Winter of the White Wolf: Post S1 of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

by KLeCrone

While Bucky would prefer to believe that his time as the Winter Soldier is long behind him, strange dreams and the shadows of missing memories prompt him to explore where the Winter Soldier ends and the White Wolf begins... This story dives into the bonds of friendship, the aftermath of betrayal, and includes a lively mix of banter, action, angst, and globe-trotting adventure.

66. Circumpolar Stars

I had the pleasure of working with two incredible artists for their beautiful contributions to this chapter (along with my profound thanks of being willing to hold tight on sharing their finished work for so many months)!

Both Ellarie ("ellariepng" on Instagram) and Indie ("llewyngs" on Twitter) on paintings to accompany this chapter.

Please check out this chapter on Archive of Our Own to see the art and links to their social media pages to see more of their beautiful art!

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

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Summary:

In the wake of discovering the underlying shape of the strange item Bucky once encountered in the Dark Place, Shuri and the others seek to learn more about the object's mysterious origins, and how it might relate more deeply to the situation with Barnes…

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Winter of the White Wolf

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Chapter 66 - Circumpolar Stars

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"...I think I might know where it came from. And what your friend did."

At Barnes's proclamation, at least half the people assembled around him opened their mouths to speak at once, but a quick cutting motion of Shuri's hand preempted whatever questions were forming on their lips. Shuri wasted no time in adjusted the acoustics surrounding them to return to normal, but she knew this discovery was far too important to risk chasing tangential topics that–

The communication bead along Shuri's wrist vibrated sharply and it took conscious effort to push down the momentary flare of irritation at the untimely interruption. It pulsed white and purple in a tight pattern she immediately recognized as a high-priority message from the Design Group.

Shuri cocked her head and expanded the message. She expected to be met with a wave of comparative analyses, but instead there were only a few sparse lines of text accompanying two live data feeds with sharp peaks and valleys on the readouts:

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[Kimoyo Bead Text Messages Between Shuri and a contact at the Wakandan Design Group]:

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[Message from WDG] You asked us to alert you of any sudden changes in our patient's readings, so I wanted to call attention to a recent spike in activity within his prefrontal cortex and peripheral nervous system.

[Message from WDG] Have you observed any incidents that might account for the onset of these changes?"

---

Well that was interesting. Had their mere conversation with Barnes caused the activation, or perhaps it had been something to do with the object in his hand?

Or both?

Shuri's fingers quickly composed a response, though she was well-aware of the many anxious eyes upon her:

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[Message from Shuri] | We are presently assembled in conversation surrounding his experiences in the Dark Place.

[Message from Shuri] | I would suggest putting additional focus into readings surrounding this timestamp and cross-comparing them to the ones from related discussions as well as the training exercises he did with the Dora Milaje this morning to see if we can discover any correlations or causeways to form renewed access to discrete memories.

[Message from WDG] Such analyses are already well underway.

[Message from WDG] We are hopeful that the extended duration of what we are calling the 'Sunrise Exercise' may prove fruitful to developing methods to actively prompt his memory recall.

[Message from WDG] While we appreciate your description of events surrounding it, is there intention to share the corresponding video feed of the event so that we can cross-compare it to the data streams?

[Message from Shuri] | Likely yes, but due to the sensitivity surrounding it, I would like to first discuss it with my brother and General Okoye.

[Message from WDG] That must be some video recording, then.

[Message from WDG] I'll relay the message to the others.

[Message from WDG] Based on what you're implying, we can plan to incorporate additional layers of security to ensure that recording, like the others, doesn't go further than these walls.

---

The lead engineer's message was meant to inspire confidence and resolve, but for a moment Shuri's contingency-focused mind couldn't help but worry about the many 'what ifs' that could come about if any of this sensitive data, particularly the video footage, were to be viewed by audiences outside the Design Center.

She didn't want to have to lecture anyone on the importance of privacy, and how recordings were to be limited only to the scientists and engineers assigned to their case, but she also wasn't naive enough to believe there was no risk that the footage might slip into further fingers. Regardless of if there was audio accompanying the feed inside the dome or not, the footage was… problematic at best. Especially after the violence of two days before.

Sure, it might not be made into silly memes and truncated clips like that footage of her brother tumbling out of the back of an escaping jet and falling into the body of water below, but this… it had the potential to be damaging. To raise questions about why, for instance, members of the Dora Milaje would find themselves to be inclined to sit and eat with someone who was supposed to be a prisoner. And not only that: Someone who clearly shared at least some fraction of their secretive training techniques.

These were anything but pleasant thoughts, but it was Shuri's responsibility to know the risks surrounding her actions and requests for assistance, and to know that well-meaning as they were, it was not without possibility that they could be perceived as damaging to her Doras, herself, or the royal family as a whole.

Which was itself a contributing factor to why she thought it best she not be seen stepping inside the dome, even if it was advisable and with the best of intentions. Even if she did not think Barnes presently intended her harm, he was still dangerous, and anyone reviewing such footage, even the scientists themselves, would know that solemn truth.

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[Message from WDG] I will speak with you again after our discussion here is concluded, but do not hesitate to alert me if any readings grow concerning.

[Message from WDG] Of course, Princess Shuri.

[Message from WDG] I will send over our initial findings for you to review at your convenience.

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Though curiosity gnawed at her to take a quick peek at the data, Shuri did her best to remind herself the charts and spreadsheets weren't going anywhere, and to instead focus her attention back on the present conversation with the five people standing around her who were patiently waiting to hear what follow-up question she'd been planning before being interrupted.

Intrinsically, Shuri knew they were waiting to follow her lead, but when she looked up from her wrist, her overactive mind was momentarily stilled when she found Barnes's sky blue eyes staring back at her.

Barnes didn't say a word. He simply stood, regarding her from across the semi-transparent shell of undulating orange light that separated them, searching her eyes for answers while he awaited whatever questions she had for him.

But for a moment, just a moment, it was as if Shuri saw James, specifically.

Barnes might not have known it, not consciously, but he wore the same expression she'd seen countless times before. One that looked to her for answers. For reassurances. For hope. One that put trust in her, even in her own times of self-doubt.

And though there was little she could presently offer him in the way of grand solutions for the strange predicament they'd found themselves in, it was oddly nourishing to see that expression again. That even though it was Barnes that wore it now, she had no doubt that he recognized her as an ally now too.

The sight of such resolve made her wonder how much more he recalled of his time in Wakanda, but now was not the time to pursue needlessly curious questions. There would be time enough for that later.

Shuri nodded once and cast her attention to the dark nanites assembled in a modified imitation of a semi-liquid state within Barnes's outstretched right hand. The overall shape formed by the sand-sized drones was easily identifiable as a wavering five-pointed star that was a few centimeters wider than Barnes's palm. The structure was thickest in the raised center of the star, but thinned out as it reached each point. Beneath the murmuration of vibrating nanites, the underlying form appeared to be sharply geometric, with ridges and valleys accentuating each angle.

Shuri only wished she knew what, if any meaning it had, but even she had to admit that Ayo's creative gamble had borne fruit.

…Though she could, and would still be cross for Ayo choosing not to wake her.

"You said you might know where it came from?" Shuri prompted, motioning to the wavering vibranium star in his open palm, "Its origins?"

Barnes returned the inquiry with a single tight nod, "It's not exactly the same, but it's close to the shape of the object I had in my hand when I was in my Ukuphupha, in the Dark Place." His stubbled expression shifted as he struggled to relay the details, "But I had it the whole time I was there. Your friend didn't. He found it during his visit."

With decided intention, Barnes lowered his gaze back to the object in his hand and he carefully ran his thumb across the span of it. In response, the dark nanites danced in place, responding to the renewed contact by briefly solidifying into a thickened mesh before falling away and letting the probing finger through. Shuri didn't get the impression Barnes had concluded whatever he intended to say, but rather he was perhaps hoping the renewed contact might drum up something useful for him to latch onto.

Like Sam, Ayo, Yama, and Nomble close by, Shuri silently observed his subtle searching movements, doing what she could to take a page from Ayo's book and not rush him to speak. It was difficult to restrain herself from barraging him with any number of probing follow-up questions.

Rather than test his patience with a deluge of well-meaning inquiries, she searched her mind to recall exactly what James had said when he'd been in her care just two days ago. He'd mentioned it was as if there were many objects all around him that he could sense but couldn't see. When she'd asked if he could guess what they were based on their size and shape, he'd briefly gone silent before coming to the conclusion he couldn't readily identify any of them.

Shuri found herself backpedaling, honing in on the precise wording James had used in that recording she'd strung out on loop while she struggled to decipher what might've happened to derail his mind in such a pointed and unexplained way. She'd assumed, perhaps wrongly, that what Barnes had glimpsed in the Dark Place were perhaps the same as James touched. Fruit, papers, a cup, tools, books, a skull, keys, a jar, clothing, and so on.

But she now realized that wasn't what James had said. He hadn't offered any clarification or approximations for whatever objects he sensed in his state of Ukuphupha. Perhaps they weren't even in the same location? They were only dreams after all.

Weren't they?

It was remarkably difficult to know what she was over-thinking, and what breadcrumbs might be crucial in their quest for some manner of resolution, especially when it appeared possible that some key pieces may lay buried in memories and dreams themselves.

Shuri adjusted her jaw and ran the pockets of conversation she'd had with James through her mind over and over again, focusing on the last words James had spoken aloud:

"I can't identify that object."

That object.

Had he been focused on one item in particular without her even realizing it? Could it be the same one Barnes held in his hand now?

Why had he not said anything?

"What do you mean he found it? Shuri prompted, hopeful Barnes might be aware of further details that could aid their cause.

"It was there, in one of the mounds of stuff laying around him that he couldn't see. But this piece in particular felt important to him. He was trying to figure out what it was."

"And the object in your hand now, you think it is similar in form to what he felt?" Shuri clarified.

"Yes," Barnes ran his thumb over the pointed peak forming the center of the star, "It's the same overall shape I felt when I was in the Dark Place too."

