Author's Note: It's been years since I posted anything online. I decided it's time to change that. I've always loved the dynamic between Steve and Bucky. This is my attempt to expand on their story. If you haven't seen "The Winter Soldier" or more importantly, "Civil War", stop now. Spoilers aplenty are ahead.

If you have constructive criticism, please review and let me know if you are interested in me continuing the story.

I own none of the characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All likenesses to persons living or dead are coincidental. This is an exercise in creativity and not to be used for profit.

He dreamed in cryo sleep.

Dreamed was actually a generous term for it; mostly they were nightmares. Decades of horrors on a perpetual loop—every time he went back under, there was a new film strip for the reel. He saw their faces, every single one, all snuffed out by his hand, his bullet, his deeds. Like watching your life through another eye's, he saw their fear play out, even called out to himself to stop, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. He had not been able to stop himself then and now this was his penance. Like Sisyphus pushing the boulder, he was doomed to see the worst of himself over and over again.

Sometimes he wished he could die. His body was still in the peak of youth, but his mind was old, tired, stretched. He hadn't felt like Bucky Barnes, not really, in years. In fact, he'd often forgotten who he was, where he came from, at least until he saw Steve. There was something about Steve that triggered his memories, long buried under guilt and grief. There was something about Steve Rogers that made Bucky Barnes remember.

Remembering was nearly as painful as the grief. If the museums and computer searches and Steve's constant optimism were to be believed, he had once been a good man, maybe even a great one. He wasn't an assassin. He used to have control, or at least some semblance of it, over his own life.

He didn't allow himself to grieve for that time. He had sins to atone for and miles to go before it was time for him to sleep for good. There was no undoing what he had done, but perhaps, he could stop it from happening again.

That was going to take some serious work. If he was being honest with himself, he agreed with Tony Stark on a few things. Being under government control was not a train he was willing to get on again, not for anyone or anything. He deserved Stark's rage though. There was no way to apologize for murdering someone's parents. If Steve hadn't have been there, Bucky may have let Stark kill him. The minute that Stark turned on his friend though, his fate was sealed. Bucky would have killed again, would have added another face to his never ending rolodex of grief, if it meant saving Steve.

Steve was a better man than him. Perhaps the Avengers as the world knew them were over, but Steve would rebuild, as he always had. His best friend was nothing if not consistent. If Bucky was to find redemption anywhere, it would be with that little guy from Brooklyn, brother in all but blood. First though, he needed to get HYDRA out of his head.

The Prince would help. Despite his constant efforts to exterminate Bucky in the past, Bucky liked the Prince. He was a calming presence, objective and intelligent and fair. He was a man who saw reason, another casualty of war who had overcome. If Steve trusted him, Bucky trusted him. Perhaps the Prince could restore some part of him. Perhaps he could stop living in fear of being turned on and set loose on the world. Maybe he could stop adding faces to his nightmares.

Bucky had many opportunities to dream in the last 72 years. He might have even have had time to plan his escape, but it was always taken from him with a series of shocks and Russian words. Not this time. This time he went to the chamber willingly. This time he had the Prince. This time he had Steve.

When he came out this time, he would be Bucky Barnes again. He would find his old self. He would make himself better. For the first time in years, he was not afraid.

"Buck?" He knew that voice now, strong and confident, but always with an air of concern. Steve may have grown into a super soldier, but his voice had stayed the same.

"Captain Rogers, it may take a moment," this voice was harder to place, but he knew it too. The Prince's face swam into vision, like a radio being tuned. Dark and handsome and poised as always, the Prince was staring up at him with interest. Steve was squinting right into his face. Acting on some instinct, Bucky kept as still as possible.

"Are you sure it worked?" concern was morphing steadily into worry now, "We didn't…we didn't mess it up?"Steve was leaning very close to Bucky now, just inches from his face.

"Captain, I assure you—" The Prince didn't have a chance to finish his statement.

"Boo!" It came out throatier than he intended, but it had the same effect. Steve nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Jeez—" Steve clutched his heart as Bucky laughed. Even the Prince looked amused.

"I see you are feeling well, Mr. Barnes," he crossed his hands behind his back and gave Bucky a nod.

"Thank you for doing this," Steve was quick with his manners. Bucky had the impression that Steve had always been this way.

"As I have told you before, Captain Rogers, it was not an issue," there was the hint of amused exasperation in the Prince's voice now. Bucky was willing to bet that Steve had thanked him half a hundred times already.

"How long has it been?" Bucky asked. This was a critical question, and one that always had gone unanswered in the past.

"One year and three months," the answer came from the Prince.

"One year, three months, and 4 days," Steve rattled off.

"Not bad," the feeling was beginning to return to Bucky's limbs now. He moved to stretch his arms, and then realized that he only had one. It came as a bit of a surprise. All at once the memory rushed back. Tony Stark. Steve's shield and Bucky's arm were still in Siberia for all he knew.

"Where's Stark?" Now that his memory was moving, he was full of nothing but questions. "And your team?" Bucky looked at his friend.

