Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He woke with straps across his chest, arms, and legs. The metal that he was pinned to was cold, the air chilled. There was the familiar stale scent that accompanied cryo-freezing in his nose. 

He was being thawed then. 

Bucky kept still. Fear choked his throat. He remembered Steve, both the sickly little Stevie and the more recent Captain America. He had his memories, but for how long? Did Hydra wipe his mind after he was thawed, or did it not work before he was frozen? They must have caught him on the run - 

No, it’d been Steve who’d caught him. There had been agents, but not Hydra. His face all over the news professing him guilty of crimes he didn’t commit, ones he’d been able to finally know weren’t his work, and then - the rest. The trigger words, Steve, the man with the metal wings, the airport, the other winter soldiers.

The Starks. Video evidence of his work, a crime he didn’t remember but now would never forget. There’d been another fight and - 

T’Challa. Wakanda. He was in Wakanda. 

That meant they’d fixed him, didn’t it? They weren’t supposed to thaw him until the trigger words could be removed from his brain. 

His eyes snapped open. Steve was there, on the other side of Bucky’s glass encasement. Steve, who he remembered. That stubborn clench of the jaw was the same no matter the serum. 

Next to Steve was Shuri, the kid who was in charge of the mess that was Bucky’s brain. Ringed behind the both of them were others, people dressed in lab coats and watching with interest. He didn’t recognize them, was he supposed to know them? Panic sparked as he tried to remember, he had to remember. 

“Buck. Bucky, do you remember me?”

It was Steve asking, and relief tempered the pounding of his heart as he offered a weak grin. “Steve. Newspaper shoes and baseball games.” 

Steve’s entire frame relaxed. “That’s me. Us.” He smiled and gave Shuri a firm nod. 

Shuri’s fingers danced across a holographic pad while she eyed Bucky. “Can you tell me your name?”

Tension wrenched up Steve’s spine and Bucky unconsciously mimicked it. He clenched his fists, and was reminded that he was still missing his left arm. The scientists shifted forward, their stances balanced and light. Either those in lab coats were also warriors, or the warriors had attempted to disguise themselves. 

The straps trapped him, he couldn’t break free before Steve would subdue him. The fear of danger, for himself, and relief at safety, for everyone else, battled in his chest. 

“Bucky,” he answered, the word rasping. The cold air burned his throat. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Sergeant Barnes, excellent.” Shuri nodded, pleased, but held up a warning hand as Steve moved to press forward. “You remember where you are?”

“Wakanda.” He swallowed heavily, his throat dry. 

Her lips twitched into a sly smile. “You remember my name? Who I am?” 

Two of the warriors in lab coats stepped forward to flank her, their gazes trained on him and their hands out of sight. Likely hiding weapons. 

“Relax,” Shuri said, waving them off. “This is a test of his recent memory. Everything is fine.”

“Shuri. Princess Shuri,” he rushed to correct. If only his mother could see him try to use all the manners she’d taught him for addressing royalty. 

She’d probably wallop the back of his head with her spoon for not paying more attention to her lessons. 

“Most excellent! I’m glad to see you’re back with us,Sergeant Barnes.” She tapped on her holographic pad, her gaze darting somewhere above Bucky’s head. He hoped the green lights that followed some of her taps meant he’d passed her tests, and not getting sent back under. 

The glass tube that encased him slid away, spilling fog onto the ground. The next breath Bucky took wasn’t recycled cryo air. It wasn’t fresh, smelling of medical sterility and sharp metal, but it was a damn sight better. 

Two warriors edged in front of Shuri, and she rolled her eyes and stepped back while still tapping away on her device. Steve was the only one who stepped forward, hands reaching out to go for the straps. 

Bucky focused on not reacting. Steve was a friend, no matter that he was enhanced and approaching Bucky while trapped. He tried to silence the corner of his brain that continued to scream danger. 

“You’re okay?” Steve whispered as he unbuckled the strap across Bucky’s chest. 

He nodded, counting his inhales and exhales and watching the room while not making it obvious he was doing so. Two possible exits in front of him, the left more open from how the lab coat-wearing warriors were spread. Likely intentional, which meant the best exit was to the right or possibly out of sight behind him. 

Steve unbuckled his arms next, and he shifted to stretch his shoulders. He toppled forward, his legs still pinned, but Steve caught him. Someone darted in and released his thighs, and Bucky staggered onto solid ground.

Free. For a moment.

His muscles ached from disuse and he wobbled where he stood, but Steve supported him. He kept his feet, he had his mind, and this was the best thawing experience he remembered.

“Still with us?”

The air in the room stilled, and Bucky rushed to answer. “Yes. Yes, I’m here. I’m Bucky.”

He didn’t look at the hidden warriors meant to take him down if he posed a threat.

Shuri gestured, and then there was a cup offered to him. He took it with a grateful nod and sipped. It wasn’t water, too thick to be water, and he struggled to swallow rather than gag.

Everyone was watching, and Steve was here. If this was meant to harm him, Steve thought it was the best plan.

The viscous drink coated his mouth, tasting faintly fruity. It oozed down his throat, soothing as it went, and settled his roiling stomach. Better than water.

“Good,” Shuri said. “Glad to see your mind is still intact, at least of a kind. Here, let him sit, though full marks for being able to stand so soon after being defrosted.”

A chair was wheeled over and Bucky collapsed into it, Steve hovering at his side.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, one hand on the back of the chair.

“Best I’ve felt after cryo yet.” Bucky’s next smile was stronger.

He should ask about the trigger words. That’s when they were supposed to thaw him out, after they’d taken care of that.

Unless they needed the Winter Soldier to fight.

He needed to ask. It didn’t matter how much he didn’t want to. He had to know.

Fiddling with the rim of his cup, he tried for a light tone. “This mean you fixed me?” He missed nonchalance by a mile and winced.

Beside him, Steve flinched and that was answer enough. Disappointment rocked through him and it was good he was sitting down. He should’ve known that fixing what happened was too much to hope for.

They should’ve left him in cryo.

Fear shot through on disappointment’s heels. He couldn’t be trusted in a fight, not with the trigger words. He was a liability. He wasn’t safe.

“We removed the trigger words,” Shuri said.

The confidence in her voice shocked him, and that was - that was confusing. Why was Steve so upset?

They’d fixed him, and fast enough that there wasn’t any change to Shuri’s face or Steve’s from when he’d been put under.

“That’s great,” Bucky said.

Her face shifted, and Bucky knew he wouldn’t like what came next.

“But with that removal, we noticed a - a second consciousness.”

Shuri’s stumble reminded Bucky of her age. She was just a kid, a ridiculously smart kid, but a kid. She shouldn’t have had to dig into the dark depths of his mind, shouldn’t have had the pressure of fixing Hydra’s mistakes.

For her sake he kept the plummeting emotions off his face. “What does that mean?”

Steve’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. Bucky couldn’t feel it. All he felt was the cool slide of the gel from before, still coating his throat.

“We were able to remove the programming when you were frozen - it was easier actually, because there was less interference with the suppressed brain activity -  but we woke you up after we were done and checked our results. You don’t remember this.”

It wasn’t a question, but Bucky shook his head in denial.

