Shuri inquired.
Barnes turned to her and bit his lip, visibly struggling to search out a meaningful answer to the princess's question. But Ayo was surprised that it was Sam who spoke up next, "...Like the guy who pulled Steve out of the river?"
Barnes frowned and rapidly pivoted his attention to Sam, as if trying to ascertain his implications. Without missing a beat, Barnes clarified, "I pulled him out of the water." There was something definitive about the sense of ownership that he laid to that claim that wasn't up for debate.
Sam must've seen a possible 'in' he was doing his best to crack open, "Okay, so help me understand then using that as an example: If I'm hearing you, that was a week and change before you started going by 'Barnes,' right? I'm just trying to grasp when things went from the guy gunnin' for us to–" He stopped his inquiry in his tracks as he looked back at the timelines and pieced together something new. "Scrap that. A lot of this stuff is a long time ago for me, so it's a hell of a blur. But you said the last time they wiped you was on the…" He regarded Shuri's timeline, "...the 11th of January, in 2014? Was that before you went after Fury? So after that was 'you?'"
Barnes blinked at that. Though Ayo could sympathize with Sam's desire to understand, she could tell that Barnes was struggling to follow along with the barrage of overlapping questions. His voice was lower when he responded, as if he was trying to search out to the subtext of Sam's inquiry, "They wiped me after I came out of cryo, before my handler tasked me to eliminate Nicholas Fury, and then Jasper Sitwell. But they also wiped me mid-mission, after I asked for clarity about the man from the bridge who called me 'Bucky.'" There was a heavy pause before Barnes added, "That was not standard procedure, but they believed I was behaving erratically and that my performance would benefit from a reset."
Sam's expression went from disbelief to horror, "Wait. So the next day when we fought at the helicarriers…? You didn't even remember fighting us the day before?"
Barnes's expression twisted, and his voice grew fainter, "It wasn't my choice."
Sam was quick to clarify, "Wasn't implying it was. I just… we had no idea. We were thinkin' it was round two or three depending on how you cut it, not that they were doing shit like that to you behind-the-scenes. Christ." Sam flinched uncomfortably, "I always just assumed it was the other guy the whole time."
"What 'other guy?'"
Ayo watched as Sam's eyebrows folded closer together, as if he knew his next words risked rattling the fragile accord between them, "...the Soldier?"
Without any hesitation or delay, Barnes responded with a proclamation that Ayo hadn't ever even heard James speak aloud in all the years she'd known him, and Barnes said it as clearly as stated fact, "That's still me. It's just what they called me."
The comment stopped Sam dead in his tracks. Even Ayo found herself forcing herself to remember to take a breath as she sat with the startling implication of his words. She reminded herself that it was impossible to know how James felt back in 2014, and if it was piece-for-piece how 'Barnes' now viewed the situation. He was not truly a time-traveler from a bygone era, but in some way, he also was. And though she had spent years alongside James, discussing this and other eras of his life, she now wondered if she'd inadvertently encouraged him to speak of the Soldier as someone else rather than to more fruitfully explore what the term meant to him?
Had she inadvertently encouraged him to bury that part of him in the soil, rather than leave it out in the light where he could sit with it, and where the cleansing rain could find it?
"That's still me. It's just what they called me."
The strength of Barnes's declaration of self prompted Ayo to step in and hazard a guess, "…Which is why it was important for you to choose your own name, rather than what others applied to you?"
"And their meaning with it," Nomble added from just to Ayo's left. Her Lieutenant's attention was focused on Barnes, and she gestured a hand to the tea cup in front of him. "After you escaped HYDRA, your cup was mostly empty, and you did not want others to fill it and force you to drink deep of their beliefs. Then and now, you wish to fill it yourself."
Nomble's words were a statement rather than a question, but it was clear from the way that Barnes unclenched his jaw and raised his head in her direction that she'd managed to strike upon something they'd been blind to.
And Ayo wondered: for how long?
"Would you share with us the story of how you chose your name?" Nomble asked, her tone pleasant, personal, and without demand.
