Winter of the White Wolf: Post S1 of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Chapter 63: Orbital Resonance, a falcon and the winter soldier fanfic

For Chapter 63, I included a painting of Sam Wilson with feathered wings, an GIF time lapse, a bunch of photos, and a sketch of Barnes.Please check out this chapter on Archive of Our Own to see the art and photos!

Simply search for: "KLeCrone Ao3 Winter of the White Wolf"

Winter of the White Wolf

Chapter 63 - Orbital Resonance

It was no surprise Sam dreamed of flying.

So much of his life intersected with flying in one way or another, whether it was his hard-fought aspirations to earn his wings, or the swath of memories and nightmares that rode along with them.

Some of his highest highs and lowest lows accompanied those wings. Streaking through canyons and deep forests, or across sandy embankments, threading between enemy fire at nerve-numbing speeds, all in the hope he could find who he was looking for and get them out of whatever situation they found themselves in. Those were the good ones. When it all felt worthwhile. When he could drink in the solemn relief on their faces and know he'd made a difference. That he could help.

But then there were the nightmares. The missions gone wrong. The ones he'd been forced to abandon even when he knew there were people out there he knew still needed him. Or the ones when he'd gotten there minutes, even seconds too late. Those were nearly as bad as the ones where he'd arrived in time to be there while the person he was tasked with rescuing was still breathing, but just long enough so he was helpless to do anything but watch them bleed out and see the light fade from their eyes while the thrum of gunfire pounded nearby.

Karli wasn't the first still body he'd carried. She was just the latest in a long string of souls where his final act in their shortened lives was to make sure they got to where they needed to be, rather than left out in the field to be someone else's problem.

In the dreams and nightmares alike, fine-tuned adrenaline hummed within his gut time and time again, pushing him to utilize every ounce of speed, power, and agility of those metal wings he strapped to his back afford him. Regardless of the risks. Regardless of the plethora of aches, pains, and deep bruises they were due to drum up each and every time. It wasn't that he was a glutton for punishment, it was just that even during hard times and setbacks, knowing what those wings were capable of, what they made him capable of made it all seem worthwhile.

…'Til Riley…

…Then that was… well… that became a regular member of his rolodex of nightmares, somehow able to play back at high speed and slow-motion at the same time in mind-numbing, painful detail. And even now, after how many years? Each and every time Sam put on a set of wings or even dreamed about flying, he feared for the possibility that something like that could happen again. He wasn't safe when he slept either. More often than not, he'd just be forced to relive any number of those searingly painful last moments again and again like some living curse.

Whenever he put those wings on now, he tried to remind himself of all the victories those metal wings'd afforded him over the years. All the people that'd made it home because of them. Because of him. Because he'd been willing to strap them back on and keep going. Even knowing what he did. Even seeing what he saw.

So yeah. Those wings had some complicated history weighing on them.

Maybe that was why the other types of flying dreams he sometimes had were so altogether different. The world wasn't racing by in those. It was like he was floating, untethered. Circling and rising with the thermals without a care in the world as a pair of striped feathered wings stretched out to either side of him like someone had 'Bibbidi-bobbidi-booed' his wings into flesh and blood limbs. Made them part of him like some kinda Black angel.

Those were the dreams of flying he relished most. The ones that didn't make a lick of sense outside of dream-logic, but were blissful all the same. Just him out soaring over the land below with a pair of striped brown wings and not a care in the world besides the open sky, the sun at his back, and the feel of the wind racing over his scalp and between those soft auburn feathers.

He clung to that dream as the world around him came into focus nice and slow, like thick, unhurried molasses slicking the inside of an upturned jar. The sweet calls of birdsong had a way of soothing him awake, as if he'd been lounging safe and carefree for nothing more than a relaxing summertime nap.

But maybe that was precisely what'd nudged him precariously closer to consciousness? That moment his hazy mind was awake enough to appreciate nature's sweet serenade, but just a little too eager to identify the specific sorts of waterfowl those twitters and trumpets were coming from. When his birding-brain came up blank on one too many calls that sounded like a close cousin of the Louisiana Waterthrush but not close enough, he fluttered his eyes open to a morning view it took him more'n a few seconds to take in.

