Sebastian Stan & Characters Imagines

~Bucky: Waltz (Part 3)~

Word count: 5668

***

It wasn't a shock to you when a full police escort guided the armored vehicles to Berlin. The Joint Counter Terrorist Centre didn't take any chances with security, not only securing everyone within protected vehicles, but having a long trail of police cars on each end of the transport. You knew it was completely overdramatic, you knew who Bucky was now. But, of course, most only saw him for what he was for the past seventy years, not who he had become since the fall of HYDRA.

You sat next to Sam, Steve on his other side and the man who you now knew as T'Challa in front of you. You kept your gaze out the window, trying to ignore the pain in your side while actively avoiding any confrontation with Steve. At that point, you weren't sure how he would ever forgive you for hiding Bucky, and you were even more unsure of wether you deserved his forgiveness. If the worry you felt in that moment for Bucky was only a fraction of what he felt all those years searching, then you couldn't even imagine the pain he had been going through. You knew that if you were in his position, you wouldn't forgive yourself.

"So you like cats?" Sam broke the silence.

"Sam." Steve scolded.

"What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat, you don't wanna know more?" There was a slight bitterness to his words- he was clearly holding a grudge.

There was a pause before Steve spoke.

"Your suit, it's vibranium?

"The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations," T'Challa spoke, "A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father," your  eyes snapped to him at his words, "I also wear the mantle of king. So I ask you, as both warrior and king, how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?"

His voice held a venom that made your blood boil. You were half tempted to scream at him, shouting that Bucky was with you, in Bucharest, the entire time. You wanted to take T'Challa by the shoulders and prove to him how wrong he was, a complete disregard of his feelings in your actions.

But, you didn't. And you wouldn't. Because at the end of the day, T'Challa acted in a way you could imagine yourself reacting to the situation as he saw it. This man had lost his father, watched him die when it was not yet his time. Not only did he have the weight of a new loss on his shoulders, but he also had to walk into a role where he protected a whole group of people, how large you weren't sure, but you assumed that responsibility didn't come without stress. 

Your heart broke for T'Challa, not being able to imagine the pain he had suffered in such a short period of time. In fact, all of the people that surrounded you- Avenger or not- suffered from pain in their own way, and while it is so much easier to act upon pain, you have to be able to step back and provide understanding for rash decisions and impulsive action.

Trauma is one hell of a drug.

Maybe that's why you hid Bucky away without second thought. You had to give him room to feel his pain, so he didn't act out as a result of unprocessed trauma. You only hoped that Steve could see that as well, eventually.

The Joint Counter Terrorist Centre was a modern yet industrial building. In closest comparison, you would say it looked like a Stark-made building, but everyone had been following in Tony's design standards for years, so that wasn't anything new. You exited the van you were transported in behind Steve, your eyes immediately catching the glass cage Bucky was being moved in. It looked like a tank, like he was a caged animal, a spectacle to see. It made you cringe visibly, your lips pulling into a grimace. Steve followed your line of sight, his eyes softening for the first time since he hopped into the passenger side of the car you stole on that Romanian highway, his Captain exterior crumbling instantly when he saw his oldest friend.