#tower fics

James had done four sessions, each roughly ten days apart; some went well, others didn’t seem to do anything. It had to be done slowly; having James disassociate after every session would only cause more damage. A psychologist assessed him after each session, which James did not enjoy. You understood why, being psychoanalysed once a week was not pleasant. Especially when you were someone who didn’t like to express himself openly, you didn’t want to use the term repressed. He talked fine with people he trusted, but with someone he had only met four times, the doctors weren’t going to get much.

Rolling over, you’re not surprised to find it empty. James liked waking up early and sitting with the animals, watching the sunrise. He often would make coffee and take feed with him, making sure they all got well fed. He had become particularly fond of chickens, letting them fall him around the space, and even sit on him.

Stretching, you grab your dress and slip it on, along with a pair of sandals. You had never been a dress person, but it made sense here. The fabric covered most of your body, protecting you from the sun and bugs, while being lightweight enough to keep you cool. You grab the end of your braid and swoop it up and out of your face; you’d have to rebraid it later. 

In the small kitchen, a hot pot of coffee sits on the edge of the stove. You poured yourself a cup and headed outside. As you suspect, James sits on a wooden chair with a red and brown chicken sitting on his lap; he nicknamed her Marge. She liked to sit with him and eat the mixed grains from his hand. You walk over and sit beside him, sipping some of the hot coffee. He had given his arm to Shuri; who was currently taking it apart so that she could build him a new one. It didn’t seem to bother him, another way for him to de-stress.

“Good morning, love,” You say quietly, watching as a goat come clicking over to you. Ear flopping as she chews, you rub at her nose, telling her good morning. 

“Mmm, morning, beautiful,” James replies, reaching to take your hand. “You manage to sleep?”

“Yeah, still getting used to how quiet it is out here,” You tell him, as the goat lies down and rests her head against your knee. A few other bleat in the distance, they’d come visit sooner or later.

“It’s nice, I didn’t think I would enjoy it as much as I do.” Marge clucks and jumps off of him, running to catch a grasshopper that is bouncing by. “More testing today, Shuri thinks we are about halfway.”

“How are you feeling about it?” You ask, squeezing his hand. 

“I don’t know, I am trusting Shuri to tell me what to do and how to do it,” He lets go of your hand to sip his coffee.

You had to stop yourself from reiterating that he could take his time, slow things down, or speed them up. James had been told this over and over again. You had to trust that he would tell you. That all the experts would see the signs. As well as trusting yourself to see the signs, you knew him more intimately than almost anyone else. That closeness could also blind you; it was why doctors didn’t date patients. So you did your own checks, having made up a checklist that you went over every day. Shuri had helped you create it and had her own checklist as well. There were precautions on precaustions, trying to mitigate every possible issue that might come up. Some would slip through no matter what  you did.

“Do you want breakfast before we go?” You ask gently, “Pretty sure Marge and her crew left eggs, and I got bread, and some cheese left.”

James nods, “Yeah, should probably eat. Going to make sure the goats are fed and watered. Terra is going to come look after them while we are gone.”

“Sounds good,” You get up, leaning down to kiss him gently. “Love you.”

The flashing of lights starts up, Bucky can count the rhythm now. Knows when Shuri goes up a level. Can here the words, never all of them, always in different sequences, but he can recognise them now. The fear is still there, sitting just underneath his sternum, making his heart pound. It’s been getting better, but it hadn’t gone away entirely. 

Shuri ups the level, the light picking up speed. They’ve added a spectrum of color too. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, his body starting to quiver. He knew it was his nervous system adjusting to the stimulus, doing its job, his body isn’t shutting down, even if it feels like i tmight. He lets out a slow breath, controlled, even. Repeating over and over that he was safe. You were just on the other side of the glass, monitoring things along with a half a dozen other people. They knew how to pull him out and had protocols in place. 

More noise, more lights, his hand flexes against the armrest. Bucky knew he could tell them to stop, that it was too much. His mind screaming at him for it to end, to stop. 

Another breath out.

Another level up.

Every part of him is sweating. Body violently shaking. Lung barely able to get enough air in.

“Stop,” Bucky barely gets it out. It feels like his mind is on fire, every piece of metal interwoven within him sparking. 

The lights and noise immediately stop. He gasps for air, leaning forward, trying to catch his breath and slow down his heart. A cool blanket covers his shoulders, and your hand finds his. There is too much noise in his head to hear what you’re saying. A glass of water is placed in front of him, he just holds it for a moment. The cloth is soft, helping him calm down. 

