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.

69. Teeth and Claws

After working on that last piece of art, I told myself that I didn't need to pressure myself to paint anything for this next chapter. Instead… I figured if I showed you the sunlit view of Warrior Falls last chapter, it wouldn't hurt to share a broad view of how I imagine our cozy little encampment, and then, well… then I got a *little* carried away…

As always: I hope you enjoy the prose and paint!

Please check out this chapter on Archive of Our Own to see the art!

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

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Winter of the White Wolf

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Chapter 69 - Teeth and Claws

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Chapter Summary:

T'Challa and Okoye travel to the remote mountain top location to reacquaint themselves with Barnes, and help decide what is to be done with him…

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"You're actually considering it, aren't you?" Okoye did her best to keep her tone even as she smoothly piloted the Royal Talon towards Warrior Falls in the distance, and with it: the remote mountaintop encampment across the way that was their ultimate destination. The same destination, she was reminded, where Ayo once worked with White Wolf to clear the lingering shadows of the code words that had plagued him for so long.

A sigh escaped the lips of the man standing a few steps behind her right shoulder, "I am considering a great many things," her King admitted noncommittally, "But at least one of these conversations might have been made easier had this 'Barnes' shown interest in a location other than Symkaria, especially under the present circumstances."

A breadth of considerations floated wordlessly between them, credit to the longstanding bonds of duty and responsibility they shared. Neither were naive enough to look upon the world outside of Wakanda and ignore the strife and increasingly complicated politics around them. Such fine, and often nearly invisible webs had been difficult to navigate when Wakanda was closed to the world, a hidden gem among thick forests and swaths of picturesque grasslands.

But now…

"Did you visit Symkaria during the Decimation?" T'Challa inquired in a conversational tone that had a way of speaking around the crux of the many pressing decisions dancing about the periphery of his mind.

Okoye raised a calculated eyebrow in his direction. She hadn't missed that he'd chosen to wear the same formal dark purple and silver-embellished long coat as he had when he'd once greeted the Avengers prior to the Battle of Wakanda. While she did not consider herself to be easily swayed by sentimentalism or superstition, she, like many, had not been readily inclined to casually discard or rehome clothing owned by the Vanished during the Decimation. Though it was not her decision to make, her heart was glad for Ramonda's choice to preserve her children's garments in case they returned. While to T'Challa, Shuri, and others like them, it was as if no time had passed at all, seeing such bright and specific clothing worn again after five long years was like seeing the first fragrant blossoms after a drought.

Each time Okoye caught sight of one of those precious outfits being worn again by its intended owner, or heard their voices on the wind again, she felt a swell of complex emotions blended with reverberant relief. And T'Challa's embroidered long coat in particular? It meant something to the person standing by her as well.

Though T'Challa hadn't made mention of his choice of wardrobe, Okoye thought perhaps he hoped some part of Barnes might recognize it, and with it: the man beneath. That Barnes might see someone other than the skilled Black Panther he'd brawled with only two days ago.

"I only visited the outlying cities of Symkaria, not its capital of Aniana," Okoye admitted, answering her King's question. "Then and now, our nearest Hatut Zeraze operatives have kept us informed of the progressive destabilization of the area. The recent events that have taken the lives of many of their leaders and the royal family have only made things worse, and it is unclear what will come next now that there may be a power vacuum to fill."

"Nothing good, I am sure, T'Challa commiserated. "Has Everett been able to offer any new details we did not already know?"

"Not since this morning when I confirmed that the backpack he located had arrived in good order. He wanted me to pass along words of kindness to its owner, who he assumes is in our company. Though ever respectful, he has not asked outright if our interest in Symkaria is mere passing curiosity, or something more." Okoye gently shifted her hand to maneuver the Royal Talon for a better view of Warrior Falls in the distance, "He was quick to suggest far less turbulent travel destinations, though I question his present familiarity with Latveria to the east."

"Oh?"

"Given the choice to travel for pleasure, I have found Latveria is more… welcoming… to those that look as we do, though not by much. In that matter, the Decimation unfortunately changed very little."

She heard T'Challa snort lightly as he stepped forward and crossed his arms, gazing out across the console to the expansive view of the sunlit waterfalls in the distance. He shook his head, "I suppose I should not be surprised that even a wide-reaching global event would not itself resolve such long standing prejudices."

Okoye glanced over her shoulder to him, "Depending on who you ask, in some ways, it made things worse. Many of those left behind sought to place blame at the feet of others that had nothing to do with Thanos. And now? Many more squabble to find their place in a new world where time has neither quelled old grudges nor the pursuit of power."

"Or those that seek to unseat those in power. What is left of them, at least," T'Challa frowned.

Okoye raised an eyebrow in his direction, but T'Challa was quick to add, "I know the matter, like so many, is not our responsibility to resolve, especially when we are called to pressing obligations that require our attention in the west." He sighed in frustration, "And now even that runs contrary to the timeline Shuri fears for Barnes's mind, assuming it is as stable in the interim as she believes."

"It's possible we might complete our mission before they are pressed to make a difficult decision for the care of his mind, but I would not count on it based on your sister's latest update," Okoye agreed, doing her best to keep her tone even and unencumbered. "This may be our last opportunity to speak with him before his future grows increasingly uncertain. I had considered many outcomes for his life. This was not among them."

"Had you spoken with him?" T'Challa inquired before clarifying, "To White Wolf?"

She knew who he spoke of, but his clarification was telling. Intentional. Okoye tightly shook her head, "Not after Zemo. After Madripoor. I had no words he needed to hear."

"And now?"

His implication was clear. That while so much was yet uncertain, it would be good to seek peace rather than to continue to cling to ribbons of discontent, "If there was further understanding I once sought, it is not possible now. And I would not further complicate the time he has left by making a man with his face answer for trespasses and events he does not recall. Your sister relayed that White Wolf's actions were spurred by fear for what others were doing with the serum, and while I can accept this broad explanation of his intent, and how it led to a host of shameful decisions, it is not the same as hearing his words directly from his own lips."

"Barnes is not the man we knew," T'Challa acquiesced, "but when we speak, it is possible in some way that White Wolf might hear us." He shook his head as he cast his attention to the towering waterfalls in the distance, "After all that he has gone through, even this 'Barnes,' it is strangely fitting that even as his days with a clear mind may draw to a close, that he still seeks out purpose in those final hours."

Okoye kept her eyes forward and made a sound with her throat, "It is not just him I am concerned about. His wishes would pull others with him. Samuel, who is freshly mended, and Ayo and her Lieutenants among them. And your sister. Unlike so many times, I do not believe she intends only to offer support from afar."

She did not need to turn her head to see the troubled frown she was certain was already forming across his angular face, "Shuri has not mentioned it outright, but I see the possibility brewing, as you do. I am her King, but I am not her keeper. She has trained and fought alongside us in the Battles of Bashenga, and of Earth."

"I do not doubt your sister's prowess in combat," Okoye clarified, "And it is a mark of a growing leader that she is becoming increasingly willing to delegate responsibilities to those she surrounds herself with. But we both know the delicate situation in Symkaria is more suited to our Hatut Zeraze, and well outside of your sister's customary experiences, regardless of if she chooses to surround herself with Dora that only recently returned from a nearby mission to retrieve the murderer of another king."

Her words were not inappropriate, but they carried with them a cautionary warning she felt it prudent to air. It was not as if T'Challa was blind or unaware of the risks she spoke of, but it was one thing to toss on a striped hide and seek to remain inconspicuous amongst a herd of zebra, and quite another to travel into a lion's den who has only recently shown preference for royal blood." Her King turned to catch her eye, but he did not stall her words as she added, "If she is permitted to choose this dangerous path, you and I would be continents away if they required our aid."

The patterns of his voice were measured with grave sincerity when he finally responded, "There is much to consider," T'Challa admitted, "But I hear your concerns and share them. They are not unfounded, but we are perhaps getting ahead of ourselves for requests that may not even come to pass."

She went along with his intentional pivot of topic, "You plan to enter the shield with him, then?"

Okoye glanced over her shoulder and caught the nearest corner of T'Challa's lips upturn in a faint private smile, "I plan for us to take it down and see how he reacts when he is no longer caged and forced to be on good behavior. I have let my sister and the others know so it does not come as a surprise."

"And then?"

"Then I hope we shall see more of who it is we are dealing with, and if he can be trusted beyond his words."

"It is not his words that give me pause," Okoye stated evenly, "Given time, it may be possible to separate the threads surrounding him and see clearly who it is that stands before us, but I worry any decisions made now have the potential to be rushed on account of his prognosis and our clouded perceptions of him. Of who he once was to us, and our standing goodwill towards Samuel."

