Music is "Jade" by Aaron Krause.

Picture is Tatiana Maslany as Emma Barnes.

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CHAPTER NINE: To Build A Home

{April 2, 2018 -- Present Day}

W A K A N D A

So much has changed, and yet it's still the same. Two years have passed, but the world isn't all that different. The Avengers are still the Avengers, only now they're a shell of what they used to be, made up only of Rhodey, Tony, and Vision. Bucky and I are thought to be dead. Steve, Sam, and Natasha are on the run. Wanda isn't Wanda anymore. Grant is MIA as far as most of the world is concerned. Who the hell knows where Nick Fury and Maria Hill are. So much has changed. Sometimes it's hard to keep up.

What Peggy said all those years ago has never rang truer than right now. None of us can go back, sometimes the best that we can do is to start over. I'm not Lady Justice or Lady Liberty anymore. Bucky isn't a Howling Commando or the Winter Soldier. Steve isn't Captain America. We're not heroes; we're refugees. Nomads. Vagabonds. We're what's left when the Avengers sever down the middle.

Catching Bucky up on the events of the past two years takes a little while. I do so with the help of Grant and Shuri as the latter does a few medical tests to ensure Bucky is as healthy as he should be. She even goes as far as checking his HYDRA trigger words: a series of numbers and words of meaning only to HYDRA and their sick minds. To all our relief, they do nothing to Bucky. He's as calm and in control as he's been ever since he woke up.

The first question Bucky asks is obvious: "Where's Steve?"

I squeeze his hand and offer a smile. "We're trying to reach him, Tasha, and Sam. They've hit a snag in Sarajevo."

Bucky's brows pull together with concern. "Are they okay?"

I nod. "It'll just take them a bit longer to get our signal. Don't worry. He'll be here sooner than you think."

Shuri finishes the last of her tests and sets her equipment back onto the table with a grin. "He's as good as new!" she announces excitedly. "The procedure was successful. Bucky, you are as much you as you will ever be."

Bucky's boyish smile covers his face, a blast from the past. "Thanks, kiddo."

Shuri scoffs, "I am not a 'kiddo.' I am an eighteen-year-old woman, a legal adult as far as my country is concerned, with three master's degrees in sciences and mathematics your country hasn't even thought of yet. You are just an old man."

Everyone laughs as Grant chimes in with, "Got that right."

Bucky hops off the examination table and turns to Grant. He extends his right hand, nodding to the twenty-year-old. "I'm sorry about what happened in Washington," Bucky mumbles. "I hope we can start again?"

Grant glances between Bucky and I with a playful sigh. "Well, you are married to my mom, so..." He grasps Bucky's hand, shaking it firmly. "Nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm Grant." They let their hands drop, and Grant turns to me. "I'm so, so sorry, but I have class in, like, fifteen minutes. Can we catch up more later?"

I wave him off. "Go, go! Get to class. I'll see you later."

Grant grins and leans forward to press a kiss to my cheek. "I'm really glad he's back," he whispers, then darts for the door.

"Me, too," I whisper under my breath.

"Well," Shuri intervenes with a childish grin, "I believe my brother has a surprise for you both. Would you like to see it?"

I turn to Bucky, taking his right hand in mine. "You've done too much already," I reply.

Shuri scoffs, "That was my pleasure. This...This is a true gift." She waves us along as she turns towards the laboratory door. "Come! Follow me."

Bucky and I do as the Princess says, following her as she leads us through the laboratory hallways, around the busy streets, and across the Wakandan planes. We pass the little hut where Bucky awoke, seeing the same three small boys giggling and playing in the pasture. It makes me smile and recall how small Grant used to be. He, too, was once a child no older than they are.

Shuri leads us another few hundred meters, to a farmhouse tucked between a small mountain and the Wakandan treeline. The small building, a single-story structure made entirely of the natural elements found in Wakanda, is endearing and quaint. The small house is surrounded by gates and pens, filled with several animals, mostly goats. They make bleating sounds as a greeting, bringing an even bigger smile to my face.

The closer we get to the farmhouse, the more technology I see. The traditional exterior of the building hides the advancements inside. This is no third-world hut like I've seen in other countries. Wakanda is far too advanced for that. This house is the perfect blend of tradition and technology, much like everything else in Wakanda.

"A little birdie told me you wanted to start fresh," Shuri says, folding her hands behind her back as Bucky and I look around. "And by 'little birdie' I mean Grant, of course. He's told me how much you want something like what you used to, a place to live, a home. I spoke to T'Challa, and..." She gestures to the space around us. "He suggested giving you this. Don't worry, all the things you're used to--heat and air, hot water, electric lighting, etcectera--they're all implemented, along with some of my own personal improvements."

I gasp as my eyes scan everything around me, in awe of it all. "Shuri...this is too much."

"Nonsense," she chastises. "You aren't just a project to me, Emma, Bucky. You've become friends, and I help my friends. You're Wakandan now, and as your Princess, it gives me great joy to give you a little piece of my home. So...welcome home."

I leave Bucky's side to walk over to her, wrapping my arms around her tightly. I haven't hugged her this tight since she told me she could fix Bucky and I, and I doubt I will hug her this tight ever again. It might not seem like much to her, to anyone, but to me, a home represents a new start.

I promised Bucky there would be a place in this world, a place where we belonged. I swore to him we'd find it.

We have. We're home.

