May. 20th, 2017

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Waking up from stasis was horribly familiar. It'd been so many times, and it was so familiar. He was aware before he could start to move his body, staring through the crack of his barely open eyelids. It took him only a few moments to realize he wasn't under the fog of programming, that the light outside was white and clear, not a dingy yellow or green.

Wakanda. He's in Wakanda.

Bucky sighed a little, then closed his eyes fully. He was safe, here. They must have figured out how to get rid of the programming, then. He opened his eyes again, just a little, as the light against his eyelids got brighter, and the voices of the people outside grew clearer, and louder. "James," was the first word he really understood, that his mind could process. His body was still heavy with the drugs and chill, but the hands on him were warm, steadying him. "James, can you hear me?" He nodded, as much as he could, and one of the hands retreated, only to come back a few seconds later. "Good. Just lay back. You are safe, but you are still under, we will wait for your strength to return before we move you." How considerate, to not just haul him out and drag him to the chair. 

He blinked, blearily, trying to move his hands - hand. 

But as he laid there, not only did the ability to move come back, but also his senses - not only his vision, but his hearing, and his sense of smell. And though there was the sterile, antiseptic scent that was so prominent, there was also another scent, one equally familiar, but much more welcome. "Steve?" he asked, turning his head and opening his eyes fully for the first time, looking for his best friend, his packmate. 

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James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes

August 2023

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