Hey all, I'm alive!
Over the last few months I've been working insane overtime, including nights and weekends, and I'm thrilled to finally be out on the other side so I can resume creating! Alongside continued updates to this story, I've been posting some personal artwork on social media with more to come ('KLeCrone' on Twitter)!
Alongside this update, I'm also thrilled to share two new pieces of art for 'Winter of the White Wolf!' The first is another moody painting by Murkycrush ('murkycrush' on Twitter), which they created to accompany a scene from this chapter, and then we have a wonderfully angsty illustration by Ghostbite ('ghostbite0' on Tumblr), which is a call-back to an early scene from Chapter 7: Steep Slopes!
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Winter of the White Wolf
Chapter 80 - Dark Adaptation
Summary:
While our 'pack' travels enroute to Symkaria, the contents of the missing journals offer more questions, and a secret comes to light…
The radiant glow of the setting sun lapped along the surrounding peaks and valleys, accentuating the distant scenery with fading light that was less a proclamation of the change in time, and more a whisper of the darkness looming ahead. The veil of night dipped deeper by the minute, and in response, the cool royal purple lighting aboard the craft dimmed, prompting Nomble to activate their ship's cloaking protocols ahead of their upcoming departure through Wakanda's northern border.
In the far rear of the cabin, the remaining occupants sat opposite one another. Sam chattered away while Barnes sat cross legged on the bench and did his best to split his focus between a journal entry on his lap from 2016, and the discussions taking place across the aisle from him where Ayo, Shuri, and Yama were seated in a row with their feet on the floor. Even Yama. While Barnes studied his enigmatic manuscripts and Shuri dutifully logged the contents of the papers he handed over to her, Sam ensured they covered the finer details of their upcoming trip and left no stone unturned.
Well, in between Shuri's occasional call-and-response to the disembodied voice she called 'Griot,' which was her pocket AI. Barnes wasn't clear on exactly how that technology differed from the ones he was readily familiar with, but for the time being, he'd resorted to imagining it as a bodiless drone. One that talked too much and wasn't as well-mannered as JB.
After coming to terms with the sheer scope of disjointed content within the journals, Barnes had quickly determined that his residual discomfort concerning the transcribed events he only half-remembered was of far less importance than the pursuit of uncovering the potential answers hidden within the tomes. He'd been the one to volunteer that they should start digitally compiling select entries, and although he knew Shuri's focus was on ensuring that the collective contents were properly captured for later reference, he was well aware of the grim passages littered throughout the notebooks at her fingertips.
She didn't call attention to it, didn't complain or raise an alarm. Even still, it was hard not to search her face for reactions to the horrors documented in frighteningly crisp detail within those blood drenched pages.
The ones he shared with her, anyway.
If she found any of it distasteful, she kept it to herself as she used one hand to coax her tech to digitally process the logs while maintaining an active presence in the latest pivot in conversation with Sam and Ayo.
From the sound of it, the three of them were working to establish a broad hierarchy of command ahead of their arrival. While Nomble had given him a number of primers on world history and the present political web they were carefully navigating, as best he could decipher, neither the Wakandans or Sam had any close ties with Symkaria. That only piled on additional complications, necessitating that their upcoming appearance be — how had Sam put it? — 'low-key undercover.' Barnes wasn't entirely sure what that particular descriptor entailed, but he didn't get the impression any of them had sizable experience in subterfuge, regardless of their latest change in wardrobe.
Ahead of their departure, the group had traded out their typical clothing for garments and footwear that were predominantly three or less colors and lacked any prominent text or graphical designs. Even still, Shuri found a way to make her bold-colored selections stand out from the people around her, enough so that Ayo hadn't entirely given up trying to convince her to consider something less conspicuous.
That's the word she'd used in English, anyway. The one she'd repeated in Wakandan compared her sense of fashion to a number of brightly colored songbirds.
In contrast, the three Dora Milaje had packed away their regalia in preference to long, form-fitting black and silver dresses and tall black boots that while not strictly matching, loosely coordinated with one another. The silver jewelry they wore had a way of harkening to their customary adornments, and while Barnes didn't know for sure, he suspected both their clothing and jewelry were reinforced with battle-ready vibranium that held more coveted secrets.
He questioned how much protection the thin black fabric could truly offer them, but seeing how their training sessions had gone up on the mountain, he was swiftly reminded that their collective capabilities went far deeper than appearances might imply. He had the lingering bruises to prove it.
Still, Barnes found it strange seeing them not only outside of their traditional uniforms, but dressed with intention as they were. Nomble had even gone so far as to cover her tattoos with shades of matching makeup, and by the sounds of it, would be permitted to wear a wig upon their arrival.
Such strange customs. Would he or Sam be asked to wear wigs as well?
He glanced at Sam in his periphery and tried to envision what he would look like with one. Nothing stuck. Everything he could come up with seemed as out-of-place and ridiculous as people who put clothing on cats or dogs.
…Did they make wigs for animals…?
…Seeing what he had, he wouldn't be surprised.
Across the aisle from his clinical assessment, Yama and Shuri remained politely enraptured by the prospect of travel, and Yama'd even gone so far as to try to scout ahead for acceptable locations to procure food and hot beverages while they 'got the lay of the land.' From what Barnes could tell, Yama was still head-deep in her digital research as the conversation beside her returned to comparing and contrasting the group's combined field experience. Barnes had long-since concluded he had more than all of them combined, but who was counting?
"And you consider your time as 'Smiling Tiger' undercover?" Ayo challenged Sam from her seat opposite him.
He half-sputtered a response, clearly taken off guard, "—Hey now! That wasn't my choice."
Ayo made a sound deep in her throat as Barnes looked up from the latest journal he'd been pouring over to offer Sam an expression he hoped conveyed palpable disbelief, "Wait, you?"
The man seated next to him abruptly halted his latest attempt to defend his solemn honor in preference for engaging Barnes, "You've heard of him?"
Why was Sam giving him that look? "Yeah. Conrad Mack. 'Smiling Tiger.' You can't be serious that you tried to impersonate him." Barnes snorted lightly, self-assured, "I'm guessing the second you opened your mouth, they figured it out, right?"
The remark was factual, if tinted with a slight edge of what he hoped was acceptably moderate humor at Sam's expense, but the way that Sam's face briefly faltered made Barnes increasingly aware that there must've been something awry with his declaration. Ayo, Shuri, and Yama looked up in unison, and even Nomble briefly craned her head around from the pilot's seat in the front of the ship to regard the two of them. Their expressions were oddly neutral, and not at all amused. It was like he'd somehow managed to drain all the humor out of the ship with a few choice words.
What was he missing?
Sam was first to find his voice again as he half-sputtered, "Wait hold up — You remember meeting 'Smiling Tiger?' The Smiling Tiger?"
"I remember a lot of people," Barnes noted as he glanced over to Yama, hoping she might have a tell he could latch onto. A clue to what he was missing. When their eyes met, he could see they were troubled but not explicitly upset. Apologetic, perhaps. Like she had an inkling that this wasn't building to be a pleasant topic.
When there was nothing more he could search out on her face, she returned her attention to the holographic display of prominent Symkarian social hubs hovering over her wrist.
"Just surprised is all." Sam waited a measured beat before shifting his weight uncomfortably and more tentatively inquiring, "...Does that mean you… ever remember being in Madripoor?"