Shuri caught her breath a moment as she chose her next words carefully, "We do not have a clear view of what our friend experienced during his visit. Only the words he exchanged with me on the recording I showed you."

Shuri'd planned to say more, but Barnes raised his head to meet her gaze, "I remember hearing you. Not from the recording, but from within the Dark Place itself. Your voice was garbled towards the end, but you were asking your friend about what he was experiencing. What he could sense. You were reminding him not to go too far. To focus on trying to recall a recent memory from the snows of Wakanda. You wanted to know if any of the objects around him reminded him of that." He squinted his face slightly as he added, "You said he was in control. That he was safe. That he wasn't merely a passenger."

Shuri was certain her face must have fallen a little in response, at how overconfident and remarkably wrong she'd been, even if Barnes was only parroting her own words back at her rather than layering them with accusation. "Yes. That was our only intent. To help him find a way to reconnect to a recently buried memory in the hope we might uncover a way to unlock other memories. But you– but our friend," she quickly corrected, "he did not say much, and his responses were often slow in coming. Do you… remember what he experienced on his side of the veil as he pursued something that reminded him of the snows of Wakanda?"

"I don't know," Barnes admitted, "It's hard to explain. I wasn't in his head like that. I don't know exactly what he was thinking or feeling throughout his experience. It's like I was present but…" he chewed on the corner of his lip once before licking them, "but I don't know if it has anything to do with what you were after. There were shifts in temperature. Currents. The wall of water I saw during my visit was there too, I think."

At that, Ayo's patient voice cut in, tempered with that remarkably calm tone Shuri was coming to associate as her way of seeking audience between her and Barnes, "You have been very descriptive of what you experienced when you stepped through the Dark Place, but we have very little knowledge of our friend's activities during his visit. If there is anything you remember, no matter how small, it might prove invaluable to understanding what has happened. Could you step us through what you recall of his experience?"

Shuri wanted to hear what Barnes had to say, but she couldn't stop herself from adding, "Just how far back do you remember?"

Instead of an explicit answer, Barnes looked up at the shield between them and inquired, "I think I can pinpoint it if you pull up the surveillance footage of the lab again, and grant me control of the playback."

---

There were an almost stifling amount of questions surrounding the the five-pointed star resting in Barnes's palm, but he knew that there was only so much he could figure out on his own, and that meant pushing his own questions aside for the moment so he could try to get on the same page with the nearby people hanging on his every word like their very future depended on it.

Which it did.

His future, at least.

Likewise, considering the frustrating instability of his own mind, it made sense for him to recount what he could of the experience in case the details later slipped through his fingers once more.

Once Shuri granted him control over the playback of their view within the lab, Barnes used the Kimoyo Beads surround his wrist to shuttle the security recording and cross-compared its crisp audio clips to the fresh, but muted memory of what he'd glimpsed in the Dark Place during the visit when he didn't feel as though he'd been the one in control. It didn't take him long to locate the precise moment where the two auditory memories synced up, "Here. It's just before your friend said 'That's different.' That's the earliest I can recall."

Barnes projected the paused recording of the interior of Shuri's Lab onto the dome itself, bringing up a secondary menu along the side with a time stamped transcript of the conversation. The freeze frame showed their friend seated on a silver examination chair. His eyes were closed, and he had on the same drab clothes and blue shawl Barnes recalled from the day before. Small electronic diodes were visible near his temples and just above his eyebrows, devices which Shuri claimed were meant to artificially stimulate rapid-eye movement and collect precise data during what she'd hoped to be a benign experiment.

Instead, he'd crushed each of those tiny devices under his heel only minutes later, unaware of their intended purpose, or that he was inadvertently sabotaging his own well-being and others in the process.

He frowned, regarding the other figures assembled around the man in the chair. Shuri and Ayo stood in front of him. Yama observed from just to his right, while Sam and Nomble kept watch from a short distance away on his left. Though each of the regaliaed warriors held their spears in one hand, Barnes now recognized their postures were an easygoing guard stance and not at all tense.

They did not view the man in the chair as a threat. Though they soon would.

"What do you recall of your experience on the other side?" Shuri pressed, pulling him back to the present.

Barnes returned his attention to the object in his hand as he considered her words and tried to connect the earliest memories he had that likely correlated to the still frame of video projected on the wall of the dome between he and Shuri, "It was dark, though your friend could feel a trickle of current in his periphery. Almost like a rivulet of water. It wasn't painful, but he could feel his eyes moving around under his eyelids without consciously trying to control them. Your friend's first instinct was to open his eyes to clear the sensation, but he tried to ignore it since he knew it was an intended component of the procedure. But once his eyes started moving, it's like… it's as if he was pulled deeper." Barnes backtracked on his own words, "Maybe 'pulled' isn't the right word. But one moment his eyes were closed, and the next, it was as if he was present somewhere else too. In the Dark Place. Though he didn't know it yet."

Barnes let his words stand for a moment before he added, "Then I heard your friend say this." With decided intention, he toggled the playback control on the holographic display over his wrist and the recording came to life across the holographic shell of the energy dome.

"That's... different..." the man with his face remarked aloud from his perk on the examination chair. To Barnes's eyes now, he could recognize the man wasn't distressed, and neither were the figures around him.

Not yet, at least.

But it was now up to him to try and fill in the blanks in the recording with unseen pieces only he possessed.

From only a step in front of the seated figure, Shuri's recorded likeness inquired, "Good? Bad? In what way? Is it too strong?"

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

Shuri briefly paused the recording to address him in the present, "So you now recall being there. On the other side of his experiences?" Her tone was clinical as it was curious.

"As a passenger, yes," Barnes clarified.

She crossed her arms and nodded once, tapping a menu to resume the playback.

"I would like to tune it." The recorded image of her noted, "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, it's okay." The man with his likeness paused a moment before adding, "The sensation is stronger now. Deeper?"

"Do you see anything?"

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

"Describe it to me."

Barnes heard the audio of the recording, but at the same time his mind traced back to when they'd first shown it to him out here on the mountain, overlapped with a distorted version of the same voice, the same words, that was muddled, as if Shuri had been speaking to him under a body of water.

He did his best to focus on that experience specifically. But try as he might, Barnes found it surprisingly difficult to separate his own experiences from the figures speaking on the recording, and the continued, surreal sight that the one seated on the chair looked like him, sounded like him, but also wasn't him. Not exactly.

Yet he was no longer convinced that the stranger in the chair was someone else entirely.

If the passing days had taught him anything, it was that there was still a lot he didn't understand, and even though some part of him still saw fit to question if everything these people were saying was necessarily true or not, Barnes was no longer inclined to insist that the figure with his eyes closed in the lab's surveillance recording wasn't somehow him in some unexplainable way. He did his best to focus on the recording, to try to percolate on what parts of his experiences in the Dark Place were his own, and how he might relay those muddled, often indistinct currents in the hopes of filling in any number of blanks for the figures standing out in the mountain grass around him. Each of them watched him with such pointed intensity, as if hoping a single word might somehow shed new light on what had happened.

He did what he could to focus his attention back on the recording, but he found himself pulled up out of the Dark Place, where every passing second of the recording was like seeing it with new eyes.

Now, when he saw Shuri speaking with the figure in the chair, he could see the trust between them. The history. The man's body was not tethered down, and there were no shields between them. Not only did she not fear him, but it was clear she wanted so much to help him. Each step, each word she spoke was guided with patience, respect, and unspoken consent.

It was not far removed from his memory of when Ayo'd first spoken the code words and Shuri stood ready to help deconstruct how they functioned so she could remove their poisoned snares.

Now, he could remember flickers of conversations with her. A view out by a lake. What might've been a coffee shop. Even carefully sparring with her under Ayo's steadfast gaze.

There was history there, solid and true as the figures standing silently nearby while they watched the show-and-tell lumber forward.

And Barnes wanted to continue, he wasn't intending to delay or withhold any information from them, but the sight of the recording freshly struck him to silence at the knowledge that if he let the video run its course, in only a minute's time, he would witness the moment where he came into himself and violently injured Ayo and Nomble before swiftly maneuvering to take Sam hostage.

And those vicious actions couldn't be blamed on the man in the chair, nor were they directives demanded by HYDRA. No: They were Barnes's own.

Given different choices, different opportunities in the flow of battle, he might've injured, even killed one or more of them. All without recognizing them for who they were. What they represented.

They were Bucky's friends.

And now his too, in some way.

And he might've killed them.

Barnes pulled in a sharp breath and worked to ground himself in the present, to focus on the mission set before him. He–

"We know this is hard for you," Ayo's soft voice offered from just beside him, "but we are not cross for you for what happened when you did not know us."

When Barnes glanced to his left, he could read the compassion clear in her sepia-brown eyes. It was mirrored in the expressions of everyone around her.

Even Sam.

"We're good," Sam insisted from just beside Shuri in what Barnes recognized as an attempt to be encouraging.

As if by second-nature alone, Barnes found himself carefully assessing the man in front of him through a series of quick checks to cross-compare with his internal rubric on whether or not he was lying or telling the truth.

Eyes - Focused. Vision stable. Pupils responsive.

Pulse - Approximately 80 beats per minute. Not elevated compared to normal resting heart rate.

Breathing pattern - Unlabored.

Perspiration - Unremarkable.

The results could never be conclusive, but Barnes was inclined to believe him.

That they were 'Good.'

Though the simple statement was meant to be encouraging, Barnes knew this wasn't the time to stall out or lose himself in reminiscing over decisions that led him to what he now recognized as guilt. He had to hope there might be something in his memories that could help them understand what had happened, and to keep it from ever happening again.

Barnes glanced between Sam, Nomble, Yama, Shuri, Ayo and back to Sam before nodding once and licking his lips, "It's difficult. Knowing how it plays out. But I'll try." He took a deep breath and looked back to the timecode and projected display, doing his best to recall in painstaking detail what it'd been like on the other side of things.

"I think initially he thought it was a sort of dream. Or maybe the void dreams leave behind? But it wasn't like a movie or standing back and watching events unfold around you. He felt oddly present, and so did I, even though we couldn't see anything. It was completely black."

