James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
make_it_hurt) wrote2023-08-24 08:32 pm
make_it_hurt) wrote2023-08-24 08:32 pm
Closed to [Aliit_be_tad]
He honestly hadn't been expecting the invite back to Wakanda. After everything, he figured there wasn't a place for him anymore. He'd been allowed to be there in the first place because of T'Challa, and then there had been Thanos, and the blip, and then--- Well. He hadn't been waiting for an invitation.
But Shuri had extended one to him anyways. He had finished all his mandated therapy, had made his "amends", had done everything needed to keep him out of a prison cell the rest of his life (and he would have done almost anything to not end up back in a box), and she had turned up at his apartment. His small, underfurnished apartment. And he had just... agreed. He didn't have anywhere else to go. Sam was busy being Captain America, and he was honestly tired of being the sidekick for a while.
Packing took him only minutes, he hadn't yet gotten out of the habit of being ready to pick up and go within seconds, and then they were on their way.
The children in the village were older now, but they still knew him. They showed him the offspring of his goats, gave him back his walking stick, and Shuri had left him there.
It was nice. He could go days without thinking to check his phone, rising and sleeping with the sun, spending long hours sitting on the hillside. Nightmares came, but they also went. There was nothing around him to make them stick, no blaring car horns or flickering street lamps. There was, occasionally, the buzz of jets going overhead, but they were infrequent, this was a calm place of the country with little traffic.
Of course, it couldn't last. It never lasted.
Three months into restful nights and tiring days, he was startled out of his daydreaming by the loud, unfamiliar roar of an engine overhead. It was flying very low, and looked like no plane or jet he had seen before in Wakanda. Was it even Wakandan? It didn't look like it should have been able to fly.
Bucky stood, shading his eyes from the sun. The jet was losing altitude quickly, and the goats were bleating in panic. He whistled to send the village's herding dog after them before they ran into the bush and got lost, then turned to one of the children that had run after the noise. "Get inside," he told her. "Tell everybody to bring the animals in. I'll check it out."
It might be a new jet from another country still wanting to try to claim Wakanda for itself. Or it could be an alien, apparently those were getting more and more common all the time. Either way, he was the only one around equipped to handle it. Any military could arrive quickly, but he was here.
Bucky started off at a jog down the hill in the direction of the sleek metal ship, herding stick in hand.
But Shuri had extended one to him anyways. He had finished all his mandated therapy, had made his "amends", had done everything needed to keep him out of a prison cell the rest of his life (and he would have done almost anything to not end up back in a box), and she had turned up at his apartment. His small, underfurnished apartment. And he had just... agreed. He didn't have anywhere else to go. Sam was busy being Captain America, and he was honestly tired of being the sidekick for a while.
Packing took him only minutes, he hadn't yet gotten out of the habit of being ready to pick up and go within seconds, and then they were on their way.
The children in the village were older now, but they still knew him. They showed him the offspring of his goats, gave him back his walking stick, and Shuri had left him there.
It was nice. He could go days without thinking to check his phone, rising and sleeping with the sun, spending long hours sitting on the hillside. Nightmares came, but they also went. There was nothing around him to make them stick, no blaring car horns or flickering street lamps. There was, occasionally, the buzz of jets going overhead, but they were infrequent, this was a calm place of the country with little traffic.
Of course, it couldn't last. It never lasted.
Three months into restful nights and tiring days, he was startled out of his daydreaming by the loud, unfamiliar roar of an engine overhead. It was flying very low, and looked like no plane or jet he had seen before in Wakanda. Was it even Wakandan? It didn't look like it should have been able to fly.
Bucky stood, shading his eyes from the sun. The jet was losing altitude quickly, and the goats were bleating in panic. He whistled to send the village's herding dog after them before they ran into the bush and got lost, then turned to one of the children that had run after the noise. "Get inside," he told her. "Tell everybody to bring the animals in. I'll check it out."
It might be a new jet from another country still wanting to try to claim Wakanda for itself. Or it could be an alien, apparently those were getting more and more common all the time. Either way, he was the only one around equipped to handle it. Any military could arrive quickly, but he was here.
Bucky started off at a jog down the hill in the direction of the sleek metal ship, herding stick in hand.
