Work Text:
Wakanda
"Who the hell is Bucky?" The man wearing Bucky's face demanded as he leveled his gun at Stephanie's. His vibranium arm was stiff and solid as he aimed down his target. His target being Stephanie. Stephanie rocked back and forth on her sneaker clad feet, unsure to move forward or backward. Her hesitation cost her the precious moment to disarm Bucky and without a hint of recognition he pulled the trigger...
Stephanie bolted upright. Her chest glistening and heaving in the moon's glow. Steph rolled and fumbled towards her night stand, frantically shoving her blankets out of the way in her panic to get to the edge of the bed. With one last push she collapsed onto the cool floor of her bedroom. Stephanie stumbled to her feet, tangling her legs in the sheets that had pooled onto the ground and tripped her way to the door on shaking legs.
Her emotions felt muffled, like she was under water and just couldn't find her way out. It was like she was under the ice all over again. No escape, only an all encompassing darkness and coldness. She needed air. She needed Bucky.
Bucky. That was a whole other can of worms Steph wanted to tuck down into the hydra base along side her shield and a crumpled friendship. Tuck it into the deepest corners of the world, maybe leave it in the Arctic Ocean with hydra's plane; that way her feelings could stay frozen for another seventy years. No one to disturb them. Though she knew, even the thought was an improbability. A passing fancy.
'Til the end of the line. The words were practically tattooed into her mind. The only reason she was left standing, her blood still pumping through her veins and her inner fire still roaring. It was a constant. They were what drove her into the ocean all those years ago. What did it matter if she was Captain America? Captain America was nothing without the Winter Soldier. And Stephanie Rogers was nothing without Bucky Barnes.
They were inseparable. Two peas in a pod as her mother liked to say. That's why Steph did it. Becoming America's hope, going to fight a man's war, driving a plane full of bombs into the bottom of a frozen wasteland. She never planned on living unless Bucky was there to share it.
Seventy years later Steph woke up and everything she knew was gone. The commandos, Peggy, Bucky. All gone, dead. Seventy-two years later and Bucky was found alive, figuratively speaking. Seventy-four years later and he was declared alive and a terrorist. Alive. Relatively speaking he was alive, if only physically. Mentally Bucky wasn't there. He was either in the red room or on route to an assassination that occurred some point in the last seventy years.
But Stephanie never lost hope and hasn't since the accords and the falling out with Tony. Even after his decision to go back under. Steph hasn't once second guessed his decision. Except...Stephanie can't help feeling cheated.
She doesn't fault Bucky for her choice, she would've made the same call. Except...Steph's been waiting four years since waking up to hear she's not alone anymore. That she can finally share her burden. She wasn't lying when she told Natasha that it was hard to find someone with the same life experiences. She thought she found it when she found Bucky again.
But then Bucky chose to go back under and Steph was alone again. Left to fend off the twenty-first century. Stephanie came to a stuttering stop, her thoughts and body. Bucky. There he was, as strong and solid as ever. Frozen in time.
Stephanie felt as hollow as the medical room Bucky resided in. She braced herself against the door frame. Unsure whether to move forward or stay hidden among the shadows, where she belonged. She felt as if she was breaking the silence of a tomb as she finally made her choice and silently made her way into the room.
The room was beautifully modern. It was grey, all grey, there was only a few things in the room besides Bucky and the cryo tube he found himself in that weren't. Along one whole wall was just glass. A glass panel that revealed a majestic jungle, the likes of which she had never seen during her time in the war, but at least now she can cross that off her list. It was a magnificent, sprawling land filled with a never ending sea of green. She could stare at it for hours if she had the time, and...well...she had the time.
Other than the glass was a desk with a computer and monitors that recorded Bucky's vitals. A chair sat behind it and next to Bucky was a chair and a nightstand. The nightstand had a vase filled with amaryllis, white chrysanthemum, and daffodils. Worth beyond beauty, truth and loyal love, and new beginnings. That's what Steph read online before she picked them out. Sam had given her strange looks when she first brought them, but all she could remember were the days when Bucky would come home with flowers when Stephanie was sick and couldn't even make it five feet without getting woozy.
Every time Bucky would stop on his way home from the docks, reeking like fish, but with a look in his eyes as he wandered into their shabby apartment carrying the brightest flowers. Steph could only return the favor; even if it was seventy-four years too late.
Glancing around Stephanie noticed someone had lowered the tube so that it almost looked like Bucky was just taking a nap. The chair and nightstand were at perfect level with the cryo tube. The flowers were in site of the bed, so if Bucky were to wake up, he would have a perfect view of them. All in all it was a calming site, if a little saddening to see her once lively friend so still and pale.
Taking a calming breath and shaking off the lingering nightmare, Steph gingerly sat herself next to her friend. What she thought would be calming and relaxing, turned into being uncomfortable and awkward. She didn't know what to do with herself.
Hesitantly Stephanie reached out and ran her fingers along the glass, imagining his face, his tan skin, his styled hair. But that was all in the past. Seventy years in the past. The Bucky before her was unkempt. Hair long and wild, skin pale, face unshaven. He was nothing like the man before the war, before the train.