Over the passing hours, he'd managed to worm his way out of his bedroll and cozy-up on top of it like it was a luxurious red, white, and blue picnic blanket (Shuri's choice, not his. Not that he objected). The soles of his bare feet faced the abandoned remnants of the nearest fire, which someone had opted to stop feeding logs and kindling to once the night had warmed to morning. Abandoned bedrolls lay spread out across the grass nearby, and when he chanced to glance over his left shoulder to see the latest state of Shuri's bougie cot and colorful accouterments, he spotted the Princess in question slip a conspiratorial finger over her lips as she ducked low to silently cross the distance between them. Without a word, she crossed her legs and took a seat on the dew-damp grass just to his left. Sam was certain he must've sent her a bleary look of quarter-conscious confusion, but the moment she ever-so-slightly angled her finger to point just off to his right, he saw it.

He wouldn't've necessarily believed it, but he saw it.

Cast in warm morning light beyond a lush expanse of mountain grass that'd never known the touch of a man's blade, four silhouetted figures moved together in a pattern of rolling motion so slow but deliberate that it took Sam a moment to process what was even going on. Just like how you could discern the difference between the allure of a sparrow's serenade and its sworn duty to scream warnings that there was a hawk roosting in the shadows nearby, Sam could just… tell… on some primal level that what he was seeing here wasn't cause for alarm. If anything, it had a way of willing him to hold his breath and force himself not to blink, as if moving a single muscle risked upending the fragile scene playing out in front of him, like the figures in front of him were a herd of rare deer that had chanced to broach the sunlight, but were liable to bound back into the woods at the smallest disturbance.

The slowly moving figures were far enough away that it took Sam a breath to identify each of them, but from where he was sitting, they appeared to be arranged in a languid overlapping line facing each other. Yama was poised outside the dome, and though her back was mostly towards him, Sam could see a soft, but focused smile spread across her face as she flourished not a spear, but a silver staff in slow-motion towards Ayo, who was a step in front of her inside the orange dome. The weapon in Ayo's hands was also absent a tip, but as Yama's motion slowed, Ayo responded, bringing up her staff as if she was planning to block the blow, but stopping just short of when the shafts of their weapons were due to make contact. From beside and a step behind her, the man to Ayo's left took a step forward and to the side, raising his right hand behind the shoe of Ayo's staff, placing it there as if preparing to take the brunt of Yama's focused strike, if there had been any contact between them at all. Once the movement on his arm and shawl over his far shoulder stilled, an unarmed Nomble shifted her weight behind him, appearing to take refuge between the two figures directly in front of her. A beat later, she moved again, and as she did, the man in front of her repositioned his feet and right arm. The motion flowed sinuously into Ayo, and then Yama, in a slow procession of staggered movement. They didn't make contact with one another. If anyone said anything, it was so faint, so brief that Sam couldn't make out so much as the movement of their lips. The motion of their bodies simply carried from one end to the other and back again, ebbing and flowing left then right and back again over and over like a rolling tide. Like some kind of Wakandan sunrise Battle Yoga.

And it was something else. Something beautiful.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, even though he knew it was only compacted days measured in mornings, there wasn't even a whiff of urgency or residual tension in the air. Even though Sam was quick to reason that it was Barnes and not Bucky out there posing amid a group of armed Dora Milaje, he found himself oddly unphased. The beauty of it was poignant and unmistakable as it was radiant.

Had the four of them been moving at once, or at a quicker clip, he might've pegged it as a combat maneuver, but instead it read more like an orchestrated dance. A symphony of consciously staggered movement that flowed back and forth like nimble fingers rolling an ever-changing arpeggio over the keys of a recently-tuned piano.

Even though physically, Banes stood out from the regaliaed women like a cicada on a wedding cake, he wasn't a beat out of pace. Every movement of his body held a surprising amount of grace and precision that was in harmony with the women surrounding him.

Like he was just… part of them.