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Okay. So the space knight with the laser gun was coming towards him while also speaking complete gibberish. It didn't sound close to anything he had ever heard before. Even Asgardian had the slight ring of some Scandinavian in it. This was... nothing.
So either the mysterious knight - with a distinctly masculine tone to his voice - was an actual alien from somewhere totally different to all the other aliens Bucky knew about, or he was thoroughly concussed and not making sense anyways.
No matter which option, though, he couldn't let this continue. He stepped out from the relative cover of the tree, left hand out. "Stay right there," he said, shifting his grip on the stick in his left hand. It was a pretty poor weapon against a laser gun, but it would also be a pretty poor weapon against a sword, so whatever. He could still crack a head open with it.
Shuri could really show up any time, that would be fantastic. "I really don't want to have to fight a man with a laser gun not wearing any armor, so please just stay back," he said more quietly, more to himself than the other person.
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Bucky didn't recognize him.
Any further steps Din had been considering taking towards Bucky were immediately aborted. He held up his free hand in the kind of gesture you'd use to try to calm an angry bantha. His heart was thundering in his chest, it was all he could do to keep his voice steady.
"Hey, easy. Bucky, it's me. It's me." He said, slowly holding his blaster to the side, muzzle pointed away from them both, fingers clearly away from the trigger. "I'm not going to fight you. You know that. See? I'm holstering my weapon."
Carefully, slowly, with no sudden movements, he slid the blaster home into its holster. Bucky may have been unarmed, but he knew the man enough to know he was far from helpless. The hot sun was gleaming off of Bucky's beskar arm. He'd sparred against him enough times to know he doesn't want to face it on more serious terms.
"I need you to speak Basic-- tell me what's going on. How did--"
Whatever he was going to say was cut off when his visor flickered again, fritzing out on him for a second before clearing into a warning of an in-coming craft. Something was headed their way.
He turned suddenly, following the beeping dot on his visor's display. He firmly put himself between whatever was on its way and Bucky, taking a step back towards him and holding one arm out to the side, as if to shield him. The other hovered near his blaster, ready to draw at a moment's notice.
"Something's coming. Your helmet-- before the get here."
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He stopped. Not only did he stop, but the space knight lifted his other hand in the clearest "I surrender". Combined with the way he gently eased the gun back into its holster at his hip had Bucky reconsidering.
The man knew his name, he caught it in the jumble of unfamiliar words again. That was definitely, again, "Bucky".
Bucky lowered his left hand, just a little. Maybe there was no threat here. He didn't know how the man knew him, but clearly he did. His tone had shifted as well, going low and--concerned? Just who was he supposed to be?
He had just started to relax (just a fraction! The laser gun was just holstered, it wasn't actually out of his grip) when he heard the distant sound of a jet, at the same moment the knight's head turned.
He was also definitely not expecting the man to move to put himself between the incoming jet and him, one arm out.
Protecting him.
Suddenly, he didn't want Shuri to show up.
Bucky considered the jet, and the down ship behind him, and the space knight in front of him. In front of him, turning his back like Bucky had his full trust. Like he somehow knew or believed Bucky wasn't about to attack him.
But why?
Slowly he moved towards the man, hands still raised and open. "Hey. It's alright. It's just Shuri." Hopefully. He put himself directly between the knight and the rapidly descending jet, then reached out to curl his left hand around the man's right wrist, keeping him from drawing the gun.
This close, he could really see the metal of the helmet, and the thick black glass. How could he see out of it? If he was from space, shouldn't he have a space suit on? "Don't try to attack anybody. You know me, right? Let me handle this." He tried to give his tone confidence and authority.
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He went to turn to look behind him to see if Bucky was finding his beskar’gam, but was cut short by the man moving in front of him and wrapping his beskar hand around Din’s wrist. None of Bucky’s armor was in sight, and it was rapidly sinking in that it may not be anywhere within reach, and Bucky had no intention of finding it.
The words Bucky was speaking was little more than gibberish, but he could read the tone in them and in his actions. Bucky was telling him to stand down. To trust him.
