Wakanda

Spring 2016

It was almost time.

And yet Bucky felt surprisingly...calm.

It was a disconcerting feeling, that was for sure.

Oh, he was still not looking forward to it, not by any means. The idea of being frozen again, even by his own choice? It turned his stomach, leaving him feeling cold and hot and his mind on the verge of slipping once again...but at the same time?

It left him feeling at peace.

He knew it was the right choice.

Especially after hearing Nina call him Dad.

Especially now that there was a genuine chance that his mind could actually be...that he could truly have...a future...

...perhaps even one with Iris...and his—his daughter...

By the time one of the Wakandan doctors had shown up to retrieve him for the procedure, conversation had ebbed and Nina had drifted off into a light sleep with her head on his shoulder.

To say he hadn't wanted to move in that moment was an understatement.

It had been a precious, surreal moment, to have her, his daughter, cuddled up next to him the way she might have if things had been different. The way she might have if he'd been a part of her life since the day she was born. He had never been more relieved than he had in that moment that events—and Nina's sharp mind—had conspired to defy his wish to keep who he was to Nina from her until after his programming was removed from his mind. If it hadn't, he wouldn't have had the precious moments with her on the Quinjet or here in the Wakandan science facility.

He wouldn't have seen her smile up at him. He wouldn't have had the chance to hug his child close before—

She never would've called him Dad...he had to force himself to inhale against the sudden surge of emotion pressing against his chest.

He still couldn't quite believe it was anything more than a dream, that it wasn't a cruel delusion conjured by his tattered mind to torment him with things he could never have; precious, beautiful gifts he shouldn't even deserve to wish for in his deepest heart of hearts after the horrific things he'd done.

That she genuinely wanted him in her life? That she wanted to acknowledge him as her father? To actually call him Dad? He couldn't entirely wrap his head around it. She shouldn't want anything to do with him. Not knowing who he was and the horrific things he'd done. Not knowing how very real the danger he posed to her was.

And yet she did.

What was more, she'd been nervous, even afraid, about his reaction when she'd slipped and called him that. As if...as if he might not want her to. The hesitation on her face, the almost longing light in her eyes. That she wanted to call him that?

If he hadn't already lost his heart to the slight blonde—his daughter, he still marvelled—the moment she'd first looked him in the eye, the first moment he'd sheltered her in his arms, in that moment he would've been utterly lost. He simply couldn't conceive of loving her more.

And he barely knew her. Just as she barely knew him.

Yet, in that moment? There had been nothing he'd wanted more than for her to openly acknowledge that he was her father. He hadn't been able to breathe for the joy that had spread across her beautiful features, his chest feeling so tight that he'd barely been able to rasp out the words.

He still couldn't believe it had actually happened.

Hell, he could still barely believe that she was truly his.

That she was even real.

Yet he couldn't deny it even if he'd wanted to. There was little question that she was his. The more time he spent with her, the more of himself—or the man he'd once been, at least—and his own family he could see in her. She had his sister's and his mother's bright smile—a smile he'd always been told he shared, which he could somewhat see. And there was little point in denying Steve's observation that Nina got the same mischievous glint in her blue-grey eyes that he himself did; he'd seen it up close, after all, when Nina had turned that telling glint on Steve, teasing him good-naturedly much as Bucky did.

And she was smart. So painfully smart and quietly fierce and astonishingly compassionate. When Shuri had dragged her over while the Wakandan princess had been cleaning up what little of his metal arm remained after he'd respectfully refused her offer to remove the remnants completely until after his scrambled mind was dealt with? Well, suffice to say, a great deal of what the two teens batted back and forth was beyond Bucky's ken. But the way Nina's face had lit up as she debated with Shuri, her vibrant eyes coming alive as her mind worked? And the determination on Nina's face when she'd insisted to her Wakandan contemporary that she was going to help modify and adapt the Stark program she'd suggested for helping to fix his mind?

He'd honestly been in awe.

And sorrow was suddenly pressing against his throat, his eyes squeezing shut against the rippling quiver suddenly threatening to shake his precariously reconstructed mind apart.

He'd missed so much...

