Ayo speaks the words, watching him closely, her spear ready in case the deprogramming didn't take. Instinctively, he feels the heartbeat of who he used to be — what he used to be. His eyes focus on the flames in front of him, ignoring the heat prickling his skin. Bucky pushes back as fear and dread flood his chest. He feels like he wants to be sick. It's hard to swallow. Tears sting his eyes. Memories flood back, overwhelming him. His body readies itself to fight, to bend to Ayo's will and the will of the words so precisely punching him in the gut.
"Semnadtsat."
"It's not going to work."
"Rassvet."
The flashbacks are quick, intense, bold, and bright as she continues listing off the words. His body is flooded with a hundred emotions all at once. Pain, grief, regret, sorrow. Rage. His throat closes and Bucky finds himself gasping for breath, choking on his tears and his own fear as Ayo speaks the last word.
Freight car.
Nothing happens.
Bucky gasps, bringing his fist up to his lips and biting down on his knuckles. He looks up at Ayo. She smiles.
"You are free." She takes a deep breath. "You are free."
For eighty years, he's been crawling through darkness, following orders, not knowing who he was. Now, he can see the exit of this horrifying tunnel and all he has to do is reach out. He owes it all to Ayo. To Wakanda. They took a chance on him. They knew what kind of a risk he was and they saved him anyway. Bucky begins to sob as eighty years of grief courses through him like rushing water.
And then relief. Joy.
He knows who he is and who he's always been.
His eyes pop open and he looks at the clock. 5:15am. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, willing himself to go back to sleep while Shannon snores softly beside him. After ten minutes, Bucky rolls out of bed. Alpine is already awake, perched on the dresser and staring at him. He dresses and scoops her up while Ace takes his spot on the bed and snuggles in beside Shannon.
"Let's let them sleep," Bucky whispers as he carries her downstairs. Sam's door is still closed, as is Janice and George's. Bucky heads to the truck to grab Alpine's food out of the back and feeds her on the porch. He looks in the shed for some tools and some WD40 and fixes the creaky back door before making some coffee for himself. As he leans against the counter, he closes his eyes. Alpine snakes around his ankles in a figure eight, mewling softly. George's voice interrupts him.
"Found the coffee maker, did you?"
"Yeah," he laughs. "I hope you don't mind."
George smiles at him.
"Not at all, son. As long as you made enough for everyone."
"Of course. You want a cup?"
"Sure."
Bucky grabs him a mug and pours him a generous cup while George grabs the paper off of the front porch. He tries not to watch the man obsessively or meddle in his morning routine. He seems lucid as he slaps the paper gently down on the kitchen table and opens it up.
"So Shannon tells me you're from New York."
"Yes sir. Born and raised in Brooklyn."
"Never been to New York," George says nonchalantly.
Bucky frowns and turns to a photo on the fridge of Janice, George, and Shannon that was clearly taken in Central Park. He doesn't press it.
"Were you born here?" Bucky asks.
"Yep!" George chirps. "Been here almost my entire life — except when I was serving in Vietnam."
"Shannon said you did two tours?"
"That's right."
Bucky is quiet for a moment.
"Do you miss it?"
He doesn't really know why he asks. There are days when he misses combat - the thrill, the sound of the blood roaring in his ears. He doesn't miss being brainwashed, but one of the reasons why he joined the army was to find something to do that would make his adrenaline rush — and if he got to fight for his country in the same breath, all the better.
George looks up at him, considering the question and takes a sip of his coffee.
"Sometimes. My mind was much clearer back then." He smiles. "Don't waste your youth, son. It disappears faster than you'd think."
Bucky wants to laugh, to tell him the truth. He feels the same kind of comfort around George that he feels around Yori. George understands what it's like - on some level. Bucky nods.
"I won't, sir. I promise."
"Oh, you don't have to call me sir. I'm not your sergeant."
"Old habit, sir — I mean... George."
George smirks and puts his paper down. He takes his glasses off and rests them beside him.
"You can call me dad if you want. Janice mentioned that your parents have passed."
Bucky nods.
"If you need us," George replies. "We're always here."