T'Challa nodded and tapped a finger atop his crossed arms, "The weight of coming decisions is not lost on me, but I will be the first to admit that the videos they have shared with us have had a way of… defying expectations."

Okoye was certain she must've made a questionable expression at his remark, "Those are not the words I might've chosen, but yes."

"Compassion is one of the five tenets of the Dora Milaje, is it not?" Though her King managed to keep his voice even, it was tinged with a hint of respectful playfulness only he could pull off so seamlessly.

But as Okoye shot him an incredulous look over her right shoulder, she could see he made no efforts to contain the amusement spread across his bearded face. The two of them had been in conversation with one another when Shuri'd chosen to share that 'Sunrise Exercise' video of hers, and so her King had gotten a firsthand look at her reaction to seeing her Chief of Security and two of her Lieutenants performing a slow-motion version of the Guard's Dance with the same man they'd been tasked with keeping within a containment field of her own making. "It is. And I am at once proud of their progress, but you and I both know it would not have been my choice, were I consulted."

"Then perhaps it is good we were not consulted in the nuances of this matter," her King acquiesced. "It is not as if you and I have not made our own bold choices when pressed."

Okoye said nothing, but she let her discontent be known by a faint grumble from her throat.

It didn't deter her King in the least.

"If anything, their willingness to seek out connection through these challenges speaks highly of their ability to put aside their own quarrels with White Wolf."

"I will make sure to put it in their yearly reviews."

T'Challa laughed lightly but kept his warm eyes focused on the high open meadow ahead of them. In it, a Royal Talon and the experimental ship the Sun Falcon, sat nestled along the treeline, while figures clad in bold red, purple, salmon, and blue stood in formation a short distance away from the protective orange energy dome Okoye'd placed there two days ago.

Inside it stood a lone figure looking up at the approaching ship. The man had his hands clasped placidly over his lap, but some part of Okoye was surprised to see he appeared to be wearing the same blue, black, and gold shawl T'Challa'd chosen to gift to White Wolf as a symbol of goodwill.

Okoye hadn't been consulted about the decision, not that it was hers to make. Tradition did not mandate that gifts be offered to someone who had turned away from those who had once sheltered and healed them. But it was more than that, to Okoye at least.

She would have been fine, had he never returned. If he had laid down his weapons and sought a peace he deserved beyond words. She wanted that for him. That power of choice he'd been denied for so long.

So no, she chose not to languish that White Wolf had chosen another life for himself after the Decimation, after that useless pardon from his government. Okoye had other things, other people to worry about.

Until the moment news had reached them about Zemo, and the fact that his last visitor had been none other than White Wolf himself.

It had been her King's choice to preserve Zemo's life rather than to permit him to die by his own hand, and upon hearing the news of his disappearance, Okoye'd assumed perhaps White Wolf had ultimately chosen a path of revenge against a man that had not only sought to frame him for the death of King T'Chaka and others lost to the 2016 bombing at the U.N., but who had murdered others before wielding power against James's mind that cost the lives of many more men at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre.

She'd discussed this matter with T'Challa, certainly, but her conversations with Ayo had been far more pressing, more nuanced, as she and her chosen Chief of Security sought a united front on what to do if their first instincts were confirmed, and White Wolf's purpose for seeking out Zemo was to put an end to him. Would they have brought White Wolf back to Wakanda to be tried for murder? Would they turn a blind eye? Why had he chosen to act then, without notice?

White Wolf hadn't spoken at length to her or Ayo since the Decimation, but Ayo insisted that when last they'd discussed Zemo, that White Wolf hadn't mentioned thoughts of taking his life in such a way, but maybe something had changed? Broken in him after Tony's funeral, when Steve had chosen another path?

Ayo'd willed herself to travel silently with her Lieutenants to locate Zemo and their White Wolf, not knowing who they might find among the living, and Okoye trusted her to do what was necessary when she did. Ultimately, their discovery that White Wolf had chosen not a path of revenge, but one that leveraged Zemo as a means to an end was a mixed blessing that was profoundly distressing in more ways than she could scarcely count. The fact that he would go to such lengths without even thinking to discuss it with them, to bite the hands of those who had worked so hard, and so long to free him. That he would seek to casually release that murderer without their expressed consent…

And on top of it all? That utterly disgraceful performance in Madripoor…

None of it sat well with Okoye no matter how long she looked at it. Were it up to her, she would not have divested him of his arm, as Ayo brashly had, but she also certainly wouldn't have gifted someone who had so recently betrayed their trust with a token of friendship the next time they'd met. There existed a place between those two extremes that Okoye willed herself to inhabit because her duty demanded it of her. It was not her place to remark that T'Challa's choice to grant the man a royal gift in some way shielded him from the heat of even her ire.

But now, she couldn't help but wonder if some part of White Wolf's admittedly poor decisions might've been unknowingly motivated by the condition ailing his mind.

Did that make them any more palatable, or less bitter on her parched tongue?

It was just another question on an anthill of countless others, but still – it made her wonder why this man, Barnes, continued to wear a shawl gifted to another man? Was it a comfort to him in some way, or was his choice a form of wordless communication, like T'Challa's own wardrobe?

As she eased the controls and began their descent, Okoye did her best to keep her many questions from clouding her voice, "Do you plan to provoke him? This 'Barnes?'"

"If it seems appropriate, yes," T'Challa admitted, "But no matter what lens we choose to view him with, this man has had too much forced onto him by too many for too long. So I plan to ask him if he is willing to be provoked. If he is not, I will respect his choice, but it will mean he will need to remain in safe keeping."

Okoye was in agreement with her King's decision, but she sighed in what she was certain was shared frustration, "More than once, I had hoped we were past this. That we no longer needed to goad him like a moody hippo simply to see if we could force him to bite back."

"I had hoped so as well," T'Challa commiserated. "But with the time that remains, if he is agreeable, we must pray that Bast grants us the wisdom to know how to proceed. That is assuming that Ayo's observation has merit, and the instincts at-play under the surface of his mind are far more formed than what we witnessed two days ago, or those at-play when he first arrived in Wakanda. If not, then the kindness of isolation is the best and only choice I can see ahead of him."

Okoye nodded, but did not debate the merit of her King's claim.

She hoped that Ayo was right, regardless of if any of them ever had the opportunity to speak to White Wolf again.

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[Chapter Art, Close-Up #1 by KLeCrone]

[ID: A cropped painting by KLeCrone showing Barnes standing within an orange energy dome. Barnes is wearing a grey shirt, blue pants, and black sneakers, and has on a blue shawl that hands around and over the shoulder of his vibranium arm. End ID]

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At first, Barnes wasn't entirely sure why Ayo'd felt it necessary to encourage Nomble to give him such a robust overview of what to expect upon King T'Challa and General Okoye's arrival. Yama'd teased that Nomble's penchant for detail was means to allow others to take the reins of less-desirable chores, but Barnes got the feeling that a lot was riding on the coming interactions, and Ayo and everyone else were hoping to make them as smooth as possible.

Which apparently meant prepping him like this was some sort of test, even though every last one of them continued to insist it wasn't a test.

"Everything's gonna be fine," Sam insisted for the fifth time as he continued to fuss with rearranging his bedroll against what he'd dubbed his 'sitting log' on the far side of what remained of the clearing's central campfire. He used the padded blue, white, and red exterior of the bundle to cushion the shield leaning up against it, which was itself propped up against that silver and black case of his containing his flight suit and annoying drone 'children.' "Just… be respectful. Answer their questions and all that. Nothing to be nervous about."

"You know I can't tell when someone's lying, right?"

Sam narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms as he walked over to stand across from Yama, who was already in position for their King's arrival, "I'm not lying."

"He is trying to be inspirational," Yama offered as half explanation, half apology.

"Well he's not very good at it."

Nomble snorted in amusement, prompting Ayo to momentarily break from her conversation with Shuri to eye the group of them from the far end of the meadow.

Nomble, Yama, and even Sam straightened their posture and came to attention amid the sunlit glade high atop one of Wakanda's many wooded mountains.

"Get it out of your systems now, before our King and General arrive" Ayo advised, though there was no heat in her pointed tone. Her attention lingered on him for a moment before she turned her focus to the far corners of the dome, as if inspecting its contents. At Nomble's suggestion, he'd tidied up his bedroll, pillows, and blankets to more closely mimic the presentation of other personal belongings around the camp.

Shuri's cot was laden with a number of colorful pillows and geometric-patterned blankets that had a way of somehow harmonizing with her oversized purple, black, and white bedroll that was at least two-sizes too large for the cot itself and presently leaning against the far corner like a makeshift banner. Somewhere amid their recent cleanup attempt, she'd left the cup of what Ayo distastefully referred to as her 'syrupy elixir of wonders' on the corner of her bed, likely for later use.