Everything since he landed had been nothing but wrong, but standing this close, looking into this man’s eyes— he had to trust him. He hated everything about this, especially not knowing a karking thing of what was going on, but whatever else was going on, he still trusted Bucky. It was definitely, positively a stupid thing to do. But he had to go with his gut.
Din nodded reluctantly, forcing some of the tension out of his stance. He was still ready if something went sideways, but he was clearly less primed to jump into a firefight. He let out a deep huff of a sigh, turning to look towards the descending ship. His guts twisted, knowing it was too late for Bucky’s helmet now. Whoever was in the ship was close enough to see his face now. It took everything not to try to push Bucky behind him again, give him some chance to cover his face— he could worry about Bucky’s Creed after. He had to remind himself of the Redemption his riduur could seek, the Living Waters— what was more important right now was the here and now. They’d figure the rest out together— like they always did.
“You better be right about this.” He muttered more to himself than to anyone else, the vocoder stealing away some of the edginess in his voice.
The ship landed not far from them, the wind whipping Din’s dark red cape behind him. His display flickered again, unable to get a good read-out of what he was about to be dealing with. He knew Bucky had (probably) told him to stand down, but he found himself tensing again in the anticipation of whatever was going to step out of it. He had never seen a ship like that before, but it clearly wasn’t meant for off-world travel. If he had the luxury, he’s sure he would have loved to take all the time in the world to examine that ship and find out exactly how it works— but there were obviously more important things to worry about right now.
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Bucky kept his hand on the man's wrist as the jet touched down lightly, turning so he could see it more clearly. Okoye might take action and wait for answers later, but Shuri would assess the situation first.
His grip tightened, a little, just to make sure the knight kept his hand far clear of his laser gun, and they waited for the hatch to open in the back.
"Everything's okay!" He called as soon as he could. "I think, anyways." Somehow.
It was Shuri that stepped out first. She was wearing the Black Panther suit, minus the helmet. He knew she had managed to both recreate and take the heart-shaped herb, and was as much the Black Panther as her brother had been, but it still felt like a shock to see her wearing the suit.
"He's not aggressive. For some reason, he thinks he knows me. He called me by my name."
Bucky glanced back at the man, then again to Shuri.
"Then you both have a lot of explaining to do," she said, and her voice was hard in a way he didn't expect. "Because your friend there is wearing vibranium."
Vibranium? The word didn't register for a moment. He turned to look back at the knight, took in the metal plates. If that was vibranium... Where the fuck had he gotten so much?
Slowly, as if to prove it, Bucky let go of the man's wrist, then lightly tapped his arm against the armor on the knight's shoulder. The sound of vibranium on vibranium was clear and ringing.
"Well, if it helps, he might be an alien?" He asked, turning back to Shuri. "He doesn't speak a language I've ever heard."
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His head was still throbbing, everything hurt from the brutal crash landing, but Din kept his breathing steady and slow, carefully watching the situation unfold and piecing together what he could. Which, honestly, wasn’t that much. Bucky seemed to be trying to.. assure the strangers. Probably that Din wasn’t a threat, or wouldn’t put up a fight. Whatever he was saying seemed to be working for the most part, since din hadn’t had any weapons pointed in his face yet— possibly the first good thing to happen since he crashed in the hyperlane. That was still bothering him, but there just wasn’t enough time to figure out what went wrong. His ship was still smoldering not far away, but it definitely wasn’t about to go anywhere anytime soon.
Bucky let go of his wrist, and for a brief moment he felt a wave of relief, as if things were headed in the right direction (not to mention he was free to grab his blaster if he needed it)— only for Bucky to tap his hand to Din's pauldron. The clear ring of beskar on beskar sounded through the air. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he was instantly on alert, looking between his pauldron, Bucky, and the strangers.
They were talking about his beskar'gam. Judging by the satisfied look on both women's faces, it was confirmation of something.
None of this was looking good, and as much as he itched to put his blaster in his hand, he forced his rising emotions down. Despite the efforts Bucky made to put himself between Din and the newcomers, he couldn't just stand by mute. He took a step forward, shoulders squared, partially blocking Bucky from the potential threats without thinking.
“I need someone who can speak Basic.” He said as clearly as he could, watching carefully for the first sign of hostility. “B a s i c.” He repeated, sounding the word out slow and deliberately, as if somehow that would make it more understandable to a bunch of aliens.