Why is everyone being so nice to him? He's not used to this.
"Thank you," Bucky whispers. "You two should come out to Brooklyn some time."
"That'd be nice."
"What would be nice?" Janice asks as she floats into the kitchen fully dressed. Bucky suddenly feels incredibly out of place in his sweats and a t-shirt. She pats him on his metal arm. "Morning, Bucky."
"Morning. I was just saying that it would be nice for the both of you to come and visit us in Brooklyn."
"We were there last year! We went all over New York with Shannon and took that beautiful picture in Central Park!" Janice replies.
"No, we didn't," George argues.
Janice grabs the picture off of the fridge and puts it down on the table in front of him.
"Yes, we were, dear. Don't you remember?"
He picks it up and holds it close, squinting. Bucky can see the struggle to remember. He can relate in some small way. He knows what it's like to be terrified of your own memories - of losing them, keeping them, and wanting some of them to disappear completely. After a few minutes, George shrugs. Bucky sees defeat in his face. He clears his throat.
"I guess so."
Janice tacks the photo back up on the fridge. Bucky smiles at her.
"There's coffee, Janice."
"Oh, aren't you a doll!" She gushes, pinching his cheek lightly as she passes. "I'm going to start breakfast in about half an hour."
They hear a shriek and laughter from upstairs followed by apologies and more laughter. Sam and Shannon come stumbling down the steps, leaning on each other, doubled over and red in the face. Bucky grins.
"What happened?"
"Sam heard me humming as I walked by his room and decided to scare the shit out of me," Shannon chuckles.
"It was a good one!" Sam replies. "I got her so good, Buck. She scares easy."
Janice chuckles and shakes her head.
"I didn't expect all of you up so early."
"Well, I slept great," Sam says stretching his arms around and grinning. He looks at Shannon and Bucky and flashes them a knowing grin. They both flush and Bucky sips at his coffee. Silently, he begs Sam not to say anything else.
"What about you two?" Janice asks.
"G — great! Yeah, great!" Bucky replies with slightly too much enthusiasm. "The bed was great. Very soft."
Shannon sneaks past him to grab a mug and leans over, pressing her lips to his earlobe.
"Smooth," she breathes.
He flushes harder. Janice doesn't seem to notice, but Sam won't stop smiling at them. Bucky glares. Janice busies herself by taking pans, dishes, and ingredients out of the cupboard. She swears softly under her breath and puts her hands on her hips. Shannon sips at her coffee.
"What's up, momma?"
"I forgot to buy flour. I was going to make pancakes."
"We'll go into town!" Shannon glances at Sam and narrows her eyes. "The three of us."
Sam stifles laughter and drinks his coffee to hide his smile.
"Oh, could you? There's some money in my purse."
"I got it, mama," Shannon reassures her. "Don't worry about it. Anything else you need?"
"More butter — oh, and can you pick up some steak and some shrimp for dinner tonight?"
"Sure. Shall we get dressed and head out, boys?"
Sam and Bucky nod and the three of them head upstairs to get dressed. Ace runs downstairs for food when Janice jingles his food dish. Shannon laughs as she tugs her jeans on.
"So Sam knows what we were up to."
"Probably because of Redwing."
"What's Redwing?"
"This little drone he has. I hate it. It has heat detection. I'm pretty sure he heard me coming down the stairs and saw me running to the barn to follow you."
"Should have told him to leave his suit at home."
"He's incapable of doing that," Bucky laughs.
Shannon giggles and wraps her arms around him, kissing him gently. Bucky bites down on her bottom lip and tugs. She moans into his mouth, her fingers dancing along his chest.
"Bucky," she warns.
He tugs a little harder and slides his tongue against hers. Shannon gasps, kissing him back with a beautiful intensity that matched their passion in the barn last night. His fingers glide beneath her shirt to pinch her nipples. Shannon moans as his lips dance up and down her neck.
"You're a tease," she whispers. "You know we have to go."
"Let me have this," he purrs.
"Guys, come on!" Sam announces.
They part and she sighs.
"You really are a tease."
"I didn't do that!" Bucky protests. "That was all Sam!"