Comparatively, the three members of the Dora Milaje were minimalists, and while their tightly-wrapped red bedrolls were visible around the camp, they'd chosen to store their additional pillows and blankets inside the streamlined ship Nomble, Yama, and Teela had used to halt his own ill-informed escape. At a casual glance, their red bedrolls and chosen sleeping spots were as coordinated as their regalia, but Barnes found if he looked hard enough, he could spot the subtle signs of each of their unique fingerprints.

The nearest of the bedrolls to the dome belonged to Ayo, and it was encircled by thin pinstripes of embroidered silver which Barnes suspected were an indication of her rank. The rolled pick sat tucked against the remnants of a fallen log, and while Ayo didn't choose to decorate her chosen area with a drink cup, like Shuri had, Ayo'd instead placed two small stones atop her log with some amount of ceremony. Sometimes, she would hold them or run them around in her hands, but she always returned to nestle them between the same prominent crack of outstretched bark, as if that was their proper place.

Like Ayo, Nomble'd also tucked her bedroll against the log she preferred to sit at, but she'd made no attempts to obscure the small stack of books sitting nearby. She hadn't had them when they'd first arrived, of course. Instead, she'd had to send for them by way of one of the many small drones that had visited the camp for deliveries over the last two days. While Barnes maintained that he had no standing fondness for drones, he could at least admit that their ability to ferry desirable reading material was useful beyond their stated purpose to provide an impressive array of ongoing food and drink options.

Yama's bedroll sat prominently atop the log on the far side of Ayo's chosen territory. While it contained no nearby books or stones that he could see, Barnes got the impression that it contained secrets of its own that Yama'd occasionally scrawled into the dirt at her feet using the tip of her spear, but only when Ayo or Shuri weren't looking. Barnes felt certain Nomble and Sam were aware of her activities, and had concocted a game of sorts to see what they could individually add to the drawings without Ayo or Shuri noticing.

Although Barnes didn't understand the intent of the game, Yama'd snuck him a photo of its current appearance, bidding him to decide what style of horns to add to the goat she'd discreetly scrawled into the dirt.

He'd opted for them to resemble goat-Sam, which had prompted Yama to add wings to her design.

A few feet beside her, the inlaid four-player mancala board lay open, pocketed with colorful stones right where they'd last left off in their game. Sitting on a nearby stump was a glass pitcher of water coupled with a wooden tray housing a tea kettle and six small clay cups. Even though the innocuous bursts of color spread about the sprawling meadow shouldn't have elicited an emotional reaction, some part of Barnes found them oddly comforting, as if they were quiet tokens of the many experiences he'd shared with the people now standing at attention in front of him.

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[Chapter Art, Close-Up #2 by KLeCrone]

[ID: A cropped painting by KLeCrone showing a campsite in the Wakandan mountains. There is an abandoned area with an extinguished campfire surrounded by logs, bedrolls, and belongings matching the description above. End ID]

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Ayo's observant brown eyes dropped to Barnes's feet and her expression grew more serious with her gaze, "I think it would be good of you to seek to cover over the lingering signs of injury from nights before. Just to ensure it's clear they are not fresh."

His attention dipped to his feet, and he frowned when he saw what she was getting at. Though it wasn't clear at first glance, he could just barely make out the dark remnants of blood that'd once soaked the soil upon his arrival. They were faint now, but he found he could recall each of the painful footsteps that he'd taken, and the sickening slick of red that had coated the surrounding terrain.

Without a word, he nodded acknowledgement to Ayo and used the boot of his good foot to push and pull loose soil around to better obscure the depths of what'd happened there, when Yama's quick thinking and inclination to draw a line through the dome might've very well saved him from his own stubbornness.

When Ayo returned to conversing with Shuri, Barnes gazed out at the two organized rows of people milling about in a procession outside of the dome and was swiftly reminded that the rough collection of sparse memories he had of Wakanda wasn't anything like this.

He could recall fleeting moments that members of the Dora Milaje stood in silent, apt attention, but he remembered far more interactions where at least one of them was engaged in conversation. There were other faces, too. Ones he'd begun to associate with a past in Wakanda that existed only in precious fragments: Young faces, old, and anywhere in between. People clothed in all manner of bright, patterned clothing accompanied by smiling faces that immediately set them apart from memories he associated with HYDRA.

He didn't know them, not really, but he wished he did, and hoped with any luck he might again.

King T'Challa and General Okoye showed here and there in his memories, but with less frequency than people like Ayo, Yama, Nomble, Shuri, and Tasdi. Barnes wasn't sure if such appearances were valid indicators of familiarity, or simply happenstance on what his addled mind opted to recall. It was difficult to know for sure, but he estimated that of the two years and change he'd been told their friend once lived in Wakanda, Barnes recalled only mere hours, if that. Brief pockets of time with little conceivable order, punctuated by bright flares of complex emotions he struggled to even begin to grasp.

He wished he remembered more of King T'Challa and General Okoye, but the only memories he could latch onto were ones from the lab when Shuri first tested the code words, and what he assumed was a separate visit when they'd stood and watched Ayo, Nomble, and Yama train with him on the wide expanse of the mountain below.

His spotty memory told him there were significant chunks missing from that visit, too. Conversations and probably even prolonged interactions that took place seven or so years ago that he no longer remembered. The press of their absence gnarled at him as he wished for not the first time that he could recall more about T'Chall and Okoye as individuals beyond the tentative way their friend once interacted with them. Ayo claimed his behavior was due to their high ranking in Wakanda's hierarchy combined with guilt over an encounter where their friend was forced to fight against the King. But like so much: Barnes couldn't remember that event itself, so the guilt he felt was distant, but still oddly genuine, as if he needed to answer for the crimes of another man in addition to everything else riding heavy on his conscience.

Under other circumstances, it might've been comforting to know that although he'd fought King T'Challa in the past, he was still welcome in Wakanda, but presently? The knowledge had a way of making Barnes further ashamed for his recent actions, including the ones that he didn't remember.

He wondered if their friend felt similarly, and how it compared and contrasted with his present circumstances. Had he ever been kept in a dome like this due to poor behavior? Barnes remembered how their friend had been so insistent on repeatedly testing the restraints lashed around him in the lab. That couldn't have come from nothing.

Something must have happened.

Something bad.

That being as it was, there was a palpable buzz of energy in the air as the people outside the dome moved about and finished tidying up their belongings and made the camp what Barnes interpreted as more 'presentable' for the two high-ranking individuals aboard the rapidly-approaching ship in the distance. He knew that they would have a heavy hand in determining his future, but his mind still struggled to piece together just what sort of behavior to expect from the two of them under the present circumstances.

The fleeting memories he had placed them as friendly, familiar, but in a slightly more distant way than the others. It took Barnes effort to recall that those interactions were not the memories that were freshest to the two of them, however. No, the chronology tracked it that their last exchanges with him had been out on this same mountaintop just two days ago, back when he couldn't even read their expressions, or who they'd once been in relation to their friend.

It was all so confusing.

When Barnes had asked Nomble what proper protocol asked of him, she'd told him that it would be suitable to stand at attention facing their King, but to make no demands of him. That he should wait his turn, and they would likely show preference for conversing with others first, starting with his sister, Shuri, and then perhaps Ayo, who Nomble reminded him was her second in command, and Nomble and Yama's senior officer as well.

"What about Sam?" Barnes asked while trying to understand the complex mix of protocol and hierarchy.

"He is a guest to Wakanda, so King T'Challa is likely to address him before you," Nomble explained.

Barnes committed that fact to memory before he'd dared to ask, "...So would Sam have been before or after your friend?"

"Did you really just–?" Sam flustered before Shuri saw fit to cut in.

"Our friend held no stated rank among us, but he was more than simply a guest to Wakanda."

"...so King T'Challa would have spoken with him before Sam?" Barnes pressed.

Shuri simply smiled as if the answer itself was self-evident while Sam grumbled audibly and adjusted the angle of his shield yet again like he was trying to tweak a cockeyed picture on a wall, "Just keep it up, smartass."

"You know I know what that means, right?" Barnes countered, "And you're just jealous that apparently I–"

Nomble looked up at the ship that was nearing their location and called for Barnes's attention, picking up from where she'd left off in her instruction, "–As I was saying: There will be a flow to their conversations, but Yama and I must again be silent unless spoken to. Our faces may be stoic in our focus, but we are still present. It is the way of the Dora Milaje."

"And we will smile again later when our King and General are no longer around," Yama quickly added before Ayo tapped the shoe of her spear for attention. Without another word, the group of them settled into form while the shadow of the ship passed overhead.