Barnes took a quick, grounding breath before continuing, "He reached out to try and see his hands, but he wasn't alarmed when he found nothing there. He could feel his body and he knew Shuri and others were monitoring him, so he just assumed this was part of whatever experiment she had planned." Barnes caught Shuri cringe at his remark, but she didn't debate his claim.

"But your friend wanted to understand where he was and what was around him. Like maybe that was part of the challenge. But there was nothing to be seen. No landmarks to go by or orient himself."

The recorded lab's audio of Shuri spoke up for all of them to hear, "If you can't see anything, can you feel anything with your senses?"

"He didn't initially," Barnes clarified, reminding himself that the people standing around him weren't aware of the other side of the experience, only their friend's sparse words, "The only real sensation at first was… we were barefoot. Standing upright in some sort of sand or soil. But when he reached out into the darkness, he could feel just… hints of sensation. Sort of like trying to navigate around under water by touch. But instead of coming into contact with walls or solid forms, it was like now and then our hands were met with resistance. Like there was pressure pushing back, making it challenging to understand or map out our surroundings. And because they weren't entirely solid, it almost felt like being in a hedge maze where the walls might be inclined to move or reposition themselves just to throw you off. It felt like the surroundings were… not malicious, but intentionally challenging, almost."

A few steps in front of him, on the other side of the dome, Shuri re-crossed her arms, clearly trying to follow along as she watched her own recorded white and purple-clad figure repeat her previous question, "Can you feel anything?"

Their friend's answer was slow in coming, "Sort of, but I don't know what to make of it. Like I'm in liquid?"

"Describe it for me."

Again, the seated figure in the examination chair grew quiet, but Barnes was now acutely aware that his delay hadn't been intentional. It was due in part to the growing disconnect between the figure immersed in the all-encompassing experience within the Dark Place and the outside world, whose audio was growing ever-more distant and difficult to make out. "There are objects around me, I think. It's as if I can tell they're there for how the pitch of the space changes when I move and turn my head. I can feel them, but I can't see them. I'm not sure what they are, but there's a lot of them."

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

Barnes let the recording run for another twenty seconds of silence before he paused the playback, "He was trying to answer your question, but he was having trouble focusing with so much around him that he didn't understand. It was almost overwhelming, not being able to orient himself amid the jumbles of unidentifiable rubble all around him. Even at night, or in the dark, there's usually something you can make out. Some hint of your surroundings. But it wasn't like that when your friend was in the Dark Place. There was simply… nothing. Yet at the same time, he could sense there were things nearby. But there wasn't enough to determine what they were, or where he was. If it was a dream. A nightmare. Indoors. Outdoors. Somewhere new, or somewhere he'd been before but didn't recognize."

"Were you alone?" Ayo ventured.

"I…" Barnes considered her question, trying to focus on unseen experiences hiding behind the lab's surveillance, "I'm not sure. I couldn't see anything, and I didn't hear any voices, breathing, footsteps, or any normal tells like that, but…"

"...But…?"

He chewed the side of his lip, "...I don't know. Sometimes when he put his hand out to try and figure out what was around him, it was like whatever was on the other side wasn't quite solid. Maybe it moved? Or maybe the motion of his hand made it move, like running your hand through the water near a cluster of seaweed?"

Where had that comparison come from? Had he ever even seen seaweed?

He pushed the question aside and his eyes fell to the strangely familiar shape now resting in his palm.

Shuri must've caught the shift in his attention, "Is that when you noticed the object in your hand?"

He shook his head, "No. It wasn't in my hand then. His hand. It was… laying somewhere among the other forms in the darkness but I think it was around then that he first touched it? He couldn't identify it, but he was trying to."

"That specific object?"

"Yeah. When your friend couldn't determine the shape, he tried to pick it up, but he couldn't because it was attached. Like it was fused with its surroundings. It didn't make much sense because whatever-it-was wasn't really substantive and would give way if he pressed his fingers into it. But then it would sort of rebound if he stopped applying pressure. Even though it wasn't entirely solid, he couldn't easily separate it to get a better understanding of it."

"Do you know why he sought out that object in particular?" Shuri inquired.

Barnes considered the question, "I don't know for sure. It might've been because you'd asked him to try to locate something that reminded him about the snows of Wakanda? But he didn't have much to go by. He didn't remember anything, and neither do I."

Shuri shifted her weight as she sought to follow the trajectory of his words, "He thought there might be a connection? Howso?"

"It was cooler than the other objects. Just slightly. He could feel it emanating even before he touched it. Like it was distinct from the objects around it. Important. But when he couldn't identify it, he took notice of other currents moving around him."

"All while standing still?"

"No. He tried to trace where the chill was coming from. What direction. He stepped towards it and he could feel the sensation grow stronger, like he was trying to trace where a jet of cold water was leaking into his surroundings."

Barnes toggled the playback again, and the stubbled face that was his but wasn't adjusted his jaw while his eyes darted to and fro beneath closed lids, "I can't identify that object, but I can sense it's colder in one direction down here. I think."

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

Seeing the footage now, Barnes could see key landmarks in Shuri's evolving posture that betrayed growing concern that her subject's responses were becoming increasingly more delayed and spaced out. She glanced over her shoulder to Ayo, as if seeking acknowledgement of their friend's oddly slow responses.

Ayo's recorded face betrayed little beyond deep focus, but Barnes saw her shift her weight off what he now recognized as her bad leg, as if perhaps something she saw prompted a hint of quiet discontent.

Maybe he was only seeing things.

The figures in the recording were a silent mirror of those watching the playback. Observing. Waiting. Listening. Trying to piece together an unsettling experience that even knowing what he did now, Barnes could make little sense of.

It was Shuri that spoke next from across the orange energy barrier between them, "The words in the recording, those were the last ones our friend spoke. Do you know what actions he took in the Dark Place thereafter? What happened between then and…" she trailed off a moment before awkwardly concluding her thought, "when you awoke?"

Barnes came back into himself with a tight nod, trying to step through the details, aware that perhaps somewhere in the darkness there was a breadcrumb that might shed light on what had happened so it wouldn't happen again.

So no one else would get hurt.

"He was trying to do what you were asking, but he was also running his hands over the jumbles of objects nearby him. He was trying to piece together just what they were. What they meant. But at the same time, he kept being drawn back to explore that colder area. Almost like it was calling to him." Barnes raised his fingers briefly, miming the motion he remembered not-him making as he extended his hand out towards the source of the unseen chill, "He discovered… something like a barrier. A thick liquid. Maybe it was that wall of water I saw in the Dark Place? I'm not sure. But when he pushed his fingers against it, his whole body seized up. Like it was screaming at him not to go any further."

"Did he go through?" Shuri asked.

Barnes shook his head, "No, he pulled back. He decided to try and focus his attention on the other objects piled nearby. But most of them were indistinct too. Certain shapes he could almost make out, but the associations to them were dull. Vague. There was something shaped like a bowl, a ladle, and a book among the rubble, I think, but he was hoping he might be able to identify them, or maybe have any sort of emotional reaction to them. Recognition of what they were or what they represented. But even when he touched them, he couldn't feel any deep connection with them. It was always just out of reach. And when he tried to press his fingers into them, they would give way, almost like they were made of sand. He could hear you talking, but by that point, you were distant, almost like you were in another room behind a closed door."

With a quick gesture of two fingers, Barnes resumed the playback, and Shuri's white and purple clad figure regarded a nearby set of holographic readouts before taking a step closer to the man seated innocuously in front of her, "Does anything you sense connect you to a memory from the snows of Wakanda? Remember that you are in control. You are safe. You are not merely a passenger in what you see."

Barnes recognized that her tone was meant to inspire comfort, to anchor him in the purpose of their shared activity, but though her friend wasn't intentionally disobeying her instructions, he'd instead searched for a way to tether himself to his experiences, to understand the strange realm he was experiencing, and what it meant.

But what did it mean?

He wasn't sure how long the silence lingered out in the mountain air before Ayo's voice brought him back to the present, "You said you remembered where the object in your hand came from, and what our friend did?"

His attention lifted to the woman beside him and he nodded once, refocusing on the conversation at-hand as he regarded the undulating five-pointed star in his palm, "Yeah he… he eventually went looking for that first object again. The one from earlier that was a little cool to the touch. He thought maybe that might've been what he was looking for all along. It was like it was calling out to him, pulling him back so he could find it again. And he did. When he touched it, there was… a resonance, sort of. Familiarity. It was a strange sensation, but reassuring. Like it wanted to be found again. But he had to stretch himself to reach it, and he couldn't quite get his fingers around it, so he used his other hand to cup the back of it, like this," Barnes mimed the motion. "And for a moment, it felt more solid then, when he was using both hands. Like it was what he'd been searching for."

"And then…?" Shuri pressed, leaning closer.

Barnes looked back at the five-pointed star in his palm, "And then he pulled it. Hard." Barnes tilted his head up at Shuri, "I think it broke free. Then…" he looked back to the recording, still paused in a moment of calm before the coming storm, "...then based on that recording, I woke up in that chair, in that lab."

---

So Sam'd been hoping, perhaps naively, that maybe this whole conversation here'd been heading towards some sort of decisive, all-encompassing reveal that would shed some much-needed light on what'd happened, so then they could…

…then they could what?

Beyond the obvious desire to stabilize the other man's memories, Sam wasn't even sure what sort of resolution was even possible at this point, because it was becoming increasingly clear to him that, like it or not: this situation they'd found themselves in was no longer just about getting back to where he and Buck'd left off two days ago. Especially now when it seemed like they were just dipping into different, sometimes overlapping wells of memories themselves.

And frustrating as it was: Sam didn't know where that left any of them, Barnes included.

Just a few steps in front of him, the man with his Partner's face stood having near-to a staring contest with that black, 3D-printed, five-pointed star in his open palm like it was wrapped in a blanket of secrets he just couldn't pierce though.

