nerves_of_ice | [oom] i wake to sleep and take my waking slow

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[oom] i wake to sleep and take my waking slow

The first few days after Bucky goes under are spent in data analysis and quality assurance. There's a lot of information in the human mind, after all. Much of it is messy and complicated and stored in structures that are interconnected in unexpected ways. And when it comes to a project like this, something that's never truly been done before with a biological mind versus synthetic structures and artificial intelligence, something that has the highest of stakes, there's no second chance and thus no room for error.

Shuri spends her time focused on the mission during the first few days, leaving the majority of the data integrity checks to her technical team. She reviews their work at the start and end of each day when she comes to check on her sleeping patient, making corrections to methods and systems and processes where needed. She makes sure that there are two untouched backups of the original digital representation stored safely at all times in case they have to start over. Finally, they're able to confirm that everything is prepared, that the digital representation is not only complete but stable, and that the real work is ready to begin.

Once the mission's done, she turns the weapon prototype and its blueprints over to a few of her most highly-trusted developers for analysis and immerses herself in Bucky's mind. She'd already drafted the initial algorithm, of course, and has spent nearly three months refining it against the initial scans, every additional scan she's done since, the data from the notebooks Bucky'd kept and the memories he'd written down. She doesn't think it'll take too long to finish it.

It takes weeks.

She ruins multiple copies of the digital representation in the first two weeks while testing the algorithm against it - first in simulation and then in practice. It's the practical part that turns out to be problematic. During the first few tests, her code destroys HYDRA's trigger programming as intended, but then also devours the memories attached to it and proceeds to spread like a virus through everything it can reach. The next series of tests fails to fully eliminate the triggers, and post-implementation simulation reveals that the damaged programming, if not fully removed, will destabilize the mind entirely over time, leaving the subject lost to madness or dementia or both. Shuri refuses to allow any of it. Even the possibility is too much. Nothing must be left to chance. Nothing of harm must be allowed to remain.

Meanwhile, silent in the cryo chamber, Bucky sleeps on.

They're into the third week before the first test is passed. All work comes to a halt in the lab as they stare at the displays. No one dares breathe until the test is repeated. When the second series of results flashes up on screen, showing success across every aspect, the lab explodes in cheers. Instead of becoming easier, Shuri's work becomes even more painstaking and demanding, as she sets out to ensure the smallest nuances are fully refined. She creates additional copies and runs the algorithm against them under high-strain conditions. She practices transitioning the new digital copy from server to server to server, trying to eliminate any and all possibility of data loss during transfer.

At the end of the third week, she sends for T'Challa.

____________________

The first thing he's aware of is the cold. This kind of cold he knows all too well. It chills all the way to the bone, pinning him in place with frigid air around him and a cold surface under him. He's too cold even to shiver. Bucky can't move or speak, or do anything at all other than lie still and quiet, listening to the soft hissing sound that's the only thing he can hear.

He drifts in and out of awareness for a while as the light around him gets brighter and the temperature starts to rise. It's not until there's a loud 'click' and the hum of the cryo chamber opening that he finally opens his eyes.

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"It is done," Shuri says, tapping a final measure into the record and setting the tablet aside. "Your mind is restored, the way that we wanted it to be."

Steve slings his arm around Bucky's shoulders and hugs him tight, his beaming grin bright as sunlight as Shuri continues, "I have informed my brother. He and Nakia are waiting at the Citadel. Let us go, shall we?"

Bucky nods, and walks between them out of the lab, listening with interest as Shuri chatters the entire way. She's both exhausted and jubilant, he realizes, and she has every right to be. He won't ask about Ayo's whereabouts tonight. There'll be time for that - no matter what, he's no more of a danger to anyone than he was a few weeks ago, so it should be okay--

Lost in his thoughts, he nevertheless stops instantly when Steve steps in front of him, between him and the people who are waiting on the platform. Shuri breaks off her explanation, her voice scaling upward in surprise as she asks, "Ayo? Is something wrong?"

"Do not worry, princess," Ayo replies, calm and smooth. Bucky puts his hand on Steve's shoulder and squeezes it in reassurance. "I am here to collect the White Wolf, as planned."

"Planned?" Steve turns to him. "Buck, what's going on?"

"There's one more thing to test," he says, very softly, and sees shock followed by realization in his best friend's eyes. "I have to know, Steve."

She has not moved since Sharon Carter departed on a previous train. Two of her Dora stand in loose formation behind her, relaxed but ready, always ready, and now she watches Steve Rogers with a cool assessing gaze before she turns to the White Wolf.

"Come," she tells him without preamble. "All is ready. We will take a flyer from the top of the mountain."

As she expected, Captain Rogers steps forward. "Not without me, you aren't," he says, and looks from her to his friend. She does not look to the White Wolf: he already knows that this request must be denied.

"Without you," she tells Captain Rogers, with the slightest hint of inflection on the first word. "If he is truly free, we will return him to you. If not, I will not allow him to hurt anyone. I promise you this."