With a bright grin, Shuri took a few steps forward so she could stand closest to where the newly-arriving black ship turned and smoothly settled into the long grass amid clumps of mountain sage and sprigs of lavender. The ground at their chosen landing spot was noticeably uneven, as if the land itself objected to having so many vessels parked in such a remote location. Ayo lifted her chin and positioned herself between Shuri and Sam in an alert guard's stance while Yama and Nomble mirrored Ayo's poise and faced her, leaving a processional walking path between the two groups that was lined with upright vibranium spears.

Taking their cue, Barnes stood at attention and watched as the ship's bright blue propulsion lights faded and a set of metal stairs folded down from the outer hull, settling into the swaying long grass below. While he waited for the first sign of the occupants, he managed to catch Yama's eye. Though she remained facing forward and utterly composed, he felt certain that the conspiratorial wink she tossed his way was meant to be encouraging.

He wasn't explicitly nervous, as he'd been when first Ayo, and later Shuri and Sam arrived, but a part of him was anxious to see how all of this might unfold, and if Nomble's prediction for the likely flow of events would be accurate.

It took no more than a few seconds for King T'Challa to lead the way down the grated metal steps. His gait was steady, composed, and for a moment Barnes was confused to see him wearing not the skin-tight Black Panther suit that Barnes recalled, but a more casual set of textured black pants that was topped with a dark purple and silver-embroidered long coat with charcoal-grey sleeves. General Okoye followed closely behind him, gilded in a more ornate version of the Dora Milaje regalia that included a pair of dangling accouterments, a gold ringed collar and matching cuffs around her forearms.

To some, it might have appeared to be merely jewelry, but Barnes recognized it for what it was: functional armor worn by a skilled warrior.

It was almost hard to believe that the man warmly smiling as he stepped onto the grass was the same strong soldier Barnes had fought tooth and nail against only days before, but the other man's easygoing manner had a way of quietly tempering Barne's heightened nerves.

General Okoye on the other hand…

Her expression was more guarded, in what Nomble had called a 'Dora's Neutral.' Though she said nothing, her brows were drawn together, and she kept her eyes leveled on Barnes's own as she took up position beside her King. There was an intensity to her that was raw, powerful. A predator's gaze that evaluated him for flaws and weaknesses.

But even as Okoye sought to pick him apart with her eyes, Shuri grinned and bridged the distance between her and her brother, "My King…" she began with a small flourish of one hand and bow of her head before T'Challa's own smile widened.

"Oh, stop it," he reached out a hand that met hers with a quick and playful slap before seamlessly blending into a matching pair of fists that tapped together in unison. Their movements mirrored one-another in a tight pattern that some part of Barnes found familiar even as they each crossed both their arms diagonally over their chests in what he'd been told was a Wakandan salute.

---

[Chapter Art, Close-Up #3 by KLeCrone]

[ID: A cropped painting by KLeCrone showing a scene in the Wakandan mountains. We are looking down on a sprawling mountain meadow that has a dense growth of trees and bushes on the left. In the meadow is an encampment where two back Royal Talon ships are parked nearby. On the far end of the meadow, Barnes stands within an orange energy dome. Between him and the nearest ship stand Okoye, Nomble, and Yama in one row, facing Shuri, Ayo, and Sam across from them. Shuri is wearing a purple and blue-striped jumpsuit and white sneakers and has her hair up in two loose buns, she is facing T'Challa, who is wearing a purple and grey long coat and dark grey shoes. They are smiling and giving one-another the two-armed Wakandan salute. The four members of the Dora Milaje are all wearing their traditional regalia and are standing next to their spears. Sam is wearing a salmon-pink shirt, blue pants, and sneakers. Barnes is wearing a grey shirt, blue pants, and black sneakers, and has on a blue shawl that hands around and over the shoulder of his vibranium arm. End ID]

---

"Only if it is a royal command," Shuri remarked brightly. There was an ease to their interactions, a genuineness that didn't feel forced or contrived, and their good humor had a way of cutting through the tension, as if this was their communal way of establishing the intended tone for the interactions to come.

As the two of them exchanged words, Barnes did what he could to try and read emotion in Ayo, Nomble, and Yama's present poise, but there was little to latch onto beyond the fact that their attention appeared to be split between General Okoye and King T'Challa.

If the King noticed, he said nothing, but his smile didn't falter as he offered the assembled Dora Milake a two fisted salute that they promptly returned before falling back into their guard's stance in perfect unison.

"And you…" T'Challa said as he took two steps forward to stand in front of Sam, "How are your hands doing? My sister tells me there is more work yet to be done, but that you should make a full recovery."

Sam briefly glanced Barnes's way as he flexed one of his hands, "Little tight yet, but no complaints. Still hard to believe just what-all that tech of yours is capable of, and I appreciate every last ounce of it. If the Design Center's listed on Yelp, I'll make sure to leave five stars with my review." He smirked, "Not every day you get an added bonus of a door-to-door from the King himself, either."

T'Challa snorted pleasantly, "I'm glad we could see to you while such a recovery was still possible, and the skin could be made to nearly match."

Sam's smile faltered briefly as he glanced back at his hands, trying to quickly locate the defectsT'Challa was referring to.

"You must excuse my brother's poor humor," Shuri cut in dryly, "It is my belief that some of it must have been left behind in the wake of the Decimation."

T'Challa's grin only widened as he turned his attention towards Ayo between them, "I have been told of the great progress you and your Lieutenants have made these last few days. I might not have believed what I was told were it not for the videos I have seen firsthand."

Ayo's eyes darted to Okoye's as if she briefly deliberated how best to respond, "Thank you, my King."

But T'Challa wasn't done. He turned smoothly on his heel to face Yama and Nomble behind him. His observant brown eyes regarded the two of them with an unseen metric that Barnes was struggling to follow. Nomble told him that it was unlikely the King would choose to speak with either of them, but it looked as if perhaps she'd been wrong, "Which of you was first to enter the shield?"

Nomble and Yama looked between one another, but Yama's crisp and respectful voice answered without hesitation, "I did, my King."

T'Challa briefly glanced over his shoulder towards Okoye, as if this topic might've been a point of discussion between the two of them, "And did you seek permission to do this?"

From behind T'Challa, Ayo opened her mouth to speak, but a quick motion of Okoye's free hand cut her off before she could get a word out.

Yama's eyes returned to T'Challa standing before her, "I sought permission only for Nomble and I to take a break from guard duty so we might help our friend and Lost Wolf."

"We were not armed," Nomble was quick to add, "And Teela remained on-guard."

For a moment, T'Challa's expression was nearly inscrutable, but there was no anger or reprimand to be found on his face as he turned his attention back to Ayo, who stood resolutely behind him, "Is this true?

Ayo adjusted her jaw and eyed Okoye carefully before she responded, "My Lieutenants sought my blessing and were granted it with the knowledge that they saw firsthand what I could not from afar. I trust their judgment as I trust your own."

Barnes felt certain there were all manner of silent conversations passing between them.

"Even though it might've been to their own detriment?" Okoye cut in, her voice even, but a hair above a warning.

"I take responsibility for my decision, General."

But T'Challa didn't seem inclined to let the topic falter under the guise of Okoye's dire implications. Barnes clearly remembered what the group of them were prodding around. He was in pain at the time, yes, but Yama and Nomble hadn't forced their way into the dome. They'd asked for his consent every step of the way.

He wouldn't have hurt them. Even then, when he didn't know them, couldn't read their faces, he could tell they didn't intend him harm.

He wouldn't have hurt them.

Right?

Some part of him insisted on that as if it was an established truth, but another part of him was quick to remind him that part of why he'd been willing to be compliant was because he thought it was the only thing standing between Sam and his recovery from the many injuries Barnes had lodged against him. But if Sam hadn't been a part of the equation, and if Barnes had thought he might've been able to get out of the dome and away from his captors… well… he would have been lying to himself to assume he wouldn't have been willing to take potentially drastic measures to escape his prison, back when he didn't understand why he'd been placed there.

And he didn't want to think about hurting Yama, Nomble, or anyone else. He wanted to think he wouldn't have promised not to hurt them and then turn around and do just that in a clutch play for his freedom, but… if it was that or what he believed at the time, that they were HYDRA…

Barnes was thankful none of them could overhear his innermost thoughts as T'Challa acknowledged Ayo's claim of responsibility and turned his attention back to Yama and Nomble, "The events of the last few days have not been easy, even after our feet were again on the ground. These unexpected turns tested the resolve of many, myself included, but you should know that even Teela speaks highly of these brave, if unusual choices."