Barnes considered the question, rolling over what he recalled of relevant locations within the boundaries of the seedy city and cross-comparing them to related sights, sounds, and smells. The city had a very particular fingerprint to it. The scent of briny water set up against the pungent stench of too many nervous people clustered together in wary packs. Meaty aromas from crowded street vendors lingered in the background, snuffed out by cigarette smoke that thickened the air with a visible haze that was only amplified by the bright buzzing neon lights that jutted out from the shadows lurking about the city sprawl. The sound of the crackling electricity in the air was so constant, so irritating that Barnes had once assumed it was generated as a type of persistent psychological warfare.
Now he wondered if the people around him had even heard it, or if his awareness of the buzzing had been credit to that serum Yama'd mentioned. The one that they'd forced into him in an encounter he couldn't recall, and wasn't sure he wanted to.
Like so much else, the memories weren't fully-formed, but they weren't empty either. If he focused hard enough, he could pull up details, but he couldn't recall any handlers with him in Madripoor. Only compatriots. Watchers assigned to his care. Knowing what he did now, his handlers had probably thought it best to stay safe outside the city lines rather than risk being taken for a prize in the greedy city.
But mostly what Barnes remembered were all the bodies. The ones he'd been tasked to guard, and the many more he'd been instructed to extinguish before dumping them into the water like so much rubbish. He hadn't thought twice about it then. He'd been so convinced what he was doing was the correct thing — the right thing — that there hadn't been any margins for the error of second-guessing himself.
HYDRA hadn't permitted him even that. Only was the perception of choice laced with cold demand and obedience.
But now he could remember so many faces. Their expressions. The smoke on their clothes mixed with sweetened nicotine. The ones that shouted back at him in defiance, and the many more whose lives had been snuffed out without a word. Without a breath of awareness for what — who — was coming for them.
He selfishly wished he couldn't remember the specifics. How their harried breaths smelled against the thick Madripoor air, or the subtle differences between the way their bodies fell. Bodies he left behind, compared to the weight of the ones he hauled to the docks or moved to be reclaimed by greedy hands.
Some of them had been so young…
For not the first time, Barnes wondered what exactly he'd remembered before all this. Days ago, had he known more about Madripoor, or less? He licked his lips and roughly admitted, "It's spotty, but… yeah. Hard to tell when, but I had missions there. With them."
Barnes let the silence hang after his words, stewing with fresh guilt and the awareness of the sea of eyes upon him, searching his body language and expression for clues into what he was thinking. He hoped they weren't going to find it necessary to prompt him for further details beyond what he'd encountered within the journals. It was hard enough processing that alone. What he'd done. What he wished in ever-tighter circles that he could in some way undo.
He could still remember the weight of the gun in his hand, fresh as the memory of curling his fingers around thick convulsing necks.
Relief washed over him when Ayo's calm voice cut in, "Unless you believe what you recall relates to Symkaria, these are not matters that we need to tread back upon." He raised his eyes in time to meet hers as she added, "We are well aware that such events carry with them a heavy toll on you."
"Of course," Shuri quickly agreed, "And to be clear, we will not be impersonating notable personalities when we arrive in Symkaria. Even still, it would be good to avoid drawing unnecessary attention."
Sam nodded agreement, eager to go along with the change in subject, "Yeah, especially with the recent turmoil they've had."
"There is still sizable pressure to apprehend who is responsible and to grasp their underlying motives," Ayo reminded them. Her gaze shifted to Shuri, as if another conversation was taking place in the space between her words, "We would do well to hold fast to our priorities so that we can make the most of the time we have, and not risk being drawn into matters beyond our means."
Something passed between the two women, prompting Shuri to stall her progress in logging the journal entries so she could focus exclusively on the warrior beside her. The fact that their attention remained transfixed on one another made Barnes feel as though whatever it was wasn't explicitly about him.
After a measured beat, Shuri's expression solidified and she looked back across the aisle, addressing Sam, "While I am no stranger to confrontation, I have not traveled to foreign locations where I sought out the possibility of it firsthand, and it would be insincere to feign expertise in these international matters. I do not wish for my status to become a burden, but I do not think it suitable to claim I should lead this outing when I am very clearly out of my element."
Sam snorted lightly and leaned back from his perch beside Barnes, "Respectfully, especially based on the makeup of this team, I'd feel out-of-line taking point. I've done my fair share of traveling, sure, but the parameters of those missions were a far cry from what we're heading into here." He lifted his head towards Ayo, "I'm guessin' this is more your bag?"
His remark drew out a small knowing smile from Shuri like he'd latched onto something important, but Ayo's own expression stayed firmly focused on the side of Shuri's cheek, "The Dora are not War Dogs."
"They are not," Shuri agreed, "But I would not find myself inclined to be the one to direct our actions on the ground when someone with far more lived experience sits in our midst. One who also traveled extensively during the Decimation. Like M'yra. Or so Okoye tells me." The Princess shrugged her shoulders, "But it is important that this responsibility is made clear, because my choice to accompany this cause was intended to provide support, not because I desired to take the reins of this foreign operation myself."
The discussion between them was interesting to watch, and a far cry of the rigid command structures Barnes recalled within HYDRA. There, command was something to be clammored for, bribed, or collected. He'd seen people maim one another for just a chance to rise up the ranks. The fact that here and now, such responsibilities were being openly discussed and the various merits deliberated upon was wholly strange and new.
While they might not have had as much collective experience with reconnaissance missions as Barnes did, it made him think more of them, not less.
Yama took a break from her review-browsing to glance between the higher-ranking women as Ayo drank in Shuri's observation and they collectively waited for Ayo's reply. Barnes felt certain there was more going on in the exchange than he could grasp, but their long history and respect for one another was readily apparent.
Eventually, Ayo acquiesced with a faint inclination of her head and looked to Sam and back to Shuri, "I will take point on this operation, then. But it would be apt for us to view it as just that. A mission, not a vacation."
Shuri smiled lightly, "It will be a nice change of pace from the mountain though, eh?"
Ayo didn't look so convinced, but she didn't choose to argue the point. She only made a sound deep in her throat that must have doubled for passing acknowledgement of the Princess's remark before turning her attention to the people gathered around her. She pitched her voice up slightly, ensuring that Nomble could hear her from the front of the vessel, "What we are undertaking on is not a casual tour. There is still a predator on the loose, and we are not walking amongst idle sheep. As we well know, international relations with Wakanda remain strained, so we should draw no unnecessary attention when it can be avoided."
Ayo kept her commanding voice focused as she spoke, but her next words were in some way for Barnes specifically, "We must assume that the individuals responsible for the recent violence in Symkaria may still be lurking within its borders, so it is imperative we remain on-guard at all times. And our highest responsibility is to protect Princess Shuri. Do you understand?"
Barnes caught Sam adjusting his shoulders in his peripheral, but it was Barnes that answered first, "Yeah. I understand."
"I gathered the priority. No questions there."
Shuri didn't necessarily look pleased about the mandate, but she didn't choose to argue the point.
The warrior seated next to her nodded once, satisfied, "Good. Beyond those matters, once we are on the ground we will see if we can locate the old HYDRA base you recall now, but did not remember only days ago in the hopes it might offer insight into the past or present." She let the decree sit on the air a beat before she continued, "If it is suitable and not a distraction from our primary purpose, we might privately contribute aid to the case the officials are currently chasing. I do not want us to end up in the assassin's crosshairs," Ayo emphasized, "but if we encounter findings that would aid their apprehension, we should not ignore them." She raised an eyebrow to Shuri, "That does not imply we should pursue them ourselves."