Sitting there in the common room with her next to him, her head on his shoulder as she drifted into a light doze, had led his thoughts to imaginings so vivid they nearly felt like memories as he found himself contemplating just what it might have been like to watch her grow. To have been there in person for the stories Nina and her mother had told before the comfortable silence that blanketed the room before the doctor's interruption had fallen. It was easy, so easy. And part of him mourned even as it rejoiced.

He should've been there...

But at the same time, having her curled up against him soothed the ragged ache that came from grieving what they'd never had and, foolish and ill-advised though it likely was to indulge—especially given the lingering instability of his mind—he had let himself believe for that short time that he had been there.

Of course, the faint flush to her cheeks and the vaguely apologetic expression she'd shot him as the doctor's appearance had woken her wouldn't have happened had she indeed known him her whole life. But still.

And the way she'd hugged him after he'd given her his tags? The way she'd jumped up after him when the doctor had come to collect him, unwilling to let him leave with only the tender touch to her cheek that he'd allowed himself, still afraid of overstepping on their fledgling relationship—he'd almost been able to ignore the small voice in the back of his mind that hissed he didn't deserve to hold her, that she was too pure for someone who'd done the things he'd done...that he'd only hurt her—as he'd been? The way she'd tucked herself beneath his chin, her arms tight around his waist and her pale hair silky soft beneath his hand.

It had been...

He didn't even have words.

He'd felt...whole again.

It was...more than he could've ever hoped for. Honestly, he could hardly believe it had happened.

It was a feeling that Nadya shared, if he was any judge. There had been a sad, wistful yet content softness to her usually carefully composed features as she watched Nina doze from where she sat next to Steve.

Her hand entwined with his where it curled around her waist.

He had been struck with a faint string of resentment then, but he'd quickly forced it aside. It was Steve. After everything he'd done for him, after all he'd risked without hesitation or thought for himself to help Bucky?

And Nadya? He might not know her nearly as well as he did Steve, but God...he knew better than just about anyone save Romanoff the sort of darkness haunting her past. He knew what she'd suffered in That Place, the sorts of burdens the horrible things she'd been forced to do that tore at her psyche. He knew he knew her better in some ways than Steve would ever be able to simply because he'd lived a parallel life. Because he too had had his humanity stripped away with the goal of making him into the perfect operative. The perfect killer. The perfect weapon.

And yet... here she was. Against all odds, she'd survived...and she'd managed to keep her—their child safe. Safe and happy.

How could he possibly resent the bond they'd somehow managed to find with each other? The...the love.

He was happy for them. Truly he was. A little jealous, perhaps, but he just couldn't hold it against his oldest friend or the mother of his daughter. Not when he knew them both as he did.

No, the feeling of resentment came more from the longing ache seated deep in his chest for the woman he loved. From the impossible wish that Iris was in his arms just as Nadine was in Steve's rather than begrudging Steve his happiness.

The impossible wish for her to be here.

Yet again, he shook the thought away, setting down the brush he'd been using to at least somewhat neaten his hair—Lord, his mother would have a fit if she could see it now, he couldn't help but think with the shadow of a wry grin—and grabbed up the white tank that had been set aside for him. With a moment's effort, he managed to get it over his head and tugged down to cover his torso one-armed. No, Iris was better off where she was, he reaffirmed to himself, hopefully heading back state-side where she'd be safe.

But maybe someday... Warmth bloomed in his chest alongside a fragile glimmer of hope. Someday... Just as he felt soothed by memory of the trust and love in Iris' lively hazel eyes or warmed by the brightness of Nina's smile, the promise that there just might be a 'someday' bolstered his resolve. Once his mind was fixed...

Someday...

But for now, going under again was the best thing he could do, he reaffirmed to himself, forcefully ignoring the way his thoughts seemed to quiver with uncertainty and panicked apprehension. That it was likely to make the process easier or less stressful to his already fragile mind aside, it was the best way he could protect the ones he cared about most, whether his mind could be salvaged or not from the influence of his programming.

Because truthfully? He was somewhat skeptical that the Wakandan girl would be able to find a way to completely undo what HYDRA had done to him, no matter what fancy and impossibly advanced technology she had at her disposal or how extraordinarily brilliant she was. It had been too deeply embedded for far too long. The damage too great.

The taint too pervasive.

Too...condemning.

