Happy New Year! We've had some flashbacks to Barnes in Washington D.C., and it is an absolute thrill to share another illustration by Kam ("mxaether" on Twitter) featuring Barnes and some feisty felines doing their best to keep him company while he was very much trying to ensure Steve (and Sam's) continued safety. ;)

In addition, over the 2022 Winter Break I decided to revisit and pour more time and TLC into a Bucky painting from an earlier chapter in order to make it more like I originally envisioned. I hope you enjoy the result!

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

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

Winter of the White Wolf

Chapter 78 - Self

Summary:

In the wake of a less than relaxing shower, Barnes struggles to pinpoint the root of what's bothering him…

Waitn' out Barnes and whatever lopsided bathroom routine he was workin' his way through had a way of yanking at Sam's nerves in a host of ways he was sure were overblown. At least: he wanted to think so. But without having eyes on the man himself, Sam was finding it surprisingly difficult to cast aside his concerns, regardless of a few rounds of long-distance banter about respectable toiletries.

Sam did what he could to make conversation with Yama in between checkin' on the news and exchanging a few text messages with Sarah and Rhodey. After that, he went back to doom scrolling on social media now that he had some Wakandan equivalents to cycle through too. Between closing and opening apps, he did what he could to ignore the passing time, during which his overactive imagination did what it could to determine what Barnes was up to at any given moment based on the brief pockets of movement coming from behind the bathroom door. He wanted to believe that things were goin' just fine, that Barnes was just takin' his time and being thorough with whatever equated to proper cyborg hygiene, but Sam couldn't help worrying about the other stuff. The heavy, concerning stuff that was goin' on with his mind, as well as the possibility that being alone in the room might somehow prompt that miswired brain of his to inadvertently tap into the emotional fallout Buck'd suffered after Ayo'd given him a verbal lashing a few days prior.

And the fact all that Sam could do is sit on that couch and wonder what was goin' on on the other side of that door, well… he'd had better vigils.

Had worse, too.

For her part, Yama stayed focused and attentive from her perch on the far end of the couch, keeping a watchful eye on the bathroom door and its unseen occupant. She didn't make a point of drawing attention to it, but Sam didn't miss that now and then she'd check on Barnes's vitals, confirm there were no worrisome trends, and then share a sympathetic glance with the anxious man on the other end of the couch before resuming her guard. While she may have been seated cross legged rather than standing at attention, Sam was well-aware by the way she kept her spear in one hand that she was still some manner of 'on duty,' and that she took her responsibility seriously.

And just because Barnes's mind had been deemed 'stable' for the moment, that it wasn't due to randomly snap away key memories, it didn't mean he was okay.

Just like the hand-to-hand combat of the morning hours and the whirlwind tour of Wakanda Okoye'd taken them on after, holin' up here with just the three of them and no shields between 'em was a sort of litmus test of its own. And Sam wasn't worried about Barnes suddenly turning violent on 'em or hurting himself, not really, but he did worry about what sort of coping mechanisms someone like Barnes had for heavy stuff like this. It wasn't like Sam could imagine HYDRA'd been particularly big on the ins and outs of therapy or self-care.

The sudden lurch of the bathroom door's lever made Sam's thoughts momentarily catch in his throat. His head snapped in time to catch the door swing inward, revealing a barefoot Barnes wearing the same assembly of clothes he'd had goin' in, royal shawl and all.

Seein' him put together offered an ebb of quiet relief, because it meant Sam no longer had to stew in circles imagining what Barnes was goin' through alone on the other side of that door. By all accounts, Barnes wasn't lookin' particularly refreshed as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom in the back of their fancy Wakandan suite, but he also wasn't nearly as distressed as Sam might'a objectively feared. A heaping of that was credit to the fact that this was Barnes they were talkin' about, too. His emotional range was shallower than most, and more'n a little stilted, but he had a way of sayin' a lot with his eyes whether he meant to or not.

And right now, those stormy blue orbs were speaking to a symphony of private thoughts, even if Sam couldn't decipher the measures written between the melody. They weren't bloodshot as if he'd been cryin' outright, but his skin around 'em was redder than usual, speaking to a blisterin' hot shower that might've gone a clip beyond entirely comfortable.

Over the years, Sam'd taken showers like that too, so he couldn't fault Barnes for seeking comfort or absolution in the scalding heat.

The man of the hour didn't say anything initially. Barnes just stood there keeping his eyes to himself with his right arm stretched over his chest as he ran his fingers up under the blue, black, and gold shawl hanging neatly over his vibranium shoulder. For a split second, Sam worried maybe Barnes'd keyed into the intersection between Ayo and the arm, but the spots those fingers of his focused on under the cloth were evermore telling. It was a nervous movement, like they were searching out the echo of the star that used to be there.

Did Yama know about that blood red emblem? By the empathetic frown that'd overcome her face, she must've.

Yeah… whatever was presently haunting Barnes around those raw, shaky edges was almost certainly composed of HYDRA–variety ingredients. All things considered, Sam couldn't help but think that if his addled mind had instead offered up a flashback of Ayo havin' it out with him, it would'a been the more compassionate of the two options, even if it made for one awkward-as-all-Hell follow-up talk.

But the weird thing was, Barnes had known about the failsafe when he'd woken up in that lab. Did that mean he remembered any bit of that spat with Ayo or the time she'd systematically disarmed him in Latveria when he'd tried to grab a hold of her spear during that debacle with Walker, Lemar, and a slippery Baron?

Add that to the growing list of questions and curiosities Sam was content not to broach to the open air, "Anything we can help with?" Sam inquired, doing what he could to give Barnes space while also not turning a blind eye to the fact the other man was standing barefoot, and somehow managing to look 'lost,' 'distant,' and remarkably distressed all at the same time.

Those blue eyes turned back to Sam, evaluating him. Somethin' off in the fridges was obviously gnawin' at the man, but Barnes furled his brow like he was deciding on a landing approach for whatever he planned to say next, "No, but I tried your toothpaste. That so-called 'fruit' flavor is worse than at least half a dozen chemicals I've tasted, and that's saying something."

Okay so Barnes was veering towards an attempt at his off-brand humor. Sam could jive with that, "It's prescription, smartass. Your super-taste buds are probably just whining about the fluoride."

"Fruit isn't even an actual flavor," Barnes argued.

"Is too."

Barnes looked to Yama for support, "It's not a flavor, right?"

"Not really. It's more of a broad category. In Wakanda we—"

Sam rolled his eyes and waved away her coming observation with a flutter of his nearest hand, "Besides: how do you know that toothpaste isn't yours?"

