Bucky caught himself staring at the trees. There was nothing particularly interesting about them. Maybe it was just the way they moved in the wind that was soothing to him. Like the endless ripple of waves on a beach, evoking the faded memory of Coney Island in the summer.
He’d always liked it there, strolling around the pear, flirting with girls and stealing Steve’s ice cream with increasingly obscene swirls of his tongue when no one was looking. It was perfect. They’d dip their toes and dive into the open sea to cool down their adolescent hormones until the sun came down. A simpler time.
After all the water boarding, and the fake drowning, and the sensory deprivation tank, and the ice baths, and those times in the communal showers that still made him vomit when he woke up remembering... Water and Bucky Barnes were in a complicated relationship now, but the trees, he could enjoy. At least for a little while.
Bucky knew that nothing good would last for him anyways. Perhaps, it was the appropriate punishment for his crimes. He had hurt so many people along the way that it almost seemed fair. To kill an enemy in times of war was one thing, but to those he had murdered in cold blood in the name of Hydra and the Soviets, he owed a debt he could never repay.
Still, Bucky tried no to dwell on his miserable existence as the Winter Soldier too long. It only made things worse for him. Sometimes, the ghosts of his tormentors’ hands roamed over his skin, sudden and unprovoked. They pinched, and prodded, and slapped him around. All those men (and the occasional women) who had wronged him in the worst of ways over the years, used his body for their own amusement, and turned him into a ruthless killing machine thought absolutely nothing of it. They treated him like an empty vessel, a meat puppet without a soul.
Considering the plans Bucky had for those who were still breathing, maybe they had been right all along. Maybe, he didn’t have one.
While the Wakandans regarded forgiveness as one of the highest virtues in life, they also had an exceptional appreciation for revenge. So in that way, Bucky fit right in. He couldn’t forgive. He couldn’t forget. He carried the pain and the humiliation that let him shrink away from his own shadow like armor. It was as if Ward and his crew had branded him with their hatred, an unremovable mark.
After the snap and the following resurrection, Bucky had told the others that he wanted out of the fight. Foolishly, he’d believed that he’d be left alone in T’challa’s kingdom, that the remains of Hydra were too scattered to pose a real threat to him... Well, Bucky wasn’t one to learn a lesson the easy way. They’d outdone themselves in proving him wrong, but bringing the children into this was the last straw.
Hydra had to be stopped once and for all, and thanks to their special care, Bucky knew more ways to kill a man than he could count. All he had to do now was wait for Steve and Natasha to find those scumbags and strike at the right moment. He just wished the day would come sooner rather than later.
Being out here all by himself (except for Mandlakhe and the other guardsmen in his backyard whom he couldn’t get rid of soon enough) was hard. Before long, Bucky’s mind turned to the darkness, that dead, empty feeling and those voices in his head which screamed of injustice, rage and abandonment, turning his days to night and the food to ashes in his mouth if he let it.
Steve had barely been gone for a week and Bucky already missed him like crazy. At first, he had tried to convince himself that it would do them both some good to get a little distance now and then, but in truth, without his partner, Bucky missed an essential part of himself - like a heart or a lung. Living and breathing together in sync made things more bearable somehow, always had, even back when Steve was still an asthmatic little shrimp and Bucky did most of the breathing for him.
Sam Wilson in all his former counselor wisdom called it an “unhealthy codependency”. Bucky called it being in love.
Really, people should cut him some slack. On the outside, he was everything he was supposed to be: Functional, mostly recovered, dealing with his shit. He’d built himself a life in Wakanda. A real life with friends, and neighbors, and a reason to get up in the morning. He just liked it better when Steve lived it with him. They had earned a little codependency after all.
Only the children, Bast bless them as they said, kept Bucky from moping on his own for too long, making sure that he was constantly distracted. He was supposed to play hide and seek with them at the moment and the mood was only mildly dimmed by the fact that he couldn’t particulate.
The little group had made a pact not to stray too far from Bucky’s hut. There was only so much space to hide around the small house until the kids inevitably became bored of it (and going inside was still off limits), so they had wandered a little deeper into the jungle. It was even closer to the border and Bucky didn’t dare to let them out of his reach. Not for a second. The children didn’t like the new rules he’d set up for their safety, complaining how staying at least in earshot at all times limited their fun but otherwise, they had accepted the new situation pretty fast. It was remarkable. Whatever life threw at them, the children adapted far more quickly than any adult could have. Bucky admired that. Even the young ones were back to their old form.