—
Okoye took a step forward to match the alien’s, planting her spear down firmly next to Shuri, leveling her best threatening glare. Shuri raised her wrist and a hologram display hovered above it, Griot’s latest interface, the sound waves of the alien language fluctuating in the air as the AI processed the sound.
<< Attempting to activate interpretation. No match for language found. >>
“Griot, include Asgardian language database in search.” She said, keeping her eyes on the— space knight. Oh yeah, it was definitely some sort of space knight situation. She had seen weirder things, but space knights wearing Vibranium armor? Not so much.
<< Already done, still no match found. >>
“Whoever you are, you are trespassing into Wakanda territory. You are clearly injured,” She shifted her wrist and the display flipped to show vital signs— the alien’s vitals. Heartrate erratic, signs of injury, blood loss— though, who really knew what these meant for the alien. But after a crash landing like that? Even in a full suit of Vibranium, there was bound to be some damage. “If you want our help, you will disarm and cooperate.”
If he knew Bucky, then there was a chance he’d understand English, right?
—
Din listened closely to the words, watched the holoscreen, but none of it made sense. It took him a little longer than it should have to realize that the spiking and dipping line on the holo was his heart beat. Dank farrik.
He glanced between the two women, then held his hands up slightly in a peaceful gesture.
“Can you speak Huttese?” He asked in Hutt. No response.
“What about— About Jawaese? Jawa Trade?” He said haltingly in what little Jawa he knew. Nope, still nothing.
“Ubese?” Nothing, nothing, nothing.
He tried the guttural Tusken, gesturing as he spoke. That managed to get a surprised look, but not any different from the look anyone who’d never heard it would have. The holoscreen looked like it was scanning his words, but apparently no matches found. He assumed that was what it was, a translation program of sorts.
The woman who was clearly in charge looked at Bucky, “Did you understand any of that? It sounds like he’s trying to find a common language.”
It was complete gibberish, again. Din looked back at Bucky, grasping at straws. If he didn’t remember how to speak Basic, it was a long shot, but he had to try at least.
“Gar partaylir Mando’a? Partaylir mayen?”[1]
[1] You remember Mando’a? Remember anything>
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Bucky felt like they all moved on from the Vibranium question too quickly. What did it mean, that he was wearing plates of Vibranium as armor? Shuri had mentioned something about another fragment of the meteor that had landed in the ocean halfway around the world from them. Was the space knight one of them? Surely Griot would have been able to translate his language, then, right? Or was he really from space. Did they have Vibranium in space? Was that why his space ship was so small?
He wasn't a tech guy and wasn't all that into sci-fi (he had plenty of other things to catch up on besides watching even more Star Trek) but would think you would need something bigger to travel through space.
Shuri talked to the knight - like he could understand her, but hadn't they established that he can't understand them, or them him? And then she displayed a readout, and surely all that red was bad, even for an alien. How injured was he? How much impact had the vibranium taken, and still left him hurt? Steve's shield barely felt a barrage of bullets, and the knight had survived a space ship crash while wearing it.
He stood there, the world spinning entirely too fast, while the conversation, somehow, moved on without him. Shuri told the knight to disarm, and in response, the knight spoke first in one language, and then several others in quick succession including one that was a strange, guttural cry accompanied by hand signals.
Not even the very last one, the one the knight directed at him very seriously, were understandable. This language felt significant, but it too was completely unfamiliar. Bucky slowly shook his head. "I don't know any of them. I can try the languages I know, but I don't think it'll do any good. If Griot doesn't know, can anybody?" He looked back to Shuri again. "I promise, I don't know who he is. Or how he knows who I am."
He reached out again to touch the man's arm, bringing him back if possible from squaring up any further with Okoye. He didn't know how any of them could convince the space knight to give up his laser gun and come with them. Because he definitely couldn't stay here. It wasn't like he could leave, either, his space ship was obviously far beyond easy repair.
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The only thing remotely familiar was more foreign to him than anything else— his husband. Nothing made sense and his head was pounding.