"But it worked," Shuri protests, plaintively. "I am sure of it, it did. You need not--"

"I have to. We all need to be sure," Bucky says, turning to her. "It's okay." He turns back to Steve and says it again. "It's okay."

Steve draws a sharp breath to argue and lets it out in an unhappy sigh as he searches Bucky's face. "You better not do anything stupid."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in the faintest of smiles, just for an instant, acknowledging the call and response. "How can I? But not this time."

He moves past Steve and Shuri to stand in front of Ayo, meeting her eyes. With a nod, he silently places himself in her hands.

She meets his gaze levelly, then nods to her princess before tapping the butt of her spear on the ground. The Dora behind her fan out as she turns and leads the way to the lift that will take them to the landing pad on top of the mountain.

She doesn't tell him to follow her. The time for talking is over.

Ayo says nothing. She doesn't need to. Bucky falls in behind her, and is aware of the Dora flanking him as he does. He doesn't look back.

Steve watches as they vanish into the lift as a group before turning to Shuri. "I guess we should get to the Citadel," he says, ruefully. "I'm betting your brother'll be the first one to get word when they're done."

"I am sure you are right," she agrees, "And king or not, I am going to scold him until his ears ring if I find out he knew and did not tell me!"

The trip to the flyer is a silent one. She is happy to see him well and alert, of course, but now is not the time or place for such observations. There will be plenty of time to celebrate and congratulate, after.

Both Dora accompany them in the flyer, but once they reach the landing place midway up the mountain they'd chosen, they follow only most of the way up the trail behind her and the White Wolf.

(This place is far from the Citadel, though not by flyer. The Dora have instruction to destroy the flyer rather than let the Winter Soldier take it if the worst should happen.)

The remainder of the pilgrimage she and the White Wolf make alone, still in silence. He is tense and worried, but she is as relaxed as ever. If the fix holds, she will celebrate. If it doesn't, she will be ready. Either way, her path forward is clear.

It's a beautiful night. The glow of the city's lights is visible in the distance as they climb the mountain trail, winding in and out of the trees. He can hear the song of nocturnal birds, the light sounds of wind rustling leaves overhead, and the distant thunder of a waterfall.

The rest of the Dora remain behind, and he's glad. No one else should see this. No one else should be near. Panic yammers at the back of his mind - what if, what if - and he does his best to ignore it. He's used to fear, both his own and that of others. Besides, they'll know soon enough. Ayo has a plan. He'd had one of his own; still does, even limited and bounded as it is by his promises.

("I won't run again."
"I know."

"I won't stop. Trying, I mean."
"You better not. And if you can't do it for yourself, do it for me."
"You, and Steve.")

He looks around as they reach the place Ayo has chosen. It's a clearing, one that's open to the edge of the drop, with a view out over the land beyond. They've come far enough around the mountainside that he can no longer see the city, and he finds himself glad of that.

There are far worse places for it all to end, if it -- if he -- if something goes wrong. If it all goes wrong.

She busies herself with building a fire in the middle of this small clearing, and lets him sit and rest. She does not ask his thoughts. In these moments, he should be allowed to keep them to himself.

(He looks weary, the White Wolf, even though he has only lately come from cryostasis. This weight has been too heavy on him for too long.)

The fire crackles, joining the soft sounds of the night around them. This place is peaceful. The night is calm. She is glad to offer him these things, but like everything in this world, it cannot last.

"It is time," she tells him. Her voice is quiet and kind – but firm. There is no point in waiting longer.

He sits on the ground and watches the sparks from the fire fly upward, bright specks against the night. Bucky thinks of how his memories felt when he was first trying to get them back; thinks of shattered glass and shards of metal.

"It is time," Ayo murmurs, soft but clear, from where she stands a little to the side. He doesn't turn to look at her. From the corner of his eye, he can see the butt of her spear set firm against the ground where she stands, braced and ready.

Good. She knows, but she doesn't know, and if--

"Are you sure about this?"

His voice is dull and flat. It's not really a question, but he has to ask anyway. She has to be sure.

She has to be ready. Just in case.

"I won't let you hurt anyone," she tells him, just as softly, just as clearly. It is less of a promise than a fact. Whatever happens, if the worst should happen...

The Winter Soldier will not hurt a soul.

Torches flare into the night around them, and he watches the fire, tension strung through every part of him. She takes a few quiet steps, pacing back and forth on the opposite side of the flames, watching him closely, and begins.

"Longing," she says. The Russian words fall gently from her lips.

"Rusted."

He knows how it happens. After all the study Shuri's put into it, he even knows why it happens the way it does. Each trigger word's linked to one or more memories, things that are rooted deep in his soul, so deep that to tear them out would be to tear him apart in the process. That's why they work. That's why he's never been able to resist them, no matter how hard or how many times he tried.

He hears the first word in Ayo's soft, clear tones, and waits in suspended agony for it to begin, bracing himself for the procedure to fail, for the wave to roll over him, starting the spiral that will drag him down into the darkness.