“You did so good,” You whisper, rubbing small circles into his back, “That was the most Shuri’s done in one session.” 

Bucky just nods his head, finally takes a sip of water, his stomach turns but he keeps it down. “Was trying to hold out, but it was too much.”

Shuri comes in with a small projector, sliding a chair in and sitting on it. “Let me show you what we’ve been doing. Might help your mind settle.”

She carefully pulls up an image of his brain, it floats in front of him. You keep rubbing against his back, making sure he knows you’re there. Shuri hits a few things on her table, and his whole mind lights up with various colors. Bucky blinks a few times, reaching out to still the swirling image. He can’t feel it, but he has learned how to manipulate the holograms. 

“Each light corresponds with each word. It’s not in one spot, the way your brain was-” Her face clouds as she tries to find the word. “Manipulated, meant that the words are placed in multiple points. It was most likely done with various stimuli, such as sound, light, smell even. Brains aren’t divided into straight up sections; it’s more like each fold layers on top of each other. Which means that using and repeating the stimulus would help the words stick into many places instead of just one.”

“Some of the words don’t have as many spots as others,” Bucky points out, spinning it to look at the whole thing. 

“Exactly, that’s why we have to continue doing the tests, we need to know where all of the words are.” Shuri explains, “If we can find all the spots, we can carefully cut them.”

Bucky winces at the idea of cutting his brain tissue. “You’re going to be cutting my brain?”

“Not exactly,” Shuri chuckles. She gets up and moves out of the room for a moment. Opening a cupboard, she pulls out a small plastic case. “This is what we will be using,” She holds up a small tool with a pair of small tweezers, it’s so small it’s hard to see. “This is the biggest size we will be using; most of what we are using are lasers, they’ll make cuts that aren’t visible to the naked eye. At the same time, we will be adding microneedles that will inject a drug to stimulate the brain in healing.” 

She hands it to him, and he holds it up to the light, watching it reflect, “This should help remove the words?”

“Remove them, and hopefully heal the brain as well,” Shuri says with a small smile. She always had a bright outlook on things, carefully explaining all of it to him in as much detail as he could digest. “Brains are organs, so we treat them like they are sick. There will be almost no tissue removed, just enough to resolve the separation and remove the control the words have on you.”

“You make it sound simple,” Bucky says quietly, handing back the tool to her. 

“It isn’t,” Shuri replies, putting the tool back into its case. “Even if we locate all the word sites, there still could be areas we don’t understand. Minds are massive supercomputers that we are still learning about. That said, I am confident in my techniques. That’s why we will put you in cryo, so if we need to go in more than once, it can happen in a controlled environment.”

“You’ll be able to trigger the words while he is under?” You ask, having grabbed a chair to sit beside him.

Shuri nods, “Yes, once we have all the data, we will be able to stimulate as we need to.”

Bucky sags into the chair. He didn’t want to be shoved back into cryo, but he also didn’t want to be awake for multiple brain surgeries. Being awake would be worse, much worse.

“What happens when I wake up?” Bucky’s hand finds yours, rubbing over your knuckles.

“We do tests again and see what happens. Adjust as needed,” Shuri continues, “Then we test the words on you.”

You chew on the edge of your thumb, “We will have everything in place if things fail.”

The bed is soft here, usually you’d go back to the village, but James was exhausted after todays sesession. You were also going to be getting a few more tests done on your knee to make sure you would be fit for surgery. Shuri had mentioned there was a chance you would get to sit on an operation on a total ankle replacement.

James comes in and crawls into the bed, his hair still a little damp from a previous shower, his body relaxing against yours. Your fingers come up to card through his hair, it was much longer now. Scratching at his head, you ponder if he would let you braid it.

“I really done with being tested,” James mutters against your chest, snuffling so that he is as close to you as possible without being completely on top of you.

“You pushed hard today,” You reply, wrapping your arms around him. “Maybe too hard.”

He huffs, rubbing his face against your neck, “No pain, no gain.”

You groan, “This is your mind we are talking about, James.” Small kisses press against the side of your neck, the man trying to distract you. “Nice try, Mr Barnes, but I know what you’re doing.”

“I know,” He deflates. Making you feel bad for a moment. “I told them to stop.”

Sighing, you grab his face so that he is looking at you, “You know, even this takes years, I don’t care. I just care about you taking care of yourself. That’s what matters to me. I am allowed to worry you know.”