Barnes contorted his face into an expression that was so repulsed, Sam might'a been objectively offended, "I clearly have better taste," Barnes concluded before sauntering over towards the duffle Buck'd packed for what shoulda been a two or three day outing to Symkaria. While that lopsided banter of his wasn't firin' on all cylinders, Sam was relieved it was still lurkin' there under the surface as its own sort of coping mechanism, or somethin' close. Far as Sam could tell, it was his way of making sure he didn't wade too deep in his own thoughts. It gave the folks around him a sense of when to throw him a lifeline so his completely justified rounds of brooding didn't pull him under and drown him.

Yama'd been right about a lot though. In their text exchanges, she'd reasoned that maybe he just needed time and space to process what'd happened. That even in the times he wasn't actively engaging them, he was still drinkin' in the safe space they'd created for him to feel whatever he needed to feel.

And Sam was guessin' that alone was a lot to chew on, no less swallow whole.

Barnes was a lot of things, but Sam got the impression he was generally doin' what he could to be straight with 'em. It meant Sam did his best not to pry too much, or prompt him into conversation with well-meaning pleasantries like "You good?" when it was clear he was anything but. Annoying as it sometimes was to not be able to mindread, he didn't want Barnes feelin' pressured into sharin' more than he wanted to, so when he'd confided that part of what was gnawin' at him was that he didn't remember the hallways outside or their suite, Sam accepted his answer as stated fact rather than a misdirect.

But all things considered, the subtext was a lot more profound. Barnes wasn't big on expressing his own wants and needs, and the fact he'd clearly hoped to tap into more recent memories — specifically ones that involved Sam — was… something very particular, especially coupled with that distress visible on his friend's face at the bare admission. It had a way of reminding Sam of that trip to Symkaria, and how Buck'd said he felt like he'd been there before, but the memories themselves were gone. Missing.

Even if they hadn't been the best of memories, they were still his.

Or should'a been.

Barnes huffed out a breath of air and thumbed through the surface-level contents of the duffle Buck'd packed before turning his attention to first the glass vase with its two black flowers, and then the neat sprawl of organized bedding laying across the floor at the foot of the couch Sam and Yama were presently occupying. The two of them had made it clear on any number of occasions that they were happy to answer whatever questions he had for them, but the more Sam watched, the more he found he was unsure if Barnes wasn't asking because he was bein' his usual stubborn self and trying to figure it out for himself, or if maybe there was an underlying reason he wasn't yet ready to broach.

Still: He was trying. Sam had to give him credit for that.

"The bathroom's free," he offhandedly remarked as he returned his attention to the contents of the duffle bag.

"I'll freshen up later," Sam responded, doing his best to keep his tone casual and non-confrontational. "That suitcase on the right there is yours too."

The remark earned him a raised eyebrow from the man in question, but Barnes didn't debate the claim. With a twitch of his stubbled jaw and a renewed sense of purpose, Barnes slid the duffle bag to one side and picked up the suitcase and set it on the counter as if the damn thing weighed next-to-nothing. He peeled open the zipper, resuming his exploratory excavation of the contents Buck'd packed like he was on some kinda slow-burn scavenger hunt.

"Want some music or something?" Sam offered, trying to be helpful.

"Up to you," came the noncommittal response from the cyborg delicately foraging nearby. It was like watching a kid unwrap a present while doin' their best to be mindful of not tearing the paper in case they wanted to reuse it later. Like there was a ceremony to maintaining the status quo. Buck hadn't been anywhere near as methodical, at least not that Sam could remember, but maybe he woulda' been if he were inspecting someone else's gear while hoping to leave it undisturbed.

…On second thought, ya'know maybe this was how this guy was able to make it in and out of that apartment he had back in Washington D.C. without Sam ever catching wind of it. Just how many times had he even done that?

Sam was building his way up to coaxing a side chat outta Yama while the two of them tried to pretend they weren't eyeballing what Barnes was up to, but it was actually the man on the far end of the room that broke the silence with a meek complaint, "I don't recognize any of this either."

Yama spared a glance to Sam before she got to her feet and stepped closer to Barnes in an attempt to draw him into conversation. Her brown eyes floated over the sea of clothing and accessories, "Would you like Sam to pull up some photos of our friend wearing certain garments?" It wasn't the first time she'd brought up the possibility, not by a long shot. Her latest approach entailed slowly wearing him down by shuffling her words around like some sort of combination lock, hoping that with the right order, the right inflection, he'd finally give in to her suggestion.

"None of it's from back then," Barnes stated in an expert-level non-answer and sublime pivot.

"He wouldn't've had packed from as far back as you're rememberin', if you mean circa 2014 or so," Sam observed. "That was a long time ago."

Barnes responded by frowning and glowered at the contents of the suitcase and duffle beside it like they were misbehaving dogs while Yama did her best to help, "For what clarity it is worth, I do not think there was more than a single change of clothing that accompanied our friend when he first arrived in Wakanda."

"In 2016?"

Yama nodded a confirmation. It was apparent she wished she had something more useful to offer him, but Sam wasn't entirely sure why Barnes was suddenly so interested in old stuff he already remembered.

While Barnes chewed on whatever dead end he'd been chasing, Sam thought to offer what he hoped was useful info, "You'd bulked up by the time we finally located you in Bucharest. Just before you came here." He heard himself speak the words out loud well before he processed any of the possible implications of his comment. What he'd meant to convey was that Barnes'd sized out of whatever he'd been wearing in those early years in D.C. prior to his self-imposed international migration.

But because Barnes couldn't resist bringing up the fact he'd been a clever sonofabitch, he turned Sam's way and had the audacity to remark without a drop of shame, "Your shirts were too small for me even back then."

"Wow. You— You were pawin' through my clothes?"

Barnes shrugged, unconcerned, "Steve's were a better fit, but too colorful. If it makes you feel better, the majority of your leftovers were superior to his."

"First: That's what some of us would call 'seasoning'—"

"—That tea you kept in the fridge was awful, though. No wonder you need prescription toothpaste."

Sam flapped his lips in search of a viable retort to Barnes — of all people — tossing shade at his sweet southern nectar, but he couldn't help wondering what exactly it was that HYDRA'd fed him all those years. What exercise regimens they'd subjected him to for their nefarious purposes. Nat'd been able to track down a handful of photos of him back in his Winter Soldiering days, and regardless of if he had the kennel mask on or that black gunk around his eyes, it'd been a regular point of discussion that he hadn't been kept in the best condition. That much was clear.

And now, Sam found himself wondering if Barnes had overheard conversations like those. Just watching them from wherever he was perched outside. Listenin' in while he tried to figure out just who he was — who he'd been — from roundtable discussions and a scattering of awful, classified dossiers.

What a terrible wake-up call all that must'a been. Back when he still had those nails aching in his skull too. Christ.