“It’s going to be okay,” Steve promised and squeezed again.

He tried to take comfort from it, but his gaze was locked on Shuri.

“We think you have another personality residing in your brain.” She paused as the words cut through Bucky. “You don’t seem to remember, and we aren’t sure what causes the switch.”

“But the trigger words,” Bucky protested.

“Are gone,” she confirmed. “Neither of you are controlled by them anymore.”

Wasn’t that even worse? He knew without them having to say that this second consciousness was the Winter Soldier. Was having that off the leash truly any better than having it under control?

Steve’s hand on his shoulder was so heavy, and he stood so close. What if the Soldier slid into consciousness now and attacked?

He still couldn’t trust his own mind.

“How do I get rid of him?”

There was pity on Shuri’s face, and Bucky locked down his anger. He couldn’t expect her to fix everything, and she’d done what he’d thought he’d wanted.

“I don’t think you can. He’s a part of you, and you’re a part of him, too intertwined to separate. To kill him would be to kill you.”

“It’s going to be okay, Buck. We’ll find something,” Steve promised.

Steve was lucky Bucky wouldn’t hold him to that.

Chapter Text

They ran Bucky through tests, mental and physical, and while Steve’s brow pinched as he lurked on the sidelines, Bucky had no resentment about being put through the paces. This was kindness compared to Hydra’s obstacle course that tested reaction times after being thawed.

None of Shuri’s tests electrocuted him when he stumbled. No one slapped him if he didn’t answer their questions about his memories quickly enough.

“What happens now?” he asked Steve when Shuri declared him acceptable.

She was still guarded by warriors mixed in with their scientists, but the tension had eased out of the air after he’d been run ragged through their course.

“It’s up to you, Buck.”

Bucky blinked at Steve, who seemed earnest and sincere. This was the kind of test he hated, because there was a right answer to this and he had no idea what it was.

“Not exactly,” Shuri chided. She finished typing something on her holo-pad and approached. “After all you have both been declared war criminals.”

Steve sighed and clapped Bucky on the shoulder in a show of support that he didn’t need. He’d been a war criminal for decades and been on the run from everyone not that long ago. This wasn’t new.

“Returning to the United States would lead to considerable problems,” Shuri laid out for him. He shrugged, uncaring, not even remembering the last time he’d been ‘home.’

“We won’t be,” Steve said. He did a double-take at Bucky and grinned sheepishly. “I mean, you can choose, Buck. But Sam, Nat, Wanda and I are going to head out. We’ve stayed long enough, and there’s work to be done.”

And Steve couldn’t sit still while he thought the world needed him.

“You’re welcome to stay,” Shuri said. “I would recommend it even, until we are sure how the Winter Soldier might react.”

“But it’s your choice, Buck.”

He could see how much Steve wanted him to come and join the group. He felt the answer rise in his throat, the one that would make Steve happy.

But he couldn’t trust his own mind, not with the Winter Soldier still lurking. He couldn’t trust the Winter Soldier with Steve.

“I should stay.” The words were rough, hard to push out of his mouth, but he did it. He turned from Steve to Shuri, and was relieved at the approval in her face. “We don’t know what the Soldier is going to do yet. Better I’m somewhere where we can contain the damage.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked.

He nodded, and he hoped the relief he felt meant he wasn’t making the wrong choice, the cowardly choice, especially in the wake of Steve’s disappointment.

“We’ll be back to visit,” Steve said with the surety of another promise.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Bucky replied.

The next day he stood on the edge of the landing platform, in the shadow of the building behind him. Yards away, Steve was exchanging goodbyes with T’Challa and the entourage of Dora Milaje that somberly watched over the proceedings.

The Dora Milaje that stood between Bucky and Shuri, who was on her phone feet from him, teetered more on suspicion as they eyed him. Still, the fact they weren’t disguised in lab coats anymore made him feel better, for some reason.

Steve strode over, mostly resigned.

“You sure you want to stay? There’s plenty of room on board, she’s bigger than she looks.” Steve nodded to the Quinjet.

He wanted to say yes. He felt Shuri’s eyes on him and was sure they were heavy with judgment, but he wanted to say yes.

He wanted to make Steve smile, and he wanted to pretend that he was normal. That he could stay at Steve’s side and protect him, like he should be, instead of stuck with the Winter Soldier in his head who would do his best to attack Steve the moment Bucky let his guard down.

And Steve wouldn’t protect himself, because the Winter Soldier was also Bucky.

“Not yet,” Bucky said, hating the grim acceptance on Steve’s face. “Give me time to sort out my head.”

“Of course, Buck. I’ll just miss you. Take care of yourself, alright? Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

The words were weighted, Steve’s gaze boring into his. He scrambled through memories, knowing there was something he was supposed to say. Something specific, about stupid and leaving and how can you?

The phrase didn’t align in his head or in his mouth, and rather than mess it up he smiled and said, “Come back soon, okay?”

Steve’s shoulders dropped, but he nodded. “Soon, I promise.”

One last hug for Bucky, a nod to Shuri, and Steve strode to the Quinjet, its ramp lowered and waiting for him. The engines hummed as they began to warm, and Steve turned and waved goodbye, his gaze on Bucky, and then he was gone. The ramp retracted, the thrusters lit, and the Quinjet was soaring up and away.

Bucky watched it leave until it was a speck in the distance, and then turned to Shuri while her Dora Milaje still eyed him.

“So what now?” he asked.

Shuri grinned and clapped her hands together. “Now the fun begins.”

Chapter Text

 “That doesn’t look like a flying car,” Bucky said as he shuffled into Shuri’s lab. He nodded to the two guards standing at attention along the edge, who returned the gesture with somber nods and a dubious glance at the two cups he balanced in one hand.

Video footage of his sparring with several Dora Milaje played in front of Shuri from several camera angles. She tapped one of the pictures and it filled the screen, and then a few more taps slowed the footage down.

Bucky watched himself take a metal-tipped staff to the stomach in slow motion and then get punched in the face, and winced. Enhanced or not, that had hurt.

“Perfect timing,” Shuri said, and then rewound a few seconds and watched him get hit all over again.

He rolled his eyes but held out the cup that contained her coffee, though it was more sugar and chocolate than caffeine at this point. His own cup held tea, a rich red rooibos that he discovered he now preferred over the sharp bitterness of coffee. She snagged her cup and he sipped his as they turned back to the feed to watch him grab the metal cap of the staff and shatter it.

She tisked and rewound, zooming in on his hand. With a few more taps, she had velocity and force calculations of the hit being projected as he squeezed the metal cap again, and then she was setting her coffee aside and pulling up another screen to scroll through metal alloys.

“Your strength is incredible. You must spar with my brother while I work on improving the Doras’ weapons.”

“I don’t think the king has that kind of time,” Bucky mused as he watched her open a new list and type out ideas as fast as her fingers could fly.

“I’ll make him have time,” she said absently. “This is for my research, T’Challa will understand.”

Bucky hummed noncommittally. He’d been sparring with members of the Dora Milaje for weeks now, under Shuri’s request. It served to challenge their skills against the best Hydra had to offer, and was also a test of whether the Winter Soldier would make an appearance when threatened.