So, despite their constant teasing and some pretty outrageous taunts, Bucky didn’t budge. If he had to sit out the game forever and remind them to stay close a hundred times over, so be it. He was losing a little bit of his cool uncle status for it though.
“Hide, hide, wherever you are,” Tamia announced. “Here comes the 10-headed gorilla!” The children who hadn’t found a hiding spot yet shrieked and took off like a bunch of scared chickens. Bucky smiled at the chaos around him fondly.
The ten-headed gorilla was a made-up mystical creature. After a thorough investigation, he had learned that it was actually a caricature of the gorilla god whom M’baku and his people worshipped. Like an offensive version of big foot. It seemed a little petty of T’challa’s folks to teach it to their kids even now that they were at peace with the mountain tribe but as long as it wasn’t harming anyone, Bucky let it slide. Wasn’t his business to judge them for it anyways.
When Tamia turned around, hand still covering her eyes and peeking through her fingers, she spotted Bucky sitting on the ground first and took down her hand to frown at him accusatorially.
“Inguka, you’re so lazy. You didn’t even try to hide.”
“Nope,” Bucky said, still smiling at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Told ya’, I gotta watch over you. Can’t do that when I’m hiding.”
She shook her head critically. “Indoda endala...” she murmured and started to walk away. Old man.
“Hey! What was that?” Bucky called after her, eyebrows raised quizzically.
The ballsy girl just laughed, waved her hand at him, and ran away to look for the others instead of giving him an answer.
Bucky knew where they were hiding of course, every single one of them, but he wasn’t allowed to give hints. No, the White Wolf wasn’t a skilled tracker when they played. Bucky pretended that he couldn’t make them for a long time when he was the one searching. In reality, it never took him more than a few seconds. He could still shoot a target blindly, locating them by the sound of their heartbeat alone, but the game lasted longer if he started off walking in the wrong direction on purpose.
“Hey, you better respect the game master here!” Bucky scolded after Tamia, without any heat. “I might be old but I’m not deaf yet! Brat...”
Bucky shook his head.
“Kids these days. Unbelievable...”
He put his bare feet up against a tree stump and closed his eyes, listening in to the sound of the children breathing against the backdrop of the jungle, trying to make out any threats.
Fill: The Quiet Game (13.1/?)
Wakanda.
Bucky caught himself staring at the trees. There was nothing particularly interesting about them. Maybe it was just the way they moved in the wind that was soothing to him. Like the endless ripple of waves on a beach, evoking the faded memory of Coney Island in the summer.
He’d always liked it there, strolling around the pear, flirting with girls and stealing Steve’s ice cream with increasingly obscene swirls of his tongue when no one was looking. It was perfect. They’d dip their toes and dive into the open sea to cool down their adolescent hormones until the sun came down. A simpler time.
After all the water boarding, and the fake drowning, and the sensory deprivation tank, and the ice baths, and those times in the communal showers that still made him vomit when he woke up remembering... Water and Bucky Barnes were in a complicated relationship now, but the trees, he could enjoy. At least for a little while.
Bucky knew that nothing good would last for him anyways. Perhaps, it was the appropriate punishment for his crimes. He had hurt so many people along the way that it almost seemed fair. To kill an enemy in times of war was one thing, but to those he had murdered in cold blood in the name of Hydra and the Soviets, he owed a debt he could never repay.
Still, Bucky tried no to dwell on his miserable existence as the Winter Soldier too long. It only made things worse for him. Sometimes, the ghosts of his tormentors’ hands roamed over his skin, sudden and unprovoked. They pinched, and prodded, and slapped him around. All those men (and the occasional women) who had wronged him in the worst of ways over the years, used his body for their own amusement, and turned him into a ruthless killing machine thought absolutely nothing of it. They treated him like an empty vessel, a meat puppet without a soul.
Considering the plans Bucky had for those who were still breathing, maybe they had been right all along. Maybe, he didn’t have one.
While the Wakandans regarded forgiveness as one of the highest virtues in life, they also had an exceptional appreciation for revenge. So in that way, Bucky fit right in. He couldn’t forgive. He couldn’t forget. He carried the pain and the humiliation that let him shrink away from his own shadow like armor. It was as if Ward and his crew had branded him with their hatred, an unremovable mark.
After the snap and the following resurrection, Bucky had told the others that he wanted out of the fight. Foolishly, he’d believed that he’d be left alone in T’challa’s kingdom, that the remains of Hydra were too scattered to pose a real threat to him... Well, Bucky wasn’t one to learn a lesson the easy way. They’d outdone themselves in proving him wrong, but bringing the children into this was the last straw.