Barnes considered her question, and when he finally spoke up, his tone was calmer, more willing, as if framing it like a story somehow made it easier to talk about, "It just… felt like a starting point, I guess? None of it made sense. But whenever I heard Steve talk about "Bucky" it was clear he was talking about someone else, not me. I don't remember that person, and I didn't want to be forced to pretend to be him or anyone else." He used his right hand to absentmindedly trace the plate lines across the top of his left hand, "I hadn't heard 'Barnes' used on its own until I went to the exhibit, though."
Sam cocked his head, "The exhibit? As in the one in the Smithsonian? How'd you even know about that? I can't imagine HYDRA handin' out pamphlets on popular tourist spots in D.C."
"The Captain America exhibit is prominently advertised," Barnes defended, "But I had no intentions of evaluating it until you two decided it was necessary to visit it."
Sam's lips flapped a little at that, "-Are you kidding me? You saw us go there, and then what? You decided maybe you'd check it out sometime too?"
"I tailed you inside," Barnes clarified, "In case it had been infiltrated by HYDRA."
"...You were… inside… with us?"
Ayo didn't think that Barnes was readily familiar with the expression for 'smug,' but his face held a hint of it. Perhaps he'd learned it from Yama? "It was tactically optimal to stay close in case you were ambushed."
"Close?"
Barnes shrugged lightly, "Close enough that I could smell the peppermints you were attempting to use as a surrogate for brushing your teeth, since Steve insisted on visiting the museum directly after being released from the hospital. You declined his offer to use his toothbrush or request one of your own."
Sam's mouth dropped open at that, and Ayo caught Yama's proud grin.
"Your choice concerning the name was due to what you learned in the Smithsonian, then?" Shuri inquired.
Ayo thought Barnes looked wary about Shuri's question, but he answered it anyway, "No. The name was listed there, but it was also referenced in a KGB dossier. Some early photos resembled the man from the exhibit. Others aligned more closely with my covert appearance under HYDRA."
"Wait, you saw that too? How?" Sam sputtered.
"Inside your apartment."
"You went inside my place?!"
"Your locks didn't pose any challenge." He paused a moment before thoughtfully adding, "...Your residence also maintained a variety of perishables. Since you were cohabitating with Steve for a period of time, you mistakenly assumed any missing nutrients were consumed by him."
Sam sat back on his hands, clearly needing a moment to absorb all of what Barnes had just said. While it was challenging for Ayo to envision what it had been like for Barnes in wake of his escape from HYDRA, she found it oddly comforting to imagine that although he hadn't sought out connection with Steve or Sam, he felt the inclination kept close by them for a period of time.
"Shit man…I don't know whether to be annoyed or impressed. If I'm being honest? Prolly a bit of both. But I guess if you were picking off people that were comin' after us, I would'a at least let you use the bathroom."
"I think it is remarkably sweet," Yama remarked as she continued to work on Barnes's foot, her face cast in a full smile she made no attempt to hide.
"Easy for you to say," Sam grumbled half-heartedly. "You didn't have an amnesiatic ex-assassin raiding your fridge."
"It seems he was a skilled and watchful spirit," Yama saw fit to observe.
"Not helping."
Yama's smile only widened as she looked back to Barnes, returning to the question at-hand, "Was it then that you chose your name? After you had read through the dossier in Sam's apartment and enjoyed the spoils inside his welcoming fridge?"
Ayo didn't think Barnes was willfully oblivious to Yama's humor, but rather that it had a way of putting him at ease as he considered her question aloud, "Not immediately, no. I intended to return to The National Museum of American History, but it was closed. I could have gained entrance if it was necessary," he clarified, "but I determined it was optimal to hold off until it was again open to the public so I could continue to use the crowds as camouflage. The next time I was asked for a name was the day after, when I purchased a 'Venti White Chocolate Mocha' drink from a nearby establishment."
"...Wait…when you what?" Sam implored a bit loudly.
"Their drinks provide a high caloric intake and satisfying taste," Barnes reasoned, before turning his attention back to Yama. "Customarily when prompted for a name, I would use the one listed on the credit cards I used for payment, but this particular visit, I was compelled to use 'Barnes.'"
"You lost me at the point you were going galivanting around the National Mall ordering Starbucks."
"I was not galivanting."
"Okay. 'Stalking' then?"
Barnes made a face at that and Yama stepped in before Ayo could even open her mouth, "Sam is disappointed in himself for not realizing you were fully capable of being not only self-sufficient, but enjoying the finer things in life even as you skillfully tracked him."