“I know, but I don’t want it to keep going. I am tired,” James replies, leaning down to gently kiss you. “I want us to be free. So we can do normal things, or somewhat normal things.”

You chuckle, rubbing your nose against this, “Normal things? I didn’t know we could do normal. Not sure I am even capable of being normal anymore.”

James’ eyes crinkle as he smiles, “We could stay here, in the village. Raise goats and chickens, maybe more.”

“You don’t want to go back? Get Zemo, the Enders?” You ask, surprised that he would bring it up.

James worries at his lip, “What if we don’t have to?”

The idea seems so foreign that you won’t have to go back, hadn’t even passed your mind. You had always figured that you’d be back in New York, falling into the next disaster as soon as you were both healthy. What would you do if you could just stay? There was an endless amount of research that could be done here. You could spend a lifetime learning and still not know everything that the Wakandans had to offer. 

“I am sure we could make that work,” You finally say, “Just wasn’t expecting to stay.”

“Not saying we never go back. I am sure they’ll call us for all sorts of things, but we could do less. Focus on what we want to do, and be,” His voice full of more hope than you had in so long. 

“I am home as long as I am with you.” You whisper, pulling him in to kiss him.

The surgery theatre was like nothing you’d ever been in. A tablet sat balanced on your lap as you listened to everything going on down below. You had picked up a few phrases from the Wakandans, but there were a dozen different languages spoken in the city, not including their own unique language. So Shuri, of course, had fit you with a translating ear piece. While they spoke, you would get translation in english. It seemed there was nothing they couldn’t do here. 

Today, you were going to be watching a total ankle replacement, which included binding a part of the tibia, talus, fibula, and navicular bone. They would also be detaching several ligaments and sections of muscles with lasers. The freshly printed bone, muscle, and ligament lay on a table. Those would be carefully inserted and then fussed with small injections into the bone to promote fibroblast and osteoblast. Meaning that it would all heal much faster than if you were putting in plastic, metal, or other materials. Not to mention these pieces were printed from the dna of the patient. That was still something that you were wrapping you remind around. 

After that, they’d reattach all of it while only making a few small incisions. They would be no bigger than the pieces themselves. Using laser therapy after the surgery, along with specific injections to speed up healing. Instead of four months of recovery, it would only take a month or so. 

You had to hold yourself still from getting too excited. A revolutionary surgery happening right in front of you. Something they had been doing for years now. It was all done with the use of robotic arms. The doctors, techs, and nurses watched on screens and directed it with controllers. 

Shuri had promised to give you a copy of the surgery to review. You had already watched half a dozen, but it was much different to be seeing it in person. The skills needed to operate this type of equipment were built over months and months of studying. It wasn’t something that could be learned overnight. Not to mention each machine had a different operating system, so something for ortho wouldn’t necessarily translate to something in neuro. 

The more you learned about all of it, the more surprised you were. Shuri had talked about building machines that ran on AI models and robotics that would be able to heal without the need to cut open the body. It would take Dr.Cho’s cradle to completely new levels. A lot of this was so advanced it would completely change how medicine was done. 

Speaking of Dr. Cho, she would be coming in with her cradle to work with Wakandan doctors on continuing her research. There was so much to learn, and Shuri was incredibly excited to look at the cradle. The young woman was never not buzzing around; she led an incredibly brilliant team across a vast number of departments. You couldn’t imagine her and Stark working side by side. Maybe one day.

James sits down beside you and hands you some kind of wrap, it’s hot and smells amazing, “Hey gorgeous.”

“You actually came,” You elbow his side as you take a bite of the wrap.

“I’ve seen worse things,” James shrugs, inhaling his wrap. “These are good.”

You chuckle, watching as they start to prep the patient. “I don’t think I’ve had bad food here.” You chew thoughtfully for a moment. “I am wondering if they’d have a neurosurgery we could sit in on.” 

James raises an eyebrow, “I am not sure I would want to see that one.”

“You’re okay with bones and tissue, but not brains?” You ask, not teasing, genuinely curious as to why it was different.

“It’s intimate,” James looks down at what is happening below. “Brains make us who we are. Something about being inside it is terrifying.”

“I never thought about it like that,” You hum as they begin to start operating. “I doubt you’d see much, they do a lot of it with small inscusions.” You point down to some that have been made on the patient's leg, “They make it as small as possible, decrease risk of infection, and increase healing.”

“Mine is for my whole brain,” James replies, carefully cleaning his hand, before touching his scalp. “Did you see how many spots there were?”