Sam'd never seen anything like it. Especially not as it related to one James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky was a force in his own right, but he was sharp around the edges. Rough. A little gnarled. Prone to be too bold for his britches in one moment, and circling a spiral of second-guessing himself the next.

So this… was something different. Something new, to Sam at least. Though he was guessin' by the way that the troop of Dora Milaje was working in tandem with Barnes, it wasn't new to them. This was something they'd practiced, way back together when Sam was assuming Bucky was just a freezer-pop in some foreign cryo tube. Back when Wakanda was merely a vague concept, an idea. Not a place with living, breathing people that looked like him, and tech that was right up there with Stark's or even further, depending on your lane of interests. Regardless of what Steve'd insisted way-back-when, Sam privately considered Bucky being shipped off to Wakanda as some kinda consolation prize, a 'better this than nothing' since Tony was sure as hell not interested in helping. Not after what he'd found had really happened to his parents.

And, you know, Steve keepin' secrets.

He was really good at that. Reigning centennial champion.

Though when… if Sam ever got to have a talk with Bucky, he'd be sure to point out that depending on how you looked at things, he might've taken the lead. But at least Bucky had an excuse about lapses in memory. Steve on the other hand, well…

So yeah, maybe as Sam was watching those four figures move in tandem with one another, he was also finding himself digging back through his preconceptions and clear misconceptions about Steve, Bucky, Wakanda, and everything which-ways and in between. Because this? This even put to shame what he'd imagined it was like way-back when.

This wasn't just beautiful on account of the idyllic location, or the fact that even Sam's stress-addled gut insisted that regardless of just how close those weapons came, no one was in any real danger. No, it was deeper. Beautiful, like a picturesque sunrise. Precious, and unexpected, like the first evening he'd spent out with Sarah and his nephews once he'd made it back to Delacroix after the Decimation. As he sat next to his sister on the porch, struggling to navigate a mishmash of long-overdue conversations, out of nowhere, AJ had run over to him with cupped hands with all the urgency of childhood. Cass trailing behind him, oblivious to whatever serious adult-level silence they'd stepped into the middle of. Without hesitation, AJ'd thrust his little hands over Sam's lap, loudly insisting, "Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam! Make a wish!"

The request had not only caught him by surprise, but when he fumbled a redirect in Sarah's direction, sayin' maybe she wanted to make a wish instead, Sam was stilled by Cass's tight shrug, "Mom already got her wish. It's your turn now."

The raw honesty in his eldest nephew's eyes may've been a lot for Sam to wrangle in that moment, but he got it. Got the subtext beneath and between those words, and the gravitas too. He saw it in the hint of Sarah's wizened smile lit up by edge of the flood lights behind her: That part of her that was still rightfully pissed at him for his decision to get up-and-exiled with Steve for two years, and then that second-bit with the five years that wasn't his doing, but it didn't mean it didn't hurt any less. Didn't mean she'd suffered any less, either.

Yeah, he knew what her wish'd been. Same as half the world, he suspected.

So Sam'd swallowed down something heavy in his throat and made no further objections about making a wish out there in that humid Louisiana evening. It took him a moment to think about it and make sure the wish rang true before he'd whistled a breath across his little nephew's hands to seal the deal.

Once he did, he looked up at AJ and those black-rimmed glasses of his, and his nephew grinned victoriously and folded his hands open like a book to reveal a single lightning bug. "It's the first one we saw tonight! That means it's a lucky one," he insisted.

After years of being on the run and fightin' abroad, missing family events, battles with bonafide aliens, and the strange way five years had apparently passed without him knowing it, seeing the soft golden glow blinking between his nephew's small palms hit differently. Settled into him with a deep-rooted, more worldly appreciation than it ever had before, even as it lifted off into the sky

This here was kinda like that.

The scene playing out slow and steady in front of him struck him in a whole wave of unexpected ways that, if you'd had asked him even four days ago, didn't remotely correlate to Bucky, and even a day ago? Even less so to 'Barnes.' Yet the longer Sam held his breath and just… drank it all in… the more what he saw had a very peculiar way of filling in some blanks with a surprising amount of depth and gravitas. Blanks he didn't even know were there to begin with. And more'n that: Maybe even some blanks Bucky hadn't been aware of either. The kind'a things that were hard to see from up-close. But Sam wasn't the only one that saw it. He could see it clear-as-day as he searched out the expressions of Shuri and every last member of this Wakandan battle dance troop.