Some things just couldn't be fixed.

Some scarring just ran too deep.

Everything that had happened since he'd been exposed in Bucharest had made that painfully clear, be it the reminder of what he'd done to Nadya or Steve or the elder Starks or any other of the hundreds of victims The Winter Soldier was responsible for over the seventy years he'd been consumed by that damned programming.

Especially after what had happened in Siberia.

Cold prickles of shame and misery shivered down his spine to settle like a hard lump in his gut. It had brought home just how trapped he was by what he had been...by what he still was, programming or not. It had been made abundantly clear that he was never going to escape the horrific things he'd done, no matter how hard he tried to run from it, no matter what he did to leave the Winter Soldier behind, to try and...not atone, but something close; true atonement was just as impossible for someone like him as true absolution.

Seeing the look on Howard's son's face?

He couldn't say he even blamed the man for wanting vengeance.

Justice, even.

But still, the overwhelming instinct for self-preservation had kicked in and he'd fought back. He'd tried to escape. Much as part of him believed on some level that he needed to pay for his crimes, desperately unwilling to commit them in the first place though he may have been beneath his programming, Bucky very much had no interest in dying.

Not now that he truly had something to live for...

So when Tony Stark had attacked in the bowels of his former home base? He'd done as Steve ordered and run...at least, until the part of himself that, in another life, had never hesitated when faced with the choice to do the right thing—something that he'd believed long gone...lost, crushed by the Soldier—had woken again.

Because of Steve.

Because he couldn't just stand by and let Steve fight his battles for him. And seeing Steve go up against the younger Stark—his friend, just as Howard had been, as Bucky still was—for Bucky's sake? It had viscerally had reminded him of that. He owed Steve so much...more than he'd ever be able to repay. Not that Steve would ever acknowledge any debt. That was just the kind of man Steve was...and it was the kind of man Bucky had once aspired to be.

The kind of man he wanted to be again.

For Steve, for Iris...and now for Nina.

At one of the doctors' direction, he crossed the medical lab from the room where he'd been left alone to clean up and change and settled himself onto the gleaming, metal-framed—and far more standard exam table than Shuri's—cot set up roughly in the middle of the room. Just in front of where the cryostasis pod had been placed.

Bucky swallowed thickly as he surreptitiously surveyed the lab, taking in the crisp, sterile aesthetic and the golden-lit displays and read-outs that projected above consoles both against the walls and portable stations around the room. The female doctor sat not far from him at one of the portable stations and, as Bucky watched, was bringing up real-time projection of his bio-scans, complete with biometric readings ranging from his most basic vitals to far more complex projections he was unfamiliar with, on the full-length illuminated glass-like panels behind the pod.

It was...unsettling, and a stark reminder of what was about to happen.

He'd been frozen so many times...he should be used to it by now, and yet...

This was so very different from every other time he'd gone under. It was bright and tranquil and...compassionate.

Nothing like the times he'd been hauled from the Memory Modification equipment, limp and shaking from the shock and agony left over from the invasive currents assaulting his brain, only to be wrestled into his tube back in Siberia, still very much awake and disoriented as they hooked him up and sealed him in before initiating the freezing process.

The memory of the split-second, excruciating burn of the supercooled gases of the tube blasting through his body—like lightning across his skin and spears of ice stabbing through his insides as he instinctively inhaled the frigid, acrid air deep into his already raw lungs—a mere ghost of the real thing, was still more than enough to cause his heart-rate to increase and his skin to feel cold as his body went rigid from the phantom sensation.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the panic surging up in his throat, tasting sourly like bile as he fought it back.

It wasn't going to be like that! Not this time.

Sucking in a loud breath through his nose. Bucky forced himself to look up and around the room again, forcing his suddenly chaotic mind to recognize that he wasn't in Siberia. That he wasn't under HYDRA's thumb anymore.

That everything good that had happened over the last few days hadn't just been a cruel, sick fabrication of his shattered mind.

That the slight blonde watching with her mother on the other side of the far glass wall of the lab, her face pinched with concern even as she tried to give him a reassuring smile when she saw him looking her way, was very real.

He let out a long, shaking breath, feeling his panic beginning to bleed away with it.

Nina. She was...a balm to his soul.