"All in good time, Mr. Barnes," The Prince held up one hand to silence him. "First we will clean you up. Then we will explain. There is much you need to see. And hear."

Steve nodded in agreement. He was still looking at Bucky with that expression of concern.

"Buck, are you seriously all right?" Steve asked him, helping him out of the chamber. The Prince had moved off to talk with a staff member in the corner of the room. The cryo chamber was just as it had been when Bucky went in last year: white, brightly lit and immaculately sterile. It was the complete opposite of the dark, dank room where he had been kept for decades.

"It always takes a minute," with his remaining hand, Bucky gestured to his head. "Things get kind of fuzzy after I go in."

"What do you remember?"

"I remember what happened before I went in this time," Bucky assured his friend. He stood up on his strong legs. There was no atrophy when you were in the chamber. He was as powerful as he had been a year ago.

"Tell me," Steve instructed.

"I was framed." Bucky began, experimentally taking steps around. He half expected to be escorted to the electrical shock chair. The thought sent him into a momentary panic, but he took a deep breath. Focusing on the truth was key here.

"For what?" Steve prompted.

"For something in Vienna…for a bomb." All at once it came back to him. The King. He had been framed for killing the Prince's father.

"But…" Steve egged him on again.

"But…it wasn't me. It was…Zemo. He wanted to frame me…To use me." A sudden glimpse of people screaming and running came to Bucky's mind. "It worked." He had killed again.

"No." Steve was emphatic. "It didn't work. You came back."

"We fought your friends. We fought Stark. I lost my arm. You lost your shield."

Steve swallowed hard, but nodded. "Then?"

"We came here. We came to…Wakanda. With the Prince." Bucky chanced a glance over at the Prince, still standing stoically with his staff. They were combing over what looked like medical charts. Bucky leaned into Steve.

"I don't remember his name," he whispered.

"Who?" Steve looked quizzically around.

Bucky jutted his head in the Prince's direction. Steve's eyes widened.

"The Prince?" he sounded embarrassed. "He's had you all this time and you don't remember—"

"Do you know one of the perks of being both king and protector of this country?" The Prince announced suddenly from across the room. He turned to them. "I have excellent hearing."

Steve flushed red. Bucky spoke up. "Sorry…"

"T'Challa," the Prince supplied.

"T'Challa," Bucky repeated.

"In light of your condition, I think we can agree to let it slide," T'Challa smiled again, but raised an eyebrow. "Now Mr. Barnes, if you would like to clean up, we can meet the others."

"Who else is here?" Bucky asked. He disliked being kept in the dark.

"You'll see." It was Steve's turn to smile. "It took a year Buck, but we figured it out."

"What out?" Bucky was antsy now.

"How to get Hydra out of your head."

Bucky all but sprinted through the process of defrosting. One hot shower, a physical exam by top Wakandan doctors, and a quick stress test later, he was dressed and ready, following Steve and T'Challa's steps through hallways of polished marble. Through the long windows lining the walls, Bucky could see the outside world. It was a contrast to Siberia, to say the least. Shadowy mountains, crowned in clouds, hugged the palace like a protector. He glimpsed waterfalls and streams, steam rising from them with an ominous beauty, and most impressively, large statues of panthers, ebony and gleaming, standing proudly around nearly every corner. All around them, guards moved silently in and out of the shadows. This country had picked the perfect symbol to represent them. Fearless, fierce and proud, the panther embodied the best of Wakanda.

"Do you like it?" T'Challa followed Bucky's gaze.

"Beats Russia for sure," Bucky had to smile. If this was to be his new life, he did not mind beginning it here. Steve seemed to sense his feelings; he glanced backwards at Bucky and grinned.

"T'Challa has been nice enough to let us use his palace as a base."

"You're still an outlaw then?" Bucky felt a pang of guilt.

Steve just shrugged, "Can't make everyone like you."

T'Challa gave a dignified chuckle. "I was under the impression that Mr. Stark was experiencing a change of heart," he said.

"I can never really tell with Tony," Steve offered another shrug.

Bucky stayed silent. He had many opinions about Tony Stark, but he didn't feel now was the time to discuss it. Steve liked him, for whatever reason, and Bucky owed him. It was a debt he wasn't sure he would ever be able to repay.

He remembered then, a memory, just before he deployed for the first time. He and Steve, back when Steve had been several inches shorter and half the weight, watching Stark's father at the World's Fair. Stark had a charisma that Bucky admired. He wondered if his son was the same.

Another memory pushed in: Howard Stark's bloody face and his own silver arm, reaching to snuff the life out of him. Bucky swallowed hard, but neither of his companions seemed to notice. He was becoming adept at disguising his feelings. It was easy to practice; his bad memories were all Bucky had for a long time.

"They should all be assembled," T'Challa halted his long strides in front of a door that looked like it was made from polished obsidian.

"Everyone's excited to see you, Buck" Steve was smiling again. Bucky couldn't imagine who on Earth was left that would be excited to see him.