Yama and Nomble briefly inclined their heads in unison at the personal acknowledgement from their King, but Barnes didn't miss a hint of a proud smile quirk the nearest corner of Yama's lips.

Judging by the widening grin on Sam's face, he must've caught it too.

"We are where we are today from their combined efforts," Shuri agreed, "And I think we would be in a far more troubling place now were it not for those formative decisions, including the one granting them permission to pause their guard to pursue rites of compassion."

Barnes got the impression the princess's words were intended specifically for Okoye, but the General's hard eyes remained slightly squinted as she kept watch on him, as if he was very much still under observation. He considered coming to his own defense, or to that of the Dora Milaje in his adopted 'Pack,' but instead, he opted to heed Nomble's advice and remain silent but attentive while he watched the interactions of the people standing and conversing a short distance away.

Or in General Okoye's case: standing and brooding.

But apparently Shuri felt as if the time was ripe for formal introductions, "Come, brother, let me introduce you both anew." With a casual wave of her slender hand, she ushered T'Challa across the meadow towards the nearest edge of the shielded dome. Okoye followed close behind him, but Barnes didn't miss the intense look she cast back over her shoulder, as if warning the other Dora their conversation was not yet complete.

In intentional contrast, Shuri smiled pleasantly and waited until Okoye stepped into position beside T'Challa before she spoke, "Brother, General Okoye, this is Barnes," she gestured between them, "Barnes, this is King T'Challa and General Okoye."

Barnes knew who they were, but Shuri's manner was an intentional formality. It was a way to break bread over gain with them, and he could tell her choice to interject herself into introductions wasn't what T'Challa and Okoye had been expecting from the natural flow of events Nomble'd prepared him for.

But then: Maybe upon overhearing Nomble's run-down of protocol, Shuri'd opted to buck expectations and take matters into her own skilled hands? Barnes would not have put it past her.

Either way, Barnes could feel the weight of T'Challa's focus fall squarely onto him as the King's warm brown eyes met his. He didn't speak, but Barnes was certain T'Challa was cross comparing Barnes with their 'friend.' Looking for cracks, for signs of the man he'd come to blows with only two days prior.

There was a time where such intense focus might've been off putting, but now Barnes chose to see it not as a critique, but the established norm for people to search out his features for someone they knew.

For someone they hoped he was.

In Barnes's admittedly limited experience, it took countless hours for that sort of mutual understanding to be reached, for them to see him as he was. Barnes. Not a shadow of someone else. But something in T'Challa's expression was unexpectedly swift and conclusive. His eyes remained curious, yet the ruler's steady regard spoke to genuine interest rather than masked disappointment that Barnes wasn't someone else.

In passing, Barnes found himself wondering what name the man had one called their friend.

Barnes returned the show of interest, but kept his chin slightly lowered, hoping his slightly hunched body language wasn't perceived as a threat or challenge. As he stood, he did what he could to piece together anything he could from the regal robed man across the translucent orange barrier from him. His scattered memories struggled to find solid handholds involving the same face, especially when his thoughts were presently preoccupied with a fresh wave of shame he felt for their perilous encounter two days ago.

The one where Barnes had first sought to drop him from the rear hatch of the jet.

And the second, when Barnes had very-well considered killing the other man in self-defense to get away or defend Sam from whatever HYDRA might've had planned for him.

The fact that Wakanda's King and highest ranking General had come for him, had sought to subdue him wasn't lost on him, but it drummed up swells of complicated emotions he wasn't entirely sure what to do with. Emotions belonging to someone that grasped them better than he did.

Or at least Barnes liked to think so.

Nomble'd suggested he not speak until T'Challa addressed him, but perhaps Shuri's introduction sufficed? He hoped it did, "...Did I hurt you too?"

The well-dressed man in front of him blinked at the question. Some of the tension riding about the angles of his bearded face softened as he glanced to Shuri and then back at him, "Not badly, no. My suit absorbs kinetic energy, so nothing more than a bath I had not planned and a few bruises, though," his tone shifted slightly, "not all were so lucky."

Barnes felt another flare of guilt rise up in his stomach, "...Like M'yra."

T'Challa tilted his head, curious. From his reaction, Barnes suspected that he hadn't expected the warrior's name to fall into their conversation, "Yes, like M'yra. She is recovering still, and will be for quite some time."

His own thoughts churned uncomfortably at the reminder that although he was standing on his own two feet, she remained at the mercy of grave injuries he'd inflicted on her. But he didn't know how to put his helpless discontent into words. For T'Challa to understand it wasn't feigned or merely lipservice.

Barnes envied the elegant ways many of the people around him could weave their thoughts and explain themselves. In comparison, his inability to convey his experiences often felt rough, like jagged cuts of raw stone. T'Challa hadn't asked him a question, but there was a weight to his words, like it was a test of sorts.

And Barnes didn't know how to respond.

He wanted to. But he didn't know what to say. What combination of words could adequately convey whatever it was that was swirling around in his chest and pulling him under.

This wasn't a simple call and response, a pre-programmed series of structured behaviors like HYDRA had prepared him for, and yet he knew if he said the wrong thing, the man in front of him had the ultimate power to shutter him away without a second thought.

Oddly, T'Challa's expression didn't grow critical or antagonistic as Barnes struggled to deduce what it was he was supposed to say next.

"I spoke with her again last night," T'Challa noted. The ruler's tone shifted, reminding Barnes faintly of Nomble when she sought to help him understand a difficult concept. "She wishes to speak with you about your arm."

Barnes pursed his lips and self-consciously ran his thumb along the wavering raised scar that grafted his Wakandan-supplied arm to his clavicle. The scars and the sensation they drew up were different from the ones he remembered – the painful often searing contact points that had ailed him for so long. Yet this felt like some sort of test too. He didn't understand, "...Why? Why would she want to talk to me about my arm?"

T'Challa tilted his head slightly, as if acquiescing to the question, "She wishes to know more about its comfort and function so she might weigh the possibilities of such an appliance in the later stages of her own recovery."

"I have told her it is too early for such discussions," Shuri cut in, "And neither their bodies nor circumstances were the same."

T'Challa glanced to his sister, ever-patient, "She does not intend for her injury to be the end of her service to Wakanda. While I am not her physician, nor do I pretend to know what Bast has planned for her, M'yra's only request of me were not words meant to condemn her aggressor, but an appeal to learn more about how his arm serves him. I intend to honor this reasonable request if Barnes finds it agreeable."

Shuri looked as though she debated saying something else, but she bit her lip and turned her attention to Barnes as if it was prudent he understood her reservations, "If this comes to pass, it will be important you are honest with her. That she understands such a path is not without drawbacks and discomforts."

Barnes frowned and quizzically regarded his vibranium hand and the strange hints of sensation it offered him. He was aware of its weight on his shoulder, of the subtle twist and pinch of nerves, but compared to the old appliance HYDRA had so cruelly grafted onto him…

"How did he…?" The words faded in and out on chapped lips while his mind circled around a question that up until this point, he hadn't dared not ask. But now, it was as if he could sense the shadows of that morbid curiosity circling like the darkened forms of vultures overhead. "...I…" he started again, "...In the Smithsonian… the photos… he had two hands, like this," he rubbed the fingers of his flesh and blood right hand together.

When he looked up, he realized he wasn't sure who he'd intended the question for, but the King standing across from him glanced to Shuri, as if expecting his sister to have an answer.

Instead, Shuri turned to first Sam, who shook his head 'no,' and then… they both looked to Ayo.

Ayo's sepia brown eyes were heavy with a very particular weight he immediately recognized. It was one he saw mirrored in other faces the moment they spoke at or around his time with HYDRA.

"It was not your choice," Ayo began. "You suffered a grave injury from a tremendous fall, and rather than seeing to your wound, they sought to understand why you'd survived."

Barnes was aware other people nearby were watching, listening, but his focus remained fixed on Ayo to such a degree that it was as if everything else faded out into the background. He didn't remember the firsthand events Ayo spoke of, but by the candor in her words, he had no doubt that at one point, their friend must've confided his experiences with her in detail.

"They kept you like that, suffering like that, for an extended period of time while they tried to understand the endurance and unique properties of your tissues. It was only later that they chose to sever the remainder of your arm so they could study it more closely, and further their sinister motives to reshape you both physically and mentally."

"Christ, I…–" Sam began before rapidly cutting himself off.

Barnes heard Ayo's words, he believed them. They nested uncomfortably alongside the whirl and scream of drills. The charred scent of burnt flesh. The searing, mind-numbing pain that he thought would never end. But he struggled to process the implication of all of it. Of what it meant.

The unspoken parts scared him the most.

But Shuri wasn't inclined to wait out the silence left in the wake of Ayo's words, "He did not tell me there had been a notable delay between when he was found and when they sought to treat his injury."