Sam wouldn't've been inclined to admit it to Barnes outright, but over the last few days he'd occasionally flicked back through the albums on his phone to take a private peek at some of those old black and white photos and the faded ones too. Both the variety that'd gone public, and a sizable handful more than hadn't. At first, it'd been his way of trying to separate his conception of 'Bucky' from the violent stranger he'd known only as 'Barnes.' Originally, viewing them as two individuals made this mess a fraction easier to swallow. Helped ground him in the disturbing reality that who he was talkin' to was more like someone fresh outta that bloody era than the man that'd resolved to be his Partner just three days ago.

But that was before Sam'd begun to recognize that the Winter Soldier was a complex person in his own right too, and not just some mindless murder-bot.

So yeah, it was wild to think that somethin' like the man in those old photos was presently standing barefoot a few steps away as he eyeballed Sam's feet and casually added, "I did confiscate some of your excess socks and shoes though. The sizing for them proved adequate."

"You what?"Sam's voice might've gone a pitch higher than he was intending, but Yama also didn't need to grin back at their exchange like that neither. "Don't you start. He wasn't off stealing your damn sneakers."

Barnes turned to Yama like he felt the compulsion to defend the nobility of decisions, "He had them sitting around stacked in boxes. It wasn't like he wasn't even using them."

Yama snorted and used her free hand to motion smoothly towards Sam, "I do not know if Sam's phone would contain photos of the shirts or black boots contained in your suitcase—"

"—Those weren't ever my shoes," Sam was quick to point out.

Barnes looked almost insulted, "Obviously."

Sam narrowed his eyes, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"They have too much… what did Nomble call it? 'Panache?' To have ever belonged to you."

Yama stifled a snort before she lightly tapped the back of one knuckle against the nearest edge of Barnes's suitcase. Her tone was one Sam recognized as the time-tested sibling communication bridge Sarah used when she was trying to get through to her thickheaded brother, "Barnes…"

The cyborg in question grumbled something in one of the many languages Sam didn't speak before adjusting his face and begrudgingly acquiescing in what might'a been a bonafide Winter Soldier pout, "Fine. We can see if he has any photos with one of the shirts."

Yama visibly brightened at his decision while he gathered the duffle in his arms like it was an oversized carnival prize and followed the regaliaed warrior back towards the couch. As he approached, he stopped just short of it, deliberating if he wanted to sit between the two of them on couch, and chose instead to lower himself to the floor in that ridiculous yoga pose of his.

As Barnes settled, Sam got a remarkably good look at that injured foot that'd been sliced clean through by M'yra's spear back when she'd made a play to try and pin him down in the Propulsion Laboratory. He didn't complain about it, not even after the morning cardio or all the walking they'd done since, so it was easy to assume the troubling implications of the wound were in the past. Yet the residual heat of the shower'd prompted the reddened scars to reveal themselves like secrets on a pirate's map.

None of 'em remarked on the sight of it now, of course. Yama and Shuri'd done all they could outside of what was available at the Design Center, and Barnes'd made it crystal clear he had no interest in goin' there yet unless it was an outright demand.

Which, to date, it hadn't been.

Not yet.

Barnes's face was stuck in that petulant pout of his as he laid the duffle end-to-end across his lap, "I'll give it a try, but it hasn't worked with just photos." He fiddled absentmindedly with the zipper before glancing up to Yama, who sat facing him from atop her perch on the couch.

"You asked many questions on the mountain and as we toured Wakanda. Requested all manner of videos and photos. Why is it now that your curiosity pulls back?" Her voice was even, and held not a drop of teasing or reprimand. It was abundantly clear she didn't want to proceed without understanding where Barnes was coming from in all this, and why he was so hot and cold about wanting to actively pursue more recent memories, and the documentation they had for them.

Sam could grasp why he might not want to jump feet-first in trying to pull back the curtain on any number of HYDRA-brand horrors, but it hadn't been ten minutes since Barnes had last complained about how he didn't recognize anything in the room, up to and including those clothes he help running his fingers over like a three-dimensional Ouija board.

His fingertips moved over the buttons of one of Buck's heavy weather jackets that was folded neatly inside. The one he'd whined about getting repaired after one of the perps they were chasing had cut into it with a knife that he'd made short work of.

"It just had to be my favorite jacket," he'd predictably complained.

"If you stopped wearing your good jackets out, they wouldn't get holes in them," Sam helpfully observed.

"Well if you stopped flying headfirst into danger, then maybe I wouldn't need to spend my free time trying to find out if the repair bills you're costing me are considered taxable donations."

"You could just rip off the sleeve like you do with half of 'em anyway. You must have a whole collection going by this point."

"It was the other sleeve, jerk."

Sam was pulled back to another time as he watched Barnes inspect the jacket along with the little knick in the right sleeve that Sam'd gotten repaired as an olive branch to the fact that Sam's own suit was bullet and knife-proof, but Buck's wardrobe was neither, 'less you counted the left arm. Barnes didn't ask about the scar in the leather, but seeing him run his hands over the pebbled exterior in smooth, even passes made it clear that his searching mind was clearly working overtime trying to draw out something from it. "I know you're both trying to help," his voice was softer now, like the teasing edge of it had run its course. "It's…" he frowned and looked up between them, doin' that breathing thing he sometimes did when he was trying to sort through his thoughts, "I want to know things. To understand. But I also don't, because…" he faded off and resumed chewing his lip, visibly deflated.

Because he knows there are any number of minefields hidin' out there too in plain sight, Sam silently concluded. The underlying answer seemed obvious enough to him, but he hated to see Barnes struggling like this. He caught slow movement to his left as Yama smoothly slid off the couch so she and Barnes were on the same level. Once seated on the floor, she reached across and gently pulled on Sam's nearest pant leg, prompting him to join them. Without hesitation, he lowered himself to the ground and leaned his back up against the base of the couch.

Once they were settled, Yama spoke again, her voice was all patience and compassion, "Is there a worrisome possibility we might be able to alleviate with words alone?"

Barnes kept his eyes downcast on the rigid black and silver Wakandan phone resting in Sam's hand. He didn't get the impression Barnes was avoiding Yama's question so much as mulling it over. Processing it. After what felt like at least a minute of heavy, brooding silence, Barnes looked to be circling some manner of conclusion and opened his lips to speak, but before he could get a word out, he abruptly tensed and turned his upper body to look behind him to the front of the suite.

He was already on his feet by the time knuckles struck twice against the outside of the thick wooden door. Without a word, he swiveled the rest of his body around and slid the duffle he'd been holding to the ground so both his hands were free.

Yama was up and at'em right behind him. They were on-alert, to be sure, but even Barnes wasn't bracin' like he was readyin' to defend their solemn honor from whoever was at the door.

Lord almighty, he was quick as a cottonmouth though.