"Do you know why you chose that name?" Nomble inquired, obviously eager to pull the conversation back around so she could grasp the underlying reasons for his decision.
"I'm not sure," Barnes admitted, scrunching up his face as he visibly struggled to trace back the steps leading up to his choice. "I felt like there was a connection. With him. Not close, but as if maybe we shared a family name, but there wasn't–" he corrected, "–isn't enough to validate that what I read about are me with any degree of certainty. They don't feel like it. At least not yet."
The humor rapidly fell out of Sam's expression as he regarded Barnes seriously, realization dawning on his face, "...Is that why you ran? From Steve and I, I mean. You thought we wanted you to be someone else?"
Barnes looked to his left and met Sam's probing eyes, "I'm not him. I'm not who Steve was looking for."
And in that moment, not only did the expression on Sam's face show that he'd grasped a missing piece of his own, but Ayo found she finally understood why Barnes had been so utterly riled when others like herself had originally sought to attach names to the man that had awoken in the lab. And why, in some way, it was almost fitting that he'd chosen a given name that was wrapped in intention and undeniably his, but was also not a name any of them had ever used for him.
It allowed him to define himself, and to make clear he was not striving to be someone he was not.
"Is there a name you would find preferable for us to use when referring to the man in the chair?" Ayo asked, "So that we might have common language when referring to him?"
Barnes caught her eyes briefly before he gazed back at the frozen moment captured in the security camera. Eventually, he shook his head, "He had a lot of names. It's not right for me to choose a name for him."
Ayo found herself smiling softly as she traced the logic of Barnes's decision, that he did not desire to apply the potential burden of a name to someone else, "Then how would you have us refer to him?"
She hadn't thought far enough ahead to consider what he might answer, but she found it both wholly unexpected and oddly fitting when he replied simply, "'Your friend.'"
As far as Sam was concerned, the last day and change had been something else, and the surprises just kept on comin'.
His mind wanted to feel as though there was a predictable trajectory to all this madness that led them towards something that doubled for resolution or close, but with all the twists and turns being thrown their way, well it was gettin' harder by the minute to imagine things going back to the way they were. At least it wasn't all screaming, crushed bone, and stolen jets anymore, though. That was that silver lining, at least.
But even in the aftermath of Ayo saying the code words, the fight hadn't completely left Barnes, that much was clear. He still had questions, most of which were even some degree of valid, as mixed-up as they often were. Questions like: "Who are you wanting to help: Me, or him?" They weren't meant to be riddles, but here they were, trying to ride 'em out and make sense of whatever was bouncing around that cyborg brain of his like the world's most frustrating game of Pick Up Sticks.
All things considered, Yama's direct approach had made a surprising amount of headway, but it was whatever had gone down between Ayo and Barnes that had broken through some sorta invisible dam.
Sam liked to think he had a handle on at least the broad strokes of what was goin' on around him, but he still didn't have any viable explanation how the two of them had gone from a heated moment where Sam would've bet his wings that Barnes wanted Ayo to get about as far away from him as possible, to sittin' around having what amounted to a legitimate soul gaze with her. And what was odder yet? In the wake of it, not only had it seemed as though something had been silently settled between the two of them, but Ayo, yes Ayo had gotten legitimately teary-eyed around the edges. And Barnes? Sam might've been seein' things, but he had more emotions holed up on that bruised thing he called a face than he had any idea just what to do with.
And just like that… he'd allowed 'em to move forward. He wasn't inclined to necessarily believe what any of them had to say at face value, but it was clear in his own way that he was at least trying to meet them halfway like Yama'd asked.
Sam wasn't ashamed to admit that now and then, he was having a Hell of a time wrapping his head around bits and pieces of what Barnes was saying, especially when it came to how his brain ordered certain dates, but empathy was damn good teacher, and the more the other man talked, the more Sam realized just how much he was struggling to make sense of things too. It wasn't just that he was being an asshole for the sake of things, but because he was rightfully even more confused than anyone else around him. And that was sayin' something.
So yeah, that gave Sam more'n a bit of pause. Maybe even a spot'a warmth towards the Winter Toaster and what he was goin' through.
