Music is "Sleepwalking" by The Sweeplings.

Picture is Bucky Barnes.

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CHAPTER SEVEN: Two Ghosts

After the sun sets over the Wakandan horizon, I find myself even more sleepless than the years I thought Bucky was dead. I spent most of my life haunted by him in my dreams, or the ghost of him, but now that he's alive and on-ice just a few meters away from me, I find it even harder to slip into unconsciousness.

Everyone else is long gone to the dream world. Steve and Nat are in the room across from mine, and Sam is in the room adjacent theirs. Evidently, those are their assigned rooms when they visit. Grant sleeps in apartment nearest the University now. Apparently, I'm the only one that's still not used to the two years that have passed since the last time I slept in this bed.

And that was when Bucky was sleeping beside me.

I heave a heavy sigh and roll onto my side on the king-sized mattress, hand absently reaching out to grasp the covers on the empty right side, the side where Bucky usually sleeps. I've been lying down for hours yet still can't find the peace of sleep. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the clock read past midnight.

It's March 10th. Bucky just turned 101.

I should be with him, or maybe he should be with me. I'm not entirely sure there's a difference anymore, seeing as we're a broken part of each other. I used to hate the saying that soulmates were two halves of a whole. I always saw it as demeaning, the thought that he or I weren't a whole person on our own, that we needed someone else to complete us.

But the hard truth about Bucky and I is that it's true. We are broken and incomplete and lost. We are soldiers without a war and heroes without a villain. So we're left fighting off the nightmares and PTSD, waging war against our memories or lack thereof. We've given away parts of ourselves to the wars we fought and the people we lost. Some of those pieces we got back, in friends and family--Grant and Steve and Natasha among those. But some pieces have been crushed under the weight of a century apart. Calling us two halves of a whole is an oversimplification and understatement; we're less than a half after what we've been through. We haven't been a whole person in decades. We're just ghosts now.

But maybe, just maybe, we get a semblance of peace in each other. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. I think that's why we can sleep dreamlessly together. Without him, I can't sleep at all. I don't care if I'm a whole or a half or even a fraction of a percent of a whole human. If I have Bucky, I'm as whole as I need to be. If I have him, I can live with being a ghost.

I pull myself from the mattress and tip-toe for the door, pulling the Wakandan-style robe of multiple colors tightly around my frame. The hallway outside the room is dark, but I find my way in the dim nightlights past the other rooms and into the vacant laboratory.

Bucky is still in the ice, as if he'd be anywhere else. I've been here so many times since I woke up, not letting a few hours pass before I check up on him. I know there's a very slim possibility that he'll melt like I did--Shuri has made sure of it--and that's not what bothers me. What gets under my skin is that I have to spend any amount of time away from him, especially on his birthday. I know it can't be helped, and it won't last much longer, but it still makes me wish I had stayed a few weeks longer in the ice.

I heave a sigh and place my hand on the cold glass, feeling the ice chill my palm. My eyes glue to Bucky's face, and tears form in my eyes. Shuri promised me it wouldn't be much longer until she could perfect the operation needed to return Bucky to the way he was--to take out the Winter Soldier--and I have complete faith in her. But I want nothing more than him in my arms right now.

"Happy birthday, Darling," I mumble softly in the dark. "It won't be long from now, I promise." I place my fingers to my lips, kissing them, then placing them back against the glass. "I love you, forever."

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{April 2, 2018 -- Three Weeks Later}

"Are you ready for this?"

I take a deep breath, forcing my hands to stop shaking. "Are you sure this won't hurt him?"

Shuri chuckles at my anxiety and worry. "The operation will take less than a half-hour, then we will start the slow reanimation sequence. You will have your husband back by this afternoon."

A small smile creeps onto my face, and my eyes shift towards the cryo-chamber in front of me. "Take care of him," I tell the teenage genius, even though I know she'll take every precaution she can.