Facing off against T’Challa was something Shuri frequently mentioned, but Bucky had seen little of the Black Panther since he’d been thawed.

He was more than okay with that.

Besides, Shuri’s upgrades came as fast as lightning. He’d be back in the ring facing weapons with new vibranium alloys by the end of the week. It gave him something to look forward to.

“I can hack into his calendar and schedule it myself,” Shuri said, tapping her chin. “That might be best, and he’d thank me for letting him blow off some steam later.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Bucky replied dryly, trading a glance with guards.

Their mouths twitched into hints of smiles, and Bucky shook his head.

“Too late, already doing it,” Shuri said, pulling up a new screen. “He never listens, but I’m absolutely right about this.”

Bucky sipped his tea.

“Should I even ask what you are doing?”

Bucky spun into a defensive stance, dropping his tea. Then his brain clicked in that it was T’Challa’s amused voice, and T’Challa standing there. He kicked his foot out and up, hitting the bottom of the cup before it hit the floor and sending it back into his hand.

T’Challa raised an impressed eyebrow.

One of Shuri’s hands was on her chest, and she was giving T’Challa a chastising look. “You aren’t supposed to wear those sneakers in my lab. You can’t use my tech against me!”

The shoes T’Challa had on were more like boots that would match his Black Panther outfit than the sneakers Bucky was used to seeing, but things were different in Wakanda. Like how they had flying cars - unlike any car Bucky had seen both past and present, but that didn’t matter at all when Shuri let him drive one. The experience had been more than he’d known to hope for, back at that Stark Expo.

The memories of that old night - of that week when he’d gotten drafted and said his goodbyes and shipped out - had come back a week after Steve had left. Bucky still couldn’t recall whether Patricia had been his date and Dorothy was Steve’s or the other way around, but his line that he was supposed to have said at their most recent goodbye came back to him.

Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.

How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.

He’d get it right next time, he promised. And also show Steve the flying car, though it might not measure up to the Quinjet Steve had these days.

“I think it's only fair when you use your tech against me.” T’Challa nodded his head to her screen showing his calendar. “That looks like mine.”

“You need to get your eyes checked,” Shuri scoffed and swiped it away. “That has nothing to do with you.”

“Pull it back up,” T’Challa said. His voice went serious, and his gaze landed on Bucky.

Bucky’s spine straightened and he took in his exits, carefully setting his tea down on an empty table. As much as hanging out with Shuri and the Dora Milaje had become normal and even fun, he’d never forgotten he was allowed only in Wakanda on T’Challa’s grace.

“Okay, okay, I don’t know what you want to prove,” Shuri said as she sighed and did as T’Challa asked.

“Look ahead.” T’Challa’s voice was firm but kind. “I think you’ll find it.”

Shuri rolled her eyes, made it obvious so everyone could see, but clicked through T’Challa’s calendar until she cringed. “Ah. That. But really, I don’t know why you’re so concerned. Wakanda is the best, we need to be more worried about how we’ll kick them out.”

“When the time comes,” T’challa agreed. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

“Me?” Shuri asked, startled, but T’Challa was turning to Bucky.

And Bucky knew what T’Challa needed, the whispers that traveled the hallways and gardens and kitchens of the palace clicking together. There were visitors coming to Wakanda, official ones as Wakanda opened her doors to the world.

Guests who weren’t the rogue Avengers in hiding, or charity cases like Bucky.

“I should go,” Bucky offered before T’Challa had to ask. He shouldn’t be seen here. He refused to bring censure down on T’Challa and Wakanda for all the grace they’d extended him. He’d overstayed, and now it was time to go.

T’Challa held up his hands and gestured for Bucky to slow down. “It would be best if you weren’t found in the city, but you don’t have to leave Wakanda.”

“You can’t kick him out!” Shuri protested.

T’Challa sighed. “I just said he didn’t have to leave.”

“Where will he go? Find a cave in the mountains until you tell him he’s free to come back down?”

“So dramatic,” T’Challa chided, but he was smiling. “There are options, but the best one is Nakia’s.”

“Of course it is,” Shuri said, her shoulders slumping in relief. “What is it?”

T’Challa explains about a farm on the outskirts of a city, where he wouldn’t be bothered. He’d have neighbors, ones who knew to keep quiet though not Bucky’s full story. They’d be a resource if Bucky got into trouble, though Bucky assumed they’d also stand watch to some degree as well.

He nodded in acceptance, relief swirling in his chest that he didn’t have to leave Wakanda yet. Guilt followed on its heels, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to tell Steve about this.

Steve who’d asked the last time he’d called if he was ready to join their mission yet.

“You invited Beyonce, didn’t you? Why isn’t she on the guest list?”

T’Challa rolled his eyes. “This is a political meeting first. We can open Wakanda to your favorite celebrities later.”

“I don’t see why we can’t multi-task and do both at the same time.” Shuri sniffed and scrolled down the list on her screen. “Ah, who is this? What kind of name is ‘Iron Patriot?’”

T’Challa smirked. “I hear he prefers War Machine.”

Stiffening, Bucky dug up his courage. “Is Iron Man coming too?”

“No.” T’Challa gave him a knowing look. “Though I suspect Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes will keep us on our toes just the same. I would guess they suspect Rogers and his friends first fled here, and you with them, but they have now shown up in other places where you have not. A good reason for you to give the city a wide berth during their visit.

“Oh, and one more thing about the farm.” A smile tugged at T’Challa’s mouth, and he tried to hide it with a hand. “And who, or should I say what, will be keeping you company there.”

Bucky frowned.

When T’Challa explained, he felt a spike of alarm. He’d grown up in a city and then was at war. He didn’t know the first thing about how to take care of goats.

Shuri laughed at his fear and began pulling up all the goat videos she could find on the internet.

Bucky sat on his bed, back against the headboard and legs tucked up to give his journal a precariously balanced position on the tops of his knees.

He couldn’t look at the pages, no longer blank, but scrawled across with his starts and stops and scratched out apologies. He hadn’t forgotten there was a world outside Wakanda. Steve was out there after all, waiting for Bucky to join him.

But he wasn’t connected to the rest of the world here. He didn’t have to worry about who was coming after him, because no one breached Wakanda’s walls. He wasn’t on the run. He wasn’t chasing his past. He wasn’t thinking about his future. He spent the day bouncing from Shuri, who spent her time thinking and crafting a technological future beyond his wildest imagination, and the Dora Milaje who tested his strength and speed.

Here he was waiting - for someone to tell him what to do, or for the Winter Soldier to arrive. The former was happening sooner than the later, and now Bucky was going to wait out on a farm while he learned to take care of goats.

But the rest of the world was encroaching into his world now, into Wakanda. Tony Stark wasn’t walking through the doors to confront Bucky about what he or the Winter Soldier had done, but the man was knocking on the door of his mind.

Bucky let him in.

He killed my mom.

He didn’t, but he did. It was the Winter Soldier, but it was still him. The memory itself was faded. He couldn’t recall Howard Stark’s face, wasn’t even sure he’d looked at the woman in the car with him. He wasn’t sure it was her pleas he remembered hearing or someone else whose life he’d ended.