"Of course," Shuri readily agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly.
Ayo opted to turn the weight of her gaze to Sam, "And what are you planning to tell your U.S. Military of our upcoming visit?"
He snorted lightly, "Nothin' yet, but I'm open to your thoughts to make sure we're all on the same page. I let Rhodey know we're on the move, but he'll keep that to himself for now. Since the brass were the ones who asked us to investigate in the first place, it shouldn't ruffle any feathers if we're sighted there again, but I'm hoping we can keep this on the down-low as much as we can." He eyed the black and vibranium silver case lying tucked-in with some of their personal belongings near the rear of the craft, "I know we all came prepared for contingencies, but the suit's bound to attract attention. The kind we're prolly tryin' to generally avoid. Wasn't plannin' on putin' it on unless we're thinkin' about heading towards trouble." He used an errant finger to gesture to Barnes's left arm, "Once we're on the ground, you should prolly cover that up too."
"I was planning on it," Barnes countered a little more defensively than he intended, idly trailing his fingers over the black and gold arm in question.
"Just makin' sure."
"I'm used to remaining inconspicuous, remember? How do you think I tailed you for so long?"
Sam squinted at that, intent to defend his solemn honor while also leaning into the casual bait at a spot of levity, "You mean that one time at the Smithsonian?"
"And your apartment. And all the times you went grocery shopping or out on a run, or—"
"—Yeah yeah. You made your point.—"
"—And according to some of the later entries," Barnes supplemented, leaned over to pluck a specific leatherbound journal from the stack beside him, "there were also a number of instances when I realized you were trying to track me ahead of first contact. It gave me the opportunity to collect further intel on you and control future attempts at engagement."
"Control? Pfft."
Barnes ignored him and flipped through the journal with intention, coming to rest on a particularly damning page that he smoothly handed to Sam without another word. He suspected the text wouldn't be anything Sam would be able to parse, but the bold drawing of Redwing was obvious enough. So was the detailed schematic of where some future-past version of himself has apparently inserted a bug beneath the drone's armored plating.
"...Son-of-a-bitch… You…?"
"Bugged your drone," Barnes made no attempts to stifle the pride beaming in his voice. "Apparently I was able to use it to listen in on you for nearly three weeks until the battery ran out."
Sam sputtered, "—You don't have to be so cocky about it."
"Did he say anything interesting?" Yama innocently inquired from her post next to Shuri opposite Ayo. Apparently the present topic took priority over her desire to pursue international reviews on Symkarian dining.
"Yama…" Ayo warned with a roll of her eyes.
"I was only curious, my Chief."
Barnes snorted lightly at the exchange, glancing over the logs in Sam's hands that were cross-crossed with a number of different languages he suspected the other man was feigning he could read, "Not really. Though according to some of the entries, sometimes he would practice his public speaking skills by talking to his drone and reviewing the recordings."
"You really are awful. You know that, right?" Said monologue enthusiast deadpanned.
"You also used to time yourself on how fast you could suit up. Redwing might even still have the videos of—"
"—You know, you—"
Nomble's calm voice emerged from the front of the ship, "We are exiting concealed airspace now, putting our arrival at a little under five hours."
Barnes looked up from the tail end of the ship, catching the parting semi-translucent blue energy walls that marked the edge of Wakanda's concealed northern border. The sight of the towering barriers set against the faint flickers of a dimming horizon prompted a pang of anxiousness to rise up in his gut. The ghost of a sensation was strong enough that it stalled his compulsion to list off further line items concerning Sam's more notable grooming behaviors.
In silence, he did what he could to negotiate with the unease of flying out into the growing darkness. The underlying cause of his discontent was obvious enough. Rather than stay safe within Wakanda's borders, he'd advocated to return to Symkaria. To a city strained with strife both in the past he recalled only glimpses of, and in the present, where one or more shadowed assassins were systematically eliminating key politicians and members of the royal family.
Barnes was told he'd been there only four days ago. The same day someone'd taken a snapshot of him and Sam high atop one of Aniana's balconies. Try as he might, he didn't remember that particular visit, but the other stuff was enough to give him pause. The patchwork of vividly-clear images interspersed with electrified gaping holes… He knew too much, lived through too much to not worry about the potential fallacy for opting to return to the belly of the beast that was HYDRA. To imagine that the six of them could stand a chance against what he even half-remembered lying in wait there.
He'd been assured that wasn't the case, of course. That their primary purpose was to confirm the base he recalled was no longer occupied or entrenched in unspeakable horrors. If it still existed in any form, they'd prematurely concluded that it was likely inactive, though if they could locate it, then it might still hold clues for what had happened to the people he remembered being there.
To those trapped there. Screaming.
None of the people around him knew if there was any connection to the one or more super-powered assassins that might've been responsible for some largely unreported break ins within the city, but it didn't add up. Those prospects and errant threads didn't offer anything concrete. They only generated more questions alongside the unspoken clock they were up against. The one ticking evermore loudly in his mind. That he was living on borrowed time, and that unless a viable intervention was discovered by the scientists back in Wakanda or in passages at his fingertips, his mind would begin to irreversibly corrupt.
Barnes didn't know how long he'd be permitted to explore Symkaria, or how soon he'd be called back to Wakanda and the labs and tests that awaited him, but he hoped what they did here could make a difference to someone.
Even if ultimately it wasn't him.
Unfortunately, the journals weren't helping with those particular questions nearly as much as he might've hoped. There were no mentions of the Dark Place in them either. Not yet at least.
Motion from his left caught his attention as Sam thrust the journal with the impeccably-rendered diagram of Redwing back into his hands with a grumble about 'meddling cyborgs.' In turn, Barnes took the opportunity to pass the volume across to Shuri for digital logging.
She offered him a polite smile and opened the volume to the first page to commence her work. Moments later, what Barnes took for an extension of Griot made a series of two progressively lower notes that prompted the Princess to open an overlaid calibration menu. "I'd not realized you'd written in so many different languages," Shuri's words were a gentle-complaint.
Griot's negative audio cue chirped twice again. From what Barnes could tell, the automated system appeared to be having increasing difficulty transcribing the later volumes of his journals wherein his handwriting often criss-crossed vertically or diagonally over existing text, though by all accounts, his penmanship remained clear.
To him at least.
The resident genius made a sour face as Griot's digitized voice apologized from the speaker system, "Translation incomplete. Would you like me to make an attempt using another database, Princess?"
"I have a better idea," Ayo volunteered from her seat beside Shuri. She turned towards the front of the cabin and raised her voice only slightly, "Nomble, you know Romanian, yes?"
"Da, șeful meu." Nomble replied.
"Yes, my Chief," Griot's overly helpful voice supplied.
Ayo tightened her lips and chose to ignore the AI's translation as she got to her feet, "I will take over piloting so you can assist Princess Shuri with ensuring the accuracy of the logs."
Nomble dipped her head and traded off with Ayo, stepping across the ship to take a seat next to Shuri as the princess passed her the latest collection of journal entries. Previously, Barnes had offered to help with the transcription process, but Shuri'd insisted his time would be better spent reviewing the entries themselves. He hadn't considered that Nomble would be more than capable of assisting given the opportunity.
Barnes looked up and across to her as she settled, "Hannon allen."
"Unknown language," Griot noted before Shuri rolled her eyes and made it a point to silence the over-enthusiastic AI.
Nomble gently smiled, easily parsing his 'Thank you' in Sindarin before he added in English. "Do you need help with the vertical text?"