Hydra had to be stopped once and for all, and thanks to their special care, Bucky knew more ways to kill a man than he could count. All he had to do now was wait for Steve and Natasha to find those scumbags and strike at the right moment. He just wished the day would come sooner rather than later.
Being out here all by himself (except for Mandlakhe and the other guardsmen in his backyard whom he couldn’t get rid of soon enough) was hard. Before long, Bucky’s mind turned to the darkness, that dead, empty feeling and those voices in his head which screamed of injustice, rage and abandonment, turning his days to night and the food to ashes in his mouth if he let it.
Steve had barely been gone for a week and Bucky already missed him like crazy. At first, he had tried to convince himself that it would do them both some good to get a little distance now and then, but in truth, without his partner, Bucky missed an essential part of himself - like a heart or a lung. Living and breathing together in sync made things more bearable somehow, always had, even back when Steve was still an asthmatic little shrimp and Bucky did most of the breathing for him.
Sam Wilson in all his former counselor wisdom called it an “unhealthy codependency”. Bucky called it being in love.
Really, people should cut him some slack. On the outside, he was everything he was supposed to be: Functional, mostly recovered, dealing with his shit. He’d built himself a life in Wakanda. A real life with friends, and neighbors, and a reason to get up in the morning. He just liked it better when Steve lived it with him. They had earned a little codependency after all.
Only the children, Bast bless them as they said, kept Bucky from moping on his own for too long, making sure that he was constantly distracted. He was supposed to play hide and seek with them at the moment and the mood was only mildly dimmed by the fact that he couldn’t particulate.
The little group had made a pact not to stray too far from Bucky’s hut. There was only so much space to hide around the small house until the kids inevitably became bored of it (and going inside was still off limits), so they had wandered a little deeper into the jungle. It was even closer to the border and Bucky didn’t dare to let them out of his reach. Not for a second. The children didn’t like the new rules he’d set up for their safety, complaining how staying at least in earshot at all times limited their fun but otherwise, they had accepted the new situation pretty fast. It was remarkable. Whatever life threw at them, the children adapted far more quickly than any adult could have. Bucky admired that. Even the young ones were back to their old form.
So, despite their constant teasing and some pretty outrageous taunts, Bucky didn’t budge. If he had to sit out the game forever and remind them to stay close a hundred times over, so be it. He was losing a little bit of his cool uncle status for it though.
“Hide, hide, wherever you are,” Tamia announced. “Here comes the 10-headed gorilla!” The children who hadn’t found a hiding spot yet shrieked and took off like a bunch of scared chickens. Bucky smiled at the chaos around him fondly.
The ten-headed gorilla was a made-up mystical creature. After a thorough investigation, he had learned that it was actually a caricature of the gorilla god whom M’baku and his people worshipped. Like an offensive version of big foot. It seemed a little petty of T’challa’s folks to teach it to their kids even now that they were at peace with the mountain tribe but as long as it wasn’t harming anyone, Bucky let it slide. Wasn’t his business to judge them for it anyways.
When Tamia turned around, hand still covering her eyes and peeking through her fingers, she spotted Bucky sitting on the ground first and took down her hand to frown at him accusatorially.
“Inguka, you’re so lazy. You didn’t even try to hide.”
“Nope,” Bucky said, still smiling at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Told ya’, I gotta watch over you. Can’t do that when I’m hiding.”
She shook her head critically. “Indoda endala...” she murmured and started to walk away. Old man.
“Hey! What was that?” Bucky called after her, eyebrows raised quizzically.
The ballsy girl just laughed, waved her hand at him, and ran away to look for the others instead of giving him an answer.
Bucky knew where they were hiding of course, every single one of them, but he wasn’t allowed to give hints. No, the White Wolf wasn’t a skilled tracker when they played. Bucky pretended that he couldn’t make them for a long time when he was the one searching. In reality, it never took him more than a few seconds. He could still shoot a target blindly, locating them by the sound of their heartbeat alone, but the game lasted longer if he started off walking in the wrong direction on purpose.
“Hey, you better respect the game master here!” Bucky scolded after Tamia, without any heat. “I might be old but I’m not deaf yet! Brat...”
Bucky shook his head.
“Kids these days. Unbelievable...”
He put his bare feet up against a tree stump and closed his eyes, listening in to the sound of the children breathing against the backdrop of the jungle, trying to make out any threats.