Sam furled his brows together and rose to his feet, "Don't worry, I got it," he offered, taking point as he worked his way around Barnes through the sea of neatly arranged blankets, bedrolls, and pillows. Barnes didn't necessarily look thrilled about it, but he did what he was told and stayed put.

Sam himself wasn't sure who to expect. He was just hopin' it wasn't anyone comin' to collect Barnes, "Who is it?"

The answer was instantaneous, "Ayo."

A powerful wave of relief washed over him at hearing her voice again, coupled with a small, private smile at the strange juxtaposition of how remarkably different their circumstances had been the last time they were on opposite sides of this exact door. That same night she'd strode off with that vibranium arm only to return to their doorstep and apologize for going too far with her words when she'd capped off her take-back by spittin' out a single curse of a word in Russian.

Sam shook his head at the layers beatin' around the edges of that particular memory, but he didn't waste time opening the door this time. When he saw her standing there in the hallway in her proud regalia, he could tell by her familiar expression that she was thinkin' some flavor of the same thing he was. 'Cept this time, the two of 'em were acquainted in far more profound, remarkable ways than they had back then, and Sam was thankful up and down for that.

In that moment, he remembered back to when Shuri'd privately confided in him that she thought some part of Ayo'd been a little bit jealous of his friendship with Bucky. About how she'd been silently replaced without explanation. Sam hadn't understood it back then, not really, but he wanted to think he grasped a fraction of it now. How this was important to her in a way that went far beyond duty, and how havin' a united front while dealin' with this perpetual ball of weird only had a way of strengthening their resolve.

Sam felt like he was gettin' better at readin' her expressions too. That, or she was feelin' more at ease sharing what was lurking under the surface of that stalwart warrior poise of hers. And right now? She looked relieved to see him too. One hand was set around the shaft of her spear, while the other hand gripped the top handle of a worn black book bag that was covered with all manner of straps and pockets. A pleasant smile rose to her lips, "It is good to see you again. May I come in this time?"

Sam snorted lightly at the reference and held the door open for her with a gentlemanly flourish, "Of course of course." She dipped her head and stepped through the doorway, waiting for Sam to shut the door behind her before she took inventory of the room. Sam was rather sure he caught the key points: The little nest on the floor, duffle, and open suitcase. The vase of black flowers and that little stack in the corner with their razors, Barnes's wallet, phone, and that vibranium nanite star of his.

She nodded once and politely sat the black backpack to the side of the entryway near Sam's shield and his fancy Wakandan suitcase. While she did, Sam chanced a glance to the rear of the room where Barnes and Yama were still standing at attention. Whatever residual tension or doom and gloom'd been lurkin' appeared to have parted for the time being, because Barnes looked utterly relieved to see her, "Are you allowed to talk to me now?"

The smile on Ayo's face only widened, "I am." She crossed an arm over her chest, acknowledging Yama in the far end of the room.

Yama returned the salute from her superior officer and leaned towards her spear hand, "He was concerned he might've gotten you in trouble."

Ayo raised a calculating eyebrow, "And here, I might've wondered the same for you."

"I remained on duty as instructed, my Chief."

"When you were not making signs with your hands, I heard."

Yama shrugged her shoulders lightly, "Apparently when one rises to the rank of General, the Gods grant them an eye on the back of their heads. How was I to know?"

Ayo made a sound in the back of her throat. Even still, Sam felt compelled to interject a mild confessional, "...I probably wasn't helping."

"I heard that too." Her expression was amused rather than cross, likely because all things considered? She'd been doin' some degree of the same behind Okoye's back too. "But it is alright. It was valuable for General Okoye to observe others on the field herself rather than to simply read over reports conveyed to her." Ayo's attention returned to Barnes, "She remains impressed you were able to divest her of her Dora Cry of Ngai Bead without her knowing. That was a very bold, if risky move to attempt on someone of such high rank."

Sam didn't miss how Barnes adjusted his jaw at the critique, "I figured if I could pull it off, it'd be worth it."

"And if it angered her?"

He tilted his head, considering the question, "Then I'd learn something about her in the process too. Realistically, I thought there was a chance she might activate it just to see how I'd react to the sonic pulse. I didn't expect her to just… smile."

Quiet pride radiated from Ayo, "It is rare to earn such a valuable reward."

"A merit badge for the bruises wouldn't'a been a bad consolation prize either," Sam remarked, glancing back to the black backpack Ayo'd brought with her that was presently leanin' against his shield.

He had underlying questions surrounding the not-at-all Wakandan-looking bag, but though Ayo picked up on those curiosities, she appeared content to cast them aside for the time being, like there was an order of business to her priorities. "Princess Shuri sends her regards. She is occupied for a while longer yet, but hopes to join us once she feels she is at a suitable breaking point in her responsibilities at the Design Center. I do not have any pressing updates for you on those topics now, and would ask that you allow our Princess to discuss the manner of her latest findings with you herself."

Barnes's face fell slightly as the present reality they were dancin' around slipped back around him, "About my mind, you mean?"

Ayo nodded, "They are still searching for viable long-term solutions, yes."

Barnes bit his lip and nodded, tilting his blue eyes up towards Sam as he crossed back to the rear of the room and used one foot to idly push aside Bucky's duffle and some of the nesting materials to make room for their impromptu social gathering. It was a tight fit, but after being up on the mountain, he'd learned that formalities among the Wakandans only went so far.

Ayo took a few steps closer and took up position near the end of the bed while Sam cleared a space for them, "I have spoken with M'yra as well."

Sam caught the bright flare of concern that flashed over Barnes's expression at the mention of the injured warrior's name, but Ayo was wasted no time in clarifying, "She is still restricted to bedrest and will require numerous surgeries and intensive physical therapy before she is expected to be on her feet again, but her spirit is strong." Ayo inclined her head, addressing Barnes specifically, "She would still very much like to speak with you about your prosthetic when you next visit the Design Center."

"I will," Barnes replied, meeting her gaze. Sam could tell by his tone it was a promise.

Satisfied, Ayo nodded once and lifted her chin before continuing, "M'yra has also chosen to volunteer her services and assist us in our research regarding the events in Symkaria. Princess Shuri and I have granted approval for her to pursue such investigations in the hopes of growing our understanding into what is transpiring internationally."

"Wait–" Sam found himself speaking, "The same M'yra I met with?"

"The very same. She located a candid photo of you and our friend standing on a balcony taken what we assume is only days ago in Symkaria. M'yra worries that you have become unwittingly attached to the troubling situation there. Though she is injured, she wishes to continue to serve Wakanda through her research while her body recovers."

Sam frowned, feeling that familiar tension leeching back into his gut. He remembered bein' on that balcony with Buck, and the thought of someone else watching them without them knowing was a very particular sort of distressing, especially since the two of them had been some degree of under cover at the time. Barnes scrunched his face, visibly confused, "But why would she…? After I…?"