She glanced down at the passage he was referring to and responded in English, presumably for Sam's benefit, "The strands in Navajo? No, I can read these too. You really did choose some diverse languages within these later journals. I should not be surprised if any of our regional dialects manage to surface amongst the entries."
"I'm guessing it was safer than English. Or German. Or Russian."
"Wait, you both know Navajo?" Sam cut in from his seat beside Barnes.
In remarkably synchronized unison Nomble and Barnes remarked, "You don't?"
Sam tutted his lips and spared a glance to Yama, "You know, I see where he gets it from."
Yama's grin only brightened as Sam returned his attention to Nomble and Barnes, "I think you both already know the answer to that. I'm just surprised is all. Definitely wasn't anything we learned back in school, and we're a long way from where it's spoken on the regular."
"You deeply underestimate their collective interest in languages so they could scour whatever books crossed their paths," Yama contributed.
"It is a noble and useful hobby, but I didn't take it up for the sake of reading. The current alphabet, the one using Latin roots, was only developed in the 1930s. Before that, the Navajo language did not have its own alphabet. I found that intriguing, especially once I learned of the historical significance of Navajo and its difficulty for outsiders to grasp," Nomble defended.
"And you call me stubborn."
"I did not call you patient," Nomble smoothly corrected as she scanned over the handwritten text and pulled up a holographic screen over her left wrist so she could log the contents of the journal Griot struggled with transcribing. Satisfied she was more than capable of the task, Barnes picked up the notebook he'd been pursuing prior to the discussion about bugging Redwing.
Shuri smirked at the exchange but apparently didn't feel compelled to add to the conversation while she watched the skilled polyglot at work. It still seemed strange to see the black-dressed warrior wearing makeup on her face to hide her prominent tattoo. After updating another entry, she addressed Barnes, "Were all of these supplementary languages ones HYDRA taught you?"
"I don't think so. At least not that I remember." He chewed his lip, "Based on what I can tell, somewhere along the way, after Washington D.C., I picked up a few more. Ones HYDRA and their operatives didn't readily utilize. I'm guessing I was trying to make it difficult for other people to understand what I'd written down if someone got ahold of my things."
"A clever approach," Nomble noted, continuing to manually log the entries into the database.
"There's Russian in some of the entries too. Not a lot, but from the looks of it, they were bits and pieces I recalled that I wanted to transcribe exactly as they appeared. I didn't know the specifics about the code words, of course, but I knew they existed in some form. Like the patterned lights. But I didn't even know what language they were in, or if they were in any real languages at all."
"Some portion of them were obscured from you," Shuri explained, "But there was importance to their order, and how they were conveyed to you. Absent of that, you appeared unaware of their pull and deeper meaning."
Barnes cocked his head at Shuri's delicate statement, "Like what?"
The young woman across from him treaded carefully, "I will not speak them unnecessarily, but some of the coded sequences contained numbers in Russian. You are freed from their power now, but the numbers themselves were not obscured to you back then, when they were still active and you were under my care. You could count up and down, as could I or anyone else and you would remember them. It was only when they were put in greater context that HYDRA's desired effect took hold."
From the front of the ship, Ayo spoke up, "With the exception of single term commands."
Shuri visibly flinched, "With the exception of those, yes."
Sam cleared his throat, "Wait, so single words… they… could activate things too?"
"Rare words," Shuri specified, "in specific languages. They were not words to be found in casual conversation. They were planted with exacting intention."
A chill ran up Barnes's spine. He knew the exact words they were talking around. The ones he felt, but had never been able to pinpoint or recall until only days ago. They sat uncomfortably beside the other terms Shuri displayed in neatly organized columns and rows shortly after Ayo had spoken the last of the code words aloud. The ones that had controlled him for so long.
"I haven't come across any of those specific words in the journals yet," Barnes noted. "None of the ones that started the sequences either. Could be coincidence, or they could've been suppressed too. Hard to tell now that you dug the nails and the code words out."
Barnes caught it then. The slightest little twitch along the edge of Shuri's lips, and the way his comment prompted Nomble to glance up from the book in her lap. Barnes frowned, "Is there… something else? You'd mentioned you were meeting with the doctors earlier today. Did they have any updates about my condition?" He was guessing whatever it was hadn't been encouraging, but wondering about it wasn't doing him any favors in the present.
Shuri's response was uneven, but as far as he could tell, sincere, "They are still running simulations, but haven't formulated any viable solutions as of yet."
…Then what was she holding back? "That implies there are solutions they've presented, though."
"Not solutions, no. Only undesirable, incomplete methods to potentially prolong the period between now and when your mind begins to permanently corrupt."
"Well that's progress, isn't it?" He was self-aware of the hope lingering in his voice, the one that believed in the possibility he'd see and remember sunsets beyond the week ahead of him. But gauging from Shuri's reaction, the medical professionals hadn't offered the sort of prognosis or progress she'd been hoping for.
She flinched lightly, "It's premature. I should like us to wait until there are more options for us to discuss so that we can weigh what remains. But I can assure you that Wakanda's brightest minds are working tirelessly with the data they have to formulate a viable approach for the days ahead."
Barnes glanced to Sam for his take. His face was troubled and drawn together in concern, like he was out of the loop too. Same with Yama. But Shuri's well-meaning remark had a way of pulling out a deeper frown Nomble. She must've known whatever it was Shuri was dodging around… and it wasn't good.
"You said I still have days."
"And you do. Nothing has changed. Your mind is stable, so long as you do not enter REM sleep patterns."
"Then what changed?" he pressed. "You want me to trust all of you, but that trust is supposed to go both ways, isn't it? So why are you holding back now?" He leaned forward, pleading with her for clarity so that he didn't have to risk spiraling into further worst-case scenarios, "What did they say, Shuri?"
Sam wasn't sure he'd ever heard Barnes say Shuri's name aloud.
It was entirely possible he might've at some point. Maybe dropped it in a casual conversation, or to get her attention during a round of mountaintop mancala. But whatever it was, there was power pulling in the way he spoke the syllables now.
It wasn't a threat. Wasn't a declaration that somethin' was amiss or rotten between 'em, but it was a call out of sorts that she was persistin' in dodgin' around whatever-it-was she'd learned back in the Design Center.
Sam hadn't a clue about the particulars, but the fact that the most recent exchange'd prompted Ayo to turn around from the driver's seat up front told him they were treading into precarious waters neither of 'em would like. He just worried how deep these particular wells of awful could go.
And her expression… it was tight, like she was doin' her best to keep somethin' close to her chest and not let what she was feeling show outright.
Shuri's frown deepened, "I assure you it is not a matter of trust. It's simply that the latest proposal I was given offers no long-term solution, and is moreover not a course I wish to pursue. Speaking of it serves little purpose than to potentially upset you."
…Okay so Shuri wasn't necessarily excelling at the bedside-demeanor angle either, but Sam could empathize with the idea that the scientists back there were doin' everything they could to dig into the corners and come up with solutions. If Shuri viewed one of their proposals as a dead-end, then it tracked that she might not feel the need to spend cycles discussing an option she'd already cast it aside as a no-go.
Trouble was, Barnes apparently wasn't of the same mind. Wouldn't be the first time, "But it could buy me more time."
That unsettling expression of Shuri's continued to waver, "Not in the way you think."
Slowly, carefully, Nomble set the journal she'd been holding on the bench beside her so she could silently track the nearby conversation. Sam looked across to Yama and managed to catch her eye. She responded with the smallest of shrugs, and Sam was guessin' she didn't know what this was about either.