Sam wasn't blind to the shift in the air that came in the wake of Barnes and Ayo having that moment of theirs, and he was downright appreciative, because now it didn't feel like they were having to walk on eggshells around him in the hope wouldn't shut down, or at best? That he'd spare a breadcrumb of a helpful word edgewise for one of 'em. And now? He wasn't exactly a chatty Cathy, but it was obvious there was a lot more goin' on under the hood than Sam'd given him credit for.
A lot more.
It was as if the more Sam learned and traded something almost like banter with Not-Bucky, the more he'd started to not only grasp some of the bits and pieces of where Barnes was coming from, but he found that the lingering anger he had bottled up deep in his belly for what'd been done to him the day before started to thaw. He'd need to do some solid due diligence with a qualified therapist after all this, that was for sure. Maybe it was just wishful thinking in the midst of some S-Tier-level of PTSD or Stockholm Syndrome afterglow, but he was pretty sure he felt at least a little bit better. Like folks were starting to get on the same page and see eye-to-eye. Even Barnes. The little things he said managed to fill in the blanks with pockets of info that had a way of fleshing him out into a genuine person Sam could actually start to relate to, rather than just a violent, walking enigma.
Like the fact that rather than just high-tail it out of D.C. and put as much space between him and HYDRA as possible, apparently, he'd seen fit to put himself on something like bodyguard duty way back in 2014. He hadn't done it to prove himself or impress anyone, either. Near as Sam could tell, he'd simply done it because he thought it was the right thing to do.
He'd discussed a lot of things with Steve and Buck over the years, but nothin' like that had ever come up. Not even the possibility.
And that made Sam wonder: Had Buck been holdin' back on him so he didn't come off like some sorta ex-assassin stalker? Or did he… not remember some of the particulars?
God, what he would have given to just be able to ask him.
But Buck wasn't currently available to come to the phone, and now that they had some manner of baseline with Barnes, Shuri'd apparently thought it was time to wrap things back around to a particular mystery she was clearly interested in digging into in the hopes it offered anything valuable to their present situation, "We have little idea of what our friend experienced in the Dark Place," she began, "His words were slow in coming."
Sam had a backlog of questions he wouldn't have minded gettin' answers to, but he knew it was high time to keep his trap shut and listen and let the adults work. It seemed even Yama knew it was opportune to return her attention to repairing Barnes's ailing foot. The skin surrounding the two sides of his foot had shifted into a healthy-looking rosey pink. Even the open area between his toes wasn't oozing perilously anymore. He'd have to talk to Shuri about the possibility of getting his hands on some of that tech. Well. Assuming it wasn't already a built-in option of the suit.
…He probably should finish watching those tutorials she'd put together before negotiating for any more upgrades.
"If you feel as though you remember anything," Shuri gently pressed, "it might help us understand what happened before you awakened."
"He didn't see anything," Barnes repeated, "It was completely dark. It's possible I was in the same place, but I can't be sure."
"But you saw something there?" Shuri coaxed him in that voice of hers that yearned to understand.
"It's faded now," Barnes admitted, and Sam could sense that hint of Barnes-level discomfort start to re-emerge. Even the way he drew his arms back around him conveyed that this particular combination of questioning and subject matter made him feel the need to guard himself again.
Shuri smoothly gestured to a bead along her wrist, "Would it be okay if I took notes? To ensure I capture what details you remember?"
Barnes considered her question, frowning, "I guess?"
"Sometimes writing it down makes it easier to understand and reference later," Ayo noted in that even tone of hers.
"I'd assumed all of it was being recorded," Barnes deadpanned, and by the slightly guilty look on Shuri's face, he probably wasn't altogether wrong.
He chose not to press the issue.
Shuri brought up a secondary holographic display over her left wrist and jotted something into it, "The Dark Place you saw yourself, was it the last dream you recall before waking?"
While Shuri's question was infused with investigative vigor, Sam could immediately sense that Barnes hadn't yet broken bread enough with the resident genius to make him totally at ease around her. Luckily, Ayo must've caught a whiff of it too.
"You must excuse Shuri," Ayo apologized, "She is eager for answers and sometimes forgets you both are not as well-acquainted as she is inclined to believe." Ayo extended a hand in Shuri's direction, as if introducing the two of them, "Princess Shuri has been my charge for many years, and was instrumental in our friend's care in Wakanda, as well as the development of the advanced technologies used in your prosthetic."