"M'yra holds no grudge against you for what has happened," Ayo clarified. "And she knows the reach of the situation in Symkaria risks many more lives, regardless of if they are Wakandan or not."

Yama nodded agreement and added for Sam and Barnes's benefit, "M'yra would not offer if she was not sincere in her intent," she observed. "Our sister's mind is very sharp and well acclimated to both complex international causes. She was often assigned to accompany outreach missions, so if she's chosen to leverage her skills for our cause, it is because she feels she can contribute in ways others cannot."

By the lingering expression on Barnes's face, Yama's remark hadn't succeeded in quelling his underlying questions, which, granted: Was entirely fair considering the only encounter he probably remembered with her was the bloody fight in the Propulsion Laboratory. Sam had questions of his own beyond that, but he felt like he was a good enough judge of character to volunteer his own perspective, limited as it was, "She seemed level-headed when I talked to her. If she wants to help, it sounds like it's a good thing. We could use the help."

Barnes acquiesced to the declaration of good faith, but Sam could tell the exact moment Ayo's thoughts started to drift back to that black bookbag she was eyeing in the far corner of the room. Eventually, she turned her attention to Barnes, "Just before I arrived, I picked up our friend's backpack. It was recently delivered to us from Germany, where it went missing in 2016. Though none of us can speak to how complete the contents are, we requested that you be the first to pursue them, if that is what you wish."

…Oh. That was what that bag was. Sam'd thought it looked familiar. Everett Ross must've come through after all. The fact he was pullin' favors for Wakanda was certainly interesting.

Barnes looked past Ayo to the black book bag haunting the corner, "So you haven't… gone through it?"

"Not in any manner of detail, no. I have only confirmed its basic contents — mostly paper goods such as journals and notebooks — and I personally oversaw a thorough scan to ensure there were no supplementary deterrents or embedded trackers. But it is for you to decide how to proceed from here. An opportunity you can freely take or decline, and one which you can choose to involve us or review in private."

Barnes visibly considered her words, "What happens after?"

"After?"

"After I decide," he specified. "What happens to everything?"

Ayo glanced over her shoulder to where the black backpack sat nestled innocently next to Sam's shield like two mismatched peas in a pod, "In truth? I do not know. Princess Shuri expressed interest in digitally logging the contents in case they might offer valuable insight into potential resolutions for what is ailing your mind, but only after you were granted the opportunity to pursue them." The tone of her voice shifted slightly, as if there was something else she felt compelled to add, "There were many decades where both the Winter Soldier project and HYDRA were active. If there is information contained within that would offer clarity or closure to past events, even those outside of our control, I believe it is our responsibility to ensure that our findings are put to proper use."

Barnes breathed in and out and set his jaw, but he didn't argue the point. Sam was guessing by his expression that he was well aware that it was a veritable Pandora's Box in there, and once he opened it, he couldn't exactly close it back up again.

With all that was goin' on though, what with Barnes's ailing mind, the situation in Symkaria, and HYDRA's legacy regarding the Winter Soldier program, it was clear to Sam that Ayo was right: regardless of if Barnes wanted to personally peruse the contents of that backpack or not, it'd be fundamentally irresponsible to be blind to the potential implications of what secrets might be locked away inside.

That said, Sam hated the fact that secrets like those might be tucked away within lines from private diaries. The thought of it was distasteful, if not more'n a little invasive, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what the alternative was, especially if something in them could genuinely help.

Still, he found himself frowning uneasily as Barnes kept his eyes focused on that looming black bag in the far corner of the room. He couldn't help wonderin' what he was thinkin', and what he'd been building up the courage to say before that knock on the door.

He suspected whatever it was would have to wait until they dealt with the black elephant in the room.

Barnes was well aware that everyone in the room was waiting on him to determine how to proceed, but in truth? He wasn't sure what he wanted.

There was a time not long ago where there was an undeniable appeal to searching through whatever was lurking in that backpack they'd told him about. To see if any of the journals he freshly remembered logging were contained within it as a way of pseudo-verifying the time-jump they'd suggested had happened between when he went to sleep in Washington D.C. and woke up in that lab in the Wakandan Design Center.

But now? Strange as it was, some key part of him had come to accept that time had passed without his knowledge, regardless of the fact it was not spent strictly in the chill of cryo. So his lingering curiosity about the journals was less about the compulsive need to verify it wasn't actually April 24th, 2014, and more about what came next.

What did the entry after he'd left off say?

What happened the next day, and the day thereafter?

What had he seen and experienced in those two years before he'd apparently been found and then dropped off in Wakanda for treatment for the nails, arm, and code words? Where had he gone? What had he learned?

He had to imagine there were fragments in pages spanning his time with HYDRA, but were there more from the time before? Things beyond what he'd read in the Smithsonian exhibit, or overheard from Steve when he reminisced about the childhood friend he called 'Bucky?'

After he'd escaped HYDRA's clutches, the code words had still been active and he'd been forced to remain on the run, but apparently he'd been able to avoid being recaptured. Knowing that, shouldn't he be more eager to find out about those missing years? He wanted to think he should be. That the clarity of being able to look back on those notebooks knowing what he did now would make whatever was hidden inside the pages more palatable. Yet a sinking feeling deep in his gut held him back, and it was increasingly frustrating that he couldn't pinpoint why. Why he found himself shying away from pursuing years of handwritten evidence that might connect the dots of his scattered life in a fundamental, important way. In ways that went well-beyond just him.

Barnes didn't remember owning that dark, tattered backpack. He didn't know the circumstances of when or where it'd been acquired, but the style of it seemed strangely to his taste. Or was that taste credit to HYDRA too? The black waterproof material was covered with all manner of straps and buckles that criss-crossed every square inch of the outer shell, as if it was critical that nothing be allowed to slip out the zippers of its numerous overstuffed pockets.

He must've been staring across the room at that worn black bag, because he heard Ayo speak in that soft, calm voice of hers, "There is no urgency surrounding a decision. It can of course be left for a later time."

Her statement was true in a manner of speaking. He didn't need to come to a decision at that moment, but he was also aware that the contents of the bag had the possibility of shedding light on any number of pressing concerns lingering in his periphery. It went beyond the simple curiosity to know more about what had happened during those missing years.

Was there something in one of those notebooks that could be used to stall the degradation of his mind?

What if a thread slipped between the pages could offer valuable insight into whatever was going on in Symkaria now, or what had happened to the men he'd dragged there over seventy years ago?

Clearly, it wasn't a decision he could be put off forever. Especially with how little time he might have left as himself.

When he looked back in Ayo's direction, he found her soulful brown eyes resting on his, offering him a respite from his worries, "Come. Let us sit. You can tell me about what sights General Okoye chose for you."