But that's all it was. Just a star. Nothing more. Nothing less. A benign shape that Buck'd apparently decided to what? Yank free while he was dream walking without tellin' any of 'em?

But why?

Sam didn't get the impression Barnes had any nefarious desire to intentionally lead them astray with twisted takes on his memory of events, but none of this made a lick of sense. How was it that something Buck had imagined while he'd been sittin' there with his eyes closed could have led to a cascade of a fallout like this?

The group gathered around Barnes had fallen into one of those uneasy silences that was tendered with precious hope that maybe someone would be inclined to speak up and make sense of Barnes's most recent declarations, but the longer that silence drew on, the more Sam worried that after all that, they still had a whole lot of nothing to go on.

Just a simple shape that apparently Buck'd gone klepto with in his own mind.

When continued conversation didn't appear to be readily forthcoming, Sam took inventory of the folks around him. Yama was perched just to his left and Shuri to his right. The resident genius had stilled from fiddling with that holographic readout of hers, and her features were pinched together in thought. Just inside the shield, Nomble stood on one side of Barnes with Ayo on the other. The two Dora Milaje said nothing, but they both searched for answers in that dark black star laying in Barnes's palm.

Ayo went in for the obvious question, "Did he know what would happen when he pulled it free?"

Barnes's face made a little twinge at that, "No. I don't think so, at least."

"Why then would he break it off?"

He shrugged his shoulders, but it was clear he wished he had a better answer to offer them, "I don't know. I wasn't him. I didn't make the decision. I just know that's what he did." There might've been a touch of defensiveness in Barnes's voice, but Sam couldn't entirely blame him. The whole thing end-to-end was one big 'ol pile of weird, and knowing Buck as he did, Sam had to imagine that he would'a just assumed if you wandered around in some sort of dream state, that what you chose to do there wouldn't exactly impact the outside world.

Certainly not like this.

"But in your visit to the Dark Place, you stated that you felt the decisions were your own," Ayo challenged, rolling her palm face-up as if miming Barnes, "And you said you had this with you then. What compelled you to keep hold of it?"

It didn't take Barnes more than a fraction of a second to consider his answer, "It was important. I didn't know what it was, but I just… knew." His face furled together in thought.

"It's shaped like a star," Sam found his voice as he stated the obvious, "But does that one in particular mean anything to you?"

"I'd tell you if I knew."

On one hand, the frustration in Barnes's voice was palpable but a little too pointed to qualify as banter, but there was something subtle laced into his tone that struck Sam as reassuring. Specifically, that Barnes was clearly trying to figure this out with them rather than being set on working against them or keeping any number of cards close to his chest.

Sam was damn-well empathetic enough to recognize that Barnes was trying his best to cross compare that trinket in his hand to whatever was swimming around in the corners of his mind, but he wasn't coming up with anything that struck him as a clear ringer.

"You used to have a star on your shoulder," Sam offered, trying to be helpful. "The old model, I mean."

The metal shoulder in question was presently covered with the cup of a steel-blue short-sleeved shirt as well as that blue, black, and gold shawl T'Challa'd given him, but Barnes knew exactly what symbol Sam'd been referring to. He grasped the star in his palm and used his free finger and thumb to briefly touch the spot the symbol had once been emblazoned before he pulled his hand away, as if he didn't want it lingering there too long, "No it's–" he began, but he abruptly stopped. His face reframed itself as he lifted his attention to Shuri, specifically. "You said you made the words benign. That's why I can remember them now."

She nodded, "Yes. Our theory was your captors did not want you to retain them, or for you to be capable of sharing them with others that might work against their devious intentions."

Sam got the impression Barnes was listening to her, but he was also off chasing a thread at the same time. He leaned forward towards Barnes, "What is it?"

"It's…there's other layers too. Like that. Things HYDRA did to obscure their work. Hide it. So deep I'm not sure he even knew it was there. Your friend, I mean." Barnes's brow furled together in concentration.

"What things did he not know were there?" Ayo pressed, "Are they things you now know?"

Barnes adjusted his jaw, "I don't know what your friend knew or didn't. It's not clear like that. But HYDRA, they… there were books they had. Manuals that the handlers read from. But it wasn't just that. They were safeguarded, like the words. They didn't want any of us getting access to them. Using them against them. Even their own people."

"Wait, you're losing me here," Sam waved a hand to slow Barnes down so he could catch up, "'Books?' You mean the one with the code words? Bu– our friend – mentioned something about a book. It was how they managed to get to you– him a ways back."

Shuri stepped in, "Our friend could not recall the details surrounding it. Only the broad strokes."

"Our War Dogs were not able to retrieve surveillance footage of its last confirmed use," Ayo added, "For the power had been cut to mask the sinister intentions of the man who used it against our friend."

Yep. The Wakandans were doin' their best to dance around that whole round one with Zemo, and Sam couldn't blame 'em.

Ayo raised her chin, "What made you think of the book now?"

Barnes cast his attention back to the five-pointed star in his palm, "This was the symbol on the cover. On one, at least. A red book with a black star."

That right there was news to Sam, and judging from the not-so-subtle reactions of the Wakandans standing around them, it was a revelation for them as well.

After Zemo'd pulled his bullshit back at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre and Steve'd fished his brainwashed childhood friend out of the drink and pinned that metal arm of his under a hydraulic press, they had more'n a few ongoing Q&A sessions with the Buck, but around every turn, there'd been more questions than answers. Little pockets of intel surrounded by loads more he claimed he couldn't remember. And beneath it all was a decided urgency to get to Siberia as quickly as possible, so they could stop Zemo from unleashing those other Winter Soldiers on a world that could barely handle one.

Bucky hadn't exactly been a chatty Cathy back then, but about the only drop of comfort Buck'd inadvertently given Sam was the download that the words that turned him all Manchurian candidate were jotted down in some book, so it tracked that Buck wasn't going suddenly turn on he or Steve again out of the blue. That distant reassurance didn't mean that Sam let himself get too comfortable, though. He'd watched Bucky brood in the cramped back seat of that blue Beetle for long enough to believe that as rough and damaged as he was around the edges, he seemed to believe the words spillin' out of his mouth. So that just meant that Sam had to hope he was telling the truth. That they weren't just playing right into another trap. Because Steve sure wasn't open to the possibility that Buck could'a been lyin' to them intentionally. But that was Steve for you: Whole lotta black and white and not a lot in between.

But see, hindsight was bitch, because now that Barnes was ruminating on that book, Sam found himself running circles around a whole host of buried thoughts he'd assumed were dealt with and filed away. One was that he and Steve had both assumed the Bucky giving them intel about those other Winter Soldiers was generated from his own free will, but now Sam found himself wondering if he might've been compelled by his programming, or even Zemo without realizing it. Hell: What exactly was in that book? Was it just a list of cheat codes to Buck's brain, or were there instructions? If there were instructions on that time delay failsafe Ayo'd mentioned, why hadn't Zemo thought to use that, too? Had he simply missed the footnote, or did it just not play into that grand scheme of his to set the Avengers at each other's throats and tear Earth's mightiest heroes apart from the inside out?

As if all this wasn't enough, Sam was growing increasingly aware that there were a lot of nuances he'd missed in his early interactions with Buck, but it was hard to tell how much was due to Bucky being prone to go all broody and silent, and which were things that were scrambled up and stuffed away because of what HYDRA'd done to him.

Like those nails he didn't know a damn thing about until barely a day and a half ago.

"The memory of the book itself was suppressed?" Shuri inquired, and boy was Sam not drawing comfort from her tone.

"He didn't mention it before?" Barnes asked, perplexed.

Shuri shook her head, "No. He said only that it was nondescript and intentionally kept out of view. Never that there was anything of note on the cover."

"Or the color," Ayo added in a tone Sam also didn't find comforting.

Barnes frowned, "...I… I'm not sure, but I'm not sure I even remembered there even being a book when I was in Washington D.C. but I… now that I'm here… there are little flickers I can recall. Moments where I saw it clearly. When my handlers got sloppy. Overconfident. But mostly, I…" His voice faded, and Sam got the impression the man in front of him was having to dig deep for answers to buried snarls he might've preferred to keep out of the light were it not for the pressing importance of understanding what was going on with his own mind. When he looked up again, Sam could see Barnes searching their faces, as if he wasn't sure who needed to hear his next words most.

He settled on Shuri.

"...There were procedures where they tried to obscure it. Like the code words. They didn't want me to remember it. Like I do now. HYDRA didn't want the other Winter Soldiers to remember either. They wanted them to believe they had free will, just like I thought." He paused a moment before adding more quietly, "Just like they made me believe."

Sam was well-aware of that particular mask Shuri was wearing just then. The one that was struggling from end-to-end to retain some semblence of composure when pointed self-blame was playing at the edges of her features. Her statements were infused with apology, "My algorithms found no such snares. We must have missed them somehow. Is there anything else you recall about the book or its contents?"

Barnes shook his head, "They never let me see the inside of it, even when they were taking notes, but the last time I remember seeing it…" Sam saw the muscles in Barnes's neck visibly tighten, "It was with the last handler I remember," he looked to Ayo, "before you. Alexander Pierce. He ordered me to be wiped. Multiple times. To make me forget his name, and any prior connections I had with my intended targets. To help me focus on the mission objectives he'd set for me. But the last time was in 2014, just outside Washington D.C.. He had it in his house."

"I don't know if it's any comfort," Sam volunteered, "But he's dead now. Got taken out during the crescendo with Project Insight back in 2014."

Sam's statement caused the heartbeat of the conversation to momentarily stall, but the tight and layered expression Barnes cast his way told him it'd been the right thing to say. That messed up and morbid as it was, it probably did give him a shred of peace to know that Pierce wasn't around to hurt him or anyone else anymore.

But there was something more, too. Something deep and shuddering, like there was more he wanted to say, but was having trouble spitting out, "They…" he faded off again.

"...What is it?" Ayo gently coaxed in that quiet tone of hers that couldn't have been further from the rigid persona Sam once mistakenly believed encompassed all of her solemn person.