And Bucky wouldn’t apologize for running from the Iron Man armor and all its capabilities, but - he’d never apologized. For doing it. For not being stronger, for not stopping it, or just. Letting Stark know that Bucky hated the fact that he’d killed the man’s parents.

But how did he apologize for that? How could he put that into words?

Not easily, given the scratched out versions he had in his journal. He would give up for the night, but -

So was I.

The man had been Steve’s friend. They’d left him on the ground, armor broken, eyes wide and shining and accusing as he yelled that Howard had made the shield that Steve had used to break him, Howard’s son. That Steve had used it to protect the man who’d killed Howard and his wife.

Stark had taken his arm, had tried to kill him.

But Bucky couldn’t blame him for that. It was the smart move, even if Bucky wasn’t looking to die. It was the tactical choice, motivated by revenge or not.

Apologizing shouldn’t be this hard. He didn’t have to say the words to the man’s face. Didn’t even have to hand him, or anyone, the letter after he wrote it.

But Stark deserved Bucky trying to find the words.

He turned the page so that it was blank, tugged the journal into his lap, and put pen to paper.

Hours later, when he slipped under the covers for the night, he left the latest draft open on the nightstand in case he received any late night inspiration. Then Bucky went to sleep, thinking of the bloody pasts and regret-filled presents and uncertain futures.

Bucky fell asleep, and the Winter Soldier woke up.

Chapter Text

“Wow, look at that catwalk.” Tony whistled for added effect as Rhodey walked down the ramp of the QuinJet.

Tony’s heart soared at his slow but even pace. The doctors had warned that regaining the ability to walk would be a long and painful recovery, but the braces they’d designed together had helped, allowing Rhodey to stand under his own power. They’d let Rhodey walk into Wakanda when he’d been invited, part of the first coalition of those welcomed.

Envy had hit Tony hard when his own invitation never arrived, but he was glad for Rhodey. And, beyond the bonus of seeing the technologically advanced nation, Rhodey’s walk was smoother.

Hopefully that meant the pain was lessened too, with whatever healing tech that T’Challa had.

Tony rubbed his left shoulder as he strode to his friend, grin wide on his face. It wasn’t a match for Rhodey’s though, a grin that spoke of being stuffed full of secret advanced tech.

“You’re going to tell me everything, right?”

Rhodey’s smile edged even broader. “For the right price.”

Tony squawked and began haggling, tossing out anything and everything Rhodey could possibly want. The new Audi, an advanced copy of Andy Weir’s latest novel, upgrades on the War Machine armor, a cameo on Law & Order.

“Keep it coming, keep it coming,” Rhodey said as he led the way out of the hangar and back to the common room.

The Avengers Compound was quiet on this side, with the more residential dorms, and they didn’t run into anyone else.

There wasn’t anyone else to run into.

Rhodey exhaled in relief as he sank onto the couch, hands rubbing his thighs. Tony plopped next to him, still tossing out anything and everything that came to his mind.

Rhodey held up a finger. “Yes to the private jet to the Caribbean, no to the honey dust. If I want that I will find my own, thank you very much. But first, let me tell you. I got you a souvenir.”

Tony cheered. “Yes! Gimme.” He held out his hands.

The smile on Rhodey’s face turned sly, and Tony flinched but didn’t retract his hands. Rhodey magnanimously ignored that and reached into an inner jacket pocket. “Don’t worry, it was officially cleared with the King himself. I didn’t steal it.”

“I’m disappointed now,” Tony said, waving his empty hands to beckon Rhodey to put something in them. “I’m worth stealing for.”

“Not from Wakanda, you’re not. Now, hold up. This deserves special consideration, right? You don’t get your hands on Wakandan stuff everyday. Well, you don’t. I got party gifts back in the jet.”

Tony leapt to his feet and strode back for the door. “You did? Why didn’t you -”

“Come sit your ass down. I’m not chasing you across the Compound, and you’re a fool if you think I didn’t lock that shit down before I left it.”

With a heavy sigh, Tony hopped over the back of the couch and sat down next to Rhodey again. “Can I have it now?”

“No fanfare.” Rhodey rolled his eyes and slipped his hand out of his jacket.

Rhodey’s hand held an envelope with Tony’s name on it, and Tony stared as he mechanically took it.

“All for you.” Rhodey laughed, shoulders shaking with it as he watched Tony’s face. “Straight from Wakanda. All that vibranium, all that tech, and what you get is good old-fashioned paper.”

Tony opened the envelope, hoping there was an explanation inside. A printed ticket to Wakanda, as a joke. That would be hilarious. He prepared himself to laugh as he pulled out the sheet of paper, but the laughter dropped from his face as he read the first line and then skimmed the hand-written text for the signature at the bottom.

“What is it?” Rhodey asked, head peeking around to read. “T’Challa promised it was safe, but if the King of Wakanda is prone to lying then better to know.”

Tony’s hands twitched, almost jerking the letter away from Rhodey, but he stilled himself. Rhodey was the only one who knew the full events of the bunker of Siberia, refusing to accept Tony’s evasions or spins.

His therapist said he needed to tell someone, and certainly Rhodey out of everyone deserved to know why Tony hadn’t returned with Steve and Barnes in tow, why he didn’t complete the mission that had injured Rhodey so severely.

Tony cleared his throat. “Looks like Barnes has a guilty conscience.”

“That track record? Something would be wrong with him if he didn’t. He’s apologizing?”

Rhodey had pushed himself in, easily able to read the letter as Tony, so Tony didn’t bother to answer. Phrases like ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I know this doesn’t make up for what I did’ answered that.

“Hey. You okay?” Rhodey put his hand on top of Tony’s, and Tony realized his hands were trembling.

“Yeah, fine.” Tony blinked, calmed himself. The letter still shook in his fingers. He dropped it into his lap and crossed his arms. “Just weird timing.”

“Weird timing.”

Tony shrugged. “Didn’t notice it until you were gone in Wakanda, and it wasn’t a big deal. You only just got back, you can’t blame me for not telling you.”

“Tell me what,” Rhodey said, half question and half order.

Laughing, Tony poked at the letter. “Apparently Barnes is an old-fashioned guy. Who writes letters by hand anymore? Suppose he’s from the old ages like Rogers though, so I guess that makes sense.”

“What’s your point, Tones?”

Tony rubbed his mouth, considering. All the time he’d had to plan what he was going to say - if he was even going to say anything at all - and he’d ignored it.

Until it had landed in his lap again. Literally.

“Had FRIDAY doing some combing of the internet, standard background stuff, nothing major.”

When Tony hesitated, Rhodey prodded. “Uh huh. What’d she find?”

“Russian code, old stuff. KGB style that the Kremlin hasn’t used since -”

“I know the history, Tony, just get to the point.”

“Had my name in it.” Tony’s voice went rough, and he coughed to clear it. “Attached to an apology, not too unlike this one.” Poking at the paper in his lap, Tony dared to glance at Rhodey. Then he stared at the letter again. “Signed by the Soldier.”

Rhodey frowned. “I’d get the backup method, in case you didn’t scour the networks for old encryptions. Or maybe he didn’t trust me as the messenger. But he signed this one as Bucky, no mention of the Soldier.”