Barnes felt some of the tension fall away from his shoulders as he cocked his head, "She didn't tell you?"

"She did not," Ayo confirmed. "She said only that it was pleasant and suitably uneventful, and that I should ask to see the digital images my photographically-indulgent Lieutenant took at your first stop."

Barnes recognized the change of topic for what it was: an opportunity to breathe, reconnect, and share what he'd learned after the orange shield had dropped and he'd been pressed to show himself to General Okoye and King T'Challa. Time for his thoughts to settle amongst the safety of those he'd come to trust.

She'd created an oasis in the storm for them to weather together, and he appreciated every drop of it.

It didn't take long for the four of them to settle onto the floor in a circle in front of the couch to talk. They were easygoing conversations, both the ones Barnes chose to engage in, as well as when Sam took point recounting what sights Okoye'd brought them to over the passing hours. It was apparent Sam admired a great deal of what he'd seen of Wakanda, often comparing and contrasting it to his own experiences. From just beside him, Yama supplemented his discoveries with further suggestions of locales she thought one or both of them would find suitably appealing for future investigation, as well as a quick confirmation that Shuri'd in fact seen to Ayo's leg.

They fell into an unhurried rhythm that was punctuated by largely pleasant exchanges that were clearly meant to inspire engagement. It didn't take long for Yama to volunteer one of the numerous videos she'd taken when they visited the Border Tribe's lands earlier that day. She was especially excited to share a three-dimensional recording that she projected into the space in the center of their circle. In it, colorful nanites danced to form the shape of a rhinoceros who slung her massive head over a facsimile of Barnes while she alternated between nibbling his short hair and slathering her curious tongue across anything it could manage to reach . From this angle, it was intriguing to see how surprisingly delicate the creature was considering her immense size and strength.

"You are smiling in the recording," Ayo marveled, intrigued.

Barnes regarded the display. Though he'd been present for the exchange, seeing it played back was surreal, but not off-putting. Ayo's observation appeared to be valid: the corners of his mouth were upturned in a faint smile that reminded him a bit of the expression he'd caught in the bathroom mirror earlier, only it was more pronounced in the recording. A little bit of his teeth were even showing. Not as much as Sam's, but more than he expected.

As strange as it was to see that particular articulation on his own face, it was a remarkably peaceful sight, especially when coupled with the sound of Yama's cheerful laughter from just offscreen, followed by an unseen Sam adding, "She's like an oversized puppy. Like those ones they used to have in all'a those 'reuniting' videos they used to showcase when folks came back from bein' dusted."

Barnes got the impression that Yama intentionally kept the audio toggled on as she let the recording play. In it, Okoye's voice remarked, "They did not understand, as we do, but the animals grieved in their own way. Hoped, in their own way. They did not have the complicated misgivings, worries, and responsibilities so many of us had. But in some ways, it makes their joy that much brighter."

Ayo's own expression was peaceful and introspective, like her General's words had struck a chord with her too, "Themba is tolerant of me, but rarely affectionate with those outside of the ones who raised her. Do you remember her?"

"Sort of," Barnes admitted, watching the recording. Sam and Yama turned his way, curious to hear his response, "Not many details, but how she smelled. The weight of her head. I…" he searched his mind for any specifics, "I remember running beside her, taking turns kicking an oversized orange ball. And sitting with her too, out in the tall grass." He looked down at his lap, remembering how she'd worked to curl herself about him so she could slide her head carefully across his lap from left to right so his hand would have easy access to the sweet spot just below her ears. He could recall the feel of her warm pebbled skin. The easy push and pull of her earthy, hot breath.

They weren't full memories. Just bits and pieces. Glimpses into a life he didn't remember, but in that moment, he wished he did, "She makes a rumble in her throat when she's happy. Like a purr."

"You… know what a 'purr' is?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't used to," Barnes admitted. "Early on, back in D.C., I was concerned about one of the strays. The cats, I mean. It had a bad cough and upper respiratory infection, and when I tried to figure out what to do to help it, I was told an Emergency Room only treats human patients. They directed me to a nearby animal hospital."

Sam might've been working on something of a smart remark, but his expression softened, "Wait, you, like — you — you took a stray cat to an animal hospital?"

"It had a visible infection," Barnes defended, "and sometimes it would vibrate and shiver, even after I offered it soft nesting materials. I assumed I could use one of the plastic cards I'd taken off the agents pursuing me in trade for treatment for the animal. But they wouldn't keep the card."

The man sitting to Barnes's right waved a hand as he emphatically requested clarification on the encounter, "Wait you went in?"

"It wasn't optimal, but I couldn't just leave it there." Barnes looked down at his hand, remembering how small the creature had seemed in his palm. How frail. "After careful observation, I concluded that their intended clientele were companion animals, so it was unlikely the staff were HYDRA. Once I checked in, I believe they assumed I was homeless. They offered me oral antibiotics and showed me how to administer them. They also told me that cats will purr when they are injured as well as when they are relaxed, which I found extremely confusing at the time, but they clarified vibrations I'd noticed weren't from pain. They said the cat was happy and that I was a responsible owner for getting him checked-out, and if the nasal discharge or cough continued beyond the prescribed medication window, I should bring him back in for reevaluation."

Sam just sat there staring at him in disbelief, but Barnes didn't understand what the big deal was.

Pride shone across Yama's face, "It is endearing that you were concerned for the care of animals you met so early in your recovery, especially when interactions with people may have been met with remarkable challenges."

"No one else was looking out for them," Barnes reasoned aloud.

"So you looked out for one another," Ayo observed. It was a statement, not a question.

"Every now and then, you still find new ways to throw me for a loop. You know that, right?" Sam smiled and shook his head.

"Oh, he enjoys it," Yama noted as she leaned conspiratorially across the circle towards Ayo, "There was a baby too!"

"Themba's?"

Yama nodded, "Born just days ago. The calf took a liking to Sam." She raised her fingers and adjusted the playback forward to a scene where Sam rested one knee in the grass so he could scratch under the baby rhino's chin. He was smiling so hard his cheeks look like they might burst at the seams.

"Did you share other photos or videos while you waited here?" Ayo's question was innocent enough, but Barnes caught the exact moment when she realized the crux of her inquiry was met with some flicker of resistance.

Sam, being Sam, thought to help steer the conversation by giving Barnes an out, "Nah, we were mostly just talking rather than reminiscing or goin' over that sort of stuff. Barnes took some pot shots against the honor of my toothbrush but–"

"–The child's one Nailah shared with us?" Ayo inquired.

While Sam groaned complaints, Barnes didn't miss that Ayo raised her chin towards Yama, as if gauging her for an explanation concerning Sam's eagerness to reroute her inquiry about the videos. Her Lieutenant only shrugged, "I had broached the possibility of seeing if there were photos matching the garments in his duffle bag or suitcase in case they might inspire recollection, but we do not need to return to that conversation now."