"You can wait outside, or you can do something to busy yourself," Shuri informs. "I suggest the latter, Emma. You look like a nervous wreck."

"Can you blame me?" I laugh dryly as she ushers me towards the door.

"Not at all," she replies softly. "And, still, my answer remains the same."

The metal doors shut behind me, sealing me off from the laboratory as Shuri and her team begin work on Bucky's mind. It's been nearly a month since I almost drowned, and the Princess of Wakanda has finally found a way to separate Bucky from the Winter Soldier. It's been a long time coming, but it's all been worth it.

I'm not scared for Bucky's safety; what makes my hands shake is the thought that he might be different when he wakes up, that he might not love me the way I love him. What if the reason he's stayed with me all this time is because I was the only one that could talk him down? What if he no longer needs me? What if he doesn't remember loving me at all?

Grant wraps his arms around me as I exit the laboratory. He's been sitting outside for the past few minutes, waiting for me to say my temporary goodbyes. Grant doesn't have the emotional connection to Bucky that I do; all he's ever known of James Buchanan Barnes is the stories I've told him since he was a toddler. The Bucky he first met wasn't Bucky at all--it was the Winter Soldier--and as such, Grant has been standoffish from my husband. I can't really blame him. The Winter Soldier did shoot him in the chest.

"It's gonna be okay," he whispers, hands rubbing up and down my back. "He's gonna be okay."

I nod into his shoulder, focusing on my breathing. I know he's right, but it doesn't make my anxiety go away. The unsubstantiated fears still plague my mind, no matter what logic is thrown my way. The fact that Steve can't be here, due to a run-in with a rogue cartel in Sarajevo, makes it even worse. It seems I'm cursed to worry about both of my boys forever, no matter where or when we are.

"Do you want to leave?" Grant suggests, pulling back to look me in the eye. "Get a bite to eat or something? Pass the time?"

My gaze flickers back to the laboratory door, and I shake my head. "I can't leave him," I state in a whisper. "Not now."

Grant gives me an understanding nod, then gestures to the wall behind us. We slide down to the floor, sitting with our backs against the solid surface as our hands remain joined. I lean my head against his shoulder, eyes staring directly at the door. Few words are exchanged after that.

Any moment now. He'll be back. He'll be mine. He'll be him.

I hope.

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The little hut outside the city seems like the farthest thing from me in the entire world. One of a half-dozen in the middle of the Wakandan plains, next to a little farm with tiny farm animals, it seems like an unlikely place to take Bucky after reanimation. Shuri has assured me that seeing the outdoors after being defrosted is much easier on a person that the wake up call I received.

"This will be better," she promised me with a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

I went along with it because Shuri hasn't been wrong thus far. She hasn't led us astray in over two years; I trust her. I nod to her over my shoulder, flashing a small smile as I walk towards the hut entrance. I made certain that I would be the one to be there when he woke up.

"Just in case, I think you may want to stand away," T'Challa suggested, always the voice of reason. "Just in case whatever my little sister does fails. I do not want any of you hurt."

"He could never hurt me," I retorted, my voice strong despite the fact that I was correcting a King.

"He has and might try again if this doesn't work," T'Challa insisted. "Please, Emma, let Shuri be the one to make contact. If there's something off, she will know instantly."

I shook my head firmly, standing my ground. "I'm still immortal, and all due respect, he's my husband. I'll be there when he wakes. End of story."

And it was.

Grant stands a few meters behind me, next to Princess Shuri. I know he cares about Bucky, but he's mostly there for our safety in the horrible case that what Shuri did didn't work, or made him worse.

I enter the hut, holding my breath as I do. In the dim light of afternoon, I see Bucky stretched out on the makeshift bed, sound asleep. His hair is half-up, out of his face, and he's been changed into a rusted red, Wakandan-style robe instead of the white scrubs we wore in cryo-sleep. I can instantly tell that he's better off, even as he sleep. He's at peace. Finally.