“Yeah. Funny, that,” Tony agreed, mind whirling.

The pieces didn’t fit in his brain. Accepting that Barnes had reached out at all, that Bucky sent a hand-written letter made some kind of sense. Bucky sending a coded message to the world using outdated Russian intelligence? No. Signing one letter as Bucky and the other as Soldier? Didn’t make sense, not if one of those was a back-up plan.

The Soldier’s message had been direct and terse. It had started with the declaration ‘I killed your parents, Howard and Maria Stark, on December 16th, 1991’ and ended shortly after with ‘I regret that this mission was a success.’

He’d flown to Nevada and blown up a few pieces of machinery out in the desert where no one could see his temper tantrum, after that.

Bucky’s letter was the same idea but written like a normal human. Tony guessed the chances of the same person writing both apologies were slim, but he already had Steve’s apology to compare it too and that was its own kettle of fish. 

Who else would write an apology letter in Barnes’ name?

And did that mean Barnes wrote the Soldier’s slap of an apology or Bucky’s softer, coached one?

The nice thing about written letters though, Tony realized, was the satisfaction in crumpling the paper in his hands.

Rhodey clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go get drinks.”

“As long as they’re the alcoholic kind.”

Chapter Text

Tony obsessed over the dual apologies during his many meetings with Stark Industries, the new Avengers, and the Accords Committee. When he had the free time to do something about the missives, he ignored them entirely.

Neither of the letters needed a response.

Both of them did.

Or maybe just one? But then respond to the one that was hand-written and entrusted to messengers who now knew there was an attempt at communication or an olive branch, and therefore maybe an attempt at manipulation, or the one that was so cleverly encrypted and left to find only if Tony was watching, which would confirm that Tony was exactly as paranoid as everyone might suspect?

Or both. Or neither. Reply, don’t reply. React, don’t react. Tony chased his tail for days before he got fed up with himself.

And that, more than the apologies, made him angry. Barnes in whatever capacity, Bucky or the Soldier, wasn’t allowed to turn him on his own head like this.

Tony didn’t owe Barnes or the Soldier anything, the least of all accepting either form of apology, but he was owed answers.

He refused to put a pen on paper or go through some bullshit encryption puzzle. He sent an email like a modern day adult and addressed it: To Bucky Barnes/Terminator/Winter Soldier/Whatever You Call Yourself -

He sent the email to T’Challa through the back channels to keep it off anyone else’s radar. No need to blow the secret that one of the war criminals was hiding out in Wakanda right when T’Challa was making their public debut, even if the bombing of the UN was now correctly attributed to Zemo. The warrant was still there for everything that came after. 

In a matter of hours, he received an invitation to visit Wakanda.

Minutes after that, he got an email from Shuri.

Bring your Iron Man suit, we’ve got tests to run. And find another way to talk to him, this go-between is too weird.

Tony barked out a laugh and shot off an acceptance, both to T’Challa’s formal invitation to visit and Shuri’s request to bring the Iron Man suit. He could put up with whatever terrible conversation was going to happen with Barnes if he got to race against the best of Wakanda.

“Bring up those notes on the Mark 47 upgrades,” Tony told FRIDAY, heading for the lab. “We’ve got some work to do before we take off.”

The details were sorted out by other people, which meant Tony landed in Wakanda on his private jet instead of in his Iron Man armor. He wasn’t a representative of the Avengers or the Accords or even Stark Industries and so had to arrive as the typical rich man.

He was just Tony Stark, whatever that meant anymore. He stepped down the jet bridge with a smile that broadened upon seeing the lack of press contingent.

“Your Majesty,” Tony greeted as he approached T’Challa and his cohort.

No Barnes, but that was to be expected. Shuri was grinning at her brother’s side, properly attired for the occasion in her T-shirt and sneakers.

Rhodey had told him to bow and Tony suspected his friend was pulling his leg but he watched, primed to make the move. When T’Challa stuck out his hand for a shake instead, Tony almost laughed. He took it, wholeheartedly, and eagerly awaited to tell Rhodey that the prank had failed.

“We are pleased you have accepted our invitation to see Wakanda,” T’Challa greeted. “I look forward to seeing what the brains of you and my sister can cook up together.”

“Science may rue the day,” Tony agreed.

“I hope my sister will allow you to step outside the lab for a tour. The Wakandan countryside is especially beautiful this time of year.”

Tony didn’t let his smile drop. No doubt Wakanda was beautiful - he’d watched through the windows as they flew over the grassy plains and lush forest - but the upcoming tour would likely come hand in hand with a confrontation.

Barnes had been kicked to the countryside then. A smart move, even if Wakanda didn’t allow or expect drop-in visitors, though what sort of oversight -?

Well, he’d find out. After Tony got his peek at the lab space.

“I look forward to it,” Tony said without giving away that part of that was a lie. “And thanks for having me. But I was promised a race against the Iron Man armor, and I might die if I have to wait any longer.”

Shuri laughed and shouldered her brother aside, her smile taking up her whole face. “As long as you’re prepared to lose!”

“I will accept the possibility as long as you show me something amazing.”

“Come on, I’ll show you what’s going to put your armor to shame.”

“Good luck,” T’Challa said as Tony moved to follow Shuri. His smile twisted into something knowing. “You’ll need it.”

“Undoubtedly,” Tony replied cheerily, his broad grin a match for Shuri’s.

Shuri was amazing. Her inventions were the stuff of Tony’s dreams, and the Princess herself had enough humor and snark to delight him forever.

Wakanda was in good hands between her and her brother.

The obstacle course she’d designed was the most fun he’d had since he’d discovered drag racing. It reminded him that he missed flying.

He was also out of practice. The Wakandan tech was amazing, but he’d let the plethora of meetings and research and upgrades bench him too long. He’d lost by literal miles, and while he was more than happy to listen to Shuri crow about her success, he knew he could do better.

He had to do better. The world needed him to do better.

Defending the world was on his mind when T’Challa found them later, sequestered away in Shuri’s lab messing around with vibranium in ways that led to the best inventions but also explosions.

“I wonder if I could take you on that tour now,” T’Challa said as he eyed their innocent faces with skepticism. “I have managed some free time, though I’m afraid the rest of the council is busy.”

Tony leapt at the chance, wondering what T’Challa had to say that he didn’t want on the record. Defenses against extraterrestrial threats? Had Wakanda made a leap out into space that they’d kept silent too?

“Shuri, if you would be so kind as to alert our guest of our arrival.”

“I can send word when we’re on our way.” Shuri clapped her hands together and grinned to cover the awkwardness.

T’Challa’s order had been only a half-step above a dismissal.

Guest pinged in Tony’s mind. A secret guest. Well, there was only one of those he knew about, though there was always the possibility of more. 

“You will stay here. I am more than capable of handling it,” T’Challa replied.

Shuri put her hands on her hips. “Because that went so well last time.”

T’challa almost rolled his eyes. Tony could see it, looking at the man’s face, and he hid a smile behind his hand. Teenagers were the best to work with.

“That is none of your concern. Besides, don’t you have another obstacle course to design? You picked one that favored your tech, and wasn’t fair to our guest.”

“This is outright slander.” Shuri sniffed and turned to Tony. “Take him away, somewhere out of my sight.”