They were all focused to be sure, but their expressions had a remarkable lightness to them. Unsurprisingly, Yama's was perhaps the most unfiltered, and Sam caught the white of her teeth showing now and then as she flourished her staff in tune with the others, all light on her feet like a ballet dancer.

And Ayo, the same Ayo who hadn't set foot inside the dome since Sam'd been there, she faced outward towards Yama with a look of surprising… ease? Relief, even. She moved in tandem with Barnes beside her in confident steps that spoke to not only growing trust, but a quiet shared history between them.

Just behind Barnes, Nomble's body formed the rightmost bound of their quartet, and while Sam didn't pretend to know her private struggles a fraction as well as the others did, it was clear by her expression that she was lighter too. Whatever words she'd had with Bucky for his trespasses had burned off days earlier, replaced with a solemn intensity of purpose to help Barnes in whatever ways she could.

And Barnes… Barnes looked something damn near outright peaceful. He wasn't smiling, certainly, but the usual folds over and around his eyes were barely noticeable in the warm morning light, replaced by an ease that was strangely becoming on him, as downright surreal as it was.

Sam'd caught Bucky smiling that forced, lopsided grin of his often enough, but that genuine one? It only came about more'n a handful of times under the right conditions. Like a rainbow, you couldn't necessarily predict when it was going to happen, but when it did, it was bright, bold, and sincere.

But a second or two in, even those smiles usually grew self-conscious. Like something was always lurking just under the surface, a heavy self-awareness that the moment, however precious it was, was due to be fleeting before harsh reality settled around him again. A guilt that maybe he'd been accomplice to enough awful over the years that maybe he didn't even deserve those brief breaths of levity. But every now and again, he managed to shuck off the weight of the world long enough to come up for air. And when he did, Sam let him hold onto that moment for as long as he could. Let that pocket of peace flit over Buck and settle like a butterfly perching and stretching its wings.

And seeing Barnes with that expression of his that wasn't quite so blank… it made Sam feel a very specific way. It brushed up against him like ripples of thanks that though things weren't remotely resolved, his friend, his Partner was still alive, same as he was.

It was just… beautiful. A poignant reminder that Bucky had a life here, too. And that these people, like him, weren't planning on giving up on him either, regardless of what name he called himself this, or any other day of the week.

Shuri remained seated beside him, silently taking in the same scene and placing it among her own private memories and musings. She had that well-practiced look of melancholy guilt wrapped around her too, but there was resolve in how she set her jaw and adjusted her lips. Slowly, carefully, she extended her left hand palm-up and made a series of sparse, truncated gestures with her fingers. Sam wasn't sure what that was about, but it hardly seemed the time to ask.

Sam wasn't sure how much longer the two of them sat and watched from a distance, but he was casually aware Shuri must've done something to tweak the settings of the audio-dampening field around them, because their surroundings suddenly became fuller, richer. That mismatched group of three Dora Milaje and one partial amnesiac didn't say much, but now and again, Sam could just barely make out occasional remarks cast between them. Little pockets of instruction set between gentle quips as they changed positions once and over again. Truth be told? He could'a kept on watching, because every step, every which-way their bodies blended and fell into place felt like it held a story. Like if he just focused hard enough, he'd be able to piece it all together. What it all meant. How it all connected.

But moments like this were fragile as they were transitory, and when one-too-many of the colorful figures across the ways from them took notice that he and Shuri were awake, they wrapped up their morning maneuvers with a one-handed fist-to-chest salute.

The lightness about them didn't fade as Nomble briefly clasped Barnes on the shoulder before saying something to him and stepping out of the dome towards the makeshift kitchenette nearby, conceivably, to get their morning tea and coffee regimen underway. She really did have a knack for it. Starbucks had nothin' on her humble artistry.