Barnes cringed and looked up from inspecting the dark star in his palm to meet Ayo's steadfast gaze. He swallowed once before he spoke, "I… I can't tell if it's not there because of whatever is going on, or because they didn't want me to remember. I don't know how I'm supposed to even be able to tell which is which."

Yeah, that right there was a not-so-subtle note of raw distress, and a swift reminder that as confusing as this situation was to all involved, it was unspeakably worse being in the driver's seat, and feeling like so much was still utterly out of your control. More'n that, Sam didn't need to know who 'they' was. And it was more than a little unsettling to consider the possibility that maybe even after all the high tech intervention the Wakandans had done for Buck, that there might still be some buried shit leftover from his force-tenure with HYDRA.

"We'll search out the answers together," Ayo promised with more resounding conviction than Sam altogether felt at that particular moment. God. Just the idea that even Barnes didn't – couldn't – know if the missing pieces were directly due to HYDRA's meddling or were simply echoes of their cruel will… it was just… awful all around.

"...But you said someone used it against your friend? After I last saw it with Alexander Pierce?" Barnes's question was for Ayo, but Sam didn't miss that she briefly glanced between he and Shuri, well-aware they were treading closer to shores they had collectively avoided up until now.

But Ayo, well, apparently Ayo had no intention of evading his question, complicated as the roots of it were, "We believe so, but it is hard for us to know for certain because none of us were present for the encounter. More than that, our friend's mind was fogged after, perhaps with or without intention by the man who spoke the words."

Barnes's posture grew rigid as Ayo quickly added, "He is no danger to you now, this man who once spoke words of power against our friend. He is held in distant captivity, far from our lands where he cannot harm others."

Sam was honestly surprised Ayo was able to keep her voice even like that when she was talking about Zemo of all people, but he guessed she'd somehow managed to shove down her encyclopedia of feelings regarding him for the time being.

And then Barnes… Barnes had to go and ask something Sam had honestly never thought to consider, "...Did I know him?" He paused before reframing his question to ensure all his bases were covered, "Did your friend know him?"

Shuri stepped in to tank that rocky question, and her voice grew cold, focused even though it wasn't one she was eager to broach, "His name is Hemut Zemo, and we do not think so. Our friend did not recall any prior interactions with him, and our intel did not indicate that he was ever allied directly with HYDRA. Instead, he sought to use you as a cruel means to incite violence and manipulate others."

Barnes frowned at that, "When?"

"In 2016. Just prior to when you were first brought to Wakanda for treatment."

"But you think he had the book? What happened to it?"

"I do not know," Shuri admitted, "My brother made no mention of such a tome among Zemo's belongings when he was captured in Siberia. But that was before the Decimation, before Thanos. Zemo did not know we took you to Wakanda for treatment. We would not have shared this sensitive information with a murderer who–" Shuri pulled in a sharp breath that drew the attention of each of the Dora Milaje standing silently nearby. The princess adjusted her shoulders before continuing, "But I will message my brother to ask if he recalls a red book with a black star or any like it, or if we have record of such a manual." As if seeking a breather from eye-contact, Shuri turned her attention to the communication bead around her wrist and prompted open a messaging menu, conceivably for T'Challa.

Sam took a deep breath, watching Barnes searching Shuri's face for answers to explain the sudden pivot in her mood and mannerisms. Sam got the impression Barnes might've even been considering asking about it, but he held back, as if he was somehow aware that the fringes of their conversation had inadvertently crept a little too close to a topic that upset Shuri, and he didn't want to risk making it worse.

Barnes couldn't've known that the asshole that'd taken their friend's stolen mind out for a spin was also the same man that was also responsible for the death of Shuri and T'Challa's father, the late King T'Chaka. And Sam hadn't thought the sting from that loss had faded away. Grief didn't work like that, afterall. But he supposed he hadn't really caught sight of it bubbling so close to the surface before. At least not separate from Sam and Buck's own recent tresspasses involving Zemo.

It was probably a mixed blessing Barnes didn't remember more about any 'a that.

While Shuri exchanged messages with her brother, Sam caught sight of Ayo shifting her weight from one foot to the other with a deeply troubled expression cast across her face. Her angular features were focused so intensely on the five-pointed star in Barnes's open palm that Sam wondered if she was ruminating on the same thing he was: Had Zemo found that same red book with the black star Barnes was talkin' about? Was it one in the same as what Bucky'd only recalled in passing…?

Nat had been able to dig up a few scraps of intel on HYDRA's premiere Winter Soldier way back, but there weren't any details in there about that book or anything like it.

But if Zemo'd located it… where had he even gotten ahold of it? And where was it now, eight years later? What was even in it? Just a laundry list of expired code words, or did it contain the makings of some kinda instruction manual with troubleshooting tips that could maybe even be able to help his Partner's ailing mind?

Now none of them were saying any of that out loud, of course, particularly the bits and pieces that involved Zemo, but Sam was certain he wasn't the only one thinking it. He would've bet his wings that the three Dora Milaje facing him were thinkin' the same as he was, even if Yama was next to him, biting his lip because even she wasn't about to volunteer anything further on that particular sore subject.

On one hand, Sam knew Zemo and the Wakandans weren't on each other's holiday greeting card lists, and just because Baron Von Asshole had been smart enough to not raise his hand or his voice to the Dora Milaje, it didn't smooth over any of the awful he'd done, and the cascade of impact it'd had on them in particular. Hell. They hated him so much, they didn't even want him locked up within their own borders. But that didn't mean he and Sam were buddy-buddy, either. Not by a long shot. Sam'd only tolerated Zemo because there was at least a single grain of logic in Buck's whole hair-brained scheme to track down a possible lead on those Super Soldiers. The difference was? Sam'd been assuming that plan involved interrogating Zemo, not everything that came after.

…But… that being as it was… Sam found he wasn't necessarily opposed to the possibility of at least asking if Zemo knew anything about that book. The one no one could confirm he'd ever had in the first place, but by the sounds of it, maybe it wasn't altogether outside the realm of possibility. That didn't mean the manipulative asshole would tell him the truth, in fact, he'd probably do that stupid head-tilt of his, but… it couldn't hurt to ask.

Could it...?

He'd have to talk with Shuri and Ayo about it. See what they thought. After that whole Zemo debacle, he wasn't about to consider risking a call to Zemo behind anyone's backs, especially the Wakandans. Just because Zemo hadn't turned on he or Buck outright didn't mean he was anything close to an ally. Sam wasn't entirely sure exactly what category that put him in, though. Maybe just self-serving of his own twisted code of honor, which was its own sort of complicated.

Sam didn't like him. Didn't trust him.

But.

But.

Much as he hated to admit it, but Zemo had been able to get them valuable intel on that new wave of Super Soldiers.

Which was something.

More than that though, bits and pieces of the time Sam'd spent with him had managed to humanize that monster a little. Rounded out the corners, just a little.

Part of it was that Sam'd been waiting, aching, for that double-cross that just… never manifested itself. Zemo'd never played at poisoning any of that cherry blossom tea of his, never'd spiked any of that stupid but admittedly delicious Turkish Delight. And Sam's checked. He wasn't naive enough to think someone with a life sentence wouldn't've at least considered poisoning his captors as an easy way out.

And when Zemo'd manage to get a weapon in his hands? He hadn't turned it on he or Buck, either. And when he'd slipped away from a front-row seat to the Walker Beatdown? He hadn't gone out on a murderous rampage or tried to make tracks into the sunset, he'd hoofed, or probably had that ancient butler of his fly him over to the Sokovian Memorial and just… waited. Like he'd accepted the fate he knew was coming for him.

And all'a that gave Sam some complicated feelings, alright. Not in a way that washed away the man's crimes, which were numerous, murderous, inescapable truths, but it reminded Sam that there was more to Zemo than sinister mustache-twirling evil. It made him wonder who he might've carved himself into if he hadn't lost everything in Sokovia and turned his heel on grief, fueling it into a renewed cycle of twisted revenge.

No, Sam honestly hadn't known much about Zemo, or even cared to until that whole mess in Madripoor and Latvia. If anything, he'd been making a pointed effort to not care about Zemo till right around the time they set foot in Latvia and the Baron had seen fit to show them around like a bonafide tour guide. He introduced them to little cafes and spots he knew off the beaten path, as well as the occasional resident who must've recognized him from way-back-when.

Most of 'emgreeted Zemo with visible enthusiasm often accompanied with a hug, peck on each cheek, or invitations for them, all of them, to join them for a meal, or at the very least tea and local pastries.

And Sam and Buck had just… gone along with it. Much as it hadn't been part of their overarching plan, some part of Sam was curious how each of those interactions would play out, because they might inadvertently offer valuable intel on the case they were working, or even just insight into the Baron so Sam could stay a step ahead of his scheming.

Instead, more'n one of those old acquaintances had asked him about his wife and son.

Sam'd recognized the face Zemo'd made in reply, that expression twinged in pain but plastered in a forced smile that pleasantries required. Maybe that's about when Sam started to see the man underneath.

The grieving father.

The widower.

The marked man searching for a purpose.

It didn't redeem him, couldn't redeem him, but it made Sam feel a very particular way when he saw Zemo slipping a waiter a little bit extra in their tip, or smiling when chatting with one of the local children. It wasn't slimy, devious, even uncomfortable: it was like for a moment, Sam was caught peering into another man's life entirely.

A life of what could have been.

So yeah.

Complicated.

But Sam was also quick to remind himself that even though Zemo hadn't been gunnin' for either he or Buck, it wasn't like the other guy was opposed to getting his hands bloodied again. And that unexplained explosion with that transport carrying some of the serumed-up Flag Smashers that'd captured after that conflict in and around GRC New York Headquarters? Well…Sam wasn't naive enough to believe Zemo might not have somehow had a hand in that too. He certainly wouldn't'a mourned a few less Super Soldiers that had run their last plays at being makeshift terrorists.

…But what if Zemo'd caught a whiff about what was going on recently in Symkaria too? About the super-powered assassinations? How much of that info had gone public? He'd have to ask Rhodey.