"They were monsters," Yama remarked under her breath.

By the turn of T'Challa and Okoye's heads, Barnes was reminded that Yama's choice to speak was likely a breach in protocol, but by the tight expression on her face, she did not regret her outburst, even as she struggled to regain her composure.

He could see her quiet anger mirrored on the faces of everyone around him, even T'Challa, "They were," her King agreed, "and the arm they grafted onto you was not done so with kindness or regard for your condition. Once you were brought here, my sister later discovered it, like your mind, was ensnared with traps."

"Is that why I didn't have one in my memories from here?"

There was a beat of silence before Shuri stepped closer, as if their relative proximity was important for what she had to say next, "In part. When you first arrived here, your existing prosthetic arm was severed and ailing. It did not take long for us to become aware of the ongoing pain it caused you, and so we decided that the best way forward was to remove it, and with it: the various failsafes HYDRA installed with it."

She continued, "There was a great deal of work that needed to be done to try and set-right all that was inflicted upon you for so long. Layers of structured healing, like that in the wake of the nails. I would be remiss if I did not mention that working to carve away the press of the code words was made a fraction less dangerous by this decision, but it was always your friend's choice to make, and we respected it. I may have disagreed with his choice to elect for later surgeries to have a permanent appliance of my design grafted to him once again, but I did not deny him the decision once both his mind and body were sufficiently ready for the many procedures it entailed."

Though he could not understand their inflection, Barnes was certain he saw something silent pass between Sam, Ayo, and Okoye at Shuri's claim.

"The quiet concern my sister has, concern which I share, is that neither of us wish to see M'yra lead herself towards brash decisions based on ideals that she is any less for her injury. Especially when those decisions likely carry with them further pain and discomfort that could otherwise be avoided through less-invasive methods."

Barnes struggled to grasp the nuances they were stepping carefully around. He could tell some part of this was about him and his arm, but another aspect wasn't about him at all. "What do you mean by 'less-invasive' methods?"

Shuri sighed in a short burst of air, but Barnes didn't miss how her attention briefly shifted to Okoye before returning to him, "More traditional prosthetics that would not involve permanent surgical grafting, as yours is and was." She paused a beat before inquiring quizzically, "...Does it bother you?"

The unexpectedness of the question caught him off-guard. Had anyone ever asked about the comfort of his left arm? He had to imagine someone in Wakanda must've asked their friend at some point, but he had no memory of that. He could only recall HYDRA's scientists and repair technicians, and they certainly hadn't unless their questions were framed around painkillers or temporary nerve-blockers. Their only interest was its functionality. How much pressure it could apply or withstand until the frail flesh and bone supporting it risked buckling or fracturing outright.

"It doesn't bother me," he idly tested the fingers of it, watching the smooth flow of interlocking plates subtly shift in an elegant approximation of muscles and tendons. "It's quieter than the other one. Lighter. The temperature. It–"

"Self-regulates, yes," Shuri volunteered with just a hint of pride in her voice.

He nodded once, "There's… some sensation too. In certain parts."

"That is a more recent feature," she explained. "Do you find it desirable? The function can be toggled off if you prefer."

Barnes pressed the fingers of his right hand into the palm of the other, noting the ghost of a sensation he interpreted from the contact, "No I… It's not unpleasant. I'm just still getting used to it. To the changes." He grew quiet again before inquiring, "Did he choose the color?"

The simple question drew more of a reaction from the people standing directly on the other side of the orange barrier than he might've expected, but it was T'Challa that replied, "Broadly. He did not want it to closely resemble the arm HYDRA forced upon him nor their chosen symbol of maker's mark upon it. He viewed their work and the conscripted service behind it as tainted, and wished this one to be a fresh start." T'Challa smiled lightly, as if reflecting on a past conversation Barnes could not recall, "Do you know the reason for the colors we selected?"

Barnes frowned, eyeing the darkened vibranium plates separated by lines of orchestrated gold beneath, "Not really, no."

There was warmth in T'Challa's smile, "The press of time did not allow me the opportunity to discuss it in detail with our friend, but the selection came after much deliberation and the advice of many thoughtful voices. The end result was a blend that was chosen to emulate not only the boldness and patterns of our local textiles and arts, but the artistry of Kintsugi. Is this a term you are familiar with?"

Barnes cocked his head, "Like the Japanese word? Where broken pottery is pieced back together, and the resulting seams along the break are lined with gold?"

"The very same. Though beyond the simple beauty of the artform is the principle that there is value in embracing what we might otherwise view as imperfections because their appearance is not a sign of weakness, but of strength. Proud, formative scars that help us realize our full potential, and reminders of how far we've come. That is what we wished to convey through the colors and patterns we selected: That you were made whole by your own efforts and intentions."

Barnes hadn't considered the comparison before, but it was an oddly powerful one at that. As he ran his fingers over the darkened plates, it made him feel a lot of things at once, and he lifted his head, catching Ayo's gaze across the meadow as he did. She was furthest away from him, and maybe that was why she chose to move her hands to sign silent words to him that no one else could see, "You are not broken," she repeated with intention and purpose.

Unaware of Ayo's message, T'Challa sighed and added, "There were once plans for your arm's unveiling to be met with further ceremony, but instead it was delivered ahead of schedule, before Thanos's coming army could arrive at our doorstep."

"Before the Battle of Wakanda?"

T'Challa cocked his head, curious, "You remember it?"

"No. But they told me about it," Barnes clarified, "Showed me some videos too."

"Not of the heat of battle itself," Ayo was quick to interject, as if she felt the need to come to her own defense.

Okoye's attention shot in Ayo's direction before Shuri smoothly stepped in, "Was that when he asked about the aliens, or the appearance of his hair?"

"Hair," Barnes answered for her. "Nomble claimed your friend used the hairband her sister'd lent her in the battle that came after to keep the hair out of his face during the Battle of Earth. I don't remember either event, but we were able to confirm the later appearance of the hairband by comparing archival photos and videos."

While Yama pressed her lips tightly together in an attempt to maintain her composure, Okoye made a sour face and grumbled something underneath her breath that Barnes wasn't able to make out. He didn't think it was in any language he knew.

Curious.

He turned his attention back to T'Challa, "But you want me to talk to M'yra. About my arm. So she can ask me questions that would inform her own care?"

T'Challa inclined his head. "That is all I would ask. That you are honest and direct with her."

"You said the other option for her would be one without permanent surgical grafting?"

Shuri stepped in to answer, "Yes. There are numerous options that are wholly removable. That surround and protect the severed limb and offer remarkable functionality."

He hadn't seen photos of M'yra's injury, but it'd been described to him in enough detail that he could imagine what Shuri was describing, but he was still having difficulty understanding the crux of why she and T'Challa seemed to be handling the topic with such intentional delicacy, "But your friend didn't pursue that option… why?"

"Because he was stubborn," Shuri was quick to conclude, and to her credit: her words were forthright and without any signs of deception. "He thought this option superior, as he was familiar with its basis, and believed it would allow him increased physical prowess, which he viewed as a worthwhile tradeoff to the increased discomfort of a grafted prosthetic."

"And you disagreed?"

"I don't know if I would say I disagreed with the decision," Shuri stated with flair of one hand, "much as I disagreed with the silent implication that his decision was motivated by a debt he felt to Wakanda, even though none of us asked his service in return."

"We did not," T'Challa agreed from a step beside her, "but he would not be deterred, and in the end, it was his choice to make, as it will be for M'yra when her wounds are not so fresh."

Barnes couldn't imagine a conversation with M'yra would be easy after what he'd done to her… but it was a reasonable request, and by the sounds of it: the right thing to do, "I'll talk to her. If that's what she wants." He paused a moment before adding more quietly, "I didn't mean to hurt her or anyone else."

Something in the way T'Challa lifted his chin and met his eyes made Barnes feel as though he'd passed some important initial test, "I choose to believe that. My sister tells me that since we last spoke, you recall more of your time in Wakanda as well, but not much."

"Maybe one or two hours of what other people have told me is supposed to encompass over two years," he found himself apologizing, "And most of that is jumbled together and not anything close to chronological. I can't explain why, but I also remember a few more months in Washington D.C., but most of that's from 2014. And some fractured pieces involving HYDRA."

"But you remember more," T'Challa specified. "So do you find you recognize me now? That I am no longer a stranger to you as I was when I pursued you from the Design Center?"

Barnes looked between him and Okoye and wished he had a better answer for them, "There's… not a lot there," he admitted, "Just glimpses. Pockets of words. Most of them aren't even full sentences, no less the conversations they were a part of." He searched T'Challa's face for more, for that familiarity he felt was just under the surface, "But I get the impression your friend respected you. He sparred with you too. Carefully. A little ways down the mountain from here, I think. It was wider. More open. You were strong. Fast."