She looked worried too, and that expression was a far cry from her usual Modus Operandi.
But Barnes wasn't ready to let the thread drop, "In what way, then?"
Ayo smoothly rose to her feet and stood beside her spear. Sam had to hope that the high-tech console behind her was set on autopilot, "Better for him to hear it from us, so there is no room for misunderstanding."
"I know, I know," Shuri sighed as she refocused her attention on Barnes seated across from her, "I will tell you, of course, but I wish to make clear this was not an approach I sought, nor one that I am suggesting we take."
Barnes didn't respond. He just leaned further forward with that thick journal pressed firmly between his hands. His expression had gone cold. Careful. Watching. Waiting. He wasn't wound as tightly as Sam'd seen him more times than he cared to remember, but any sense of ease had gone out the window, leaving behind a grim doppelganger. Sam just hoped whatever Shuri was edging towards wasn't nearly so bad as the both of them were apparently bracing for.
"While the scientists search out solutions that might cease the coming degradation of your mind, they also worked to uncover if there might be a way to delay the critical onset so we might have more time to formulate viable approaches. Some of their recent simulations gave credence to the possibility that reactivating and utilizing select code words may delay the coming fracture point, but—"
A chill ran up Sam's spine right as the journal in Barnes's hands creaked audibly from the cyborg's tightening grip, "Reactivating them?"
That… was not a good tone, and holy shit, they'd discussed that?
There were a whole host of possibilities Sam'd considered along the way. Maybe they'd put Barnes into cryo until they figured things out. Maybe he'd never be permitted the allure of a restful REM sleep again, or they'd prescribe medications or some kinda fancy Wakandan herbal supplements to balance things out. Could be they'd have to hook him up with a mild electrical stimuli to get his brain firin' right, or that he'd need to undergo some manner of surgery that hadn't even been invented yet. But he'd never considered — not in a million years — that anyone from Wakanda would propose hookin' up those code words and the well of awful implications that went right along with 'em.
Sam permitted himself half a beat to imagine what any'a that would look like in practice. He couldn't picture any reality where Barnes would consent to not just the part about reactivating them, but signing himself up to put those cheat codes back into active use by the sounds of it.
Sure, having folks from Wakanda holdin' the keys was better'n HYDRA, but even if it was at its core well-intentioned, it was still blind servitude. Every which way you skinned it, it was every bit the sort of thing he'd spent years running from. Terrified of.
Yikes.
"As I said, it is not an option I'm considering," Shuri quickly clarified. The Princess kept her voice firm and no-nonsense, "Not only does it present no actual solution to the crux of our underlying problem, but it carries additional risks since it is not something we've ever done. And I would not ask you to take on a prolonged obedient state wherein—"
…Prolonged…?
Now Shuri was doin' the best to wrangle what information she had to work with in real time in front of an increasingly glowering cyborg, but the thing was, this wasn't Buck she was talkin' to. It was Barnes. And Barnes'd might'a seen a lot in his time, but this particular possibility clearly wasn't anything he'd seen comin' on his radar, and it went without saying that he was strugglin' to hold it together.
There was a fire burnin' in Barnes's stormy blue eyes that Sam didn't like one bit. A bright flash between anger and betrayal that scorched hard and true. It showed in every taunt muscle of his jaw down his neck, all the way to the book creaking between his hands like it was taking everything in him to just stay present in the moment and not snap it in two.
Sam'd only seen Barnes this angry once, back when he was inside that protective orange bubble of his and Ayo'd insisted on saying the bulk of the code words out loud so he could be forced into grappling with the possibility that he was finally free. But what Shuri'd just said, even if she wasn't plannin' to do it, what mattered in that second was that they could do it. That they held that kinda power over him.
And getting angry — truly angry — was a liberty. Sam understood that much. Some people had the freedom to toss their emotions out on display just because they could. Depending on where you were and who you were, folks like that intrinsically knew that there wouldn't be any real consequences for them runnin' their mouths or tossin' their fists. But people like Sam, like Barnes, they had to keep that fire in their bellies bottled-up under lock and key. They could feel the burn of it, but they didn't have the courtesy of bein' able to act on it, lest it consumed 'em whole.
And Barnes knew it. Knew he had to keep those tumultuous emotions brewin' inside of his gut in check as he worked to process the sweeping implications of what Shuri'd just said in real time.
There wasn't much Sam could do that didn't risk settin' him off by accident, but he tried to use his voice as a means of negotiation, as a reminder that he was there, "Barnes…"
The other man didn't acknowledge him, didn't turn his way, but his renewed scowl had a way of letting Sam know that he'd heard his plea at least.
Barnes's expression went hard and ice cold as he leaned towards Shuri, closing the distance between them. The movement was slow, calculated, but it was enough that even Nomble chose to move her hand to hover over the toggle along the shaft of her spear that was capable of activating the electrical node on Barnes's shoulder if need be. If Barnes noticed, he didn't show it. Or maybe he didn't care. His eyes remained locked on Shuri, "You can do that? Reactivate them?"
But Shuri didn't shy away, she met him head-on with unwavering conviction that was impressive considering what the man in front of her was capable of, and full-well knowing he wasn't in the best mental state of his life, "We never have, not in practice, but in theory it could be done. I do not speak of the possibility lightly, and as I told you: I am explicitly opposed to it. I am well aware—"
Sam was tryin' to negotiate with his nerves, to tell himself that Barnes wasn't thinkin' about riskin' everything to reach across the aisle to grab ahold of Shuri, but there was a non-zero chance of that as far as he could tell. He found himself shifting his weight, runnin' nervous calculations on contingencies even as he told himself Barnes wouldn't…
…Would he?
Sam didn't want to imagine how it might all play out in the frantic heartbeats thereafter. His eyes crept over the side of Barne's nearest arm, the vibranium one. If Barnes wanted to reach out and strike Shuri, Sam wasn't sure there was a Hell of a lot he could do to prevent it at this distance, but he wanted to hope it wouldn't be necessary.
Somewhere between heartbeats, he found himself frantically lookin' to Yama for support on what to brace for. She usually had a good read on these things. On Barnes. Maybe she'd seen something he hadn't? Maybe she could use that crystal ball of hers to give him a solid heads-up if this was all about to go to Hell in a handbasket, or if they'd be able to sort this out with words alone.
Instead, the slender, black-dressed woman didn't say a word. Her hands were near her weapon, but not on it, and she lifted the fingers of her nearest hand and softly, almost imperceivably formed her hand into a palm-down "Y" handshape and pushed her hand forward, following it by extending her fingers and slowly moving her palm downward.
He got the message: "Stay still."
Sam didn't get the impression that the man beside him was paying attention to anything or anyone other than Shuri, and he was pissed. Even though his voice hadn't raised a single decibel, it was laced with venom, "You're only aware of whatever you saw here. And whatever he decided to tell you about. But I lived it. For the better part of seventy years," he could've chewed gravel with how raw the words were that he pushed out.
Normally, Barnes kept stuff like this to himself. Let the details of those grim years he'd lived go unsaid, shoved neatly into the background for safekeeping. But something'd finally bubbled up and broken open, and it showed in that uneven expression of his that couldn't've been a further cry from that grumpy staring thing Sam used to give him so much shit for.
