A little bit of life

On the flight over to Wakanda, Steve told me what had happened, Zemo, Tony, the fight, that damn notebook with his control words.

He said they'd recovered it and were going to destroy it so it couldn't be used again.

I guess that makes sense. With those control words still out there, anyone could get into his head. That's why he made sure no one ever would again.

Landing in Wakanda was... terrifying.

From the sky, the place looks like nothing. Just a massive cliff wall. The invisible barrier hides the city like it's a secret guarded by the gods. As we approached, Steve accelerated, heading straight toward that wall of nothingness.

For a few minutes, I genuinely thought he was trying to introduce us both to God.

"Steve, pull up!" I shouted, heart hammering.

"Trust me, it's fine," he replied far too calmly.

"GOD DAMN IT! This is not how I die, you vintage virgin!" I screamed, clutching the seat like it could save me. My fingers dug into the armrest, the cold bite of the metal grounding me as I clenched my eyes tight.

No pain. No explosion.

Cautiously, I cracked one eye open, and what I saw made both eyes fly wide.

Below us stretched a glistening city carved into the earth like a gem. Buildings spiraled up with elegant curves, glinting gold and deep black under the sun. The air shimmered with warmth, but not the kind that choked you. It was clean, no hint of smog, no acrid engine smoke, just the earthy tang of greenery and something faintly metallic, almost like ozone before a storm.

I pressed my face to the window like a kid seeing Disneyland for the first time.

We skimmed low over a wide river that reflected the city like a perfect mirror. The colors were vibrant—rich reds, deep blues, sun-soaked yellows woven into the clothing of people walking through courtyards and markets. There were quiet gardens set among the skyscrapers, and the architecture, God, the architecture. It blended the old and the new, tradition and innovation. Stonework and woven patterns hugged the base of towers.

"I'm not a virgin, you know," Steve said without looking back.

I snorted. "Sure, whatever you say."

Could've warned me first, I thought. So we're even.

We touched down on a sleek landing platform lined with white stones that glittered faintly under our feet. The subtle vibration of the jet's descent thrummed up through my boots.

A young woman approached as the ramp lowered.

"Welcome to Wakanda, Ms. Romano. My name is Shuri. I am the doctor overseeing Mr. Barnes' care and rehabilitation."

Her voice had a musical lilt, sharp and bright. She carried herself with ease, like someone who was used to commanding respect without ever having to raise her voice.

"And princess of Wakanda," added a tall, intimidating woman behind her, spear in hand and posture rigid.

"This is Ayo," Shuri said. "My personal guard and general of our military forces. I'll help you get settled. We don't often have visitors, so there aren't typical channels, but not to worry."

"Thank you," I said, still trying to keep my jaw from hitting the ground. "I've honestly never even heard of Wakanda until now."

"That's the point," Shuri replied with a smile. "We prefer to remain off the radar."

I followed them, the sound of soft sandals and boots padding against polished stone echoing as we moved. The air smelled of blooming flowers and sun-warmed dust, with the faintest trace of spices. Everything felt alive, every street humming, every person confident, proud.

"Goodbye, Elizabeth. Take care."

I turned to see Steve still standing at the ship's exit.

"You're not coming?"

"Afraid not. Still have some things to take care of. But don't worry, I'll be back. Can't leave my best man behind."

"Thank you!" I called out as the ramp closed and the jet shot back into the sky, disappearing through the shimmering veil of the barrier.

"Ready?" Shuri asked, standing at my side again.

I nodded.

That day, she took me around the city. It was more than just impressive, it was overwhelming in the best way. Buildings whispered with hidden energy, glowing faintly with currents of light that moved like veins. Holographic signs floated mid-air, and people touched them with elegant, practiced ease. Everything smelled of warmth, stone baked by the sun, hints of citrus trees, and the metallic sharpness of vibranium that buzzed faintly.

Despite the technology, it didn't feel sterile. Birds chirped from garden rooftops. The laughter of children echoed between alleyways. Street vendors called out greetings in a language I didn't understand.

As we moved through the city, something quietly struck me, no homeless people. No one sleeping on benches or begging in alleyways. No cardboard signs, no downturned eyes. Everyone I passed walked with purpose, with dignity. It was like Wakanda had figured out something the rest of the world hadn't. Maybe this was what civilization was supposed to look like.

