The Viper || BUCKY BARNES [2]

16 ― The Aftermath

2016 ― Wakanda

Holland Stark was still upset with Steve Rogers.

The ache hadn't dulled, not even a little. He had known—he had known—that she hadn't killed Howard and Maria. He had known how she tormented herself for years over the blackouts, over the nightmare of not knowing what she might have done. And still, he had said nothing.

She wasn't ready to forgive him. But she still went with him. They infiltrated the underwater prison together—Steve, Holland, and a silent Bucky at their side. Clint, Sam, Wanda, and Scott were locked away behind reinforced glass, trapped like criminals when all they had done was stand for what they believed in.

Even if she couldn't look Steve in the eye yet without feeling the sting of betrayal, Holland owed it to them—to her team, to her friends—to get them out. And they did. They broke them out. One by one.

Afterward, when they were safe and regrouped somewhere far from government eyes, Steve took Holland and Bucky to Wakanda. Zemo's confession to framing Bucky for the UN bombing had reached T'Challa's ears, and in the wake of that truth, knowing now that Zemo, not Bucky, had murdered his father, T'Challa extended an offer of sanctuary.

He didn't just offer them safety.

He offered help.

Help for both Holland and Bucky to begin the long, painful process of undoing what HYDRA had carved into their minds. For Holland, the break from the world of constant war and politics was exactly what she needed. She wasn't giving up. She just needed to breathe. But before she could take that step, Steve asked to speak with her.

They stood just outside the Wakandan facility, the air calm, the sun casting a warm hue over the trees. Holland stood with her arms folded across her chest, guarded. Steve's voice was quiet, sincere.

"Holland, I'm sorry... I thought by not telling you and Tony, I was sparing both of you from the pain of the truth, but I realize that I was sparing myself. I know how much you agonized over whether you did it or not, but I didn't know what was worse—letting you stay like that, or telling you that Bucky did it—" Holland didn't let him finish.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. "What are we?" she whispered into his shoulder.

Her throat tightened. She was upset with him. It hurt more than she could say, knowing he'd kept something so important from her. But there was one thing stronger than her anger: her love for him. No matter how betrayed she felt, she could never hold a grudge against Steve Rogers. Not truly. Not in the end.

She didn't know how long she and Bucky would be in Wakanda. But she knew this: she couldn't go back under the cryo-chamber without making sure Steve understood that she didn't hate him. That she never could.

"Family... always," he whispered back.

Holland nodded, her eyes wet. "Family... always." She pulled back just slightly, her hands still resting on his arms. "I know you did what you thought was best in the situation—and best for me. I love you so much, Steve. I really do."

Steve smiled at her, soft and full of unspoken gratitude. "I love you, too, Holly."

Together, they walked back inside.

Bucky was seated near one of the Wakandan doctors, quiet and composed, listening as the doctor explained the process ahead. Holland moved to him without hesitation, sitting down beside him and reaching for his hand.

There were two cryo-ice chambers set up side by side in the Wakandan facility—silent, sterile, and humming with quiet energy. Holland and Bucky sat beside them, a calm but heavy finality settling in the room. The decision hadn't come lightly, but for both of them, it felt like the only way forward. They couldn't keep risking themselves. Or others.

"Are you two sure about this?" Steve asked, his voice laced with concern as he looked between them.

Bucky shook his head slightly, eyes lowered. "I can't trust my own mind," he said quietly. There was no fear in his voice—only a tired honesty.

"Neither can I..." Holland added, her voice just as calm, but rawer. "I've had two blackouts within a year and a half, Steve, that's dangerous. So, until they figure out how to get HYDRA out of our heads... I think going under is the best thing."

Bucky nodded beside her. "For everybody," he said. Then, gently, he turned toward Holland and reached out, laying his hand against her hair. His touch was soft, careful, almost reverent. "I love you," he said.

Her breath hitched, and she leaned into him until their foreheads touched. The world around them seemed to go still. "I love you, too, Buck," she whispered.

And then they kissed—slowly, quietly, like it was the last chance they might ever get. They didn't know how long the Wakandans would keep them under, or if the world would look the same when they woke. So Holland let herself feel every second of it—his warmth, his breath, the tremble beneath her skin as she held onto him.

When they finally pulled apart, she gave a small nod, bracing herself. Together, they turned toward the chambers. They stepped inside. Technicians moved around them in silence, strapping them in with practiced precision. Holland let herself recline fully, her heart racing but steady. She looked up at Steve one last time through the open panel.

"If by some miracle you get in touch with Tony... just let him know, I'm okay," she said softly.

Steve nodded. "I promise," he replied.

Holland smiled faintly—sad, but sure.

And then the chamber began to close around her. She let her eyes drift shut, her body going still as the cold settled in. She exhaled one final breath and surrendered herself to the ice.

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"Thank you for this," Steve Rogers said, his voice low and sincere.

He stood beside King T'Challa in one of Wakanda's upper chambers, the glass wall in front of them casting light across the polished floor. The moment was quiet, but its significance ran deep. In following them to Siberia, T'Challa had uncovered the truth—Bucky hadn't killed his father. Zemo had. And rather than act in vengeance, T'Challa had chosen justice.

He turned Zemo over to the authorities. And then, without hesitation, he allowed Steve to bring both Bucky and Holland to Wakanda.

"Your friends and my father... they were all victims," T'Challa said, his voice calm but heavy. "If I can help your friends find peace..." he trailed off. But Steve didn't need him to finish the thought. The offer was more than enough.

He looked out through the window, his reflection faint in the glass. Below them, nestled between trees and sleek Wakandan structures, lay the chamber holding Holland and Bucky in their suspended sleep. A place far removed from the world that had tried to use them, break them, erase them.

"You know, if they find out they're here... they'll come for them..." Steve said, his voice quiet but honest. The implication was clear. They were all fugitives now—criminals in the eyes of the world. And if the governments knew Holland and Bucky were being sheltered in Wakanda, there would be consequences. Political, global. Dangerous ones.

T'Challa looked back at Steve for a long moment. His expression was unreadable at first—stoic, composed—but when he turned his gaze back toward the window, his voice was filled with certainty.

"Let them try."

THE END

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