In the meantime, Barnes was back to examining that wavering gunmetal-black star in his hand as if might have the answers he was searching for. And Sam? The silence was growing so thick around 'em, he opted to grab hold of the mic for a moment, "You think that's what it represents, then? A star, like the one on that red book they used against you? So maybe that's why it's important?"

Barnes rolled the star around in his hand and flipped it over, "I'm not sure. The size is close but… I think this one's larger. And the color was different. When I saw a hint of it during my visit to the Dark Place, the sheen was brighter. More silver, I think." He made a dissatisfied face, "So it's not the same as the one on the cover of the book. The star on that was definitely black. But I don't remember ever holding the book or seeing what was in it, and the one on the cover was flat, not raised like this. I think this might be important for other reasons. I just don't know what they are."

Those sky blue eyes sought an audience with Sam, as if they were hoping maybe he had any ideas to offer that might help him escape the perpetual state of 'not-knowing' that he'd found himself in.

…And actually… Sam did.

"Hold on, I'll be right back."

Without another word, Sam hurried off to the Royal Talon parked a short distance away and retrieved two items he'd left sitting inside before he lost his nerve entirely. It was a long shot, sure, but he couldn't in good conscience stand around demanding Barnes to pick at his own scabs and scars all-the-while ignoring a slim, but possible lead just because it was due to be an uncomfortable conversation to circle back around to.

At least that was what Sam told himself as he snapped up one item in each hand and made his way back across the grass where everyone was clearly waiting for him. Even Shuri looked up from her texting as he approached the group at an easy clip.

Barnes regarded the shield slung over Sam's forearm only briefly, choosing to focus instead on the black and silver briefcase he was carrying in his other hand. Under other circumstances, Sam might've allowed himself a moment to process the shuddering disconnect he felt that Barnes clearly didn't recognize the 'gift' Bucky'd arranged with the Wakandans on his behalf, but this wasn't the time to pluck at melancholy threads, "I wanted to show you what's in the case. It's the suit I was wearing yesterday. I was thinking that the emblem in the middle looks a fair bit like the one you have there."

Barnes cocked his head in an awfully good approximation of Yama, and Sam took it for an affirmative so he stepped right on through the barrier. He ducked down and placed the case horizontally across the grass and pressed his finger into the blue thumbprint reader, which silently unlocked the case. Sam did his best to keep his nerves in check as he lifted up the latch and rotated the case around so Barnes could get a better view of its contents. In response, Barnes ducked down to get a closer look, and Nomble and Ayo stepped back, as if giving the two men a little extra room for the conversation to come.

The top portion of the case was fitted with charcoal grey foam lining that surrounded where his gloved gauntlets were stored on either side of the compact flight pack that housed Redwing and J.B. The two drones were presently tucked away inside the streamlined blue and silver curves of the outer housing, catching a charge from whatever remarkable Wakandan wizardry Shuri'd cooked up, though Sam wondered in passing if that meant they were presently listening in, too.

Question for another time.

The lower portion of the lined case contained his boots and flight suit, the latter of which was prominently tucked and folded with care. The chest of the suit faced up, streaking lines of bright red, white, blue, and silver across a tight vibranium-weave mesh that was as protective as it was elegant.

Barnes saw what Sam was getting at immediately: that bold silver five-pointed star centered smack in the middle like a North Star.

In one smooth motion, Barnes passed the vibranium star from one hand to the other and used his flesh and blood hand to reach out towards the silver emblem tucked within the case. When his hand stalled inches away from it, Sam found himself motioning him closer, "It's okay, you can touch it. That's why I brought it over. I was thinking maybe…" Sam trailed off.

"Maybe it's something," Barnes finished, opting to make tentative contact with its sharp geometric edges.

Sam wasn't sure when he and Barnes had crossed a threshold where they were suddenly completing each other's sentences, but he was glad to see that they were finally on the same page.

More or less.

Up close, it was easy to cross-compare the two stars and pick out the differences between the two broadly similar geometric shapes. Beyond the contrast in color and that creepy vibrating assembly of dark nanites in Barnes's palm, the star festooned in the center of Sam's folded uniform was noticeably larger and more pronounced. As Barnes ran his fingers over the rigid ornamental metal emblem he noted, "There's etching within each of the points that the one in the Dark Place didn't have, but the ridges are similar. Not the same, though."

Sam could feel the eyes of each and every one of the Wakandans on him as he played at this particular game of show and tell, "Do you, uh…" Spit it out, Sam, spit it out, "Do you remember the one in Steve's uniform? Is that one in your hand any closer to his, maybe?"

Barnes's blue eyes flicked up to meet his for only a fraction of a second as he rolled Sam's question around in that cyborg brain of his, but his words weren't quick in coming, and by the downturn in his expression, Sam was pretty sure it wasn't exactly sensitive to pry for more details about whatever was running through the other guy's mind just then. The subtle twitches along his jaw and across his eyebrows said enough.

But Sam thought it was more than that, too. Something deeper that was causing him to sink into a very particular vat of self-made hesitation.

Ayo was apparently braver than he was, "Do you recall touching the emblem Sam is referring to?"

The response was quiet and painfully slow in coming, but eventually it crept out, "Yeah, but it was…" the side of Barnes's face did that uncomfortable thing again, "...when I was trying to finish the mission HYDRA'd sent me on."

Somewhere in between those words, Sam'd remembered he still had to breathe, and he did what he could to not choke on air as he put the broad strokes together enough to realize yeah, Barnes did remember something, but digging at it was all sorts of complicated because apparently it was around one of the times he was trying to take Steve out of the picture for good.

And see, Sam knew that'd happened. It wasn't like Steve'd claimed his brainwashed childhood best friend had showed up wanting to catch up and grab a bite to eat, but Steve also hadn't exactly volunteered the brutal details of their last showdown. And by the looks of it? Barnes remembered 'em, plain as day.

Without a word, Barnes kept his attention focused on the bright silver star centered in the middle of Sam's uniform laid open in that case, and he slowly repositioned himself, pocketing the vibranium star like he was slipping a knife into a holster before pulling himself closer to the suit until he was looming over it. Carefully, he lowered one knee to the ground and moved his right hand so it pressed down against the star on Sam's uniform. The man playin' at being the Winter Soldier curled his vibranium hand into a tight fist, and though he didn't raise it more than a few inches from where it'd been, Sam read the implied body language loud and clear.

By the looks of it, Barnes – the Soldier – whoever, had pinned Steve down and pummeled him with that metal fist of his. Which explained why Steve's face had been all out of sorts when they'd finally gotten him to a hospital. You know, courtesy of that 9-1-1 call this guy here'd made ten years ago when he'd apparently changed the script and flip-flopped from wanting to take Steve's life to wanting to save it.

Barnes pointedly avoided looking at any of them as his ragged voice reemerged, "His star had an etched line that went all the way around the edges. And each of the points had a rivet near the tip. His was a little larger than this one, which is bigger than the one your friend found, too." He pulled his hands away and slipped into a seated position with his legs folded over one another, curling his back over slightly, as if he was self conscious of his own body appearing too threatening in the aftermath of his brief reenactment, "It doesn't match the star he found in the Dark Place, but it's similar, like the others."

Sam sucked in a deep breath and did his best to exude empathy for the frustrating situation they were swimmin' in, "Okay, well, it was worth a shot." Sam thumbed his chin at the shield, noting that Barnes was doin' that thing where he was seeing fit to dodge making eye contact, as if it made him uncomfortable or maybe a bit too seen, "I'm guessing if the ones on the uniforms were both too large, then the one on the center of that is too."

Barnes didn't immediately acknowledge Sam's comment, he only lifted his head just enough to take a second glance at the shield Sam'd laid out in the grass to one side of the case between them. "That's not the same shield," Barnes offered simply. And Sam… yeah, he got what the other man was getting at.

It wasn't Steve's shield. At least not the one Barnes remembered from way back.

And something about that sad, solemn realization clenched tight at Sam's throat as that deep, heavy silence slicked its way over them again.

"...But we do not yet know for certain if its form is meant to immitate a physical object, or if it is perhaps uniquely symbolic?" Nomble spoke into the morning air.

When no answers were forthcoming, Ayo volunteered, "I do not think we know for sure. But hopefully in time the answer will become clearer. While the underlying meaning is nebulous, it is still progress." Sam didn't miss the encouragement she was trying to infuse into her words, though Barnes's head was still downcast as he continued his staring contest with the shield. That expression of his had all the trappings of a private hell of his own making. And Sam knew he wasn't the only only one catchin' wind of it.

Shuri had long-since wrapped up her conversation with whoever she was texting, and turned her full attention back to Barnes in an attempt to reconnect with him before he could dig himself any deeper, "Do you think in the moment our friend pulled the star free, did he know what it was?"

As if reminded of the object, Barnes pulled the dark vibranium star free from his pocket and rolled it around in his hand testingly, "I don't think so."

"And he was not focused on pursuing a memory of the snows of Wakanda specifically?"

"No I… I think he got distracted. That this," Barnes emphasized the object in his palm, "was more important, though he wasn't sure why. I felt it too, in my Ukuphupha. In the Dark Place."

"Do you recall how it was originally attached?" Yama inquired, curious.

Barnes looked up for the first time in what felt like ten minutes, meeting her gaze, but not following what she was getting at, "What do you mean?"

Yama flourished the fingers of her free hand, "You said the shape was originally affixed to a surrounding material. Was it attached at the points? Or perhaps it is only a piece broken off from a larger structure we have not yet uncovered?"

…Well those were some interesting questions Sam hadn't stopped to consider.

Barnes furrowed his brow and rearranged his grip on the star, spreading his fingers wide as he did, "It was attached somewhere on the opposite side. Near the center, I think. I could feel the points digging into my hand as I – he – gripped it. He had to pull hard to break it off. But I don't know what it means, just that that's what happened right before I…" his attention drifted up to the paused surveillance recording, which lay innocently suspended in a moment of calm before chaos and confusion would grip the lab, and the Design Center with it.