"Who's—" He got his answer as the doors slid open on their own.

The first face he recognized was that of Sam Wilson. Sam hadn't changed much over the course of the year. His dark hair was still cropped short and neat, his facial hair maintained with the precision of a man who valued appearances, but wasn't overly concerned with him. Sam smiled at Bucky with his wide, easy grin. That small gap between his two front teeth was still there. Bucky found himself grinning back at him.

He hadn't been sure what to make of Sam at first. Perhaps it was jealousy. Steve was like his brother, and here was another man, someone who had been there and supported him while Bucky rotted away in a freezer. Sam was no sidekick, but Steve's partner in the field. It didn't take Bucky long to see why. He was funny, sharp and skilled. There was compassion there too, the kind that Steve valued above anything else. Sam was the only person besides Steve who treated him like a person, not a ticking time bomb or an asset or a danger, but just a friend of a friend.

"I see you're still down an arm," Sam stood up from his seat at the long conference room table. "Now I'll be able to kick your ass twice as fast." There was no malice in his tone.

"I'd like to see you try," Bucky tried to sound tough, but he was already hugging him. Friends were hard to come by. He damn sure wasn't going to pass up quality when he found it.

"Boys, play nicely," A blonde haired head waltzed into Bucky's peripherals. Tall and athletic, with a pleasant, girl next door type face, the woman walked straight up and hugged Bucky the moment Sam moved away.

"It's nice to see you up and moving," Sharon Carter told him. Bucky didn't see much of Sharon's aunt in her as far as appearances went, but in personality, she gave off sparks that he knew well from Peggy. The way Steve was looking at her, Bucky could tell their kiss before battle hadn't been a onetime thing. Good for Steve. He'd never had the easiest time with girls.

"What are you two doing here?" Bucky asked.

"We're all stationed out here. It's a safe place to train and prepare." Steve walked around to the table and took a seat. The rest of them followed his lead. Bucky perched uneasily in his chair. Being down one heavily metaled appendage was effecting his balance.

"It's me, Sharon, Sam, Wanda, Clint and Scott who are here full time," Steve continued. "The last three are on a mission."

"You're still doing the hero thing?" Bucky asked.

"It's kind of our job," Sam answered. "Plus, it passes the time. Who wants to stay cooped up in a palace all day?" he gestured to the impressive room around them.

"We are waiting for one more," T'Challa sat at the head of the table. He gestured to one of the guards. "Would you kindly find Shuri?" he asked. In a second, the guard was off. "She is late, as usual," T'Challa directed this last statement at Steve, who just nodded politely. Sam leaned into Bucky.

"Be prepared," he whispered.

"For what?" Bucky would have felt a lot more prepared with two arms.

"His sister," Sam grinned. Steve shot him a warning look.

"Sam…"

"What? He ought to know. Might save him some face in a few minutes." Sam leaned back in his chair and trained his eyes on the door.

Sharon looked and Steve. "Sam has a point."

Bucky wanted to ask what was so wrong with this Shuri person, but didn't want T'Challa overhearing. It's never a good practice to offend your host.

The door to the conference room opened again. The sound of heels clacking on the tile echoed through the silent room as a woman swept in on stilettos.

"My apologies brother," The new arrival had a woman's voice, but there was nothing girlish in it. Deep and rich, like bourbon, it commanded the room.

"Apologize to our guests, Shuri. I am accustomed to your tardiness." T'Challa stood to greet her.

Bucky was glad for Sam's warning now. He had never seen a woman quite like this, and he had known his fair share of women. Tall and lithe, she had skin that gleamed like polished bronze. She commanded the full attention of all around her in every way, from her hair, dark and wild and curly and swept up on the top of her head, to her black formfitting dress. The closest thing Bucky could liken to her was a picture from his school boy days of an Egyptian queen.

"Perhaps someone should have sent for me when he woke up then," she kissed her brother on the cheek with good humor.

"Silly of me," T'Challa quipped. "I supposed he would not like to see a stranger's face first, but I can see my error now."

Bucky had to agree. Hers was not a face he would have minded seeing. From his right, Sam gave him a nudge and a knowing smile.

"Told you," he mouthed the words at Bucky.

"At last," she swept on long steps back towards the end of the table, "I have the pleasure of meeting the infamous James Barnes." She came to a stop in front of him. At once, Steve and Sam rose to their feet. Bucky stumbled up a moment later. The eyes in front of him were wide and dark, assessing him. He'd been looked at like this before, normally when HYDRA agents were giving him upgrades. This woman took in everything, from his dark brown hair, still long, to his missing arm.

"Mr. Barnes," T'Challa gestured to the woman in front of Bucky, "Allow me to introduce Wakanda's Princess Shuri, my sister. It was she who found a solution to your predicament."

"Would you like to hear it?" she asked him. Bucky felt he was being tested.

"I'm ready to get my life back. I'll do whatever it takes," he answered.

"Well then," Shuri smiled, "Shall we begin?"