It doesn't happen. Not with the first word, nor the second.

"Seventeen," she says, and in that moment Bucky discovers that hope is far, far more painful and terrifying than fear.

"It's not going to work," he chokes out, and it's a desperate, disbelieving plea.

He is wrestling to keep his composure. Her own tension is rising, but her voice stays gentle, more coaxing than command.

She takes a breath and continues, inexorable. (All of this is for nothing if the words are not said correctly, in the correct order, within enough time.)

"Daybreak."

Each word is soft and precise, like tugging petals from a flower. He is struggling now, pain and fear and hope all warring with each other as he frowns, as he shakes, his gaze steady on the fire.

She continues. It is the kindest thing she can do. "Furnace."

Something new is happening.

Instead of feeling like he's drowning, sliding into unconsciousness, struggling against it, with each word jolting him another level into the dark, he sees a different sort of flash, filling where the void should be. Memories.

The Winter Soldier's memories.

The red book slamming shut in his handler's grasp. Trying to slam his way out of the glass-and-steel cell. Standing on a street he doesn't recognize, staring at a man he knows he should.

("Who the hell is Bucky?")

Masked, unmasked, weapons in hand, screaming in the chair.

Mission report: December 16, 1991.

("Nine," murmurs Ayo. "Benign.")

His breathing comes faster and faster as his face twists into a grimace.

He is a man with complete control over himself – unsurprising he cultivated that trait, considering how often he was used against his will – and now every iota of that control is going into keeping himself still, she thinks.

His gaze is on the fire, but she doubts he is seeing the flames. "Homecoming," she says. In her voice the words are not a fist dragging him into the darkness, but a kind, beckoning hand.

Tears have started in his eyes. The cords stand out in his neck. He's trembling. His features are flushed and twisted. "One," she says.

They are so close. She keeps a firm hand on her own worry, her own fears. Her voice is utterly calm as she places the final word into the air between them. "Freight car."

Edited 2021-05-18 23:06 (UTC)

He sees Steve lying on the deck with his hand at his throat, looking up at him. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You're my friend, he says, and Bucky feels something shatter within him in the here and now just as it had then.

The last word hits the air, and instead of falling into the darkness that the mountain pass had brought him to, he lands here in the present, in the warm night by the fire, still aware. Still himself.

Tears are streaking silently down his face. His shoulders shake as he fights to hold back the sobs.

She has not taken her eyes off him this whole time, and now she watches more closely than ever, waiting.

Which means she can see the precise moment realization hits him: That he is still himself. That the power those words held is gone forever. That he can never, never be used that way, ever again.

She takes a deep, cleansing breath of the cool mountain air, and her features relax into a smile, her eyes warm and pleased. "You are free," she tells him.

There can be no doubt. His face is wet with tears as he looks up towards her, as if pleading for it to be true, so she nods slightly, her voice a bare whisper as she says it again, this new truth for him to hold.

"You are free."

Free.

He stares up at her, then out past the fire into the night, eyes bright with emotion as he clenches his hand in front of his mouth, as if trying to hold her words to his own lips.

Free. Free. He can feel the smile break over his face as unutterable relief and joy wash through him, leaving him lightheaded and unsteady.

It's over. After all these years, it's over. He's no one's weapon to wield, not any longer. He's free.

Edited 2021-05-18 23:41 (UTC)

He gasps a sob and curls in on himself as she watches, but soon his smile shines through the tears as the fear and worry drop away like unlocked chains.

She takes another deep breath and sighs it out through her nose, well-pleased, and does not yet tap out a message on her Kimoyo beads.

She will inform King T'Challa once they have come back down the mountain. For now, this moment is his, and his alone.

He'd never allowed himself to look past this moment. Never even allowed himself to imagine it, knowing that if he did, and the test failed--

But it hasn't failed. His mind is his own again, and no one else's.

A soft, choked laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head, then lowers his hand and looks back up at Ayo.

"Thank you."

She nods again, this time in acknowledgment, and the faint smile that touches her lips is unmistakably fond. "You are welcome," she says, simply.

This was her duty – to Wakanda, to her king – but also an act of friendship. She is perhaps the only person who could give it to him, and so she offered it freely. Her smile grows, slightly.

"I am happy for you, White Wolf."

He grins at that, quick and bright, in a way that makes him look far younger than his years. Bucky scrubs his forearm over his face, wiping away his tears with his sleeve, then gets to his feet.

"Want me to get the torches or this fire?"

"The fire," Ayo tells him, and her own smile flashes, there and gone again, quick as lightning. "Do not singe yourself. You have better things to do tonight than to go back to the infirmary."

She busies herself with putting out the torches, dousing the flames with a metal cap like a large candle-snuffer, then waits until he has reduced the fire to a heap of loose dirt and ash.

This place has served its purpose. And he has somewhere else to be.

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[oom] i wake to sleep and take my waking slow

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