Shuri asked me about the outside world, where I'd been, what I'd seen. She wasn't allowed to leave Wakanda due to her diplomatic status. It made sense, but I could tell she hated it. In return for her stories and guidance, I gave her mine.

Eventually, she brought me to where I'd be staying. Since I was an outsider, I wasn't allowed to stay in the city center. Instead, I was given a house on the edge at the border tribe.

It was small but cozy, a single bed with soft woven blankets, a bathroom with water that ran warm instantly, and a kitchen that hummed to life with a touch. The walls were dark clay with patterns etched into them, and a wind chime hung by the door, singing gently in the evening breeze.

No front door though, just a bright woven cloth hanging in the doorway.

Shuri explained that here, doors weren't needed for safety.

The electricity was powered by vibranium, apparently. I'd thought it was just metal, but no, it was more than that. It felt like the city breathed through it.

After dropping off my things, Shuri showed me how to take the train back into the city. The rail was sleek and silent, gliding along invisible tracks so smoothly it felt like floating.

Bucky was being kept in a secure part of Shuri's private lab. I was nervous to see him again, but I had no real reason to be. He was asleep. He wouldn't even know I was there.

When we entered the lab, I felt like I'd stepped into science fiction. Machines hummed around me with low, vibrating pulses. Everything was designed by her, she said. And I believed it. The space felt smart, reactive, like it knew you were there.

"He's in there." She pointed to a room off to the side and handed me a bracelet.

"These are Kimoyo Beads. They work as your communicator, ID, and access key. Always wear them, it is how people will know you are not an intruder in Wakanda. You'll need them to move around, and to see him without me."

I nodded, slipping the smooth beads over my wrist. They warmed slightly, molding to fit me perfectly.

"We'll give you privacy. You remember the way home?"

"Yes. Thank you, truly. If there's ever anything you need... please ask."

"Oh, I will," Shuri said with a grin. "You start work in a few days, and we will work you." Ayo chuckled under her breath as they left.

Smiling faintly, I scanned the beads against the door pad. The panel glowed blue, and the door slid open with a soft hiss.

The room was dim, lit only by gold accents that lined the black walls like veins. The air was still. It felt like stepping into a cathedral made of stars.

In the center of the room there was a cradle. Or chamber. A hybrid of both. It looked like it had grown there, metal and glass fused with such elegance I couldn't imagine where one material ended and the other began.

I walked closer, through the glass top of the cradle, I saw him.

Bucky.

He looked so peaceful, wearing loose white pants and a tank top. Around his neck, my dog tags. Resting over his heart.

His arms scars were visible now, I never saw all of them before. He always kept his body covered. Cuts all along his arm, but uniform ones. I know those marks too well; they are from being restrained in metal. Fighting back so hard or them so tight that it cuts through the flesh again and again. Old bullet wounds, and jagged slashes that never quite faded along his wrist. Scars that told a story he never wanted me to hear.

Steve told me his left arm was gone. I hadn't believed it until I saw it. The emptiness where it should've been felt like a punch to the gut. That arm haunted him, but it was part of him. And I loved every part of him.

I dragged a chair to the side of the cradle and sat down, arms folded on the edge, resting my chin so I could watch him.

I watched for a long time.

The quiet beep of the heart monitor was soothing. His chest rose and fell steadily, rhythmically. I stared at his face, serene in sleep. I remembered mornings I'd try to wake up before him just to stare at this very expression.

He looked defenseless. Innocent. Human.

Eventually, in those mornings, he'd stretched a long inhale and open his eyes to find mine.

So now, I sit here, waiting for that.

Hoping it will come soon, the day I can see those crystal blue eyes of his. Reminding me of a serene undisturbed lake, despite how clear they were, I could always get lost in them for hours.

I wait for when I can stroke my fingers through his brown wavy hair, gently brushing it for him.

I wait for when I can feel my hand drowning in his, encased by the feeling of safety from his warmth.

When I can feel those gentle pink lip's against mine, our breath becoming one again. Our tongues dancing the dance of love. His scruff gently tickling my nose and cheeks.

I'll wait, Bucky.

No matter how long it takes.

I'll be here when you wake up.

That's my promise to you.