Nomble inclined to head to Shuri and then Sam as she passed, and Shuri returned the motion, rising to her feet and brushing herself off, addressing Ayo as she and Sam both padded across the grass to stand just outside the dome, "That is a sight I have not glimpsed in many years, and did not think I would see again." Her voice was warm, without even a hint of a teasing edge, "Had you and your Dora returned here to train since the Decimation lifted?"

"Not together on the mountain, no," Ayo sheathed her staff but remained inside the dome with Barnes, though Sam didn't miss as she lifted her head and wordlessly communicated for Yama to reclaim her stated post outside the dome. "I considered it, but there was always something far more pressing to draw our attention in the wake of those long years."

Sam didn't get the impression Ayo was laying any blame at Shuri's feet. He was sure the resident genius had been busy as all hell when she'd found herself undusted with he and half the world only to find five years had passed without her knowing.

So yeah, Shuri had excuse enough, but Sam was pretty sure that wasn't the subtext the princess was poking at. And by the way Ayo's head stayed facing one way but her eyes briefly glanced in Barnes's direction… Sam got it. This wasn't some mystical Dora Milaje training ground. This was their spot. The heart of that idea of 'home' and place they'd probably all been dancing around without realizing it. Feeling it was in some way haunted and incomplete without all of them present and accounted for. Not just the Dora, but Buck too.

That man'd been too stubborn to realize he'd been part of them too. But Barnes… he got it. Sam wasn't sure how he knew. If it was conscious, or something buried deep.

He just did.

"Beyond the usual 'good morning' salutations…" Sam began, "...Is someone gonna explain what that was all about?" He looked to Ayo, and he was damn sure he saw a hint of a legit smile quirk the corner of her face as she turned her head and deferred to… Barnes himself.

The man in question idly shifted his weight to one side, but Sam got the impression he was intending to respond, just that he was searching where to start, "It's called the 'Umdaniso woMlindi.' The Guard's Dance."

"Uh huh…"

"Well sort of. We did it slower than that."

"Close enough," Yama agreed, all encouragement.

Barnes glanced towards her and nodded before turning his attention back to Sam self-consciously, "Ayo thought maybe combining the general ambiance of our present location with physical positioning could prompt specific memories to emerge. That there might be meaningful proximity to the memory I already had from the lab in 2016. The one I dreamed about the night before."

Sam cocked his head at that, "But I thought you said you didn't recall being out here before. Not explicitly at least."

"His body remembers in ways his conscious mind does not," Yama offered from her perch atop the nearby log, as if that wrapped things up in a bow.

Was she grinning?

"I'm not following."

Yeah, she was definitely grinning.

"I don't know what it's like for you," Barnes admitted. "From what the others have said, my mind's wired differently. Sort of like a photographic memory?"

Sam knew that much. What he didn't know was the term Shuri followed Barnes's statement with, "Elements overlap with Hyperthymesia as well, a type of highly superior autobiographical memory."

"We often focused on the visual," Ayo gently corrected, addressing Shuri specifically, "but we'd spoken that layers existed beyond catalogued images, though they were often much fainter and far more selective."

Shuri made a face at that, but it was Barnes that spoke next, looking back to Sam as if trying to help him understand the nuance, "It's everything else. The sounds, smells, change in temperature. I have a sort of…" his face twisted as he sought out his words, "hyper-awareness of my body and my surroundings. Particularly around heightened events."

At that, Sam didn't miss how his blue eyes went straight to Ayo.

Yeah. She was in on this.

"'Heightened… Events…?'" Sam slowly drew out the syllables, but was met with a heavy blanket of silence from Barnes and every last one of the surrounding Dora, even Nomble, who was makin' like it was her solemn duty to watch that kettle of water so it would boil faster. In other circumstances, he might've felt like the odd one out, but that expression on Shuri's face had gone straight from clinical curiosity to having a heaping of something personal and more'n a little irritated in it that she aimed squarelyat Ayo.

Since those two were having a private staring contest, Sam directed the obvious question to Barnes, "...But how does that relate to the Battle Yoga?"

"It wasn't Battle Yoga," Barnes legitimately corrected Sam. "It was…" his voice faded, and he looked to Ayo as if relying on her for a better explanation.