“I’d have to ask Shuri. I am not sure,” You ponder that for a moment. “She’s talked about using an algorithm to attack them. I think it might run more like a computer program, entering your brain the same way we would attack a computer virus. Possibly using the wiring that is already connected to your spinal cord.”

James winces as the robotic arm holds open one of the incisions, “Less cutting, but she is still inside my mind.”

“I think it will be more like when Wanda entered, kind of a combination of both. I am speculating, of course, I am sure Shuri could explain it to you,” You continue, writing down a few more notes on your tablet.

He nods before leaning forward a little to watch as the laser goes in to cut the bone, “How many surgeries have you watched?”

You lean back against your chair, “I am not sure, a lot, I always attended any I could at school. There weren’t as many when I worked at the lab, a few specialised ones.” The robotic arm removes the pieces of bone carefully from the small incision. ”It was nothing like this, much more, ummm, rough.”

“I don’t remember a lot from any operations they did.” His voice had gone soft, eyes far away. “It was always hazy, or I couldn’t move to see it. Think they liked it like that.” 

It felt like someone had punched you in the chest. James rarely talked about the procedures that had been done to him at the Hydra facilities. You had gathered details from bits and pieces over the months. Enough to know that he shouldn’t be alive, much less functioning at a normal level. The serum was a miracle drug, but a double-edged sword. His body processed medication so fast ti was almost impossible to put him under completely without killing him. There was so little known about how it worked, they healed so fast that it made them close to unkillable, aside from brain death. Even that wasn’t fully understood. You had seen both Steve and James get hit more than once in the head, and neither of them had shown signs of being concussed. It was more than likely how James had survived having wires and sensors implanted inside his skull. 

“Could feel all of it,” A tremble in his tone as he kept explaining. “When Shuri showed us the scans, that was the first time I’d seen everything they’d done to me. I knew it was there, had felt it, but seeing it is different. Made it more real, that what I was seeing in my nightmares actually happened to me.”

You carefully rest a hand on his knee, not saying anything, letting him tell you what he can. It often happened like this: something would trigger it, and he would be able to explain it. It was why therapy was wishy-washy; the mind was tricky. 

“The worst part,” James looks up at you, his eyes watering. “I won’t want them to take it out. I hate what they did to me, that I survived, but I won’t change being here. Being with you.”

That broke you. Standing up, you shuffle over, leaning down to hug him. He stands and wraps himself around you, pulling you tight to him. You feel him shake against you, as you cling tighter. James had been through unspeakable horror, and all he wanted to do was be with you. The two of you stood there, wrapped around the other, holding on to the fragile hope that things could get better.

Marge stomped by the hut, a tiny line of small chicks following after her; they were every color under the sun. She liked to babysit. Bucky wasn’t even sure she still laid eggs, but it didn’t matter, cause she was a good mom. He watched her cluck and scitter, showing them how to scratch and dig for bugs. You had gone off to bring the goats to a different pasture, practising some of the phrases you had learned. There were so many languages here, and you were more than determined to be able to at least converse with almost everyone. Something about trying to be respectful, Bucky had even started to pick some up.

Steve was due to show up in the coming hours. He had decided to come early, wanting to visit the cities and talk more with T’Challa. With Zemo tucked in a box, the Enders had begun to make appearances. Their numbers had grown, and support for them was becoming more public than ever before. Which meant they needed a unified front. Tony was busy schmoozing with Congress. Steve, Nat, and Rhodes were out talking with other superpowers. A near terror group, homegrown on US soil, could not be backed by one of the biggest militaries in the world. That was the pitch, anyway. Sam was working his military contacts as always, trying to find holes in their operation. It made Bucky miss the crew. 

It wasn’t how they would normally approach things, but with the accords in place, everyone was on pins and needles. No one was happy about it. Steve had wanted to take the fight directly to the Enders, but with people in power pulling strings, it meant they had to take a different approach to things. A painfully slower approach.

“I never saw you as a country guy,” Steve’s familiar voice came from just behind him.

Bucky turns, grinning at his best friend. The man had been letting his hair grow, beard longer than it ever had been. It made him look older. “You should try it sometimes, the place grows on you.”

Steve steps forward, both men embracing, and Bucky squeezes him close. He’d missed the man; he loved being with you, but Steve was as close to his old life as anyone could be. 

“You’re looking good,” Steve says, stepping back and patting Bucky’s right shoulder. 

“Lost about twenty pounds,” Bucky teases, gesturing to his left side. “But I’ve been told I am getting a better model soon”

He chuckles at the joke, “I hear, vibranium, aren’t you special.”