I move to the bed, sitting beside him on the soft surface. I reach for his right hand on the bed, taking it between my own. It's warm and rough, just like I remember. I sit there, on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to wake up on his own.

After a few moments pass, Bucky's eyes flicker open. At first, he looks only at the ceiling above us, gaze unfocused, but then the steely blue orbs shift to me. I know he's looking right at me, and a smile spreads across my face. His hand tightens around mine, and he smiles back.

Tears form in my eyes, realizing that my Bucky is back. He's here, he's him. Whatever Shuri did seems to have worked. All the waiting, all the worry, it was all worth it in the end.

"Hello, there," I whisper, bringing one of my hands up to brush the side of his face. "Good morning, my love."

Bucky lets a small chuckle slip as his fingers wind between mine. "Hey there, Doll."

Both of our grins widen into full-blown smiles as we close the distance between us. I wrap my arms around his neck as he sits up. Tackling him in a hug, I cause him to fall backwards. Bucky wraps his right arm around me, pulling me as close as he can. He's warm and inviting and just as I remember him. It's all I can do not to break down and cry.

"You--You're awake," he mumbles into the crook of my neck. "Are you mortal again? Did she fix you, too?"

"Not exactly," I reply, grasping at the strands of his long hair. "But that doesn't matter now."

"How long have you been up?" Bucky pulls back, looking directly into my eyes.

I shake my head, wiping the happy tears from my eyes. "It's a long story, one I can catch you up on later. For now, I'm just glad you're better."

Bucky's smile forms again, and he leans forward to press a kiss to my lips. I kiss him back, only pulling back to hold him tightly to me. "I love you, Doll," he mumbles, hand clutching my waist.

I close my eyes peacefully, replying, "I love you, too, Darling."

For the first time in a very long time, I actually believe that things are going to be okay.

Behind us, I hear several sets of giggling children. Pulling back from Bucky, I glance over my shoulder, seeing three boys laughing. When they see they've been spotted, they run from the hut, continuing to laugh.

Bucky chuckles and sits up again, hand still on my waist. I turn back to him and shake my head. "Kids," he grumbles teasingly, still eyeing the door. "Who's out there?"

"Just Shuri and Grant," I reply softly.

Bucky moves his hand from my waist to my cheek, and I lean into his touch. He sighs, the happiness on his face faltering a little bit. "He doesn't trust me, does he?"

"It's not that," I reply in hesitation. "It's not you he doesn't trust."

Bucky nods once, knowing what I mean. Grant doesn't trust the Winter Soldier part of Bucky, the part that no longer exists. "Well, he doesn't have to worry about that anymore."

"Are you sure?" I inquire softly, searching his eyes. "He's gone? For good?"

Bucky sighs, the smile returning, and he leans forward to rest his forehead against mine. "He's gone."

I let a heavy breath slip from my lungs, a breath I've been holding in for nearly four years. Tugging his hand, I stand from the bed. "Come along, let's show them the new you."

Bucky follows me, and we exit the hut together, hand in hand. Grant instantly relaxes when he sees my smile. I nod to Shuri to show the same. She grins at both of us as the three children we saw minutes before run past us.

"White Wolf! White Wolf!" the children shout at him as they run away, giggling at the new name they've given Bucky.

"White Wolf?" I chuckle, looking up at him. "I like it."

Bucky steps into the light, eyes clear and posture calm as he walks slowly towards Shuri. His eyes scan his surroundings, not like the animal that was the Winter Soldier, but as a man with curiosity as to how he got here in the first place.

"Good morning, Sergeant Barnes," Shuri greets with a small smile.

Bucky gives a small grin in return. "Bucky."

"How are you feeling?"

"Good," he replies. "Thank you."

Shuri gives us both a proud grin, then nods towards the palace. "Come on, there's still much for you to learn."

END CHAPTER SEVEN: Two Ghosts.