“As my princess commands.” Tony gave her a flourishing bow and then herded T’Challa out of the lab. “Wouldn’t say no to a rematch though!” he called back. 

T’Challa led Tony to a hovercraft that could easily fit a team of six, which made it more than roomy enough for three. Okoye had slipped inside at the last minute, glaring heavily at T’Challa, and it had put an awkward silence between them until Tony filled it with chatter.

There was a ton to ask and comment on about the controls and hovercraft itself, and that was before T’Challa piloted them out of the hangar and up and over the city. Tony watched, drinking it in, at the markets and people and buildings. A vibrant, colorful city.

Part of Tony understood why Wakanda had hidden this so long. Protected this.If he could hide Earth from those who could come to hurt them, wouldn’t he do the same?

And could he do that? Or was it as Thor had said years ago, that the Tesseract had drawn Earth into cosmic warfare and there was nothing left to do but prepare for it? Rotten job they’d done of that, with the Avengers broken up and the world’s governments breathing down his neck for answers and accountability.

The further outside the city they flew, the less technology was visible. There were stretches of open plains traversed by herds and gravel roads criss-crossing the landscape. They were high enough that Tony could make out the occasional house, or cluster of a village, but there were no skyscrapers that towered like the capitol.

This looked more akin to what the world would expect out of the poor, quiet African nation whose role Wakanda had played for so long.

“We are here,” T’Challa announced quietly as the craft slowed, hovered, then landed.

The view outside the window was of a lone hut, behind which was a pen that held several goats. As the engines quieted, Tony could hear their angry bleating at this interruption to their life.

“This is the meeting I think it is, right?” Tony realized he should confirm before he jumped into something entirely different.

Maybe this secret guest was someone who wanted to help out Stark Industries with their clean energy initiative but preferred anonymity. Tony could see someone running away from board meetings and business networking to take care of a goat herd in a secret technologically-advanced nation.

Himself, for one.

“I expect it is,” T’Challa said.

“He has goats.”

T’Challa smiled. “We call him our White Wolf, and wolves don’t do well without packs.”

Tony couldn’t stop the raising of his eyebrows, skeptical. “So in this wolf metaphor, the goats are pack members and not, let’s say, prey.”

“I suppose it depends on your perspective.”

Wishing for Shuri and her ability as a teenager to cut through bullshit like this, Tony followed T’Challa out of the hovercraft.

His step only hesitated once, from ramp to ground, knowing he wasn’t in control of escaping this confrontation. He couldn’t pilot the hovercraft. His Iron Man armor was locked in Shuri’s lab out of politeness to his hosts. He could walk, he supposed, but it would take hours to make his way back to the city. He had only his watch that would reform into a gauntlet, a non-lethal weapon the Winter Soldier had already seen and bested.

And T’Challa and Okoye who would probably intervene if it came to blows, but all it would take was one shot. Tony was a baseline human with squishy organs and bones not able to super heal.

All that hesitance in a step, but Tony walked forward. He slid his shades over his eyes and then stuffed his hands in his pockets, trailing T’Challa over to where Barnes was coming out of a shed.

Recognition, surprise, and then alarm flashed over the man’s face before it dropped into something neutral. He waited, tense.

He was missing a metal arm, cloth covering the absence but stance leaning in compensation.

“I told Shuri to tell you we were on our way,” T’Challa said, voice apologetic. “I figured tackling this issue would be best done sooner rather than later.”

Tony bit back the vitriol that wanted to spill from his mouth. Sooner would’ve meant dealing with it on December 16th, 1991. Or maybe December 17th then. Or anytime in the decades that spanned between then and now, with literal years that Steve or Natasha could’ve told him.

But sure, sooner into Tony’s visit to Wakanda than later because time mattered here.

He breathed out, long and steady, and reigned himself back. He focused on the heat of the sun on his face, the crunch of gravel as he shifted his feet. He counted the goats he could see from where he stood, and noted their animal smell and the sweet scent of their hay.

Getting lost in the what-ifs wasn’t what we wanted for this conversation. Despite what Barnes had done, it wasn’t his fault that no one had bothered to tell Tony about it.

There was only one apology that Barnes had owed him, and Tony was only here to ask why there were two.

“Haven’t checked the beads for a bit,” Barnes replied gruffly, stiff and tense. “Rogers chews on ‘em, and things have been quiet -”

“Rogers is here?” The question slipped out before Tony could stop it, his body going rigid.

There was only one confrontation he was prepared for. Steve was supposed to be in Lithuania or somewhere near, by FRIDAY’s estimates, but of course where Barnes was so was Steve. He’d been stupid not to expect - 

“No, he’s not,” T’Challa said, hands raised to calm. His words cut over Barnes’ own denial, whose face flushed red.

“Named one of the goats.” Barnes pointed into the pen. “The brown one there, with the white spots? Worst one, stubborn as all hell.”

“I can see the resemblance,” Tony quipped, wishing he’d handled that better.

Silence settled in for one long moment and then T’Challa was backing away. “I’ll give you two some privacy, though we won’t stray far. I hope this meeting will go better than the last one I witnessed.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Tony said, then grinned to cover his slip. “Joking, of course. We’re fine, right?” he directed at Barnes. “We’re fine.”

Barnes nodded, hair slipping forward to shadow his gaze. “We’re fine.”

“Excellent,” T’Challa said with such a light touch on dryness that Tony wondered if he imagined it. “I will let you two talk.”

Then T’Challa was gone, back into the hovercraft. The ramp stayed down so Tony’s exit wasn’t completely blocked, but he squared his shoulders. He didn’t come to Wakanda so he could run away.

Goats bleated feet from them, one coming over and sticking its head through the fence to try to bite at Barnes’ shirt. Barnes shrunk in on himself, losing height and width, but his hand went to the goat’s head.

He didn’t push it away, but stroked its forehead and scratched around the nubs for horns.

For a serum-enhanced assassin, the man wasn’t intimidating.

Before Tony could figure out where to start, or even ask about the goat thing - prey or pack? - Barnes cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know Steve had sent you anything like that. I’ll tell him to stop. If I see him,” he added, flinching.

Tony rolled his eyes at the prevarication, annoyance flaring. “Sure, sure. If he ever manages to accidentally find his way past Wakanda’s defenses to visit his old war buddy, let him know.”

Barnes nodded agreement, serious. “And I am sorry. About your parents. I meant what I wrote, but I can say it if that's your preference.”

“My preference would be my mom alive.” Tony clenched his hands, still in his pockets. “Dad too, I guess, though he wouldn’t have lasted this long regardless, not with the drinking he did back in the day.”

He took his hands out of his pockets and put them behind his back so he could pinch himself. He shouldn’t have said that, least of all to Barnes.

“But I guess that’s what sold the drunk driving accident. Made it believable. He like that in your day?”

Tony had never dared to ask Steve, not sure he’d get an honest answer. But he bet Barnes would offer Tony the truth in penance.

Barnes shrugged, his gaze flicking from the goat that was munching on the end of his shirt to Tony. “Maybe? Didn’t know him that well.”

“Guess that’s why he couldn’t break you out of your brainwashing.” Tony bit his lip, a drip of regret seeping through his wall of anger.