Bucky’s hand on his arm should have been comforting, reassuring— it felt like the sort of gesture that was meant to be— but all it did was settle something firmly in Din’s mind. Whatever was going on, whatever was happening, the only thing that mattered was getting off world with his riduur in one piece. He couldn’t do that with his ship in a crumpled heap. Karking hell, what chance was he going to have of fixing his ship on some planet where no one even spoke any languages he recognized?
Unconsciously, he leaned into the touch on his arm just slightly. Din looked at Bucky for a long moment, searching for any sign of recognition, any last spark of hope— only to find nothing.
No one was trying to kill him yet, so he had to take it as a good sign that he wasn’t about to be gunned down where he stood. At least for now. If he couldn’t communicate to them verbally, he’d have to made do with a gesture to let them know he wasn’t a threat. Anything to bring him one step closer to understanding what the kriff was going on.
Slowly, keeping his visor directed at Bucky and eyeing from the corner of his eye the fighters near the ship, Din carefully reached for his blaster at his side. He carefully pulled it from the holster with his hand over the top of the weapon, clearly away from the trigger, with the barrel pointed down and away from anyone. Without trying to speak any more, he held the weapon out to Bucky handle first. The strangers seemed to trust Bucky.
At least that was one thing they seemed to have in common. They’d have to take what they could get and move forward from there.
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Bucky felt the space knight lean against him just a little while he and Shuri talked, his hand coming up unconsciously to brace him. The vibranium under his hand was body-warm and smooth. Then he pulled away. That visor of his was unreadable, but Griot was still displaying his vitals. He needed medical care of some kind. But how to convince him to come with them?
Bucky turned to the space knight, ready to start playing the world's most elaborate game of charades, when he unholstered his gun again. Not like he was going to use it, but from the top - where the slide would be on a non-laser gun, and then it was being offered out to him, grip first. Looking into the space knight's visor, he took the gun with a nod.
Then, he looked down at it. It kind of looked like an older model pistol, the kind his father would have used, if his father would have ever been able to afford a pistol. There was nowhere obvious for a magazine to go, but the gun seemed well-maintained. Tapping his left thumb against it made it clear it, at least, wasn't also made of vibranium.
"We should get back," Bucky finally said to Shuri, head lifting, holding the gun pointed down and away - the trigger was pretty obvious, but it was better to be safe than sorry. "He needs medical attention, right Griot?"
Shuri nodded after a moment, still looking down at the odd pair in front of her. "Very well. We'll send a team to collect his ship." Then she turned and strode back up the ramp. Okoye waited for her to be fully on board before she, too, spoke up.
"I hope you are right about him, White Wolf."
Bucky didn't know if he was right. He didn't know anything, except that a man from who knew where apparently knew him. Knew him well enough to call him Bucky. Not Soldier, or Asset, or Barnes, but Bucky. "I hope so too," he told her, then looked back at, apparently, his alien. Then he gestured with his head towards the ship, left hand outstretched to give support if he needed it.
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As tempting as it was to take Bucky’s hand, for any amount of closeness, Din just grit his teeth and did his best to ignore whatever injuries were begging for attention. He’d have to see to it eventually, but it was still too soon to let his guard down enough to tend to it. For now he followed the strangers onto the ship, barely concealing his limp. He half-expected Bucky to chide him for his stubbornness, but quickly dismissed the thought.
The build of ship wasn’t what he was used to, fewer manual switches and controls and more sleek, smooth surfaces that activated at the strangers’ touch. He might not understand much of the controls, but he’d been in enough ships his entire life to piece together simple controls as he tried to subtly watch them at the controls— especially when it came to the controls to closing (and, assumedly, opening) the hatch. It was always good to have an escape route, just in case.
He kept standing, even as the shorter (younger?) of the two women gestured for him to take a seat (probably), turning to ensure Bucky boarded before the hatch shut. He wasn’t going anywhere without him, but any concerns he had vanished as the man followed after him and the hatch shut behind them.
As much as he tried to keep an eye on the strangers and how they controlled the ship as they started the engines (what kind of engines were those? He hadn’t heard any that sounded like that before), he found his attention focused on his husband. Looking in vain for clues of what could have happened to him, how he could have come to be there— and the one thought he had tried not thinking about since he first spotted Bucky… where were Vel and Grogu.