This man was entirely different. Bucky might as well as have died, for the man before Stephanie was an illusion. A dream of what could have been. She let out a heavy sigh and brought her hand back to her chest, unable to continue the charade.
"The sigh of the weary? Or is it exhaustion finally catching up to you?" Stephanie didn't even flinch at the arrival of the king of Wakanda. She glanced away from her hand and peered at T'Challa. As always, the king was dressed to the nines, even at this late hour he wore a three piece charcoal-grey suit. The only color being his gold tie. Who would've thought someone could pull off a gold tie.
She regarded T'Challa as he regarded her. With his own sigh, the king grabbed the chair from behind the desk and carried it over to the other side of the bed. He sat down as if he was sitting on his throne and not, albeit a comfy chair, but a plastic medical chair.
"Weary or tired?" Steph breathed, running her fingers through her mangled hair,"a little of both actually." T'Challa hummed in agreement, sweeping his eyes around the room. His gaze finally landed on Bucky, his gaze contemplative.
"A great warrior," he murmured. Steph gave him a sideways glance, but T'Challa wasn't looking at her as he spoke. "When you knew him...what was he like? Before the war?" Stephanie looked away to gaze back at Bucky. He was still the way he was before she had looked away.
"He was arrogant." At this T'Challa raised an eyebrow. "Not in bad way," she laughed or tried to, it sounded like she was choking on air. "I was ten when I met Bucky. He was thirteen at the time and it was an accident how we met. Pure coincidence. I was getting the beating of a life time by some bullies. Told them to pick on someone their own size. I guess I was their size." Steph snorted derisively. T'Challa continued to listen silently without judgement.
"It was 1930, not the 2000's. A girl telling a guy what to do? Unheard of. Especially me, scrawny and weak? I stood no chance. But these guys were picking on a kid, I can't remember the name now, they were doing it to get his lunch money. And it just made me so mad." Toward the end of sentence she found myself leaning back in her chair and moving her hands unconsciously.
"And then out of nowhere. This kid comes in and socks the guy right in the face. I was so stunned and so were the other kids. Didn't even have time to defend themselves. It was three against one." Stephanie trailed off, glancing sadly over at Bucky who hadn't moved a muscled throughout the story. "Anyways after they ran off, Bucky swaggered over and acted like he was gods gift. Instead of thanking him and punched him."
This news caused T'Challa to release an unattractive snort in surprise. "You hit him in thanks?"
"Yah not my best moment." She continued to stare at Bucky, willing him to look back.
"My people are getting closer to a solution. Although I'm not sure if it will work." He added on, most likely so that Steph wouldn't get her hopes up.
"I'll take anything at this point." She said resolutely. Deciding the conversation was over, Stephanie started to turn her body back towards Bucky. It was silent for a good while, believing the king had left she started to nod off to the sound of the near-quiet cryo tube. It was like a hummingbird's wings, a constant hum that would seem to never stop.
"I would reconsider sleeping here, if it was not for the reasons I know why you do." This time she did startle and turned back in time to see him give a small smile, "I too share this problem." Before she could reply, the king walked calmly back to the exit; leaving off with, "do not forget the gala tomorrow night. This will be a good way to start to clear your image."
Steph hummed in acknowledgement, but didn't put much effort behind it. As the doors closed behind the Wakandian king, her mind trailed to everything that had occurred after the accords. After everything had been said and done, Steph and Bucky went one direction and Tony the other. Although they had the disagreement Tony had still gone and cleared Bucky's name. Whether that was from her note or his conscious kicking in, she didn't know, but he still did it. And while Bucky's name was now cleared of the UN bombings, he was still a criminal and terrorist in the people's and governments eyes. Nothing could really change that. Along with the Winter Soldier's name being cleared of the bombing in Berlin, Captain America was slowly regaining the trust of the world once again. But that was a slow, arduous process that Steph really didn't want to think about this late at night. She glanced over at the clock on the wall. Or this early apparently.
"No rest for the heavy hearted." She mumbled, it was quiet for another few seconds, before Steph superstitiously glanced around. She had seen once on a romcom that if you talk to a comatose patient they could hear you. She couldn't confidently say she didn't believe it and now was the perfect chance to test it.
"Bucky?" She paused, actually waiting for a response and then snorted, "I'm talking to myself of course he won't answer. I know you aren't awake, but...I thought...well I don;t really know what I thought to be honest. I hope you can truly hear me and that I'm not making a complete fool of myself."
Again Stephanie paused, hoping for a reply back, just anything to show that she wasn't so alone anymore. "T'challa says they might have something. I don't really know what to believe, I just know that I'm desperate to have you back. At least a small piece of you and I know. I know it's selfish, but I just miss you so much and I'm just so alone." Steph didn't know where this was coming from, but she couldn't seem to stop. "I especially miss your eyes. The way they brighten even at the smallest provocation. I missed the way that they changed colors during the season. I just-miss you. So please, please come back to me." Without thinking Steph leaned forward and pressed her lips to the glass of Bucky's cryo tube. "Just come back to me," she whispered.