They both started to walk back to the hut, which had a second room that had been changed from an office to a bedroom. Giving Steve somewhere to sleep while he was visiting. Bucky pushed the curtain back and let Steve come in. Steve sat at the wooden table while Bucky grabbed water and some fresh fruit that you had brought home. 

“You and me will match, you got the shield, I’ll have an arm,” Bucky tosses at Steve, sitting down beside the man. “How are things going?”

“It’s not great,” Steve replies, peeling off one of the grapes and eating them. “Wow, those are amazing.”

Bucky chuckles, “Yeah, the fruit here is something else.” They both eat for a moment. “So what's going on?”

Steve sighs, “The US government isn't exactly fond of us. Especially, as we don't want to work under their rules. I think they expected us to play their game because the accords are signed. Treat us like tools, something they can call on when they want.”

“Guess Starks' show isn't going over well?” Bucky sighs crossing his arms.

“Stark has never been in their good graces. Now that he has ceased military weapons manufacturing, it's even more tense. He has money, which is his only pull right now, that and the dirt he has on several prominent members of government.” Steve continues, rubbing a thumb over a groove in the wood. 

“That's why you all are out here. Trying to spread the word.” Bucky tried to fill in the pieces. 

“Trying.” Steve ran a hand against his now prominent beard. “We might as well be throwing an egg at a nuclear bomb. Most people don’t want to talk to us, to much heat us from the public. Most people thing of us as threat instead of a accessent. Of course the Hulk destroying a city, and Tony’s toy going nuclear sure didn’t help.”

Bucky sighs, “You're doing your best Steve. You didn't choose this life, none of us did. We were created to help, we did exactly what they asked and now we are being punished for that. People can think what they want, but when the next monster shows up, they’ll need us.”

Steve nods, looking exhausted, the kid had the weight of the world put on his shoulders. A title that was supposed to be inspiring, to bring people together. Instead they treated him the same way Hydra had treated Bucky. Another weapon. That's how the world saw them, weapons, tools, fists to be wielded as they needed. It wasn't right. 

“You don't have to do this, Steve,” Bucky tells him. He knew Steve would never walk away. Not really, but Bucky had to put the offer on the table.

“I know. But, if I don't, we could have a terrorist group infiltrating the US military.” Steve sighs. “Who am I kidding? They are already in the military and the government. I'd be lying to myself if I thought otherwise.”

There was a gentle tap against the hut’s walls. Bucky looks up to see you, arms full of fresh veggies, wrapped meat and eggs. Your hair tossed up under a wrap, a faint shine of sweat across your brow.

“Hey, guys,” You chirp, coming in, glancing at both of them.

Bucky and Steve move to help you, unloading the bits and pieces. You start putting it all away, waving both of them off.

“Didn't mean to interrupt.” You give Steve a quick hug. “We planning to overthrow the government?”

Steve sighs, sitting back down, “Nah, I am not sure there is a way to dig out the rot.”

Bucky rubs a hand through his hair, “Is there a plan? Or are we just standing down until everything falls apart again?”

“I don't want to give up,” Steve states, “But I am not going to pretend our hands aren't tied.” 

“Got to work with those who want our help.” You sigh, sticking a thing of herbs in a wooden cup of water. 

Steve nods, “That's the plan. Align ourselves with those who will stand beside us.”

“I wish it could be different, Steve.” Bucky feels his heart clench; the man lived up to the name he had been given. Unfortunately, the country attached to him had never had the same morals. 

“Not here to drag my feet in the mud. I want to speak with T’Challa, but also be here for both of you. The next few weeks are going to be hard." Steve watches you sit with them. 

There is dirt on your face, flushed from the sun, yet Bucky has never seen you more relaxed. Despite a bit of fuss about it being too quiet, you had really taken to being out here.

“Appreciate you coming here,” You give a faint smile. “Pretty sure Bucky would have suffered having his brain zapped so that he could watch me.”

Steve chuckles, “Can't blame him. Got to keep our loved ones safe.”

Watching James go into the cryopod made you want to throw up. He was terrified, his face was blank, eyes were unfocused. Steve stood beside you, arms crossed, his forehead wrinkled. Shuri and her assistants moved around the place in a systematic dance. Cryo was not a small feat. Keeping the body functional, without killing the mind, was a mental gymnastics you purposefully didn't try to figure out. When it wasn't your boyfriend, you'd like to pick it apart.