The ship lifted from the ground, catching Din unguarded in a moment of distraction (and likely partial head injury) and he immediately regretted his decision to keep on his feet. It was nowhere as turbulent as a lift off as he might have expected, but it was enough to make his already unsteady stance that much more unstable. His head reeled with that familiar I’ve been knocked in the head one too many times feeling, hand flying out to try to brace himself on the nearest surface to keep him from falling flat on his face for the second time in one day.
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Bucky kept his eyes on the space knight as they all got onto Shuri's ship. He stayed back a step or two, behind the man, noting his apparent interest in the control panel, and then on the hatch as it closed.
He might not be an assassin anymore, but he knew somebody scouting out an escape route when he saw it.
He stayed standing as the ship lifted off, and found himself reaching out to support the alien as he wobbled on his feet, left hand catching the man's arm as he reached out in return, steadying him upright. He should probably be sitting, especially after that crash landing, but Bucky also couldn't begrudge him wanting to stand when surrounded by strangers he couldn't understand.
Luckily, the trip back to the capital city was fast and when they landed in the hangar, there were fewer Dora Milaje outside than he would have expected. There were also several medics, which was good for the injured space knight.
Bucky waited for the ship to land before holding out the knight's gun to Okoye. "I think you should hold this."
She took it with a look for him, inspecting it in much the same way he had. It looked incongruous in her hand. It looked wrong, even. But it was better for her to have it than him.
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It was the last thing he wanted, but he made himself release Bucky’s arm and draw back from him. He gave a short nod to him, pulling himself together again. He wasn’t sure how long it’d be before he couldn’t force himself to stay upright, but he wasn’t ready to strip out of enough armor to use the few emergency bacta sprays he had on whatever injuries he had.
Thankfully, the ride to the city went quickly, all the while Din still stubbornly stayed on his feet. Honestly, he was a little worried if he sat down he wouldn’t have been able to get up again. The HUD in his helmet was still on the fritz, but he knew until he could manage to get it off and get a proper look at it there was nothing he could do about it— just another thing on a growing list of things he could do nothing about right now.
As the view of the city came into view, he could have mistaken it for one of the core planets at first glance, but he had enough experience in enough sectors of the galaxy to know not to base expectations on appearances. Some of the most hostile planets he’d had to hunt on had been the very picture of what core worlds saw as civilized, while safety was more found in the barren outer rim.
He watched his blaster move from Bucky to one of the strangers, helmet moving visibly to track it. He didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it if he wanted help or answers. It wasn’t the only weapon he was carrying, but it was the most obvious. If he was lucky, maybe they thought he’d given up his only weapon.
There were people approaching the ship, several of which were making a straight line for him. Din turned his head a little towards Bucky while keeping his eyes on the new crowd of strangers, ready to take his cue from his husband. They didn’t seem hostile, but without understanding the language… this was going to be a pain.
“We need to get him onto a gurney until we know the full extent of his injuries,” One of the strangers approaching him were saying, not that he could understand a karking word of it.
One of them manipulated some sort of control on their wrist and a long, flat board-like thing that he hadn’t noticed before hovered up from the ground and followed them to him. They were talking again, gesturing to the board, like they were trying to tell him to— oh. He recognized what that was, at least the concept of it.
“No, I can walk on my own.” He said flatly, before remembering they likely couldn’t understand him either. He made a waving gesture, shaking his head, and taking a step back from the insistent— medics? Probably medics, judging by how they were trying to both gently and insistently guide him to the gurney. He’d been put on one of those before and strapped down for his own safety. That hadn’t gone well for anyone involved, he wasn’t about to try to recreate that on a planet that didn’t even speak Basic.
“No,” Din said slowly, firmly, taking a step back. He put a hand to his chest, “I.” He gestured a little walking motion with his two fingers, “Can. Walk.”
Whether or not he actually could walk far enough to wherever they were going was debatable, but he wasn’t getting on that thing if he could help it.
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Bucky carefully stepped partially between the medics and the alien, ready to mediate if necessary. "I think he can walk," he told the medics while giving them a sympathetic glance.
The alien seemed to agree with him, saying something first, and then repeating it, but more slowly. He put his hand on his chest with a word, and then two more while making the universal gesture for walking. So he definitely agreed that he could walk.
