#i grew up thinking going to ireland would get me yelled at and cussed at and i would be hated

[lanaevyssmoved]

ireland really is the last redeeming part of europe

[akitalepu]

Some Things Stay the Same (2/2)

Note: This takes place during and right after the bonus scene in Black Panther. This is not a romantic Bucky/Shuri fic.

...

Previously:

Nothing...just, uh, the way you boss the King around. Reminds me of my little sister. Nice to know some things stay the same, is all.” Bucky murmured quietly, staring at his tea.

The princess of Wakanda shifted in her seat, facing the young soldier with very old eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Will you tell me about her?”

Now:

Bucky’s grip tightened on the delicate teacup and his eyes dropped from Princess Shuri’s steady brown gaze.

“You needn’t if it is too difficult—but it may help with the memory recovery process.” she murmured kindly.

Bucky set his teacup down and scrubbed his hand through his face, pushing strands of dark hair away.

“It’s not difficult...to remember her. But we didn’t part on great terms.” He muttered. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

Shuri took a slow sip of ajiri tea and grinned. “The beginning is usually the best place.” Despite himself, Bucky rolled his eyes and a smile slowly crept over his face. Shuri’s eyes danced with mischief as the Winter Soldier melted away and Bucky emerged, his dark blue eyes far away, recalling memories from the early 1900s.

“Well, she was a lot like you, actually. We were close as kids. She was three years younger than me, and stubborn as a mule. Her named was Rebecca. Rebecca Ida Barnes. Everyone called her Becky. Always following me around, bossing me around. Highly competitive—Beck would learn games and then when she lost she’d throw a fit and make up her own rules.” Bucky snickered.

“One time, when my dad was at work, the power went out in a storm. We built a fort out of dry laundry and lit about a dozen candles—I know, I know, but this was a different time—and played cards for hours. Whenever Becky lost she’d blow out all the candles, steal the matches and lock herself in the closet, refusing to come out until I forfeited my winnings which were usually,” Bucky grinned, remembering. “Old peanuts. Dad came home to find us completely in the dark, huddled under the laundry with peanut shells cracked all over the place. He made us sweep up all the crushed shells.”

Shuri shook her head, chuckling, “And where was your mother during all this? Did she scold you, too?”

His grin faded and he grew quiet again. “My mom, she ah, she...passed away two years before that. I was 8. Cancer came quick.”

Shuri kicked herself mentally. Why was she constantly putting her foot in her mouth around this man?! “I’m very sorry, Sergeant Barnes. I can’t imagine losing a parent that early in life.” She murmured softly.

Bucky dipped his head in acknowledgment, long hair covering hooded eyes that were suddenly blurry with hot tears. “Thanks, she was quite a lady, you know? My mom was an immigrant when she came to America.

Her named was Winifred, but everyone called her Winnie. She settled in Hell’s Kitchen with friends first, then moved to Brooklyn when she married my dad.

My ma came from a small village in Ireland. Most everybody there, in that village, was poor and farmed for their livelihood. They all spoke Gaelic first, English second. Ma had a real heavy brogue when she came over. My dad always said he didn’t understand a single thing she said in their first conversation, but he didn’t care because she was so beautiful and kind.” Bucky smiled fondly, remembering many family dinners when his dad had retold the story to he and his little sister. Becky and Bucky would make retching noises as their parents kissed at the end of the familiar story, making moon eyes at each other.

“How did your parents meet?” Shuri asked curiously. “I take it he was not Irish then?”

Bucky snorted. “No, my father was from a well-to-do English family who didn’t care much for religion. My father’s family didn’t approve of him marrying a poor Irish farmgirl with a limited education and devout Catholic beliefs. My dad converted to Catholicism before they married and cut off most ties, except with his sister Ida. My aunt Ida was great. Becky’s middle name came from her. She raised us after my dad died a few years later.”

He continued, “My mom and dad met at the dry cleaner where she worked. He came in to collect his shirts before going to an interview later that day. Mom always said this was an accident, Dad said it was on purpose. She was ringing him up at the register when she knocked over a small pile of change. They both bent down to pick it up at the same time, and knocked heads. Well, my dad’s nose started bleeding a lot from the impact and she was apologizing profusely and also happened to knock over a flower vase as she was apologizing. So, my dad’s nose is bleeding, my mom’s frantically trying to dry his shirts of flower water with a few tissues and apologizing in a mix of Gaelic and English. When my mom noticed how much blood there was, she went white as a sheet and fainted.”

At this point, Shuri was crying silently with laughter. “However did your father ask your mother on a date when he’d made the poor woman faint?!”

He laughed aloud. “Well, he called an ambulance and they ended up in the hospital next to each other. When my mother woke up, she was disoriented and was confused as to why a man in a fancy suit with a bloody nose was trying to shake her awake to apologize—so she started screaming like a banshee and cursing him in Gaelic.”

“Once she calmed down and realized what was happening, they both apologized to each other. It took him two months to work up the courage and go back to the dry cleaner’s to ask her on a date.” Bucky smiled fondly.

“Becky was a lot like her. Smart as a whip, but kind, too. One time, she caught some guys in the neighborhood kicking a homeless guy. Without even thinking, Becky ran full-throttle down the street and began beating the ever-living daylights outta guys six inches taller than her. She was all of 15, then. I think they were more startled by the tiny girl screaming Gaelic curses at them, but they never bothered that guy again.

She even helped Steve out of some scrapes even though Dad, Ida and I forbade her to. Becky never listened.