“Guess so.”

But regret didn’t mean Tony was going to apologize. “So,” he said brightly, wandering closer to the goat enclosure. A couple of them came over, interested, and Tony offered them his fingers to sniff. They bit at them instead, and he laughed, startled. “Goats, huh?”

“It’s a learning process, but it’s good. Nice. Quiet, out here.”

“No government agencies chasing you and throwing you in jail.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed quietly. “Or Hydra agents taking over my brain.”

Tony gave him that. “Definite bonus. Okay, truth time, Steve wrote the letter and you sent the Russian encryption? Or maybe that was Romanoff, that seems like her edge. And who knows how many messages I missed, I guess. Did I just send you an angry email out of the blue without context? Tell me I didn’t start this whole mess because yeah it’s suitably emotionally tragic, but I’m not obsessed over it anymore. Much. They were my parents, but it’s been a few decades and I’ve had some time now to come to terms with the assassination surprise.”

Bucky frowned at him, brow furrowed. “I wrote a letter and asked Shuri to see that you got it. I don’t know - I don’t know about anything else. Or encryption.”

“Romanoff, then,” Tony muttered, telling himself he was seething. It did have her meddling edge. He should’ve suspected.

Steve wouldn’t have written that type of apology, signed it the Winter Soldier, and put it in old KGB code.

“What did it say?” Barnes asked slowly, tensing.

“An attempt at an apology.” Tony waved a dismissive hand, and the goats yelled at him for the sudden movement. “Or at least, admitting the action. Explained the mission parameters. There was an expression of guilt, I’ll give it that, but the least emotional thing I’ve read in my life and trust me, I’ve gotten some chilly business chains buried in the archive back when I was CEO.” Tony managed to scratch the head of one of the goats, the hair not as soft as he expected but altogether not terrible.

He could see the appeal, even as it tried to eat his sleeve as he petted.

“The kicker was the whole thing was encrypted in old Russian spy code and just lurking. Not even emailed to me to be sure I’d find it, but just lingering next to the stuff Natasha had dumped on the web from her Hydra-is-SHIELD reveal. Total luck FRIDAY found it at all.”

Barnes had gone rigid next to him. “Signed by me?”

“Yeah.” Tony shrugged. “Well, the Winter Soldier. Given what went down in Siberia, seems like you’re the only one left.”

Barnes slid away, pale and tense and vibrating. “It was me. Or, it was - it was part of me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. They tell me I can’t get rid of him. He’s still here, inside me. I can’t kill him without killing myself.”

“Okay, backup.” Tony held his hands up, alarmed at this new direction. He wanted T’Challa and Okoye back down here to witness that he wasn’t trying to get Barnes to kill himself. “Was it something I said? Because I’m not saying anything to do with killing anyone, alright? I’m not. None of that. Take a breath, calm down. What the hell are you talking about?”

Barnes’ dark blue gaze bored into Tony, full of fear. “The Winter Soldier. He sent you that message, but I didn’t know. I didn’t know he’d done that.”

To Bucky Barnes/Terminator/Winter Soldier/Whatever You Call Yourself -

One apology is enough. I’m not that greedy, whatever you might’ve heard, so you and your posse can stop sending them out in new and inventive ways.

You killed my parents. Maybe you wished you hadn’t. But next time, tell me to my face so I know the words are coming from you. Enough bullshit, Rogers.

Eternal regards,

Tony

Chapter Text

The goats didn’t fear him. Or, they at least didn’t panic. There were no calls of alarm as they watched him, their heads peeking over the stalls of their shed where they set to bunker down for the night. His patrol of his new location brought him only as close to them as needed to see they had thick beds of hay and full buckets of water.

His findings had been correct. They’d been removed from the palace for the time being, hidden away until the political visitors had come and gone. Or, perhaps this was their new home now and there were no plans to bring them back. The electronic trail he’d found that discussed the travel arrangements hadn’t contained any details on a return trip.

Most likely Barnes knew, but he wasn’t going to ask. The journal entries the man left in his diary made it clear he wanted the Winter Soldier as far away as possible.

The Winter Soldier was content to oblige this request.

The night air was cool on his skin, a breath away from cold. Without clouds in the sky, the stars were bright lights against the inky blackness that stretched from horizon to horizon.

It was not the same view that his nighttime wanderings in the city afforded him.

No people. No security. No oversight.

Nothing to stop him from taking this body and running until he couldn’t be found. Disappear into the wilderness, or get lost in the bustle of a crowd. To be alone, without someone watching and waiting for him to erupt in violence, as if he had ever deviated from mission protocol. He couldn’t have. Those moments had been Barnes.

And Barnes was why he’d never be alone. He couldn’t keep this control, and as soon as he lost it Barnes would be back. He was stuck or dead, because as soon as Barnes figured out a way to kill him it would be done.

The goats bleated, and they sounded impatient.

No one was watching him.

He approached, slow and wary, in case he missed a clever trap. But then the goats were in reach, still calling at him, and he reached out a hand. The non-metal one, because the metal one was still gone.

A brown goat with white spots butted against it, then screamed at him. He blinked at the animal and reached again.

Same thing.

The black goat that was nosing around the ground was uninterested in his attempts with the other, but let him run a hand across its back. Her back, he corrected, seeing her udder. Her fur was coarse, but as he dared to continue touching, he realized there was a softer coat underneath.

The brown and white goat continued to yell, but she didn’t seem to mind the touch. She was soft, and he found himself still stroking her minutes later.

There had been a gray cat on the outskirts of a city. It had been raining, and the cat had huddled next to him in the alley where he blocked a section of rain. The cat had been grungy, ribs poking through, and had hissed at his touch. He wondered if the alley cat would’ve been as soft as this goat.

He didn’t want to die, he decided. If Barnes found a way to kill him, he’d run where not even his failed mission could find them. The trigger words were gone, and he couldn’t be controlled.

He would live, even if all he had were these stolen moments in the night. Wherever Barnes went, he would be there. They’d called him a ghost story, and now he was one in the mind he shared. Still, he would live.

His goat moved along the fence, still nosing at the ground for forgotten treats. He moved with her, still petting.

He would need to case the house to see if he could continue to research into his past and what he’d done. They’d told him he’d shaped the century. At the time, he’d been pleased. Praise was sparse in comparison to pain. Now he realized what havoc he’d wrought in the name of order under Hydra. It had been him, not Barnes, and he would apologize as himself.

He had yet to receive a reply from Anthony Stark.

The next steps were for him to decide. The mission parameters were for him to set. There was no threat of trigger words to lock him down again. It was freeing.

He wanted to live. He wanted to know he’d done. He wanted to know if he could fix it.

He wanted to figure out how to take care of goats.

His goat received a grateful pat and then he strode to the shelter. It had been hastily erected, not recently vacated. The pen used old wood, but the posts had been freshly dug. The grass hadn’t yet grown back. 

This space had been created for Barnes. For them. How long they would be here, he didn’t know, but he would use it, and find his outlet to the world outside of Wakanda’s walls. 

And check if any messages were waiting for him.

Chapter Text

Tony appreciated the speed at which things happened. It was the efficiency of movement, the clear goal and precise execution. 