Sam was pretty sure Ayo was intentionally dodging Shuri's eye-line as she responded, "It was structured training we undertook for days, weeks, and months as we learned what one-another were capable of, and how to best channel our intentions into the actions and reactions of our bodies."

Sam could appreciate that the group of them apparently understood the broad strokes of what Ayo was getting at, but he was still missing some key points along the way.

"So…" Shuri began, addressing Ayo specifically, "You thought that perhaps the positioning of his body could draw out further recollections?"

"I did," Ayo agreed, gesturing her hand towards each Yama and Nomble nearby, "But it is credit to my Lieutenants for theorizing that further similarities to past events were needed to successfully manifest memories themselves. Specifically: our positioning and activities as a unit."

"Wait so, that wasn't just about fallin' back into a rhythm in the present?" Sam inquired, perplexed, "You're saying doin' that Battle Yoga out there helped drum up old memories too?"

"It's not Battle Yoga," Barnes repeated, a lick exasperated, "and it's not cohesive. But there are… flashes… little pockets now. Both of the training we did and even some of the time surrounding it." He looked out towards Yama, mystified, but also a little thrilled for his discovery, "I remember you climbing one of those Acacia trees on a dare."

"That happened on a number of occasions," Nomble volunteered from a short distance away, "Did she carve anything into the bark on the time you recall?"

"Nomble!" Yama objected.

"It is a fair question!"

"You carved into trees while you were up there?" Ayo groaned.

"White Wolf dared me!"

"That is not a good reason for a member of the Dora Milaje to leave her mark in our trees!"

"I don't recall daring you," Barnes admitted cautiously, as if he wasn't sure if and how his comment might impact the developing conversation.

Yama rolled her eyes and waved a hand in his direction, "Now you are just being sly."

Shuri waited until there was a break in their running commentary before interjecting, "So the exercises drew up new memories from similar practices, as well as nearby memories?"

Barnes made a face, visibly frustrated, "It's not clear like the dreams from the other night. It's more… fragmented. A jumble of bits and pieces that are hard to make sense of, especially since there isn't any way for me to really… group them, or put them in any sort of order. It's all just a jumble, but…" the tightness in his expression fell away as he lifted his eyes to regard Sam, "But I remember. More than just the lab, and a little bit before that, I mean. I was here before. In Wakanda. Like all of you said."

If the light in that man's bright blue eyes didn't have a way of searing right through Sam with their honesty and revelation. Over the last day or so, Sam'd gotten the impression Barnes was inclined to at least tentatively believe their claims about the broad strokes surrounding the missing pieces of his life, but there was always some underlying trepidation there. A time or two ago, it was because he thought they might be HYDRA, but more recently? It was clear he felt like the only source he could fully trust without question was his own mind, and the buried secrets within it. But this thing Ayo and the others had managed… it was something altogether new entirely.

It wasn't just Barnes havin' a snooze and everyone sitting around after trying to carbon-date his described experiences like a bunch'a well-meaning dreamchronologists. No: this was closer to a living, breathing dialogue. Even if it lacked specifics. Even if it was all a jumble of sights, sounds, and whatever other sensations and feelings Barnes remembered, the fact remained: he remembered. Not just awful, traumatic shit in a Wakandan lab that could easily be confused for something nefarious, but apparently some very poignant, even casual human connections with people around him.

And like glimpsing that Wakandan sunrise Battle Yoga, Sam felt honored, humbled really to be witness to this genuine moment of realization Barnes eagerly shared with him, like AJ and that humid Louisiana night's first lightning bug. Barnes wanted to include him too, even if Sam wasn't a part of those specific memories.

And that mattered.

Wavering levity strung out between his words like a mismatched strand of holiday lights, and Barnes managed to follow with three powerful words that Sam didn't see coming, but one that resonated strong and true, "I wasn't alone."

At his proclamation, that lingering tension Sam could see in Shuri's expression at whatever private words she was holding onto explicitly for Ayo rapidly fell away, replaced with one of those genuine smiles of hers that was warm as it was hopeful.