"I'll support him if he needs it. If he falls over, we can put him on the stretcher." Bucky knew a lot of the medics and doctors, from his own time healing here. He trusted them fully. He also didn't want to put them in danger by them trying to make an unknown entity do something he didn't want to do. So far, they hadn't seen evidence of enhanced abilities, but it was unlikely he had given up his only weapon.
He looked back at the alien. "If you," he started, pointing to the alien, "are in too much pain," He touched his head, "We can stop." He held out his hand palm-out then pointed down.
Then, he offered his arm for support. "I'll help you," he told the man, trying to keep his tone calm. "I trust them." He pointed to the medics, then touched his arm. "They helped me too." It was hard to convey 'they fixed the brainwashing that turned me into an assassin that killed hundreds of people over seventy years' but a prosthetic, vibranium arm was probably easier to understand.
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He took in a slow, deep breath to steady himself, and reminded himself of the redemption he himself found in the Living Waters.
Bucky was talking again, this time to him, with some hand gestures thrown in to help with the language barrier. He watched him silently, focusing on the gestures and Bucky’s mannerisms to parse out what he was trying to communicate. He was trying to reassure Din (maybe), probably telling him the medics were there to help him— that.. they had done something with his arm? Had they repaired it? He couldn’t imagine Bucky letting anyone outside the Barnes clan touch his arm, but then again he couldn’t imagine Bucky out of his armor while surrounded by outsiders.
Din let out a heavy sigh that he felt to his core, just loud enough for the vocoder to pick up.
The medics seemed unhappy, but reluctantly accepted that Din wasn't getting on the gurney. He took Bucky’s offered arm and leaned more of his weight on it than it looked like. He had let Bucky take his weight after enough fights and rough sparring matches to know how much the man could comfortably hold. The sooner Din could patch himself up, the better.
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He got a sigh from the space knight. Well, it was better than a a freakout, at least. Bucky walked slowly with the knight towards the hangar bay and the elevators going up into the main bulk of the building that in another place could be considered a palace. But it wasn't really. It was more than that. Throne room yes, but also a high tech lab, and - maybe most importantly in this case - an equally high tech medical center.
Bucky barely had to compensate for the knight's weight on his arm - and he was leaning quite heavily on him. He wasn't having trouble moving, but when they were pressed side by side, the other man's injuries were more apparent. It was probably a very good thing he was wearing a full suit of vibranium or he might not have had a choice about the stretcher.
Together, they follow the medics - and the gurney is still very close by, just in case - and Shuri and Okoye follow them, along with the few members of the Dora Milaje that had met them.
Luckily, though, the elevators were close, and large enough to fit all of them, though it was close. Bucky carefully laid his hand over the one tucked around his arm to steady the knight. The bare vibranium under his palm was warm, the edges smooth.
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It was enough to keep him moving forward, into the lift, shoulder to shoulder with too many people.
As the lift clicks by floors, he breathes out long, slow breaths, the sort you'd ease out as you pull a trigger. It was hard to focus, even with the adrenaline pounding in his ears. Without realizing it, he was slowly leaning more visibly onto Bucky. His braced stance inching down against his riduur.
The turbolift door opened, everyone filing out with obvious relief that Din was completely deaf to. He managed to get two and a half steps before his legs gave out from under him.
Din let out a strained sound, black quickly creeping into his vision as faces turned quickly towards him. There was talking, quick and urgent, and he had a feeling he wouldn't have been able to make any of it out even if it was in Basic. The world was spinning and it was all he could do to just keep one hand on Bucky's arm, keep him in reach.
Dank fucking farrick.
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Bucky shifted his stance as the knight started to lean more and more on him as they made their way up into the tower. He would have liked to get the man's arm over his shoulders, but there wasn't enough room in the elevator - they were packed in almost as tightly as sardines.
Even when they came to a stop on the medical floor, he didn't move to get out immediately. They were going to need the gurney.
There was another one waiting at the top, but not even halfway there, the knight's legs gave out from under him and Bucky was left holding him up with only his left arm.
"Fuck," he hissed, right hand moving from a vibranium-covered hand to grip the fabric near his collar - the only bit of clear grab he could make.