She was...comfort. Hope. Redemption.

She was sunshine.

The longer he spent with her, the more her light and acceptance seemed to warm him through, seeping into the wounds left on his psyche, his soul, soothing him. Healing him.

Much like Iris had. Much as the thought of Iris still did.

His girls. His.

God, how could he even hope to deserve the regard—the love—of the either of them...the precious girl with his eyes or the woman he'd fallen for against all odds and all wisdom.

How could he possibly hope to repay everything that had been done to help him, that was being done to help him?

The belief Steve and Nadya, Nina and Iris had that he was worth saving?

The dull, twisting throb in his gut clenched, his jaw tightening enough that his teeth ached from the pressure as his mind began to slip.

Inhaling a deep, shaking breath, he struggled to regain control, focusing on the memory of the bright hazel eyes that had become his anchor and the lively blue-grey ones so like his own that he cherished more than words could describe, more than he ever could've imagined.

His reasons for fighting. The reasons he wanted a future.

The two people he wanted to protect more than anything else in the world.

That was the heart of why he needed to go through with it. With being frozen again. To let Shuri and her people put him back into cryo.

So even though it brought back some of the worst memories he possessed—the memories evoked of being frozen alone, much less what had always followed being revived were enough to send a bone-deep shudder of dread through him—he was resolved to go through with it.

It was the only way he could see that would ensure the safety of the people he cared about most, no matter the outcome of Shuri's attempts to purge his programming from his mind; Nina, Iris, Steve...even Nadya had managed to find her way onto the short, precious list of people he felt the almost desperate need to protect.

Even from himself.

And for that reason, he was at peace with what he needed to do.

Then, if by some miracle the Wakandan princess found a way to fix his mind? To take out what HYDRA had left in his head?

To free him from their control for good?

Perhaps then he could go back to her. The ache in his chest tightened. He could find Iris and just maybe he could somehow manage to earn her forgiveness. That, just maybe, he could truly earn it.

And her love.

That he might possibly be worthy of it.

He twitched at the touch on his arm, then, but the Wakandan doctor merely gave him a reassuring smile, hand out and asking without words for Bucky's permission. His lips pressing together with purely instinctive suspicion, he eyed the IV catheter the doctor held.

"Fluids and medications to help prepare your system for the procedure," the doctor explained with a compassionate yet knowing grin, "They will make the process far less traumatic both physically and psychologically." Inhaling deeply, forcing his jaw to relax, Bucky gave a short nod and allowed the doctor to insert the needle into the back of his hand. It didn't exactly ease the anxiety still roiling in his gut, but it was marginally reassuring nevertheless. It was further proof that this time was going to be nothing like any previous and he latched onto it, repeating the doctor's words in his head until they sunk in.

And once more his gaze was drawn to Nina where she stood on just outside the room, peering in through the observation windows that lined he far side of the lab. He barely even spared Steve a look where he stood between T'Challa and Nadya where she stood next to Nina, her hand reassuringly brushing across their daughter's shoulders as Nina's keen gaze took in the movements within the lab, darting over the readings and displays in her line of sight, considering the cryopod with an look of uncertainty mingling with curiosity...but always unerringly returning to Bucky.

It warmed him, soothing the ragged thrum of unease that had taken up residence in his chest, clenching tight around his throat and the ache of longing next to his heart he was still trying and failing to ignore. It let him breathe properly, some of the tension in his frame beginning to ease just from the sight of her.

Or perhaps that was the drugs' work...

Either way, he preferred to think it was Nina's influence helping him reassert control over his fractured mind and keep his dark memories and the resultant panic at bay. Oddly enough, it was the more reassuring of the two and the one that made him feel more...not exactly in control, but something similar, strangely enough.

The faint tug on his hand brought him back into the room. He supposed once upon a time the tugging sting on the back of his hand as the bandages the doctor was winding in place to protect the IV insertion site accidentally pressed a little too tight over the catheter might have earned a mild flinch. But now? It only merited a faint press of his lips. The doctor said nothing, but quickly corrected the tension of the gauze wrap, before finishing up and moving aside to continue with his preparations.

They had to be nearly ready.