"You were never alone," Ayo assured him, and damned if the directness in her claim didn't speak to Sam's core.

Barnes didn't smile, not outright, but uncharacteristic glistening tucked around the corners of his eyes sure did have a way of making up for it.

And that moment they shared there, just standing together in the light beams of a Wakandan sunrise… it really was something.

Before the warmth of their shared silence grew uncomfortable, Yama leaned towards Shuri conspiratorially, "While you were resting, you might find it of note that Barnes even made our esteemed Chief laugh."

Shuri blinked, and Ayo sent Yama a stern look that hit the midpoint between reprimand and what might've doubled for faint embarrassment, "Yama, we are well beyond your chosen day of being permitted the freedom to speak your mind without judgement or repercussion."

In response, Yama feigned a pout, but the smile didn't leave her eyes as Princess Shuri shrugged, perhaps a bit too metcheviously, "It would suit me that she, as well as you and your other Dora should feel compelled to maintain such an open arrangement while we work together towards a solution."

Now, it was Ayo made a face at that, but the noble Head of Wakanda's Security didn't object. Sam got the feeling that was already intended to be their modus operandi for the time being. Shuri's blessing just made it more… official.

"You're serious?" Sam ventured. "About the laughing?"

His attention shifted back to Barnes, who only shrugged as if he was still workin' to piece together why Yama's claim was being met with such interest, "It wasn't intentional."

"Which only made it better," Yama added appreciatively.

"He made you laugh?" Shuri repeated, as if ensuring she hadn't misheard.

"I do have humor too," Ayo all-but defended, crossing her arms, "It is simply that most of your humor is not sharp enough for my tastes."

"Now she is claiming our humor is not well-refined," Shuri winked in Yama's direction. In response, Yama's grin only widened.

"Do not encourage my Lieutenant," Ayo warned with not a drop of heat in her voice. Still, Sam was having an awful lot of trouble imagining Ayo laughing, but it was somehow closer to the surface of worldly possibilities now than it had been days earlier when Shuri'd first made the claim while Bucky was languishing in that uncomfortable state of partial-cryo.

"Barnes has also chosen to share a 'Ukupakisha ibhondi' with us," Yama announced, seemingly for Shuri and Sam's benefit, "A Pack Bond. It is a new and proper term I sourced while Barnes and Sam toured Wakanda from the air." She drew one hand into a triangle and threaded it horizontally, miming that perilous 'Grand Theft Aero: Wakandan Edition' experience of theirs into a puppet show that was almost scenic.

Almost.

Yama was still going, "It is akin to the 'fine black sisterhood' and bond you observed. But it is one you are now a part of too." As she cast her hand across those gathered around her, Sam caught Nomble still from her barista duties to offer a one-armed salute… to him. Not to be outdone, Yama grinned and did the same, and was quickly joined by the others, including none-other-than Barnes himself.

There was part of Sam's smart tongue that wanted to slide in a remark that even one-handed, some might think it was bordering on cultural appropriation when he, or especially Barnes did it, but when in Wakanda…

"...I'm supposed to do it back, aren't I?" Sam double-checked, much to Shuri's apparent amusement.

"It would not be deemed inappropriate, given the context," the Princess agreed, tucking her own arm across her chest in a show of royal solidarity.

And so Sam mirrored the gesture and pulled his left hand into a loose fist and placed it opposite his heart and held it there, drinking in the moment of unlikely kinship he could feel emanating with everyone around him, even the man with his Partner's face that meet and held his eyes through the translucent orange energy dome.

And regardless of if this was some kinda official Wakandan pledge or something of Yama's own making, Sam felt it with every part of him. Believed it, with every part of him. Like he'd just gotten adopted into the fold of a club far more exclusive, far more personal than even the Avengers.

He was absolutely going to hold this over Rhodey's head.

Sam smiled to himself, thinkin' 'bout how only four days ago he barely knew half these folks. Hell: he didn't even know Yama and Nomble by name, and now they were all kin too. Extended family forged by not just fire, but choice.