No, this one was layered thick and heavy with emotions that said too much about the pain he'd gone through. About how hard it was to speak about any'a it because each word risked conjuring up a past he couldn't escape or pretend didn't happen, no matter how much he might want to. There was fear too. Shame. Hurt, and a whole list of potent emotions Sam didn't even have words to describe but could identify clear as day on his Partner's face.
His friend's face.
With decided intention, the once Winter Soldier leaned closer to the Wakanda royal Princess, looming over her as he spoke in artificially slow measured syllables, "Do you know what it's like to be trapped like that in your own body, in your own mind, day-in, and day-out? To simply exist without any sense of self? As an object? A thing? To have every part of you systematically stripped away until nothing is left beyond the blind desire to obey at any cost?"
Sam wasn't sure when exactly it was that he'd stopped breathing, but he could feel the heat burn in his lungs as they screamed for oxygen. He knew about the broad strokes of what Barnes had been through, sure. Joked a time or two about how Buck'd been brainwashed like it'd been a party trick. Somewhere deep down, he'd told himself humor was humor, but he'd been at least passingly aware of just how out-of-line the remarks were, even if Buck didn't raise objection to them outright. He'd known they weren't acceptable fodder for the odd quip, and he'd done it anyway.
He felt guilty about it now, but at the time, he wanted to think he'd been lightenin' the mood. Doin' Buck a favor by showing him that the past was in the past, and it didn't need to let it define you. That you could look back at it in a different light and remove yourself from its shadow.
He could hear himself runnin his mouth to Sharon as Buck sat on the couch nearby, brooding, "They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he's killed almost everyone he's met."
Yeah, that'd been some shit-for-humor, but Buck'd also never laid it out like this either. How deep the pain went. He'd kept it to himself, marinated in it because at the end of the day he was right: none of them could understand. Could even come close. They could talk about it, reflect on what they'd seen firsthand, read about it, but he'd lived it for seventy years. Been a prisoner to it, for seventy years.
There was something raw and direct in Barnes's words. He wasn't out for blood, but he wanted to be crystal-clear that Shuri'd apparently crossed a line with him in even discussing the possibility with other folks out of earshot as she had, and especially in not letting him know that some of the stuff in this world that he feared most could happen again. That the Wakandans he'd been told only had his best interests at heart were apparently capable of inflicting that sort of personal horror on him too.
But Barnes stayed seated where he was. He didn't reach out for Shuri or try to test their reflexes. Instead, he chose to turn his attention to Ayo who stood planted where she was a few steps away. Those blue eyes of his were layered with more emotion and troubled complexity than he could have possibly realized, "You said I was free." The silent hurt and accusation in his tone was palpable, as was the visible reaction it drew from Ayo. She swallowed hard and regarded him for only a moment more before stepping forward to bridge the distance between them, undeterred.
Sam had to give her credit for being willing to approach Barnes even though he was visibly riled and walkin' the razor's edge on negotiating with the stew of emotions he was grapplin' with. But as she came close to him, Ayo crouched down so they were at the same eye-level no more than a foot apart, "You are," her rhythmic voice softly insisted, and there was emotion edging the fringes of it too, "You were, and you are free. We have no intention of forcing you back to that life."
"But you said—"
"The shadows of their cruel hands cannot be removed. Not truly. We would have done so if we could, but what they inflicted upon you cannot be set back as it was in the time before, nor can those scars be cleanly separated and discarded. To attempt to do so would have washed away who remained. Who fought and survived. The core of what makes you, you."
As she remained poised on one knee, one hand gripped the shaft of her spear for balance while the other clenched tightly together, as if she considered reaching out to him, but thought better of it while discontent lay between them, "The best we could do was to make the poisoned words benign, so that you could live without fear of them being wielded against you again."
"We have ensured beyond any doubt that none of the processes can be remotely activated," Shuri clarified, "but as Ayo said, the words themselves cannot be truly removed. Not in the way you mean."
Barnes's expression remained inscrutable as he processed their words, "But they could be activated again. By you. By them."
An urgent notification blinked along Shuri's Kimoyo Bead strand but she quickly silenced it, "Not by them, no," she insisted, "Contingencies were put in place to prevent such troubling possibilities. You are safe from their reach."
Barnes snorted derisively, "You can't be certain of that. It took them decades to put all that in my head, and you're telling me it took you nearly two years to figure out the words and find a way to make them benign. But that doesn't mean they can't do it again. Especially if you're telling me those scientists of yours proposed a way to turn them back on within the next few days." It was clear Barnes felt betrayed by what he'd just learned, but from where Sam was sitting? He had a point. A profoundly valid and altogether troubling one at that.
"And we're flying back towards Symkaria," Barnes continued, "Towards where HYDRA could be waiting for us. You didn't think to tell me ahead of that? About the risk it presented?"
"I did not view HYDRA recapturing you and reactivating the code words as a potential risk that—" Shuri began.
"—And you think that's for you to decide? What's an acceptable risk is, I mean. Even though I'm the one that has to live with the consequences?" His voice warbled with a swell of emotion as he pressed, "Do you know what they made me do? What they can make people do?"
He let the painful specifics hang broken in the open air between them as Shuri swallowed and stuffed down whatever declaration of reassurance and goodwill she'd been planning to make.
In her wake, Ayo stepped in from where she remained crouched in front of Barnes, "I can see now that it was wrong to keep the details of this omission from you. If it changes your desire to travel to Symkaria, then we need not go, but I can tell you that the option presented to us by the scientists was meant only as a means to temporarily delay the coming degradation of your mind, and it was not an option that either of us found palatable. We hope yet for a true solution, one without any dehumanizing setbacks, but that with only days remaining, there will come a time when all viable options must be put forth for discussion so that their merits can be weighed against one-another. This possibility was one we all hoped to never have to speak aloud, because in our hearts we wish for a more viable solution to present itself. One that does not necessitate such a terrible, and unfair choice."
Barnes's shoulders heaved as he regarded Ayo, but he didn't make a move against her: He was listening.
"We intend for these choices to be yours," Shuri seconded, adding much-needed clarity to Ayo's statement, "that has not changed."
Barnes met Shuri's gaze, but it was Nomble that spoke up from just beside her. Her voice was timid at first, as if it took courage to find the merit to speak alongside the two higher-ranking Wakandans at such a dangerous precipice, "Sometimes… people hold back from telling others details as an act of kindness. Not because they wish to hurt them or keep secrets, but because they hope they can prevent causing them unnecessary distress. That does not make the sting of the omission any easier to bear, but it is important, I think, to understand that what was kept from you was not built from a place of malice or mistrust." She inclined her head towards the journals, "It may even be that you have made similar choices in what you've chosen to share with us, and what you've opted to hold close."
The heat had fallen out of blue eyes that met hers, or perhaps it'd been drained dry. Judging from Barnes's reaction, Nomble'd managed to latch onto an observation he wasn't ready to give air to just yet either. Maybe she'd even caught wind of bits and pieces in those journals of his that he wasn't ready to talk about yet either.
In response, Barnes lowered his eyes to the stack of journals beside him, the ones he hadn't passed to Shuri yet. There wasn't guilt in his expression, not exactly, but it was clear she wasn't wrong.
Sam drummed up the power to unclench his own jaw and get it workin' again, "You still want to go? Back to Symkaria I mean. None of us'd hold it against you if any'a this made you change your mind."
Barnes glanced over to Sam, and he was at once relieved to see some of the tension had fallen out of his face, replaced by an afterglow of exhaustion, like that confrontation had burned the candle at both ends. The man outta time considered his options and took in a deep breath. He let it out slowly, like Ayo'd taught him, before shaking his head, "No. I still want to go. I want to know what happened, and maybe we can do some good there."