His legs had completely lost their strength and he was heavy. Bucky couldn't haul him to the gurney like this.
Instead, he dropped his shoulder and lifted his arm at the same time, turning into the space knight. It didn't have to be pretty, it just had to be effective enough to be secure as he lifted the man and his full suit of armor off the ground, the metal plates pressing hard into his flesh shoulder.
Bucky grunted with the exertion. "Which bed," he asked, and the medical team hurried to one of the triage bays, Bucky following with his burden not quite slung over his shoulder.
It was definitely not pretty, getting the alien onto the closest bed, but at least he wasn't on the floor.
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“Put him on this one,” Shuri said, walking ahead with the medical team. There was a flurry of activity, the medical team trying to help Bucky as best as they could— but with that full plate armor of Vibranium, it wasn’t an easy task.
Din was in and out, only catching fragments of what was going on. The only thing he knew was that Bucky was nearby, within arm’s reach. It was enough to keep him from fighting the helping hands too much as they tried to arrange him on the table.
“Griot, does he need the helmet to breathe? We need it off so we can see how bad that head wound is.” Shuri said.
“It doesn’t appear so. There isn’t an airtight seal around the bottom, and I’m unable to detect any unusual gases emitting from it.”
“Alright, let’s get it off then. Have a look at our alien.”
A hand grasped the edge of his helmet. Bucky was nearby, was it Bucky?
He could feel his helmet shifting—
Din’s gloved hand snapped up to grab onto the wrist trying to remove his helmet.
“No!” Din ground out, squeezing to make his point across, trying to force his mind to cooperate.
“We’re trying to help you. We aren’t going to hurt you— why am I even bothering, he doesn’t understand a word I’m saying. Bucky, he trusts you, maybe you can—?” Shuri was saying, struggling not to hurt the space knight.
“Let go,” Din said, trying to tug the hand free of his helmet. She released his helmet and stepped back, hands up in a universal peace offering, or surrender, looking over at Bucky.
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Bucky moved into the place Shuri had vacated. He had thought the alien was mostly unconscious - he had, after all, done nothing to keep from being a sack of potatoes either while being carried or while being dumped almost roughly onto the bed.
But as soon as Shuri had reached for his helmet, his hand had jerked up, closing around her wrist with a clear protest.
He stepped up close to the knight and took his hand. "Hey. They're just trying to help you. You have a head injury." Talking wouldn't do much, but if he could calm down the alien, they could get to work. He reached up with his other hand to touch the side of his helmet, where the ridged piece that was roughly where a human ear would be was scraped up and damaged.
He made sure to stay in the line of sight of the dark visor, though his attention was turned towards the medics and doctors moving towards them with all kinds of equipment.
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He could see it, could see Bucky couldn’t understand why he couldn’t remove his helmet— that hurt more than the injuries that were throbbing in his head and body. Din could see the medics closing in, inching towards him like he was a caged animal.
Bucky was trying to tell him he had a head injury— which he’d figured that much out already. But even with his husband standing there, trying to calm him, he couldn’t let them remove his helmet. Not after everything he had gone through for his redemption.
Din held up his hand towards the approaching medics, a signal to stop. Miraculously, they stopped hesitantly, strange equipment still in hand. He blinked to try to clear his vision, focusing as best as he could.
“You— all of you,” Din gestured around the room at the medics. “Leave.” He made little walking motions with two fingers. Then he gently tapped a finger to Bucky’s chest, visor still locked on the strangers. “Bucky. Stays.” He pointed down. “Everyone leaves. Bucky stays.” He repeated with the same hand gestures.
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Bucky looked over to Shuri. "I'm medic trained. I can at least see if he has a concussion or we need to do more."
It was probably better to not push things too far too fast. If the space knight didn't want to take off his helmet around others, then they just had to work around that.
Besides, the only other option was to sedate him - and he was an alien, who knew if it would even work on him - or just force it, and Bucky knew he wasn't unarmed.
He looked back to Shuri. "If he decides to be violent, I can take care of myself. And if I can't, you're here." She was still dressed in the sleek Black Panther suit - it made her look thin and fragile, but he knew she was like steel underneath.
Or rather, like vibranium.