But Ayo wasn't so quick to take Yama's lead. She turned her attention to Barnes, doing what she could to grasp why he'd apparently declined Yama's invitation after being so eager to pursue similar photographs up on the mountain. He could see the questions in her eyes that she wouldn't speak aloud, even though she wouldn't force the conversation on him.

It wasn't that he was unwilling to have it, it was that he was still struggling to piece together what exactly he was so worried about.

He didn't know.

That wasn't fair, exactly. He didn't know for sure, but he had some ideas, some possibilities that continued to gnaw at him that he hadn't successfully found a way to push aside. Not entirely.

But like that worn black backpack lingering in the corner, it felt like opening his mouth to pick apart his thoughts might only make things worse. But continuing to ignore it wasn't making that niggling feeling go away either. He realized everyone around him had gone quiet and the three people seated around him were letting him take the lead for whatever came next, but as he eyed the side of his bare foot that'd once been sliced clean in half from his own doing, he realized part of his frustration was that he wasn't even sure where to start.

But he tried.

"It's not about the clothes," he began slowly, keeping his eyes downcast on his foot, and the fading redness of the scar between his pale toes. "Not in the way you think, I mean. Photos and videos can be informative, but I don't get a sense of connection from them. Maybe because they're pictures taken by someone else. Just disconnected visuals from another point of view. So it doesn't feel like I was there. Does that make sense?"

He looked up to see all of them gazing his way as Yama politely ended the recording of Themba's calf nuzzling Sam's hands, but it was Ayo that spoke first, "Because your body doesn't remember? Like on the mountain? Or with Themba?"

He considered that, "Kind of, but… it's more like I don't get to choose what I remember. I can't just focus and make it happen. Believe me, I've tried." His voice sounded so frail and exhausted as struggled to explain the root of his frustrations to her, to all of them, "I was hoping when we got back to the suite that I'd remember more of here. Recent memories from days before, but it's just… it's not there. And I don't know why."

Barnes took a deep breath in and out and looked up and over to Sam, "I want to remember the stuff you do. The years where we weren't at odds and the parts in Wakanda and after. Whatever happened with Steve, but…" he adjusted his jaw and tried chew his lip. He was worried with how distracted he was, he was liable to damage it if he wasn't careful, "But most of what keeps coming back is more of the other stuff. The memories I don't want."

With a sigh of resignation, he forced his attention back down to his mismatched hands and added more softly, "Shuri was saying there might be a lot of stuff I remember that he didn't. Like that back in Symkaria. And I can't help thinking that maybe part of why your friend was happy was because he didn't remember." Barnes swallowed hard and found he didn't have the strength to meet their eyes as he added, "And those bags are his, like the clothes and the boots, but they're also mine. And I don't know how to sort that out, or if I even can, but I'm trying. It's all so confusing," he confessed into the silence surrounding him and pulling him under.

"Barnes I…" Sam began before clearing his throat and starting again. His voice was surprisingly gentle, "Look. This whole situation is confusing for the lot of us. I'd be the first to admit that the brain stuff goin' on goes well absolve my pay grade and level of medical expertise, but I wanna make something clear: As long as I've known you, you weren't oblivious to the awful that happened to you. I couldn't tell ya what bits you remembered when and where along the way, and I wish I knew a way to single handedly offer up all the good parts on a platter separate from all the other stuff, because lord knows you deserve some levity to balance out all bullshit. But speakin' as someone that's seen some of the dark edges and lighter times firsthand? I don't think it's ever been one or the other. He didn't talk about the details of his past much, but he wasn't oblivious. If anything, I think he wished there was more he could do."

Barnes found himself raising his eyes just a touch so he could watch Sam speak, to see if he was lying for his sake or not.

He wasn't.

"I think you've always done your best with the cards that were dealt to ya'. And I respect that about you more than you know. There's a lotta folks out there that would'a let all this drag them down. Used it as an excuse for poor behavior, but not you. You're tryin' to be better. That's part of what makes you you. And that's not somethin' you should be ashamed of." Sam nodded once and leaned back, as if he'd said his peace on the topic, and it wasn't up for debate so far as he was concerned.

Barnes focused on his breathing. In and out. In and out, like Ayo'd taught him as he searched first Sam's eyes, then Yama and Ayo's own for any flickers of discourse that ran contrary to Sam's claim.

He found none.

Ayo's resonant voice carried from over Barnes's left shoulder, "I find myself in agreement with what Sam has said and the sentiment behind his words. In the course of our lives, we are not always afforded the choice of what happens to us. What matters far more is what choices we make when opportunities present themselves. But do not think the absence of certain memories makes you any more or less capable of happiness than any one of us. Happiness is not the absence of misfortune, but the compulsion to find reasons to grasp joy in spite of it. Our friend struggled greatly with this too, but in time he began to embrace the idea that even after all he had seen and done, he was deserving of happiness as well."

"And you believe that?"

"I did then and I do now," her words were firm with unwavering belief.

Barnes did his best to drink in her conviction as his eyes drifted from her to the black backpack sitting across the room. "...And that's my bag," he tasted the statement on his tongue tentatively.

Yama cocked her head at his remark, but Ayo immediately caught the undercurrent, "You feel now you are one in the same?"

His response was slow in coming at first, but he worked his way there,"I don't know about 'feel,'" Barnes clarified as he carefully tested the waters of his beliefs, "At least not all the time, but I… I suppose in my own way I accept it. I accept that man in the chair in the lab, or the one that packed that backpack and duffle bag… that was me too, even if I don't remember the specifics."

Yama latched onto her own interpretation of his declaration, "So we are, all of us, your friends now too?"

Barnes could tell by her mirthful expression that her question was meant to inspire camaraderie, "You were already my friends. I just didn't understand it. Not initially, at least. But then you had to go and be persistent."

His remark only made Yama's grin widen, but Ayo was quick to clarify, "That is not the term I would have thought to use to describe my Lieutenant's single minded tenacity, but I will not debate its merits."

"You did grant me permission to take a break from guard duty to help."

"I did not think you intended to enter into the dome so soon after I granted you both my blessing."

"Ah, so you did suspect!"

"I admitted nothing," Ayo conveniently backtracked.

Barnes snorted and turned his head to look past them to first the discarded duffle, suitcase, and finally the black backpack at the other end of the room as he deliberated his options. A growing part of him was increasingly curious if any of his notes from 2014 had made their way into the future all the way overseas to Wakanda.

Ayo's voice spoke up before he could come to a conclusive decision, "If you wish to look through your belongings on your own, I would not be opposed to suggesting we step outside so you can investigate the contents absent of our presence."