By the look of quiet shock on Shuri's face and resounding amusement on Yama's, Sam was pretty sure Ayo must've broken at least half a dozen Wakandan protocols with what she'd said. Apparently Shuri wasn't inclined to argue Ayo's points, but her tone was not critical, "My esteemed guardian is not incorrect," Shuri dipped her head, "We are not well acquainted, but I hope that we might be in time."
Barnes considered her words, but his attention quickly shifted back to Ayo, as if it was clear that he preferred her to take the lead on the conversation at-hand, "It was the last thing I saw before I woke up last night," Barnes confirmed.
Ayo nodded as she settled in to talk with him. From just beside her, Shuri looked to be suppressing some manner of a royal pout at being momentarily sidelined, but Ayo boldly chose to ignore her, "Our friend described little of it. All of what he said, you have seen and heard in the recording. It would be a boon if you helped us understand what you saw, or what you think he might have experienced, in case there is any relevance."
Barnes considered that, but Sam didn't miss when his eyes dropped to his hands.
"...Were your hands alright?" Ayo gently inquired.
"I couldn't see them at first," he admitted, "But I don't think he was able to see them at all. There was… nothing. But… it didn't seem like it was a memory because I remembered being on the mountain. But I couldn't see or hear any of you. Not even Yama snoring."
Sam glanced briefly to Yama, who looked only up long enough to send an offended eyeroll in Barnes's general direction. She said nothing as she went back to using that Dinglehopper of hers on his injured foot.
"In your own mind, which visit to the Dark Place came first? The one where you were with our friend, or your own?"
Sam hadn't even thought about asking that particular question. Apparently Barnes hadn't either, "...I don't know?" His face twisted as he considered Ayo's question, "I think I was there first, but I felt as if I'd been there before. So maybe it was him? Or I was there another time? Or maybe we were there at the same time?"
Yeah, that right there was all sorts of confusing to Sam, but he did his best to follow along.
Whatever place that was that Bucky had been rambling on about when he was playing Marco Polo with Shuri back in her lab, Barnes had seen it, or something like it, last night out here on the mountain when he was catchin' a little shuteye between rounds of workin' on his Wakandan camping merit badge.
"Since the order of those visits is not known, how can we refer to them to be clear when we speak of them?"
"Your friend's visit and my visit," Barnes supplied.
"That is what we will use then," Ayo acknowledged with a polite nod of her bald head, "On our friend's visit, were you beside him, or what do you mean when you say you were 'with' him?"
Barnes considered her question, "I was him, but I wasn't? Like I was a passenger in his body."
"And you saw nothing?"
"No. It was completely black."
"Could you feel your hands, your body?" Ayo asked.
"Yeah. Even the left one, at least a little," he looked perplexed at his own admittance, "I don't think I had anything on my feet, but I could feel these hanging against my bare chest." With that, he pulled his dog tags out from under the neck of his shirt and let them settle into the fingers of his bruised hand. He ran a trembling thumb over them as he added, "I couldn't see them, but I could feel the engraving. The beads were there too, on my wrist. But I don't think they worked."
While Sam could see Shuri practically jumping out of her skin with eagerness to ask follow-up questions, Ayo gave Barnes time and space to explore things on his own. She had a way of stepping through things at a pace he was keepin' up with, "Did your hands seem like they are now?"
"Both times, it was this arm," Barnes gestured to his left one, "I recognized the arrangement of the plates." His face contorted as if he'd just realized something, "...But when I was there, I already had something in my other hand. I couldn't see it, and when I tried to feel it with my right hand, it was like… like it wasn't completely solid. Like it didn't want me to map out its shape, but… it was important. I didn't know where I'd gotten it, but I think your friend might've picked it up." He frowned, "I'm not sure. I don't remember putting it down."
Ayo pursed her lips while Shuri sat beside her, doing everything she could to not interject herself into the developing conversation between the two of them, "I don't recall him saying he picked up anything."
"In your recording, he said 'I can't identify that object,'" Barnes pointed out.
"The 'memory from the snows of Wakanda'-thing?" Sam volunteered, trying his best to be helpful and leverage what goodwill he'd managed to foster with Barnes.