"Then that is where we will go," Ayo confirmed. "But I wish to make clear that we intend to do everything we can to ensure you have many more days ahead where you can breathe free. When such a time comes that decisions must be made on how to move forward, we may offer counsel alongside what possibilities remain—"
"—But we are in firm agreement that it will be for you to decide how to proceed," Shuri stated openly. "You have been through too much for others to prescribe your care absent of your wishes. And for what it is worth? I'm sorry to have kept these details from you. I did not mean for them to cause you harm and distress, but perhaps I was cowardly in thinking that it would be easier to not confront you with them when you are already burdened with so much. But as you said: That should not be for me or anyone else to decide."
Barnes lifted his eyes to her, but the fight in him had already burned away, replaced with a quiet acceptance of the reasoning behind her missteps, however faulty it was to him. "No more secrets," it was a binding agreement, not a request.
"No secrets," Shuri promised.
Ayo dipped her head in shared sentiment and looked up to Barnes for confirmation as she borrowed a line from Yama, "Are we good?"
Barnes sighed out a breath of air, but his words were even and not longer fringed with anger, "Yeah, we're good. Just… no more secrets."
"Of course."
Ayo crossed her fist over her chest and rose to her feet as Yama added from just behind her, "I will endeavor to do the same, but you must also remember it can be difficult for us to recall what you know and what you do not. But if you ask, we will answer."
"Yama is always good for the 'long version,'" Nomble remarked, her voice returning to its more easygoing cadence now that the eye of the storm had passed.
Sam snorted lightly, watching as Ayo returned to the front of the cabin and took her seat in the pilot's chair again. Apparently she was satisfied that the brewing discontent had been put to rest, enough so that she was comfortable taking her eyes off Barnes and saw no need to still the gentle quips between her Lieutenants.
Sam's own nerves were still comin' down from that high of theirs, but he hoped the worst was behind 'em as he turned his attention back to the man of the hour. "Thanks for keepin' it together there."
The remark earned him a confused squint from the man beside him, "I wasn't going to hurt anyone," he half-defended.
Sam raised a hand in his own defense, "Not implying you were. I just know what it's like to get angry — really angry — and not have anything like a healthy outlet to let off steam. I was givin' you a compliment if you'd believe it. Wasn't pokin' holes at your expense."
Shuri took the break in conversation as an opportunity to resume reviewing the holographic documents over her palm while Nomble fine-tuning the contents of the transcribed logs. It was a haphazard return to normalcy, even though Sam was bettin' the pop-up notification Shuri'd received a minute or two earlier was probably about the sudden uptick in Barnes's blood pressure.
Or maybe Sam's own.
"A compliment. About getting angry?" Barnes genuinely sounded like he wasn't following.
"Yeah, well. Can't imagine you've had a lot of experience navigating that sort of thing since… well… you know. Or maybe you have, and you just deal with it differently."
Barnes didn't say anything immediately, he just idly ran one hand over the other, tracing the plates of his hand like some substitute palm-reader, "Didn't really…" he stopped and started again, furrowing his brow, "It's hard to explain, but I don't think I experienced emotions like the people around me did. When I was with HYDRA, I mean."
Sam wasn't about to press him about exactly what that meant, but it was a thread Barnes was clearly still chasin', "Yama said that the nails and all, that they prevented me from being able to parse faces for emotions, but whatever they did pushed other stuff down too. Suppressed it, I think, so that I was still conscious enough to make basic decisions, but…" he leaned his head back, focusing on the ceiling overhead, like it was easier than meeting Sam's eyes, "...but sometimes it was like going through the motions. Like being a passenger in my own head. There wasn't a lot that made me feel much of anything. Well, except…" he frowned and faded off.
"They found ways to control the manner in which your brain released dopamine too," Shuri noted empathetically, "It is not your doing."
Barnes didn't look so convinced, "You think it was part of their reward cycle then?"
Shuri nodded, "You adapted to its absence when you were on the run from them, but yes. And chemical dependencies. They found sinister ways to encourage you to complete your missions, like the pain medications they offered you as a lure for desirable behaviors."
"Such vile monsters," Yama muttered harshly under her breath.
Barnes apparently appreciated her fervor on his behalf, "I guess you don't question the muzzle if you don't understand why it's there. If you don't remember it any other way." He peeled his eyes away from the ceiling and looked back at Sam, "I guess I don't remember what it was like to be angry. Before they got ahold of me, I mean. I just feel the absence of it. Like the wires are still fried, twisted, and bent out of shape."
Sam wasn't sure what to say to that. He had platitudes a-plenty, monologues and inspirational thoughts, but it seemed wrong to tell Barnes to 'look on the bright side' or propose that he should feel anything other than what he was wrestlin' with right then.
Instead Sam offered him simply, "You got a raw damn deal."
In response, Barnes let out an uneasy sigh and continued to trace the lines surrounding the vibranium plating of his arm. Somethin' about It wasn't just an idle fidget, though. The longer he watched, the more Sam was inclined to believe that the gears in the other man's head were still turnin' about one thing or another. It just wasn't clear if it was the sorta thing that should be left for him to circle on his own, or something that bore further gentle prodding.
It couldn't hurt to ask, now that they'd apparently entered an era where they were supposed to talk through secrets rather than around 'em.
"The arm okay? Or just comparing and contrastin' it to other one?"
"Mostly the latter," Barnes admitted as he rolled his fingers one-by-one. His tone was a mercifully even keel, like he welcomed Sam's attempt at conversation, "I was just thinking about how when the light hits it in a certain way, it reminds me of how it looked in the Dark Place. When it was like it was glowing from the inside. I haven't come across any journal entries that reference anything like it. I just wish I knew what it's supposed to mean. If it's anything at all, or just a result of the damage they did to my brain."
"The dreams, you mean?"
Barnes adjusted his jaw and shook his head, "No it's… not that. It's…" he tilted his head and his expression shifted, like he'd caught a whiff of something, "It's like a waking dream, of Ukuphupha."
"You and Ayo've used that term before, but I don't think I get what either of you mean by it," Sam admitted as he turned towards him. "Mind cluin' me in?"
Barnes chewed his lip at first, but was inclined to try, "I don't know how it is for you, but for me, a memory or a regular dream is more… passive. It's happening, and you're just along for the ride. But what I experienced in the Dark Place wasn't that. I was conscious. I could feel everything around me in exacting detail. The weight of what was around me, the shift in temperature, everything. And I can recall it with all the clarity of you sitting there now. It wasn't just a dream."
Barnes went on, like he was pulling a thread, "I felt like I was in control of my decisions when I was there. That they were my own. Not because I was a passenger or because there was a pre-programmed set of steps for me to follow to a foregone conclusion. It wasn't disjointed dream logic either. It was like I was fully present. Awake. Just not here. Somewhere else. And I was self-aware enough that I was trying to understand it. But I couldn't."
He sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out the black star they'd worked together to form out of vibranium nanites that vaguely replicated the object he'd encountered and apparently pulled free in the Dark Place. He rolled it over his palms as he spoke, "I can't shake the feeling it's important, but I don't know how. But it wasn't just a dream. There was more to it than that."
With purposeful intention, Barnes handed the five-pointed vibranium star to Sam with all the reverence and gravitas of an offering. Of a token that was so important, his very future might depend upon scrying out what it meant.