"But this is progress," Ayo observed, as if seeing fit to relieve him of the need to delve further into the turmoil swimming around his periphery. "If it is agreeable with Princess Shuri, I would not be opposed to letting you keep the nanites with you for the moment in case you wish to try and refine their formation further."

"I would not be opposed," Shuri stated, clearly eyeing the same nearby object Ayo was: That bold red, blue, and silver shield laying silently in the grass between Sam and Barnes. "But I will ensure the safety protocols remain properly enabled for the nanites. I now have further updates to share with the specialists assisting us, so I will report back once I've had time to speak with them and go over their findings in detail. Once I do, I will share any updates or meaningful correlations we might've uncovered." She managed a small, compassionate smile for Barnes before she inclined her head and excused herself to step away to grab a plate of food and make herself comfortable on her bougie cot, where she settled in and got to work.

As the Dora Milaje assembled around him watched her go, Sam could feel the natural break in the conversation forming around them. They'd made a respectable amount of progress sussing out some key details they hadn't known before, but the questions swimming around Barnes in the present didn't look to be focused on any 'a that. His troubled blue eyes kept coming back to the shield, like he had questions for it he wasn't sure if he was ready to ask.

"I will speak with Okoye about these developments," Ayo remarked, turning to Nomble and adding, "I would have you assist Yama so our Princess can focus on her responsibilities without distraction."

"Yes, my Chief," Nomble inclined her head and gathered the nearby breakfast plates, ferrying them away and stepping aside with Ayo and Yama so Sam could be alone with Barnes within the dome for the conversation he knew was brewing, and long overdue.

While the three regaliaed women didn't offer overt words of encouragement, Sam could see it on their faces: Ayo and her steadfast regard, Nomble and her faint, but kind-hearted smile, and bold Yama, who raised a fist to her chest in camaraderie as she stepped away.

Sam wasn't sure who to credit it to, but as they walked away, he could hear a subtle shift in the ambiance around them, as if someone had seen fit to turn on the audio dampening field so the two of them could have a spot of rustic privacy for the upcoming chat Sam was mentally preparing for. He wasn't eager to tackle it, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

He owed Barnes that much.

It was obvious Barnes could tell Sam was on the verge of something, but he wasn't grasping the trajectory just yet, "I told you everything I remember," Barnes insisted, probably more defeated than he'd intended.

"I know," Sam admitted, solidifying his resolve by smoothly closing the black and silver case and pushing it aside so he could take a seat in the grass across from Barnes, "None of us were implying you were in the habit of keeping secrets. You and I've just been doing an impressive job dancing around certain topics and I felt like maybe it's time we had a talk. About Steve, I mean. If you're up for it."

And yeah that dredged up a fresh wave of churning emotions over Barnes's pale face. The bruises across his cheeks were fainter now, tinged purple and yellow thanks to many boons of the serum running through his veins. By the way he fidgeted and pressed his fingers together, Sam found himself wondering if Barnes was thinking back to any number of the same things he was, or if it was a different box of memories entirely.

Assuming there were many memories to sort through at all. Sam got the impression Barnes didn't have much to go on. Just the scraps left behind at an abandoned Lost and Found.

Barnes's voice grew softer, more personal, "I don't know," he admitted, tucking his shoulders together in what Sam took as a posture that was meant to be non-threatening. While the logical part of Sam wasn't inclined to think Barnes didn't have any intention of lashing out at him like he had way back when he was a bonafide hostage, spoutin' whatever he could in an attempt to get through to Bucky, some part of his frail nerves appreciated that Barnes was cognizant that whole ordeal had a resounding impact on Sam too. "I remember you and Steve from back in Washington D.C. When we fought. And a few months after. So I remember him, but…"

"...But not before that? Or anything more recent?" Sam chanced a guess.

"Not really, no." Barnes frowned uneasily, "There are flashes, little pockets now and then. But no context. No substance. It's like looking at picture frames in stores. With all those people and faces. I can recognize them, but I can't relate to them." He furled his brow as he cast his attention back towards the shield laying between them, "I still don't remember arriving here, back in 2016. But I guess from what some of you were saying, I assumed maybe some of those memories might've involved him too. That he'd be part of 'em, especially after Ayo told me he was the one that dropped me off here, but…" he turned his gaze back to Sam, "I don't remember him being here. And I'm not sure about you. But at least I can sorta place you out by the water in that photo in Louisiana. But him? I…"

Barnes made a frustrated sigh, "For me, it feels like I saw him just a few days ago. Or I guess a few weeks or months depending on whichever way things are currently bouncing around inside my head. I just… didn't expect to wake up and find out that ten years have gone by, and I missed my chance to at least ask him some questions. Find out what else he knew about that kid he grew up with?" He sunk into the grass, "I didn't want to pretend to be someone I wasn't. But now you're saying I missed the chance entirely, and he's gone?"

Sam lowered his head, finding it remarkably frustrating to navigate this particular minefield, but knowing it was the right thing to do, even if it hurt like Hell, "Yeah. Last year, like I said. 2023. After he helped get the folks back that'd been Blipped, like us."

"I don't remember," Barnes repeated, that heavy frustration evident in his voice.

It was painful watching him struggle like that, and Sam only wished he had better answers to offer him. He wasn't sure how to weave the conversation he wanted to have without simply picking at all the scabs one-by-one, "...but you did remember that line of his. That one I said back at the Design Center."

"'Til the end of the line," Barnes softly repeated, and try as he might, Sam couldn't dodge the pain he heard layered in those five words. "I thought you were trying to manipulate me," he confessed.

"Yeah. I gathered that the hard way," Sam admitted before adding "respectfully."

"You were hoping I'd recognize it."

Sam snorted lightly, "Yep. Was hoping I could get through to you to keep things from spiraling like they did."

Barnes winced, "It wasn't about the words though. Not just them, I mean."

Sam cocked his head at that, "What do you mean?"

The man in front of him chewed on his lips before responding, "Back then, when HYDRA sent me on that mission, I still couldn't parse expressions, not really. I didn't really recognize Steve Rogers as anything more than a mission target until… he'd removed his helmet, and I struck him." Barnes averted his gaze back to his hands, as if guilty for his bloodied admittance, "Eventually, when he was hurt enough, it was as if… something clicked. That one moment, I was committed to complete the mission, and the next: I kept seeing these flashes to images of another bloodied face. It was thin, frail, bruised, and surrounded by a mop of dirty blond hair. And it made no sense, but some part of me felt certain it was the same person, but younger. His face made expressions I didn't understand at the time, but I wanted to. And I wanted to know why I could remember the same face without injuries, too."

Barnes set his stubbled jaw as he added, "Steve said that line to me because he was trying to get through to me, but he didn't say it because it was his line to begin with, I don't think."

And in that moment, it clicked for Sam, "...You think it might've been yours."

Barnes nodded once, admitting only, "Maybe. I don't know for sure. But when I saw your face like that. After what I'd done to it… Eventually I realized I didn't want to see you die, either. I just couldn't figure out a way to get you help and also get away from the people chasing us. It was one or the other."

Silence hung between the two of them for a few heartbeats before Sam finally found his voice again, "Yeah, I pieced that together. And I know I'm biased here, but thanks. That whole mess was a shitty situation up and down to be sure, but–-"

Barnes cut in, "-Thank you for doing what you could to keep my 'sorry, unappreciative, amnesiatic ass' alive, too."

Sam was pretty sure his mind must'a short-circuited for a moment there hearing his own words spun back around at him, but he got the impression Barnes wasn't reaching for comedy as much as trying to sort out something that approximated genuine gratitude.

But before Sam could say anything, the man with this Partner's face smartly added, "But you really do talk a lot."

Sam flapped his lips once before retorting, "You say that, but you were the one set on rounds of casual conversation when I was trying to get in a few winks on the last flight leg to Birnin Zana."

And Barnes just… rolled his eyes. He didn't smile, of course, but there was a close cousin to it hanging on at least one side of his lips. While this was all still a bucket of weird, and Sam damn-well knew that wasn't exactly Buck sittin' across from him, he was seein' enough connective tissue that the sight of Barnes didn't unsettle him nearly as much as it used to.

And that… that was something too.

"That scenic detour aside… did you wanna hold the shield?" Sam extended one hand towards it and lifted his eyes to Barnes to gauge his reaction, "Maybe it's like the star. That it could help you remember something?

Barnes didn't look so sure about that, and if Sam was being honest with himself? There was a part of him that was fighting his own idea, trying to play it off as something casual, like when he let his nephews take turns holdin' it and pretending to be Captain America. But this here was a lot more than a simple round of childish make-believe.

Maybe it was because that particular star-spangled frisbee held a lot of buried history and gravitas. Or perhaps it was because it was a sentimental gift from a dear friend that was no longer a phone-call away.

Maybe it was because Sam was reminded that a shield like it had once faced off against the Soldier, Barnes, or whoever he was back then way back in what felt like another lifetime ago.

But even deeper in the hollow pit of Sam's gut, he thought that maybe the part of him that was resistant to the gesture didn't have a damn thing to do with Steve or the Winter Soldier at all: It was that there was a possibility that if he handed off the shield to Barnes, it might remind Sam a little too much of when he and Buck used to take turns tossing the shield or working at tandems.

And he wasn't sure if it would hurt more if the other man didn't remember, or if he did.

Sam knew that gauging facial expressions wasn't a resounding strength of the man sitting in front of him in that ridiculous skinny-jeans, cross-legged pose of his, but Sam found himself pushing aside his own emotions as best he could as he got to his feet and handed the shield to Barnes like an offering. A wish.

Barnes stood up and evaluated first Sam's face and then the shield he hefted between them before he reached forward and grasped the shield carefully with both hands. Carefully, he took on the weight of it with far more delicate intention than Sam might've given him credit to be able to drum up on the spot. The sight of it had a way of reminding Sam how much work the other man had apparently done to be mindful of his own strength.