That all the energy was expended to bring a quiet, sad Barnes back to Shuri’s lab and hook him up to sensors and analyzers and whatever else Wakanda had produced for monitoring, wasn’t as satisfying as Tony expected. The technology was great. The mix of defeat and fear on Barnes’ face was not. 

“This is pointless,” Shuri said with a sigh as she looked over the readouts. “We’ve done this already, and unless the Winter Soldier is the personality in the forefront there is nothing to see in his brain other than Bucky Barnes.”

“We must search for his tracks. He sent out an encrypted message from Wakanda,” T’Challa said, the calm leader in the middle of harried scientists. “If we figure out how he managed that, we can monitor his communications and track any future movements.”

“Hold on. A moment,” Tony said, stepping forward from the outskirts of the room. He’d kept quiet so they didn’t remember to kick him out before he saw their fancy tech, but he’d done the survey. “Can we just pump the brakes here? So, the Winter Soldier is still in your brain.”

Barnes nodded, gaze on the floor. 

“And has been since you,” he turned to Shuri, “successfully removed the trigger words that turned this guy into a puppet, yes?” 

“Do you have a point, Mr. Stark?” T’Challa asked.

“Yes, I do, and my point is what exactly are we fearing from the icy alter ego, here?” Tony raised his hands in innocence as everyone in the room judged him. “I know, I know, but the truth is the Winter Soldier has been free to do whatever he’s wanted for months now. And as far as we know, he’s done nothing.”

“The catch being ‘as far as we know,’” T’Challa argued.

“The princess should check her systems,” Tony agreed, “but there’s been no attacks here on Wakandan soil, have there? He hasn’t given Barnes so much as a scratch.”

“I heal,” Barnes said softly. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I think the Winter Soldier could do more permanent damage if he were so inclined. The only thing we know the Soldier has done was send me an encrypted apology that was a bit stilted but I think we can forgive the lack of social grace. The guy was basically born in a Hydra lab and only taught how to kill and get his mind wiped. We can give him some time to gain some social skills.”

“I want to know what else the Winter Soldier has been doing from our home.” T’Challa’s voice was chilled, and it sent Barnes curling even further into himself.

Tony rubbed his face. This was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. What the hell was he doing, arguing for the Winter Soldier instead of locking up both him and Barnes and whatever other dark secrets might be locked in his brain? 

“I should be able to -” Shuri started.

“I’m saying,” Tony interrupted, “that closing off the only avenue of communication for the guy is liable to blow up in all our faces. Maybe literally.” 

“He’s dangerous,” Barnes said. “We’re dangerous.”

“We know. Super soldier, assassin, Hydra ghost, whatever.” Tony waved away Barnes’ look of affront. “But the thing is, you’re both living on a goat farm. Willingly.”

Tony let that statement rest for a moment. “If the guy didn’t go batshit crazy and, say, leave because he was stuck with goats in the middle of nowhere when he could take over possession style and literally run away - I’m just saying it doesn’t sound like a terrorist plot. Even when Barnes was on the run, no one was chatting up Hydra or bombing UN buildings.”

The guy had killed his parents. Shot their car to cause the crash, then killed his dad and suffocated his mother. But Tony had done his reading on brainwashing and the trigger words that Hydra had used to command Barnes and the Winter Soldier into action. He’d seen the after effects of Wanda’s mind control. It was becoming more energy than it was worth to keep his anger directed at Barnes or the Winter Soldier for what had happened. 

Fear of being controlled exactly like that, whether through electrical or magical means, kept Tony up many sleepless nights. 

“We should still monitor him,” Shuri said. “As a precaution.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s your country, and I can see why you’d want to play it safe. But other than when the trigger words were playing puppet master, have either of you done anything you didn’t want to do?”

Barnes’ face flushed and he stared at the floor. 

“The Soldier has had plenty of opportunity to wreak havoc on his own if that’s what he wanted, and we’ve seen nothing. Trapping him under constant surveillance isn’t going to endear us to him.”

“We value your opinion, Mr. Stark, but this isn’t your decision. This is a Wakandan issue,” T’Challa said.

Tony shut his mouth and acknowledged the point. 

Shuri and T’Challa suddenly had a lot to do. They were polite, but it was obvious they wanted to focus on their ex-Russian-but-still-sleeper Soldier in their midst rather than showing Tony around Wakanda. Nor did they need more of his thoughts on the subject, with Shuri the master of Barnes and the Winter Soldier’s brain, but Tony had given it to them anyway and now he needed to give a graceful exit. 

Tony had Pepper who had an assistant arrange his flight back home to the States.

It should end there.

It wasn’t his problem. 

Shuri had it under control, and T’Challa would support her. They were the experts when it came to James ‘Bucky’ Barnes of this century, with Steve at their beck and call for any past history. Tony would only make things worse because he was Tony Stark, the son of the couple that the Winter Soldier assassinated and couldn’t possibly want to help out either the Soldier or Barnes himself. 

It wasn’t his problem. 

Tony slouched in the conference room and fiddled with his pen. Just because his help wasn’t wanted or especially needed, didn’t mean he couldn’t consider the solutions, right? Bucky Barnes, the tortured prisoner of war and hero of America. Winter Soldier, brainwashed assassin unleashed from the trigger words. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out which direction the wind was blowing. 

“Are we boring you, Mr. Stark?” Secretary Ross had moved around the room so he could loom on the table across from Tony. 

It was a pitiful intimidation tactic. “Yes, you are,” Tony fired back. “Wake me up when you finally reach a point that wasn’t in your last email, will you?”

Not one smile cracked in the entire room. Tony wished he had Rhodey here to help him with this. Or Natasha. She always knew the exact comment to drop to put the whole room on the edge of terror. It helped liven up endless budgets, policy debates, and layers of bureaucratic tape on top of bureaucratic tape. He needed his entertainment for the one in seven meetings he decided to attend. 

As sad as it was, the duality of Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier was a significantly more enjoyable issue to ponder. 

“If you’d been paying attention, you’d have heard all about it.”

“My loss,” Tony replied. “How about you round up all your brilliant new points into an email and send them my way? I’m sure I’ll have the same response.” He stood from the chair and brushed off his sleeves. “No, I’m not giving you and your BFFs holographic imaging displays for their offices, corner windows or not.”

“That isn’t -” Ross started, heatedly.

“Email me about it rather than dragging me all the way here to DC, hm? Hinders progress on the Compound, you know.”

Then Tony waved goodbye and left the room. 

Back at the Compound, he checks in with the contractors, dodges Pepper, leaves a whiney voicemail for Rhodey, and then secludes himself in the lab. 

He considered the keyboard before him. 

“I acknowledge that this is a terrible idea,” he told FRIDAY as he drummed his fingers on the table. There were downsides to holographic keyboards, such as the lack of clicking when his fingers danced over the keys.

“Your usual, isn’t it?” she replied. 

“You’re right. And I’d hate to disappoint.”

Tony wrote the message, encrypted it, and sent it to lurk just outside Wakandan firewalls.

Got your message, Terminator. Guilt acknowledged and accepted. So here’s a tip - allies and friends play by the rules.