Once more, Bucky's thoughts threatened to sink into the mire of dread and reluctance that had been gnawing at the back of his mind since the moment the Wakandan princess had delicately suggested her recommendation that he be put under for the bulk of her work to remove his programming, her exuberance from earlier subdued and her eyes serious. Especially when she didn't miss the involuntary way he'd tensed at the mention of cryogenics.

It was only Steve's timely approach that mercifully kept him from being dragged down too far, allowing his resolve and, bewildering as it was to acknowledge, his relief at what was coming to reassert itself. Bucky nearly smiled wanly at the flash of apprehension that crossed Steve's features as he glanced to the pod. But as he turned back to Bucky it was gone, replaced by the trace of an encouraging smile.

Not that it hid the concern in his eyes in the slightest.

"Sure about this?" Steve asked, his gaze carefully assessing. A trace of his 'Captain' façade had bled into his voice, betraying that he was trying to suppress his own apprehensions over Bucky's decision. Bucky was torn between the urge to both frown and smile at the observation; frown because he couldn't fight the sense that there was something else beyond his decision that was weighing on Steve even as it was...heartening to still be able to decipher Steve well enough that he picked up on it. Bucky inhaled deeply, his gaze drawn back to the cryopod. How to answer...

Nadya had already asked him the same question. Lingering a moment longer after Steve and Nina had already left the room he'd been directed to just off the medical lab where they were going to put him under to change, she had fixed him with an enigmatic look, her keen eyes assessing.

"You're sure," she'd asked quietly, the shadow of her own unease and sympathy surfacing despite her carefully enforced composure. Not that it had exactly sounded like a true question. More confirming his earlier assurance that he was sure. And despite himself, despite his reservations, his fears, the corner of his mouth tugged faintly.

But, just like with Nadya, apprehension threatened to shudder through him at Steve's question.

He really wasn't. Not if he was being truly honest with himself. The ache in his chest deepened. But at the same time?

Yeah, he really was. He was tired. He was sick of the tendrils of the Winter Soldier programming tainting his mind and he was sick of the power it had over him.

He...he wanted his life back. And this was the best way to do it.

And he wanted—needed—to keep his...his family safe, and going under was the best way to do that.

He was...content.

He'd made his peace with his decision.

And if it didn't work? If Shuri tried but the damage done was too great?

Well, he'd also made his peace with the idea of never waking up.

It was better that than putting those he cared about at any more risk than they were already in.

He let out a long, slow breath as he considered how to put what he was feeling into words that would ease the worry he saw in Steve's eyes that his friend wasn't entirely able to disguise.

"I can't trust my own mind," he finally answered softly before looking to Steve with a self-deprecating grin and a small huff that almost came close to a laugh. Steve's lip quirked in a faint half-smile, the guarded expression in his eyes fading slightly at Bucky's reassurance, which reassured Bucky in turn. But Bucky sighed then, his small attempt at levity fading as his eyes fell back to the pod. "So until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head I think going back under is the best thing," he continued. And his gaze slid automatically to the window once more where Nina stood, her fingertips pressed to the glass, even as a pair of hazel eyes smiled up at him in his mind's eye. "For everybody," he murmured as another content if sedate smile briefly surfaced.

But like the others, it too faded. What he was about to do simply loomed too large before him and the longing ache in his chest he'd been trying so hard to ignore was too insistent. Yet his resolve didn't flag.

Not holding his reasons close as he was.

Steve's hand landed heavy and supportive on his shoulder. He looked up to Steve. It was obvious that he wasn't as entirely convinced as Bucky was that this was the right course, but he was trying. And what was more, he wasn't trying to talk him out of it. Steve was trusting him on this despite his own doubts and that meant more to Bucky than he could say. His lips pressing together in a small attempt at a grateful smile, Bucky reached out to clasp Steve's shoulder back to show he understood what Steve was trying to say without words. The gesture did its job and Steve's solemn expression eased further.

Neither of them said anything further. There wasn't anything more they needed to say. Not really. There was enough history and enough understanding between them—even despite everything that had happened since that fateful day in the Alps—that words simply weren't necessary. And Bucky was grateful for that.

He wasn't entirely sure he could've found any more words if he's tried.

As the male doctor approached once more to check on the progress of Bucky's IV, his throat was beginning to tighten as the realization returned with full force that it was almost time.