Gentle hands passed over etched rings and notches of the front of the design before he flipped it over to inspect the reverse like some over-attentive pawn broker or antique roadshow enthusiast. The whole time, Sam found himself holding his breath, just waiting, aching, for the smallest sigh that Barnes remembered something. Anything.

"This star isn't any closer to the star I have," Barnes finally managed before following up with a question of his own, "...What happened to his shield?"

Sam didn't need to ask for clarification on who 'he' was.

"The one Steve fought Thanos with was broke all to Hell," Sam answered truthfully, "But he never told me the full story about how or where he got this replacement."

Barnes's eyes lifted to Sam's as he probed further, asking those questions he'd holed up for at least a couple days now, "But he gave it to you?"

Sam snorted lightly at that, trying to ignore the way the straightforward question cut deep at his heart, "Yeah. Took a while to feel I could live up to it, to the symbol, the ideals it represents, but I got there in my own time. Had some quality encouragement along the way, too."

He wasn't sure if Barnes grasped the subtext Sam was politely sidestepping, like walking carefully around the wet edges of a swimming pool, but he was inclined to believe he caught a whiff of it all the same.

And then Barnes, the same man who'd apparently tailed him around Washington D.C. in 2014, who at one point had ripped the damn steering wheel clean out of his windshield, who'd broken his damn hands because he'd mistakenly thought Sam was part of some grand scheme to recapture him on behalf of HYDRA… That same man had the gall, the absolute nerve to just up and speak his mind with a directness and outright certainty that was a particular kind of raw gut punch Sam hadn't seen coming, "I can see why he wanted you to have it," Barnes concluded, meeting Sam's gaze as he handed it back as if it were a precious relic, "it suits you."

Sam had been working his way up to asking a follow-up question right up until then, but whatever it was got swiftly blipped away in the space lingering in the wake of Barnes's statement and the complex well of emotions it drew up. He wanted to say something in response, but he found his penchant for words was failing him as he stood motionless, aware only of the weight of the shield on his arm, and the oddly serene heaviness of the moment of the two of them standing there, facing one another out in that warm morning light.

Barnes only nodded an affirmation and joined Sam in waiting out that quiet place between them that was no longer as empty as it once was.

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[Chapter Art, by ellariepng]

[ID: A painting by ellariepng showing Barnes and Sam Wilson standing amid rolling Wakandan hills. There is a blue sky and mountains far in the distance, as well as green bushes, a tree, and red wildflowers close by. The two men are standing facing each other with Barnes on the left and Sam on the right. Barnes is holding Sam's Cap shield in both hands and inspecting it while Sam watches, clutching his hands together over his waist. Barnes is wearing a steel blue t-shirt and black pants that are both embroidered with coordinating black and gold tribal designs. He has on black boots as well as a blue and gold trimmed shawl that is slung over his gunmetal silver and gold prosthetic arm. Sam is wearing a salmon-colored t-shirt and warm brown pants. His shirt has white and lavender embroidered tribal designs and his pants have gold trim along the sides. Sam is wearing camel-brown hiking boots and squirrel brown socks. Barnes's expression is neutral as he cocks his head and carefully inspects the front of the shield. Sam's expression is more melancholy and guarded. His head is bowed slightly as he watches Barnes and tries to read his expression. End ID]

I had the immense pleasure of working with ellarie ("ellariepng" on Instagram) once again on a piece of art she created to go along with a scene from this chapter. This was a moment we've been building to for quite awhile, and she was able to just nail the complex emotions for Barnes and Sam, and the very particular melancholy weight of the shield.

She has such a unique and captivating way of breathing life into her characters, and if you like Marvel and pop culture, you should definitely take a peek at the breadth of her work!

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[Chapter Art, by Indie]

[ID: A painting by Indie showing Sam Wilson and Barnes standing from the hips up amid rolling green Wakandan hills. The two men are standing facing each other with Sam on the left and Barnes on the right. Barnes is holding Sam's Cap shield in both hands and inspecting it while Sam watches, tucking his hands into his pockets. Sam is wearing black pants and a dark grey t-shirt with a maroon red long-sleeved shirt over top of it with rolled sleeves. Barnes is wearing a steel blue t-shirt and black pants. He has on a blue and gold trimmed shawl that is slung over his gunmetal silver and gold prosthetic arm. Barnes holds the shield at waist height and we can see the bold red, white, and blue design on the front of it. Barnes is looking down at the star in the center of it, and his expression is neutral as he carefully inspects the design. Sam's expression is melancholy and a bit sad. His head is bowed as he watches Barnes and tries to read his expression. Indie's signature is written in white by Sam's nearest thumb. End ID]

Indie ("llewyngs" on Twitter) was also kind enough to craft a piece of art to accompany the closing scene of this chapter! I love how they rendered the nuanced expressions for Sam and Barnes, and how we get a view of Barnes confronting the star imagery on the shield.

Please check out this chapter on Archive of Our Own to see the art and link to their social media pages and to see more of their art!

Once again: Huge thanks to both ellariepng ("ellariepng" on Instagram) and Indie ("llewyngs" on Twitter) on paintings to accompany this chapter for capturing this key scene between Sam and Barnes!

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If you as a reader have ever been curious about how I wrangle bonus chapter art behind-the-scenes, I've had the broad strokes of this story outlined for over a year now, and along the way, I've been collaborating with artists to illustrate key scenes and story beats.

Customarily, I try to select scenes and prompts that are a few months out so no one is rushed, but sometimes life happens and/or scenes get shuffled around or extended, and that's what happened in this case here. These were originally meant to be illustrations for two separate scenes (one when Sam first met up with Barnes again on the mountain after recovering in Shuri's Lab, and one after Barnes learned about the shape in the object he had in his hand in the Dark Place), but I later opted to combine the "shield talk" into one key scene because it made more sense based on the revised flow of events.

While I'm certain Barnes was very much aware of Sam holding the shield when he originally deplaned with Shuri, there were a lot more important topics to address at the time than that star-spangled frisbee he was carrying. And the more I worked on Chapter 54: "Temporal Avalanche" (which was a behemoth of a chapter!), the clearer it became that it actually made sense for Sam to still be in his Cap uniform, and that I needed to properly build to the moment Ayo said the code words. As such, some random talk between Barnes and Sam about Steve and the shield felt out of place to pursue in that particular moment, especially when most of the stuff Barnes was going through out here wasn't Steve-centric.

But luckily that second piece of art hardly went to "waste," and instead we get to appreciate two beautiful pieces of art for this chapter!

As always, if you or anyone you know might be interested in contributing fan art to this project, please let me know! It's truly a pleasure to work with so many talented artists to bring this story to life visually!

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Author's Remarks:

This was a moment I've been excited to circle around back to for a long time coming! Even if we're still lacking for answers, I hope you can feel the momentum of the greater mysteries building!

- Milestones - I thought it was worth remarking on a really wild milestone we recently exceeded without me realizing it: "Winter of the White Wolf" is now the longest TFATWS fic on both Ao3 and FFnet! Wow! While the story is still on-track with the early outlines I had planned, it's certainly bulked out a bit along the way. I know long-fic (and especially *incomplete* long-fic) isn't for everyone, but I just wanted to take another moment to thank you all for the comments to keep me going. This project has definitely become far more time-intensive than I ever planned, and I am not sure I would have been willing to try to cover quite so many plot points and character development if it wasn't for your continued encouragement. So just: Thank you for joining me on this journey. While we still have quite an adventure ahead of us, I want to reiterate a tag that's been part of this fic from the very beginning, and that's "Angst with a Happy Ending," so hang in there! I plan to see this through!

- Barnes - It's been nearly a year since we were unceremoniously introduced to "Barnes" in Chapter 32: "Nova" (even if at the time, we didn't realize it was him just yet), and I threw everyone for a loop (the characters included) by coming face-to-face with someone they believed was the Winter Soldier. I remember so many readers being shocked at the twist, but then slowly horrified that he wasn't simply flipping back to the Bucky we know and love. I hope that in the time since, he's come to grow on you as much as he has on me. I feel like at this point, it's his story too, and I love that, especially since it's enabling us to explore all sorts of pockets of time we didn't get to see much of anything about in the formal MCU canon. :)

- The Notebook - So one of the things I always found interesting in the MCU is the notebook's fleeting presence. We know it's a closely guarded secret (for good reason), but I was drawn to the idea that there were likely additional contingencies surrounding it. After all: You wouldn't want a prisoner to be so easily able to steal the key to their own cage…

- Zemo - While Zemo isn't about to win any humanitarian awards, I enjoyed having the opportunity to have Sam reflect on some of the many complexities surrounding Zemo, as well as some outstanding questions on what he might know...

- The Wakandan Case - While the inside of Sam's case wasn't seen in the series, there's actually some concept art of it in one of the art books that was recently released!

[Wakandan Case Concept Art]

[ID: An image showing two views of the Wakandan Case seen in the series, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. On the left is a view of a closed silver and black briefcase with Wakandan embellishments and a blue touchpad. It is listed as being 26 inches wide, 20 inches deep, and 11 inches high. To the right is an image of the opened case. The top houses the silver, white, and blue flight back with red, white and silver gloved gauntlets on either side. In the bottom compartment, the chest portion of Sam's folded Wakandan flight suit is visible, including the red and white striped torso area as well as the central portion, which shows a silver star on a blue background with a pair of silver lines to each side. These pieces of concept art are seen against a grey background that is darker at the top and lighter at the bottom. End ID]

It's also been an extremely rough week over here. First, we had our upstairs bathroom flood and take out the bathroom below it too (arugh!), but yesterday I also found out that one of my closest friends is currently in the ICU in a medically induced coma and may not pull through, which… has a way of swiftly putting what's important in perspective, and what's just background noise. (Hint: Most of those daily aggravations are just background noise.)

So… make time for that extra hug today. Send a message to someone you love. And if you have a moment to spare and can keep my friend and his family in your thoughts, I'd deeply appreciate it.

Thank you again for your beautiful comments and kind words. Even though it's been rough here, I continue to be deeply appreciative of your company as I continue to carve out time to work on this story and the journey ahead for these characters and more.