When Shuri lowered her fist, the others followed suit. From a short distance away where she was using one of Shuri's kitchenette contraptions to steam what was probably goat milk, Nomble added, "It is Yama's wish that 'Ukupakisha ibhondi' might be the first phrase you learn in our tongue."

A grin flooded Sam's face, "Challenge accepted."

Barnes squinted, looking between Nomble and Yama for clarification, "Wait, he doesn't know any Wakandan?"

Sam had the misfortune of not following what Barnes was getting at until a moment too late as Yama commiserated, "Contrary to appearances, it is not his Mother Tongue."

And then Barnes, Barnes had the outright audacity to remark, "Well yeah, I gathered that. Sam dresses like an American at best."

"Hey now!" Sam loudly defended, but he was too late, because Shuri's face was already lit up in a wave of laughter shared by both Yama and even Nomble. Speakin' of: Sam woulda' bet both his shoelaces that he caught Ayo snort in a feeble attempt to stifle a chortle of her own, as if letting it out was somehow beneath her dignity.

Sam continued, "You're seriously finding yourself inclined to critique my fashion sense, Barnes? You?"

At that, Barnes just rolled his shoulders, unimpressed, in what was an awfully good approximation of Yama, "Well, according to you, I was apparently brainwashed by HYDRA for the better part of about seventy years. What's your excuse?"

Sam blinked once, twice, and a half a second later, right there in the middle of that idyllic mountain of theirs, Ayo laughed so hard that birds took to wing from the nearby woods.

And Sam just howled right along with her.

[Full Image, Close Up, and GIF Time Lapse of Chapter Art, featuring a painting of Sam Wilson with brown-striped feathered wings spread open, standing with his back facing the viewer, by me (KLeCrone)]

There is quiet beauty in reflection and vulnerability…

Back in February, I was keen on chasing a very particular fragile "feeling," and I'm so heartened that a simple sketch turned into a journey of feathers.

It was intended to be a flavor of fan art for Sam Wilson, but I wanted to chase a more personal, private moment. The sort of moment where we step away from the expectations of others, and give ourselves permission to really *feel.*

I also captured the first fragile moments this piece came to life, where a simple sketch turned the "feels" I was chasing into a journey. The last image above shows a rough animation of the process.

While I'm sure I could write up a story all itself that surrounds this quiet moment, I kept thinking back to this piece as I wrote this chapter. We've spent a lot of time diving into dreams and memories, and it made me wonder about some of the things Sam must dream about. The idea that some of his fondest memories and most terrifying moments potentially involved flying is just… very poignant… and I loved the idea of imagining what that must feel like to fly with *real* wings.

At some point I hope to write up the story that surrounds this quiet moment, but in the meantime, I wanted to share this painting with you. I hope that it can offer you a moment of reflection in these wild, and often turbulent times. ❤

Simply search for: "KLeCrone Ao3 Winter of the White Wolf"

Author's Remarks:

Hey all! I just got back from camping and had a wonderful time!

I'm still processing my first return to Lightning in a Bottle since my major injury in 2017, and besides the heat, it was end-to-end everything I needed. To spend time with friends, to reconnect me to so many wonderful experiences, to re-immerse myself (safely!) among artists, creatives, and other beautiful souls I just... I don't think I had any idea how much *missing* just being truly present in the moment until I was there. And I'm just so excited to see how I can bring that fire back with me. ❤ Here are a few photos!

[Many photos of my adventures at Lightning in a Bottle]

Did I do a quick sketch of Barnes while I was watching the sunrise? I absolutely did!

[Full Image of a sketch of Barnes standing against a sunrise, by me (KLeCrone)]

The timing for this chapter dovetails so nicely with those experiences, and I hope you enjoyed the levity!

This chapter included some beautiful, feel-good moments, didn't it?

…But like all things, something tells me it isn't going to last forever, because at *some* point soon, we have a whole world beyond this mountain to get back to…

This continues to be a living, breathing story, and I want to thank all of you for sharing your enthusiasm with me, and for offering such wonderful reactions, thoughts, and conversations. I'll say it once and a hundred times more: your comments, kudos, and encouragement continue to be a light in these trying times. Thank you, thank you for sharing this journey with me.