"Maybe," Barnes considered aloud as he glanced towards Sam and chewed his lip, "But it didn't feel like that. It was chilly there both times, but… I don't know if that was what he was after. There was a lot there."
"What do you mean?"
Barnes made a face that had a way of reminding Sam of Bucky when he was trying to sort and straighten things out in his head prior to charging forward. It was one of the many things Sam respected about him: that sure, he could bicker up a storm about the little stuff, but when things mattered, he was intentional about his actions.
"It's fainter now," Barnes practically apologized. "There were a lot of... things. Cluttered. Piled up. He couldn't see it at all, and I couldn't see it at first, but after I touched…something… it was almost like a wall of water. After that, if I looked hard enough, it was like I could just barely make out the outlines."
Sam was well-past being altogether confused at what Barnes was getting at, but Ayo was apparently keeping up with things a few steps more'n he was, "Could you identify any of the items?"
"Not at first. Just the broad strokes. Shapes. Structures. Maybe household goods. Books. Papers."
"Could you make out the markings on any of them?"
He shook his head, "No, it was too dark. So dark you could only make out the general shapes. Not the details or the colors. Well," he corrected, "not initially, anyway."
"Not initially?"
Barnes was looking at his hands again, focusing on the fingers of his left hand and then his palm. There was an undeniable intensity to his gaze as he considered his next words carefully. When it seemed as though he'd come to some manner of a decision, he raised his attention to Ayo again, "Does it glow?"
"Glow?"
The fingers of his right hand gestured to his left, "The arm. This one. Not the silver one."
Something very particular floated across Ayo's expression, but she answered him without hesitation, "The six inner connection plates shine purple when the magnets are activated and within range of the arm. In contrast, when the arm disconnects and powers down, the residual energy dissipates. It releases a faint golden glow. It is very quick, very subtle, but I have seen it happen."
So had Sam. Twice.
Barnes considered her words as he regarded his vibranium arm with renewed interest, "It wasn't like that. It was attached the whole time. When I was in the Dark Place, after… at least I think it was after I touched the wall of water… the next time I touched the object in my hand, it was like the arm responded by starting to glow from the inside. It was faint at first, but there was just enough light that I could just barely make out some of the stuff around me."
"What could you see?"
He looked into the depths of his hand as he answered, "I can't remember it all, but there was fruit, I think. Papers. A cup. Some tools. Books. A skull. Keys. A jar. Some clothing." He frowned, frustration showing clear as anything on his bruised face, "There was more, but I can't rememberit. Why can't I remember it?"
Ayo's voice was soothing without being condescending, "It is alright. Often dreams fade quickly upon waking."
Barnes didn't look entirely convinced, "It's not that. It's just… after the cracks in the plates started to glow, I was hoping maybe I could see what was in my hand, but it was as if it didn't want to be seen. I could see other stuff nearby, but not that."
"Was that what you saw before you woke? What startled you?"
Barnes slowly ran his fingers together, and Sam could see how much he was visibly struggling to put things together in his own mind, no less translating his thoughts into something the rest of them could have a hope of understanding. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, and surprisingly personal, "That wasn't it. I couldn't see past the wall of black water before, I could only feel it. It was icy to the touch. But when I realized my arm was glowing but I still couldn't make out what was in my hand, I looked back at the wall of water. For just a second, it was like I could see through to the other side."
Out of nowhere, Barnes immediately turned his attention to focus squarely on Sam,"Are you going after them?"
"Them?" Sam responded, visibly confused.
"HYDRA," there was a pointedness in Barnes's voice.
"Sorry, I'm not following. HYDRA hasn't been active for years. Most've 'em went underground back in 2014 when the world came to realize they'd spent over half a century infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D. and a host of other global organizations." Sam wasn't sure what bits Barnes knew and which he didn't, but it didn't seem right to intentionally keep him in the dark about the broad strokes that were solemn facts. He'd probably be relieved to know the bulk of those assholes were long-gone.
So that said, Sam wasn't altogether prepared when Barnes looked at him and asked, "...But you said you and your friend were investigating something in Anaria, Symkaria. What 'J. Rhodes' called you about."