Mere minutes from now and he would be entering the pod, and then... The doctor was once again assuring him that it would be a gentle process, like falling asleep, but Bucky barely heard him even as he nodded absently along. Decades of experience had long since conditioned him to expect otherwise. He swallowed thickly as the doctor stepped away with a small smile that Bucky suspected was supposed to be reassuring, his jaw clenching as he forced back his apprehension and the prickle of panic that once again threatened despite the Wakandan's reassurance.

Drawing in a deep, bracing breath, Bucky looked up to Steve again. Only to frown.

The subtle tension that had given away that there was something else weighing on Steve beyond Bucky's impending deep-freeze had eased, a crooked smile suddenly softening his troubled features.

His frown deepening, Bucky followed his gaze over to the window where Nina stood with her mother and the Wakandan king.

And he went rigid, every muscle in his body wrenching taut with shock as every drop of blood drained from his face to disperse into a batch of frigid, trembling nerves in his stomach. It was then that fear, chilled and clenching, tightened around his heart, threatening to overwhelm the almost painful swell of astonishment and hope suddenly pressing in on his chest.

There, standing next to Wilson as the man shook T'Challa's hand in greeting, was Iris.

She was here.

He could hardly believe it. He couldn't believe it. She just couldn't be here! She couldn't want to be here, not after what he'd done to her...in DC, in Berlin... He was supposed to go after her once his programming was removed, to try and do anything he could earn back her trust, her...her love.

To apologize for...everything.

His awareness seemed to narrow, focused solely on her as Steve, the Lab, the rest of the world fell away. Her face was drawn and anxious beneath her cloud of dark curls, her beautiful hazel eyes vibrant and worried as she looked to the Wakandan King.

She was here.

And suddenly his already tenuous hold on his fractured mind was threatening to break—he could practically feel his mind, his memories quivering within his hold. His pulse thundered in his ears.

God, it was real, right? She was real?

He desperately hoped she was. That it wasn't a cruel delusion.

And then the hazel eyes that had sustained him through the last year settled on him. Only this time they weren't a memory. They were very real.

Bucky could barely breathe, the intensity of her gaze crushing a shuddering breath from his chest.

Her beautifully expressive eyes grew bright and on the other side of the observation window, a rush of emotions that echoed his own swirled in the gold-flecked depths as she reached out, her hand resting on the glass as she simply stared at him.

Like she couldn't quite believe he was real.

And then she was moving, her destination clear. And his heart leapt in his chest, pressing anxiously against his throat.

"What's she doing here?" he rasped out, not entirely realizing he was speaking even as the words tumbled from his suddenly dry mouth. Steve looked to him, but Bucky barely noticed. He simply couldn't drag his eyes away from her. "Steve, she shouldn't be here." She should hate him...how could she be here! Doubt clenched tighter across his chest as hope surged forward to war with it, making it impossible to breathe. Was it...was it possible? Could she really still lo—

"James?"

Bucky's eyes slid shut, the sound of her voice washing over him like a cleansing summer rain, filling him, nourishing him. Calming him. And he sagged, the tension gripping his frame easing as he felt her enter the room.

He'd been wrong before. He might have made his peace with his decision, but at the same time? He hadn't been...not really. She'd been missing. No matter how much he'd fought to convince himself that it was for the best that Iris wasn't there? Her absence had been an ache lodged deep in his chest that refused to abate. It had been enough to have Steve there; his best friend, who supported him without question despite his own doubts. And to have Nina there, to have been able to say good-bye to her, at least. To at the very least be able to hold his daughter close a final time to give him the resolve he needed to go through with it even if he couldn't have...

But now?

At the sound of her voice, the last of his doubts had finally bled away.

Just to see her again, to know that she was alright, that she was safe. Even if she hated him, it was enough.

And the ache in his chest faded.

"Iris," he breathed. And his eyes opened, watching her cross the room toward him without a trace of hesitation, drinking her in, finally believing it wasn't a dream.

She was really here.

Now, he truly felt whole.

Now, he was ready.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

And if you're interested in the rest of Bucky's reunion with Iris? Be sure to check out her and Bucky's story, Haven! It's all there. ;)

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