"You knew we had to go and you did the lip bite thing and your hand is still on my boob."
"Do you want me to take it off?"
"Only because you have to," she smirks.
Bucky gives her a quick kiss.
"I'll make it up to you tonight." He grins. "Or maybe I'll tease you some more."
"You're terrible."
"I know."
"HEY!" Sam yells. "I can hear you whispering!"
"We're coming out!" Shannon laughs.
She grabs Bucky's hand and they emerge from the bedroom. Sam arches an eyebrow.
"Am I interrupting something?"
"Like you were last night?" Shannon quips.
"That wasn't me!" Sam protests. "That was Redwing."
"You control Redwing," Bucky replies.
Sam sighs and laughs.
"Look, all I saw was Bucky running to the barn and your bedroom was empty, so I just assumed that you two were doing the nasty in the barn. I went right back to sleep after that."
Shannon punches Sam in the shoulder and shakes her head.
"And you wonder why Bucky gets frustrated with you."
"Ha!" Bucky cackles. "See? She's defending me! You are annoying!"
"Just this once," Shannon replies.
Sam grins as they jog down the stairs.
"Mama, we're heading out! Be back in about an hour!"
"All right, dear!"
"You sure you don't need anything else?"
"Nope!"
"Okay!"
She turns to Sam and Bucky.
"We'll take my parent's truck."
"Fill it up before you bring it back!" George shouts.
"Yes, daddy!"
They step outside into the thick Kansas heat. Bucky sighs.
"Should I get my jacket?"
"You mean that big leather one you insist on wearing in the dead of summer?" Sam asks. "No, Buck. Let those arms breathe."
"Are you sure?"
"Bucky, nobody is going to care," Shannon replies. "This whole town is filled with retirees and war vets. They probably won't even notice."
"All right," he mumbles as they get into the car.
Sam yells shotgun and runs for the front seat next to Shannon. Bucky crams himself into the back and jumps when he hears Ace's paws thump against the metal. Shannon lets him in and he crawls into the back with Bucky.
"It feels like I should be the one in front," Bucky grumbles.
Sam sighs.
"Buck, the rules of shotgun are very simple. I see the car, I call shotgun, I get the front seat."
"That's not a thing. You made that up."
"It's a thing," Shannon and Sam say in unison.
"Just because they didn't have it a hundred years ago doesn't mean it's not a thing now," Sam teases.
Bucky huffs and rolls his eyes while Ace sits beside him, panting in his face. He turns to the dog and frowns.
"Your breath is terrible."
Ace doesn't seem to have a single thought in his head as he looks out the window. Bucky shifts in his seat, trying to get enough space for his legs.
"Sam, can you move your seat up?"
Sam turns around, a massive grin on his face, and shakes his head slowly.
"I hate you," Bucky mumbles.
"Boys!" Shannon barks. "No fighting! Sam, move your seat up."
"But he —"
"Sam!" Shannon scolds.
Bucky sees Sam roll his eyes in the rearview mirror and the seat slides forward half an inch. Bucky growls.
"Really?"
"I moved it, didn't I?"
"Shannon!"
"Both of you stop or I'm going into town by myself."
"How far is town?" Bucky asks.
"Half an hour."
He nods and frowns.
"My knees hurt."
Sam laughs.
"You know, for a Super Soldier, you're a pretty big baby."
"Shut up," Bucky grumbles.
Shannon sighs.
"I swear to God, you two..."
"We'll be good," Sam laughs. "At least I will."
Shannon sighs.
"Not sure I believe you." She turns the music on. "If either of you start arguing, this gets louder."
Bucky grimaces. She doesn't usually listen to this. It's loud and chaotic. He rubs his ear.
"What the hell is this? It sounds like noise."
"It's punk!" Shannon shouts. "You don't like it?"
"He likes old people music!" Sam shouts. "This is cool, though! Is this Black Flag?"
"Hell yeah!" Shannon shouts, high-fiving Sam.
They sail down the road and Bucky slowly begins to nod his head up and down as he stares out the window. Maybe this isn't so bad. It's a little loud, but he's starting to get a handle on the beat.