For a moment there, Sam was pretty sure he had a full-on flashback to the first time Barnes had asked about Symkaria, and instead of latching onto that, he'd been an idiot and tried to steal that 'End of the line' bit from Steve like it was his own. The decision had earned him a solid punch to the face, and Sam wasn't about to repeat that same mistake twice.
He wasn't sure what any of this had to do with anything else, but with all the which-ways Barnes's brain was firing, who knew? "Yeah, we were investigating a case. There've been a number of high-profile political assassinations. Not HYDRA though," Sam clarified, "So far as we know, they aren't involved, not to mention that they've never been active in the area, even years back."
And then Barnes just stared at him. A decided look layered in solid disbelief that made Sam feel like he was all-of five years old, being told by one of the schoolyard bullies that Santa Claus wasn't real, "...HYDRA's had a base of operations there since at least the 1950s."
Sam was sure his face must've twisted in confusion, "Wait, are you sure about that?"
Up until this point, Sam hadn't been entirely certain about what range of emotions Barnes was even capable of, but the decided look the other man shot back was punctuated with a heavy helping of 'Are you really asking me that?'
But instead of speaking that quiet part out loud, what the man with his Partner's face said next was, "That's what I saw on the other side. The lab in Symkaria." He frowned, "They were trying to make more of me."
[Full Image of Chapter Art from Chapter 50, featuring Ayo Renewing Her Oath to Barnes, by me (KLeCrone)]
Edit: I thought I'd repost this image from Chapter 50: "Snell's Window," because it was definitely on my mind when I was working on this chapter.
Sometimes life can feel really jam-packed. So much so that it can feel like an endless struggle to get everything I need to done, and in the time remaining: finding a way to carve out enough hours in the day to write, no less create art. Working on this chapter made me think back to this Ayo painting and how it was one of those times where I felt compelled to make time for myself while I was editing that chapter to try to bring to life a very particular moment from the story. I realize now how important it is to just... slow down. Because when you do, it helps make room for unexpected things, like this painting here.
Author's Remarks:
I told myself this would be a shorter chapter and… here we are. There was a *lot* to cover, and in particular, it was important for me to try to work through not only how Barnes is feeling in the aftermath of all this, but to be put in his place a bit that it's his turn to try to be patient and help the people around him understand. I love Yama pointedly forcing that issue and Barnes grumbling about how her bringing up the 'personal injury' bit was manipulative. ;)
- Various Washington D.C. Flashbacks and Age of Ultron - It's been great to have the opportunity to craft additional in-between scenes that might've occurred in the MCU. In particular, I can absolutely imagine Steve wanting to rush back to the Smithsonian the moment he was finally released from the hospital in the hopes of discovering some important clue he'd missed about Bucky, and… I couldn't shake (...pun intended…?) the idea of "Barnes" tailing them there. It helps to explain (to me) how Barnes would have even stumbled on that exhibit, no less the bits about him, to begin with.
You are also invited to also enjoy some free head-canon setting up how Steve thought to get Sam invited to the Avengers Tower party in "Age of Ultron."
- Ayo and the Stones - I love the idea of Ayo being raised by a strong single mother. The idea behind the stones here is pulled from my love of semi precious stones, and how I sometimes set them out around my desk to help me focus on important things in my life.
- Barnes and Ayo - It felt wonderful for these two to reach a very specific point in their relationship where they each felt compelled to not only apologize to one another, but to try to bridge their understanding of each other. This was one of those sections where I was definitely getting a bit emotional as I was writing it, and I hope it comes across as well in this prose as it does in my mind's eye.
- Understanding Barnes - It's been great to have the opportunity to start to clarify not only how Barnes views things, but why so much of this is so terribly confusing for him. I hope that the chart/piece of art I made for this chapter at least helps give readers a better idea of what bits (in blue) he remembers. I opted not to make Barnes's own version, as it would look a lot more jumbled, but you can imagine he's tracking things in the order he's acquiring memories, which (unfortunately) isn't chronological.
- Yama and Barnes "Ganging up" on Sam - I cannot begin to tell you just how much I enjoy having Yama be a part of this story, because writing her nuggets of humor is just so fun… especially when it involves politely sassing Sam or Ayo.
- The Dark Place…and the Lab in Symkaria - The mystery deepens…
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, especially on these longer chapters which take a *lot* of time to write and edit. I can't wait to share all that's ahead!