She never outgrew her competitive edge. Beck was always the first in everything. She learned how to ride her bike before me, how to drive before me—hell, how to drink before me, too. My sister was the top of her class and the first woman in our family to attend college.” Bucky smiled proudly. “Next to Steve, she was my best friend. And the only one to call me James, even if it was only when she was angry with me.” He smiled a little at the memory. Becky was a whirlwind, quick to action and judgment and unrelenting in voicing her opinions. Bucky privately thought she would’ve gotten along great with Peggy Carter.

He closed his eyes. Bucky thinks about what life would’ve been like, after the war, sometimes. Becky would marry the pediatrician she’d been sweet on in college—Dr. Proctor. Bucky would be best man at Steve and Peggy’s wedding. He’d walk Becky down the aisle at her wedding, trying not to cry and failing as she rolled her eyes and smiled fondly at her big brother, the sap.

The couples would visit each other on the weekend, have barbecues in the summer and Bucky would hold nieces and nephews in one arm, carefully, lovingly. They’d never go to war again.

He’d be the fun uncle, bring them candy and too many presents on Christmas and shoot off fireworks with them on Steve’s birthday, the fourth of July. Peggy and Becky would yell at Bucky and the kids, warning him not to lose his other arm. “SO HELP ME, JAMES!” they’d shout in tandem and Proctor and Steve would snicker behind paper cups of lemonade as Bucky rolled his eyes and the kids would scream with delight as they sprinted every which way with sparklers. Bucky would look at them all—Becky and Steve, Proctor and Peggy and all the kids, his nieces and nephews and though he’d be missing an arm, he’d have all he needed, right infront of him. Safe, from everything, watching colors dance in the sky—

“—Sergeant Barnes? Bucky?” Shuri was shaking him slightly by the shoulders. Bucky snapped out of his daydream.

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. “I was thinking about what life might’ve been like, if the war had turned out...differently for me. For Steve.”

Shuri scrutinized him with concern. He had been doing this left often, but he still had these moments, often lasting up to half an hour, where he would stare vacantly, morosely at the distance. Shuri knew his mind was half a century and a world away during these times.

“I see...you mentioned that you weren’t on good terms when you left for the war. What happened?” She hesitated slightly but had to know if there was something missing. There was an unresolved pain he was holdng back, not mentioning.

Bucky tipped his head toward the mid-morning sky, soft with clouds. His eyebrows scrunched painfully, remembering her last words as though it had been yesterday. “Becky...she yelled and screamed and threw things when I told her I was leaving to go to war, with Steve. She said...she said if I left, voluntarily, she would never speak to me again. Not even if I came back in a box.”

Shuri looked at him in horror.

Bucky opened his eyes and blinked at the sun. “You have to understand—Becky was afraid. Young men—boys, a lot of them, were going overseas and not coming back. We’d already lost our mother and father. Aunt Ida was getting on in years.

There would be enough money for Becky to continue college and even get her own place if she wanted after graduation until she found a job, but she cussed at me and told me it wasn’t the money she was worried about.

Becky was terrified of losing me. I was scared, too, of all the dangers she’d face when she left for college, since it was several states away. I kept imagining her getting lost—she had the worst sense of direction—or God forbid anything worse! I couldn’t protect her at college. I begged her to relocate closer, go to a college near home. But, she insisted on her independence. Still, she didn’t have anybody keeping an eye on her. I didn’t sleep for a week after she left until Steve talked me down from my hysteria. He and Ida both sat me down and told me I had to stop worrying or I’d ruin my health. After that, Beck and me chatted every Sunday, no matter what. It helped a lot.

Things were pretty serious with her beau, Proctor, at that point when I enlisted, but they weren’t going to get married until after college, at least. He was going to propose with my mother’s ring—I gave it to him. He promised to take care of her, and by the look in his eyes, I knew he was serious. But, she wouldn’t forgive me for following Steve into war.” Bucky’s eyes slipped shut again, his hand now gently circling the teacup. The tea was cold and stale now. “I assume that after I ‘died’ they informed her. But I don’t know for sure. I’ve never checked.”

Shuri sat quietly. “She thought you abandoned her.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve never even tried to trace—“

“No.” Bucky’s voice was quiet, but firm. “That part of my life is over now.”

Shuri’s shoulders drooped with disappointment. She could easily track down records, family history, where Becky might be now, where her children or grandchildren might be, if she had married Proctor or not, but instead of mentioning all this to Sergeant Barnes, who was likely thinking the same thing, Shuri merely rose and mentioned, “Becky sounds like a remarkable woman. Thank you for telling me about her, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Sure,” Bucky smiled a little, the corners of his mouth finally turning up again. “She would’ve liked you.”

Shuri grinned. “I’ll make some more tea. Would you like a new cup?”

“Any chance of that coffee?”

coffee?”

“...Very well. One cup. For another story.” Shuri walked away quickly to brew another pot for herself and coffee for the Winter Soldier, who snorted quietly in the background.

...

One week later:

Bucky returned to his small room, exhausted after a day of learning more about Wakanda’s history and language, his therapy sessions and a baffling session where the princess tried to explain Vine compilations to him.

On his nightstand, there was a steaming cup of tea and a simple manila folder with the words, “Rebecca Ida Barnes Proctor” typed on the front.

A short note from Shuri read,

“Sergeant Barnes-

Thank you for all the stories. I hope this can fill in some of the missing chapters.

Best,

-Shuri”

Bucky sighed deeply. The kid never really gave up. With tentative hope, Bucky opened the folder and began to read about the past. And for the first time in seventy years, he wasn’t afraid to look at those old chapters and see what he missed.