Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 32 - Awakening

The days turned into weeks, and I spent most of them by Bucky's side. Shuri and I had grown close during this time, often working late into the night in the lab. She was a breath of fresh air—sharp, kind, and fiercely optimistic. We talked about everything: science, life, and even our dreams. She had become more than just a friend; she was a partner in this journey of bringing Bucky back.

Finally, the day came when Shuri announced that the wake-up protocol would begin. My heart pounded as I stood beside the chamber, watching the ice thaw slowly. The room was filled with a tense silence, each second stretching out into what felt like an eternity.

Bucky's eyes fluttered open, blinking against the light. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, his gaze darting around the room before settling on me. My breath caught in my throat as I saw it—the clarity in his eyes, the recognition.

"Emily...?" His voice was hoarse, confused.

I choked on a sob, tears streaming down my face as I reached out to touch his cheek. "You're safe, Bucky. You're in Wakanda. You're... free."

He blinked again, his brow furrowing as he processed my words. "It feels... different. Like I can breathe again."

My smile was shaky, but it was the truest smile I'd worn in a long time. "That's because you're free. You're really free."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my hand. "You... stayed. You waited for me."

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Shuri had told me this would work, that he would wake up with his mind his own again. But seeing it, feeling his warmth under my fingertips—it was a miracle.

---

Over the next few days, Bucky began to reclaim pieces of himself. He was cautious, every movement tentative as though he feared the fragility of his newfound freedom. Shuri's methods had worked, but the real challenge was helping him believe in this freedom.

I sat with him one afternoon as he gazed out over the Wakandan landscape, the vibrancy of the world a stark contrast to the darkness he'd known for so long. "It's still there," he murmured, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "The memories... the guilt."

I took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I know. But they don't control you anymore. You're not defined by what they made you do, Bucky. You're defined by what you choose to do now."

He turned to me, his eyes searching mine for something—validation, perhaps, or hope. "You make it sound so easy."

I gave him a small smile. "It's not easy. But you don't have to do it alone."

---

During Bucky's recovery, Shuri and I spent countless hours discussing his progress, and our friendship grew deeper. We shared laughs, worries, and the weight of the responsibility we carried. She was brilliant, a guiding light through the dark corridors of uncertainty.

"You two are stronger than you realize," Shuri said one evening as we stood in the lab. "You give him something technology never could—hope."

"And you've given us a chance to build a future," I replied, my voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Shuri."

She smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder. "This is just the beginning, my friend."

---

With each passing day, Bucky's confidence grew. He was still haunted by his past, but there were moments when he allowed himself to be present. Moments when he would smile, laugh even. One day, as we sat watching the Wakandan sunset, he turned to me, a nervous smile on his lips.

"So... about that promise. Do you still want to... go steady?"

I laughed, the sound carrying the weight of relief and joy. "Yes, Bucky. I do. More than anything."

And for the first time, we began to live. We were no longer defined by survival, but by the quiet moments we shared—moments of love, hope, and the simple act of being together.