T'Challa accepted his answer graciously before extending his hand towards the strict gold-clad warrior standing just to his right, "And do you recall General Okoye?"

There was something to the inflection of T'Challa's tone that Barnes couldn't quite grasp, but he saw the regaliaed woman frown and shoot her King what might've been a sharp look of rebuke. It reminded him more than a little of when Ayo sought to reprimand Yama using just her eyes.

The predatory presence about her was more than a little intimidating, even for Barnes.

"Yeah," he did his best to meet her fierce gaze, "You asked me who taught me Wakandan. Two days ago, when you were last here. I wasn't sure then, but it was many people, and you taught me 'Ingwenya.' You thought it was important I understood what the others were saying, and the meaning behind it."

She cocked her brightly tattooed head, curious, if a little disbelieving, "...You remember that?"

"Not the Event itself," Barnes was quick to clarify, "Just that rumor got around."

Sam's confused voice chipped in from a short distance behind her, "About what? I'm not following."

"About the crocodile with a man's face that once bit my hand when his mind was not wholly his own," Okoye answered. Though her tone remained at a Dora's neutral, Barnes got the impression his comment had a way of finding a crack in her rigid exterior.

"I did not know he learned a proper name for one of Wakanda's many creatures from our esteemed General." Shuri gently teased. Though Okoye kept her expression in-check, her eyebrows gave away her growing curiosity surrounding Barnes's claim.

"You sparred with me too," Barnes added, "Your fighting styles were different, but equally effective."

Okoye said nothing, but she kept her focus hard on him while the faintest of smiles crept onto T'Challa's face, "And do you know why we are here now?"

Barnes felt the intentional pivot in their conversation: he must've passed another test, "To determine what to do with me."

T'Challa inclined his head, as if the answer satisfied him, "And what do you think should be done with you?"

Barnes had done his best to prepare for any number of questions the King might ask him, but this was not among them. Nomble had offered him examples of questions he might be asked, but never the answers. She insisted it was important that the answers come from his own lips, and weren't simply recited from hers or any others. The advice she'd given him was just as important, though:

"You must realize that our King and General are very busy people, and their time is highly prized. They will not have time to sit with us for days and nights atop this mountain and play games and share food and stories so that you can come to know one another. Instead, you must find a way to accept them as extensions of our "Ukupakisha ibhondi," our 'Pack bond,' and not seek to pick apart their intentions or dodge their many questions. They understand time is of the essence, but they will not be rushed to decisions prematurely. So you must find a way to trust them as you have come to trust us. They wish to help, as we do, but they carry with them far greater mantles of responsibility, and will seek to understand the heart and intentions of the man they are speaking to."

The memory of her recent words were a comfort to him, but they didn't offer any clear answer to T'Challa's clear and direct question, which continued to ring through his mind:

"And what do you think should be done with you?"

He'd been bracing for a long list of increasingly complex questions that picked-up directly where he'd left off. Questions that pressed him for details on what he remembered, why he'd done what he had, and perhaps even what'd learned in the last two days. Bits and pieces of call and response that required 'correct' answers to unlock the possibility of the next intended inquiry, but this…?

He glanced to Shuri, taking note of how the warm orange light from the shield rolled off of her inquisitive features. She was the only one in their 'Pack' that had yet to cross the barrier, and while he chose not to take her preference as a personal failing on his part, some part of him wondered if it was due to always remain this way for their protection and valid precaution. Separate. Under observation.

But though Shuri's attention was focused on him, she didn't watch him as if he were an animal in a cage. No: her eyes were bright. Pleasant. Curious. If anything, Barnes got the impression she was hopeful he might have the right answer to T'Challa's question, too.

He licked his chapped lips and slowly found his voice, "Based on what Shuri told me, as long as I continue to avoid REM sleep, she and her scientists believe that I might have a few more days until my mind starts to unravel, and I might start to forget things again. That's not much time, but I'd like to make the most of what I have, and see if there's anything I know that can help in Symkaria."

T'Challa crossed his arms, evaluating him, "I'm sure many would welcome any further information you would be open to sharing."

"I told them everything I know. Anything useful," Barnes quickly responded before adding, "But I… there might be more they pushed down and locked away. HYDRA, I mean. I was hoping maybe if I went there, I might be able to trace my way back or remember. Something."

"And when do you last remember being there?"

Barnes flinched slightly, "It isn't fully-formed either, but some of it was from the 1950s, I think. It's… only pieces, though, but…" he found himself compelled to look at Shuri, as if hoping her mere presence had a way to make sense of his jumbled thoughts.

Had their friend suffered similar issues? Barnes wasn't sure if the thought of that was comforting or not. "I… when they'd bring me out of cryo or send me on missions, they'd usually tell me the dates. Log them, for later recall. But they'd be buried too. They didn't want me to fall into the wrong hands and be used as a resource for the enemy. But…"

This time, Shuri gently engaged him, "But…?"

His eyes flicked up to hers at back to T'Challa, and he was acutely aware of the weight of the five-pointed black vibranium star in his back pocket and the continued questions surrounding it and so much else, "But there are… shadows where those memories should be. They're different from when I was kept under cryo. Those are blank. Empty. These aren't. There's more there they were trying to hide. I'm sure of it. I just don't know what it is. Not without going there and seeing it that unlocks anything else, like the exercises here did."

King T'Challa inclined his head, and when he spoke, his measured words were candid and not condescending, "And we appreciate your directness and desire to help. I share in your concern for the men you recall there many years ago, but we are presently a far cry from permitting such a risky course of action. I would ask you to put aside considerations surrounding Symkaria for the time being so that we might focus on steps closer to us now. Such as what you would want done with you were travel to Symkaria deemed ill-advised."

A part of Barnes wanted to argue, to plead his case, but he got the impression that any further conversations regarding Symkaria needed to be tabled for the time being, or else he risked alienating himself of the opportunity to be heard at all. With some effort, he did his best to push aside his questions and concerns surrounding Symkaria and re-focused on the sea of oddly familiar faces around him: Shuri. Sam. Ayo. Yama. Nomble. Even T'Challa and Okoye, "If I only have a few days… I'd want to spend them making new memories with people I trust. People that see me."

T'Challa kept his expression measured in an impressive approximation of a Dora's neutral, "And where would you go?"

It took Barnes a moment to grasp the undercurrent T'Challa was getting at. His question had a way of reminding Barnes of a conversation he'd had with Sam, Yama, and Ayo out here on the mountain, and the secret, but not secret that Yama'd shared with him, "I wasn't… I wouldn't go anywhere," he clarified, "I'm already home."

The King standing across the barrier from him continued to meet his eyes, but it was clear he wasn't grasping Barnes's intended meaning, "Wakanda, you mean?"

"Not the place," Barnes specified. "The people. The connections."

He caught Ayo glancing his way from the far side of the meadow. Though her expression remained tightly composed, something in her warm brown eyes told Barnes he'd given a correct answer.

T'Challa lips folded into a smile and he let the silence of the sun-kissed morning marinade the open space between calls of birdsong before he pivoted the topic again, "Do you think yourself dangerous?"

"I…" Barnes wasn't sure how to respond. "Do you consider yourself to be dangerous?" he countered, hoping his response wasn't viewed as inappropriate when addressing a king.

Okoye frowned and tucked-in her lips, raising an eyebrow in an expression Barnes rapidly interpreted as 'disbelief,' but T'Challa's own countenance opened into a wide, toothy smile of… amusement? He chuckled lightly, "I have been asked many questions over the years, but that is a new one. An unusual question, but a fair one." He drank it in, "I suppose it would depend on who you asked, but my intent is not to force my will on others or rule with fear. I desire only to use my claws as a last resort when pressed."

Barnes couldn't be certain, but he was compelled to believe the man in front of him was telling him the truth, "I made some bad calls when I was confused. When I didn't remember anything after Washington D.C., but like you, my intent isn't to be dangerous. That's not who I want to be, or what I want to define me anymore." He lifted his head, hoping T'Challa might be able to sense the candor of his words, "I know you're trying to decide what to do with me, but I've made peace with accepting whatever it is. I won't fight it."

He glanced over to Sam and did what he could to push aside the fresh ever-reminder of just how severely he'd injured the other man. The face looking back at him might've been in good order now, but Barnes remembered just how much blood there'd been, the rough shape of his hands and haggard breathing. Unlike so much, that memory was crystal clear and soberingly poignant. "You helped Sam," Barne's voice felt rough, gravelly, "like you promised. You kept your word." He found himself looking out across the swath of grass to Yama, "And even after all that, I got to see those sunsets." He considered stopping there, but he found himself compelled to add more quietly, "I just hope the memory of them lasts. That all this doesn't fade away too."