Barnes mulled it over, "...What would he— I —," he corrected himself,"— have done?"

"You mean how would you have handled it, if the bag'd been dropped off before…?" Sam inquired, waggling his nearest hand in a gesture that attempted to explain away the complicated outliers of their present situation. Barnes nodded and Sam whistled out a puff of air through the gap in his front teeth, "Honestly? 'Prolly woulda reviewed it on his—" Sam stopped to correct himself, "your own and shared the highlights with us. You used to be private about this kinda stuff. Didn't like to discuss the nitty-gritty details. But you'd share some of the broad strokes if it was important or relevant to a case we were on."

"I would agree with Sam's assessment," Ayo noted. "Though I am compelled to believe that often it was less a desire for privacy, and more a desire to not risk placing burdens on others."

"It was never a burden," Yama stated resolutely.

Ayo bowed her head in agreement and looked back towards Barnes, as if asking him how he would like to proceed.

Regardless of what they were telling him he might've preferred in the past, he already knew his current preference clearly as anything, "...I'd like you to stay. All of you, if that's alright."

"Of course," this was Ayo.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "you just tell us how you wanna play this. We'll follow your lead."

Barnes licked his lips, "Even if a lot of the contents relate to… that other stuff… there's a chance there could be some answers in there. Maybe something that could help whatever's going on with my mind, or Symkaria or elsewhere." He looked up and to his right towards Sam, "I could use your help sorting it out. You were around firsthand for some of it, probably even after where my memories left off in D.C." He looked over to Yama across from him and Ayo on his left, "And I might've said something at some point that either of you remember. That might put other things in context. Parts that I wouldn't be able to figure out on my own right now. I don't know how much time I have, and…" he trailed off, leaving the haunting possibilities that scared him left unsaid.

Sam nodded an affirmative as Barnes got to his feet. Pausing only to steady his nerves, he stepped past the duffle bag and the possibilities of chasing fond memories within the garments nestled inside in favor of confronting the worn black backpack looming in the corner against Sam's shield.

With determined intention, he reached down and grasped one of the dusty shoulder straps, doing what he could to push down any number of unnecessary questions as he made his way back to the other end of the room and sat down in front of the couch, resting the backpack atop his lap as he deliberated his next move. His fingers played over the straps and buckles, as if seeking an audience with the past. He glanced up to Yama, "You should… probably record this. For Shuri, I mean. In case there's anything. …Anything that would help."

The regaliaed warrior sitting across from him — his friend — bobbed her head once and rolled a Kimoyo Bead onto the top of the comforter just behind her so it could capture an unimpeded view of the proceedings below. Without another word, she touched her fingers to her strand and activated the video module.

Barnes took a deep, steadying breath in and out as he ran his fingers along the teeth of the nearest zipper until it touched one of the metal pulls. Before he could spend another moment deliberating any number of the potential drawbacks of what he might find inside, he slid open the mouth of his time capsule, and personal Pandora's Box.

[Chapter 78 Chapter Art, by Kam]

[ID: A six-panel ink and marker comic by Kam entitled 'Feeding Time.' There are three rows of panels, featuring three illustrations in the first row, two in the second row, and one in the third row. In the first panel, Barnes is seen on a rooftop wearing black pants, tactical gear, and a black hoodie with a red star on his left shoulder. He has medium-length hair, part of which is pulled up into a bun. He is using a red bowl to feed a group of eleven cats who are meowing in various languages. A speech bubble above his head says 'котенок,' which is Russian for 'kitty." In the second panel, the kitties are happily eating while we see the back of Barnes duck down as he gets into position with a sniper rifle facing a hospital. In the third panel, Barnes is seen in profile while a white cat watches him adjust his rifle. In the fourth panel, we are over the shoulder of Barnes, who is looking through his sniper rifle. Two cats watch him, curiously. In the fifth panel we see the view through the scope of the rifle is Steve who is wearing a grey shirt and sitting up in a hospital bed talking to Sam, who is smiling and wearing a blue shirt. The sixth and final panel is the largest of the panels, and in it, we see Barnes is laying down and almost smiling as the group of cats settle on and around him. A white one is nuzzled up against his right arm, purring, an orange tabby playfully bats at his chin while another is seen curled up on his back. A black and white cat 'rowrs' while a tan and grey cat grooms itself nearby, and another grey cat relaxes on the back of Barnes's legs. It is a cozy and cute scene of unexpected companionship. End ID]

My friend Kam created this lovely multi-panel comic featuring a flashback scene of Barnes holed-up in Washington D.C. while he was keeping an eye on Steve's post 'Captain America: The Winter Soldier' recovery and, well… being kept company by some local strays. Or adopted by them, depending on how you look at it. ;)

It is such a charming, wholesome, and cozy scene, and I can't thank Kam enough for the love and care they put into it! I adore the comic vibe, and all those feisty kitties!

Kam is a creative powerhouse, and you should absolutely check out their art as well! Huge thanks again to them for bringing this cozy, fluff-filled flashback to life!

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

[Chapter 19Chapter Art, by KLeCrone]

[ID: A painting by KLeCrone showing Bucky standing and smiling as he looks past the viewer. He is shown from the hips up, and is wearing a pair of blue jeans, a grey t-shirt, and a blue, black, and gold shawl is tied with two friendship knots and is hanging around his neck and is draped over his absent left shoulder. He is wearing a strand of Kimoyo Beads around his right wrist and is standing against a grey background with a repeating triangular tribal motif. End ID]

I created the original version of this painting in September of 2021 to accompany Chapter 19: "Prenumbra," but I was in a bit of a time crunch at the time, so I didn't get to put as much time and polish into it as I'd hoped, so I decided to revisit it and pour more time and TLC into it over my 2022 holiday break into order to make it more like I originally envisioned. :) I hope you enjoy the result!

Author's Remarks:

I know I'd mentioned that we were one chapter away from the culmination of what I'm considering Act 11 of "Winter of the White Wolf," and this time, I promise that's the case! This section of the story just has a lot going on, and I wanted to also give it some time to breathe as we step our way through some meaty plot beats, including Barnes finally accepting that "their friend" is in some way also him. He's come so far! ;_;

- "Happiness is not the absence of misfortune, but the compulsion to find reasons to grasp joy in spite of it." - This is one of those lines that really stuck with me. I enjoyed the opportunity for Ayo to rejoin the group here, and for her to help Barnes move forward and confront some of his (understandable) worries head-on.

I can't wait for you to see what's ahead! Any guesses about some of what's logged in the contents of the bag?

Thank you again and again for your continued support. I deeply appreciate your company as I work on this story. Each and every kudo, comment, and kind word brighten my day and help keep me inspired to see this project through end-to-end. :) As ever, I love hearing your thoughts as the mystery deepens…!