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A home isn't just a building. A home isn't made of stone and steel. A home is what you make it. It can be anywhere, anytime, with anyone. I've had many homes over my lifetimes. With the Barnes family and Steve, then with Peggy and Rose, Howard and Dum Dum. For years, I didn't have a home; I was voluntarily homeless. Then my home was with Grant in Marseille, then Paris. Much to my surprise, I had a home with Grant and Steve again, with the new addition of Natasha, and then Sam.

Now my home is all that and Bucky.

The few objects we still own are already in the little farmhouse. It seems that Shuri had taken the liberty to move our things while Bucky was being reanimated. For that, I am glad. I didn't get to take anything from my room in the Avengers compound before Steve, Grant, and I ran away to help Bucky in Siberia. I thought I had lost everything: my pictures, my keepsakes, my manuscripts. For all I knew, Tony had them all.

When I woke almost a month ago, Grant told me that this wasn't the case at all. Evidently, while Steve broke Sam, Scott, Clint, and Wanda out of the prison in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, Natasha had sneaked into the Avengers facility and stolen what she could for me. She got most of my pictures, all my manuscripts, and the only keepsake I couldn't live without: Evelyn, my miniature Schnauzer. Natasha risked her life and freedom for things that anchored me to my past. For that, I'll never repay her.

Those things are on the little kitchen table in the farmhouse, with the notable exception of Evelyn. Grant has her at his apartment in the city, near the University. I run my fingers over the photographs and paper, memories coming to the front of my mind as I do.

The interior of the farmhouse is just as quaint as the exterior. From the doorway, you can see most everything in the structure. The kitchen is the main room, the first thing you see when you enter. To the left of the kitchen is a toilet, or what American's call the bathroom. Behind the kitchen is a living space, with parallel sofas and fire pit under a glass ceiling. To the right of the kitchen is the single bedroom.

It's exactly what Bucky and I need.

Shuri leaves us to ourselves, giving us some time to settle in. Not that there's much to do to "settle in." All our belongings are here, and the space is entirely furnished. There's nothing for us to do except enjoy the new home together, finally, after all this time of being apart.

"Do you remember the time I sneaked into your apartment through the fire escape?"

I turn my eyes towards Bucky, seeing a smile creeping onto his face as he looks at the pictures over my shoulder. His attention is on one in particular, the picture I took of my apartment before I moved out and in with the Barnes'.

"I do," I chuckle. "Never again. The apartment manager had a strict no boys policy at the time. If she had caught you..." I shake my head and laugh.

Bucky smirks and shrugs. "I was always sneaky."

"Too sneaky for your own good, James."

Bucky glances to me. "She never caught me, did she?"

I roll my eyes. "Only because you could hide under the bed when she came knocking."

Bucky lets out a laugh and wraps his right arm around my waist, placing his chin on my shoulder. He holds me close, and I place my hand over his on my waist. "Those were different times, weren't they?" he whispers.

I nod, leaning my head against his with a sigh. "Society is different now. No one cares if a boyfriend and girlfriend live together anymore, like we did for some time before getting engaged."

Bucky's smile widens. "We were rebels, weren't we?"

"A bit," I chuckle, lacing my fingers through his. "I just knew who I loved. I wasn't about to let a faceless society tell me that my love was wrong."

Bucky turns his face towards mine, inches apart. "God, I love you," he laughs, holding me tighter.

I lean forward, resting my forehead against his. "I love you, too, Darling."

We remain like that for a few moments, just enjoying each other's presence and closeness. We've spent decades apart from each other, not knowing who we were or if the other was alive. For too long, we thought we were the only ones in the world like this. I wasn't me, and Bucky wasn't him. We were ghosts, empty shells, shadows. Now we're becoming us again. We can spare a few moments of silence to welcome each other back.

"What do we do now?" Bucky whispers finally.

My eyes open, finding his steely blues. "I--I don't know, my love. I never...never thought I'd get this far."

Bucky pulls away for a moment, taking a seat at the small, round table in the kitchen. He holds my hand in his, sighing heavily, eyes never leaving mine. "Where were we before the ice?"

I smile at him and take a seat in the chair nearest him, keeping our hands together. I push the chair in front of him, sitting so our knees brush each other as I grasp his hand between mine. Our wedding rings brush each other, one of the only things we have from our far away past.

"We were enjoying each other," I reply. "We were just being Bucky and Emma, not whatever or whoever history or SHIELD or HYDRA has told us we are."

"But we were ignoring who we were," Bucky breathes, eyes flickering away from mine for a moment. Guilt flows over him, and I know that we both carry the weight of what we'd done. "What we were. We both have darkness in our pasts, Emma. We never talked about that."

"We don't have to," I say, forcing a smile. "I've forgiven myself, I think. I don't hold anything against you, especially since it wasn't really you. We don't have to bring it up again. It was in the past. Why let it ruin our lives now?"

Bucky shakes his head. "Maybe not today, but we can't run from it forever. You said it yourself: we should tell each other every horrible thing we did and let us love each other anyway. Keeping it in, even if it's in the past, isn't healthy."

A sad smile tugs at the corner of my lips. He's right. I know he's right. Whether or not we've moved past our darkness is irrelevant. Bucky and I have never kept anything from each other. Ever. The month we spent in Wakanda before going into cryo was just to recover physically from the beatings we took during the civil war, to get our minds around the idea of going back under the ice. We didn't tell each other anything about our pasts then, but maybe we should have. Husbands and wives should never keep anything hidden from each other. It can only lead to destruction.

"Not today," I state, nodding in agreement. "Soon, but not today."

END CHAPTER NINE: To Build A Home.