Something in his confession must've prompted T'Challa to glance to Okoye beside him. At first, she said nothing, until it became apparent he was prompting her to speak next, "Who trained you to fight?"

The question itself was a test, a riddle, but he answered to the best of his ability, "HYDRA, I think," he began before quickly adding, "But I'm not sure about the details. A lot of it's fragmented, incomplete. It's hard to know for sure since most of the pieces aren't dated, and they weren't big on calendars in the labs or where they… kept us. It's just bits and pieces. Glimpses. Scents. Sounds. Tastes. Not fully formed."

"And what is fully formed in your mind?" Okoye pressed in that even tone of hers that demanded his full attention.

He got the impression that he desired specifics, "The latter half of Sunday, August 11th, 2024, when I woke up in the lab, and… all that came after. Then I was brought here. I remember all of that, as well as yesterday and today. The only other part that's clear end-to-end is a period from late 2013 through the middle of 2014, when I was in Washington D.C. Though the overlap with HYDRA has some shadows, I think. Hard to say."

She lifted her chin, "That's it? But you said you recalled me teaching you 'Ingwenya' and its meaning."

"I remember a few pockets from when your friend was in Wakanda. I'm told the period spans 2016 through 2018, but I can't easily date the fragments I remember."

Okoye made an evaluating sound with her throat as she flexed the fingers of her left hand, "That memory was from late in 2016, upon a visit to this same mountain a little ways down from here. Do you recall being trained to fight in our midst?"

Barnes furrowed his brow, but he caught the trap in her question, "I only remember bits and pieces, but I don't think anyone here was training me to fight."

"Oh?" Okoye inquired, curious, but her predatory eyes watched his, "What then?

He glanced beyond Okoye to Ayo, Yama, and Nomble before returning his attention to their General, "They wanted to help re-train my mind to be my own. It wasn't about how to take lives or torture others for information."

Okoye's piercing attention remained transfixed on him, "And your mind is your own now?"

Barnes found himself looking out towards Ayo, as if some part of him still needed to be freshly reminded of the words she'd repeated until he truly believed them:

'You are free.'

He licked his lips and he turned back to Okoye, "Yeah. It is. My mind's my own."

The regaliaed woman standing in front of him set her jaw and turned her head towards T'Challa. A silent conversation must've passed between them, because he nodded once and returned his attention squarely to Barnes. Without delay, General Okoye tapped the shoe of her spear twice against the ground and made a gesture with the fingers of her left hand.

Without notice the translucent shield hanging between them suddenly fell away, and Barnes was left staring out across a world that was no longer cast in a hazy orange glaze for the first time in so many days.

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[Chapter Art, by KLeCrone]

[ID: A painting by KLeCrone showing a wide, morning view of a scene in the Wakandan mountains. We are looking down on a sprawling mountain meadow that has a dense growth of trees and bushes on the left, and beyond the swath of grass, the rocky ledge drops sharply to a valley below. Across the valley are a series of towering waterfalls. In the meadow is an encampment where two back Royal Talon ships are parked nearby. A short distance behind them is an abandoned area with an extinguished campfire and bedrolls, and on the far end of the meadow, Barnes stands within an orange energy dome. Between him and the nearest ship stand Okoye, Nomble, and Yama in one row, facing Shuri, Ayo, and Sam across from them. Shuri is wearing a purple and blue-striped jumpsuit and white sneakers and has her hair up in two loose buns, she is facing T'Challa, who is wearing a purple and grey long coat and dark grey shoes. They are smiling and giving one-another the two-armed Wakandan salute. The four members of the Dora Milaje are all wearing their traditional regalia and are standing next to their spears. Sam is wearing a salmon-pink shirt, blue pants, and sneakers. Barnes is wearing a grey shirt, blue pants, and black sneakers, and has on a blue shawl that hands around and over the shoulder of his vibranium arm. End ID]

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We've been at this cozy little encampment since Chapter 43: "Aphelion," and I thought I'd try my hand at illustrating how I envision it as a sort of send-off to that orange dome that Okoye just brought down…

There are a lot of little Easter Eggs hidden among it that are reference to this and other chapters, including:

- Nomble's little stack of books

- Sam's shield, Wakandan case, and the red, white, and blue bedroll Shuri brought along for him

- Ayo's bedroll is similar to the other two Dora, but I added a faint silver pinstripe, as if it differentiates her rank. The other touch I added for her are two small stones atop the log, which are a callback to a childhood flashback in Chapter 56: "Oblers' Paradox"

- A four-person mancala board game, a pitcher of water, kettle, and six tea cups from Chapter 55: "Ashes to Asterisms"

- Shuri's area has her "bougie" cot, a more colorful bedroll, and a Starbucks cup

- Yama and her conversations about the "Screaming Avengers" has continued to be a point of comedy, so I made sure to include the goat she drew in the dirt. XD

- Barnes's area is a bit obscured behind the dome, but there are some pillows, a blanket in his favorite color, and odds and ends including a campfire. Remember that Wakanda flashback scene from "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier?" The fallen log near Barnes in my painting is supposed to be the one Bucky sat on while Ayo said the code words six years ago… This is *that* location. :)

- I tried to incorporate some mountain sage as well as lavender since I'm big on scents to help establish the ambiance of scenes, and I have a personal fondness for burning sage.

- In the far background are two cranes: they are a symbol for longevity, and now and then in this story, I have tried to use them as a subtle callback of sorts when various characters (including Ayo and Barnes) have felt lost or lonely. I'd like to think the sight of seeing a pair of cranes flying can feel almost uplifting, and it's why I also chose to use them in some of the names for the ships in the Wakandan Aeronautics Museum. :)

- The Wakandan Design Center atop Mount Bashenga can be seen in the faaaaarrrr background on the right as well as the cityscape of Birnin Zana closer to the middle.

- The waterfalls are supposed to be a continuation of Warrior Falls, seen in the movie Black Panther (during Challenge Day), and are vaguely the same ones we see from my last painting in Chapter 68: "Cascades."

Here's a 200% close-up where you can perhaps better make out some of the details (like Ayo's stones and Yama's Goat-Sam with wings drawing).

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[Chapter Art, Close-Up #4 by KLeCrone]

[ID: A cropped painting by KLeCrone showing a zoomed-in view of the abandoned camping area with an extinguished campfire, logs, bedrolls, and belongings situated within a meadow. End ID]

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In any case, this painting became much more of a "Where's Waldo?" than I was originally planning, but it was fun to try to add some personal touches to it that hopefully make the camp feel more lived-in. I hope you enjoy it!

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

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Author's Remarks:

I hope all of you are having a wonderful week! I've had some pretty rough ones as of late, but it is always such a treat to carve out time to work on this story and share it with all of you!

- Clothing and Belongings During the Decimation - I can't help thinking how strange it would be to have half of everyone just… disappear, and be left with their belongings and what to do with them.

- Okoye's PoV and White Wolf - There's a lot here to be sure, but one flicker that bears repeating is the idea that when the Wakandans initially found out that Zemo'd gotten out of prison and Bucky was the last person to see him alive, their first thought certainly wasn't "Oh, I bet the two of them are on a nice little global jaunt to solve a mystery together!" I think it's utterly believable that they considered the possibility that Bucky might've been considering harming Zemo for what he'd done. Therefore… it would track that they would have sent a group of Dora after them that knew Bucky, conceivably in case they needed to make a call on what to do with him and/or Zemo, etc. Instead… what they found was in some way better, and in some ways *worse* than they expected. Tricky stuff!

- Bucky's Amputation Under HYDRA - The idea that it was stabilized but left untreated initially so they could further investigate his enhanced healing process is… not a comforting thought...

- Kintsugi - This visual choice for Bucky's arm always resonated with me, and I love the idea that it had some of its origins in the beauty of Wakandan textile patterns blended with the poignant pottery of another culture.

- Bucky's Endgame Hair - So if you watch the footage… carefully… during the Battle of Wakanda in Infinity War, Bucky's hair is down, but in the Battle for Earth in Endgame… it's partially up, meaning… somewhere in there, he used a hairband to help keep his hair out of his face in the battle to come. ;) Is this absolutely useless trivia? Yep. But did I now offer you free headcanon about where the hairband came from? Also: yes.

Thank you as always for your continued support, comments, and kind words! I can't wait for you to see what's up next, especially now that the clock is ticking! (And it goes without saying that since I don't currently have a beta reader for this epic project: If you ever notice any typos or similar, please don't hesitate to let me know so I can promptly correct them!)