It was a fight not to reach for him. To tell him you'd be here when he woke up. James knew this. Had held you so close just hours ago. He hadn't wanted to go; his fingers had stayed laced with yours up until Shuri had ushered him into the chamber.

“If you're ready, Bucky, we will begin the process,” Shuri asks. It was the most serious you had ever seen her. Completely focused on what was at hand, which was both reaffirming and terrifying. This wasn’t like anything that had been done before.

“Ready,” James replies, his voice robotic.

You kept your face a mask, not letting him see just how frightened you were. Despite completely trusting Shuri and her team. There was always doubts, always things that could go wrong. James was a super soldier, but he was still human.

“We will be here.” You say just loud enough for him to hear.

There was a whirl and a woosh as the doors closed. Shuri spoke to her assistants, who flipped buttons and attached tubes. The glass began to frost, ice blooming out quickly, covering him. You watched him take a last breath, and then he was gone. A cry stuck in your throat, seeing him frozen solid in front of you. Your hand covered your mouth as your eyes stung. Steve placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, barely able to look at his friend. 

“He is completely frozen,” Shuri says, coming over, tapping away at her tablet. Her brows furrowed as she stared at the tablet. “This is interesting,”

You and Steve’s heads swivelled to her. 

“What?” You come over to stand closer, Steve on the other side.

Shuri looks up at James’ frozen form, “This shouldn't be happening; it's saying he's conscious.”

You look up at James, half expecting him to blink at you. “He's pumped full of enough drugs to knock out a whale.”

Tutting, Shuri starts talking quickly to her assistants. All of them are moving around the place. Screens and projects were being checked and whirled. They read off various readings, adjusting the temperature, pulling up his brain waves. 

“We can't give him any more medication,” Shuri sighs, her shoulders deflating. “His body is processing it properly, the machines are working as they should. But his mind is awake.”

“Do we need to take him out of there?” Steve asks, his fist clenched at his side. 

“If we pull him out, we'd have to run the algorithm through him awake. There is no other way to keep him cryogenically frozen.” Shuri explains, you can see how frustrated she is with this. “That raises the risk of side effects exponentially. It would not be ethical to do it to him while awake. It would be worse than what he has already experienced.”

“But he's awake now?” Steve asks, looking like he was moments from ripping the chamber open.

You rub a hand over your face. Anaesthetic awareness, or in this case cryogenic awareness. “He's conscious, but he may not be aware of what is happening.”

Steve looks at you like you just told him James was made of cheese. 

“It's like he is asleep.” You move over to the monitor, pointing at his brain waves. “His mind isn't shut off completely as it should be, but he's not awake like you and me.”

“What does that mean?” Steve demands, starting to pace up and down the room.

“There is a sixty-two point five percent chance he won't remember any of this.” Shuri takes over. “He'll wake up as if waking from a dream,”

“That’s still a thirty-seven point five percent chance he will,” Steve exclaimed.

“Has he ever mentioned being in cryo before?” Shuri looks at you.

Your mind ran, running over every conversation you'd had with James. He had talked about nightmares, testing, the brainwashing, but nothing specifically about cryo. Aside from waking from it and going to sleep in it, it was terrible. Of course, he had been forced to do it. 

“I don't think so. He didn't like the cryofreeze, but it was always the going to sleep and waking up.” You explain your thoughts to them.

“So what do we do?” Steve asks, finally stopping pacing.

“I will not proceed unless you both agree to it,” Shuri says quietly, firmly putting the ball in your court. 

You look at Steve, his face pale, and for a moment, you worry he might be sick. There was a chance Bucky would remember all of this; there was just as much of a chance that he would wake up and not remember anything. If you didn’t do this, then you’d be back to square one, trying to figure out how to help him. What would he want? 

“I think we should proceed as planned,” You finally decide, feeling like your whole body was going to cave in on itself. “Closely monitored, if there is any change in activity, we reassess.”

Shuri and Steve both look at you. You want to feel confident in this choice, in this decision, but you’re not. Here you were trying to figure out a mind that hides all its secrets. Even with all the advanced technology, there was no telling what would happen to him. Neither option was right nor wrong. All you could do was hope that he would come out better than he had been before. 

Part 33

Author note: Apologies for the slow updates. I've been struggling to write lately. I am not sure why, but I think part of it is that spring has yet to come in my end of the world. Also, my work is starting to pick up, and my mind has been scattered with knowing that my very limited growing window is even smaller this year. Hopefully, things will get back to normal now.

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