The star was heavier than it looked. It was smooth to the touch, but the underlying nanites that formed its shape gave off a slightly burnished appearance, and it might've been in Sam's head, but he almost thought he could feel it vibrating just a touch, like it was alive. "Wish I had anything that could help," he admitted, "It reminds me of the star you used to have on the shoulder of your old arm, but that's about it. If I think of anything, I'll let you know."
Barnes ran his hand over the edges of the star after Sam passed it back to him, but from across the aisle, Nomble's voice interjected into the air between them, "Perhaps we are being too direct in our assumptions."
For a moment, she looked surprised that her remark had earned her the focused attention of every set of eyes in the back of the ship, Shuri included, but she didn't allow a spot of stage friend to stop her from continuing. "There could be other layers of meanings to the experience, like how there are many different stories in the stars above, and depending on where you are, the stars change with your perspective." She gestured a hand to the five-pointed star in his hand, "Perhaps the meaning of the star, or the water is for you alone to understand."
Barnes cocked his head at that, "The water?"
Nomble nodded once, "Like the liquid you felt yourself emerged in, or the wall of chilled water you described. Elements like 'water' are broad, and can mean vastly different things in different contexts. They can be a purifying, life-giving source, but they also have the power to suffocate and drown. They exist in many forms, at many temperatures. In small quantities and large."
Sam didn't pretend to have the answers, but there was something in the way Nomble spoke that gave him pause as she continued, "I do not have secret knowledge of your Ukuphupha anymore than I claim to understand the will of the Gods and Goddesses. I only mention the possibility that perhaps the answers you seek lie less in specifics and how they translate to the waking world, and more in how they translate to your own unique experiences. The ones that we can try to relate to, but that will forever remain outside of our grasp."
She lifted hand towards Barnes and folded her fingers into rapidly-changing shapes, quick enough that Sam only caught the tail end. Thankfully, Barnes repeated it aloud for all of 'em, "Maybe it's not about the forms themselves, so much as the meaning attached to them. Like how hands can only convey language if you know how to interpret the gestures."
Nomble nodded at his translation and eagerly gestured to his arm, "And what if it is the other way around? What if as you walk within your Ukuphupha, your dreaming mind knows something your waking mind does not?"
Sam couldn't feign he could follow all'a that, but he caught Nomble's drift. What if that Dark Place Barnes'd talked about, the same one Buck'd apparently stepped into, what if it wasn't just a fever dream or a scavenger hunt about metaphors? What if there was another layer to it that no dream dictionary on the planet would be able help 'em with?
What if Nomble was right, and whatever was tucked away in Barnes's head was actually trying to tell 'em something?
[Chapter 80 Chapter Art, by Murkycrush]
[ID: A painting by Murkycrush showing warm light falling on Barnes as he looks down at his vibranium hand. Barnes is wearing a blue leather jacket and has a dark blue and gold shawl tied around his neck and hanging over his left arm. He has a strand of Kimoyo Beads around his right wrist and is using his fingers to touch the gold seam lines along the inside of his vibranium hand. Barnes looks introspective and has a serious expression on his face. End ID]
I'm thrilled to share a piece of art that murkycrush ('murkycrush' on Twitter) created to accompany a scene from this chapter! I loved the idea of Barnes having a quiet moment where the light catches in the seams of his vibranium hand, and it reminds him of the strange dreams he had of it glowing within the Dark Place. Murkycrush did a fantastic job bringing this scene to life, and I especially love how they approached the color palette in this piece. It's so lovely, emotive, and packed with emotion!
Please do yourself a favor and check out murkycrush's accounts to see more of their beautiful art! I love how much mood and emotion they put into their pieces, and it's such a treat to include another piece of their art in this story!
[Chapter 7 Chapter Art, by Ghostbite]
[ID: An illustration by Ghostbite showing an exterior view of a European city. It's late afternoon and Bucky and Sam are standing outside on a balcony. Bucky is seen in profile from the knees-up and is leaning onto his arms atop a wooden porch rail. He is talking and looking to the left and appears distressed. He's wearing a blue jacket, dark brown pants, and warm brown gloves. Sam is standing a short distance away with his back against a rail. He has his arms crossed and looks worried. Sam is wearing a tan shirt, green and black jacket, and blue jeans. End ID]
[ID: An alternative illustration by Ghostbite showing an exterior view of a European city. It's late afternoon and Bucky and Sam are standing outside on a balcony. Bucky is seen in profile from the knees-up and is leaning onto his arms atop a wooden porch rail. He is talking and looking to the left and appears distressed. He's wearing a blue jacket, dark brown pants, and warm brown gloves. Sam is standing a short distance away with his back against a rail. He has his arms crossed and looks worried. Sam is wearing a tan shirt, green and black jacket, and blue jeans. Crackles branch across the composition, centered around Bucky. They break open a fractured view of the same scene, but viewed in wintertime. The scenery behind is awash with deep blues, purples, magentas, and reds, and rigid icicles punctuate the disconcerting view. End ID]
This uncomfortable character moment between Bucky and Sam wherein Bucky confesses about his missing memories has always been a really pivotal scene for me, and I'm thrilled that Ghostbite ('ghostbite0' on Tumblr), was willing to lend her skill to create an all-new illustration to bring a powerful moment from Chapter 7: "Steep Slopes" to life.
Mal was the one that came up with the idea of having an alternative version of the illustration with added graphical elements that really called attention to Bucky's inner struggle and mental state, and I am just *thrilled* with how everything turned out! There is such thought and intention behind her decisions, and it all wrapped-up together to create a really powerful piece. I love her unique approach, which really added to the gravitas and emotion of the scene.
Once again: A huge thank you to both artists for lending their time and skill to capture such poignant story moments.
Please check out this chapter on Archive of Our Own to see the gorgeous art and links to the artists' social media pages!
Author's Remarks:
I hope all of you had a wonderful month! I've been working a lot of overtime (and nights and weekends) to get ready to launch new content for the video game I work on, and I'm thrilled to finally have the bandwidth to work on my personal projects again. I'm hopeful the coming weeks will be nourishing in all the best ways.
- Banter - Can I just say how much of a joy it is to write banter? Particularly where Barnes, Sam, Yama, and Nomble are concerned. Also I adore writing Barnes's internal monologue, especially in how it relates to his thoughts about the people around him playing dress-up and wigs. XD
- The Present Status of the Code Words - While not an easy talk by any stretch, it was important to get this out in the open. But WOOF! That's gotta be hard for Barnes to hear. (At least he dodged the part about the scientists proposing potentially doing it without his knowledge altogether…?)
- The Dark Place - Interesting theory, Nomble…
- Title Origins - Dark Adaptation - The title of this chapter originates from the transition of the retina from the light-adapted (cone - photopic) to the dark-adapted (rod - scotopic) state. It also refers to the ability of both rod and cone mechanisms to recover sensitivity in the dark following exposure to bright lights.
Thank you again for all of your steadfast encouragement. I deeply appreciate the sense of community surrounding this story, as well as every comment, kudo, and kind word. Likewise, thank you to those of you who reached out to me or left a comment inquiring if I was doing okay. That really meant a lot to me when I was just trying to keep my head above water with work last month, and I really appreciate your reminder of how important our health is. ❤ I certainly plan to see this journey through, but sometimes I have to adjust the cadence to account for what time I have available and what other responsibilities I'm juggling, so I appreciate your understanding on that front.
Thank you, as ever, for helping me keep this story alive, and my muses well-nourished.