[oom] see right through my walls

[nerves_of_ice]

As T'Challa stares at the hologram in the palm of his hand, he can already feel the headache forming. "She what? No. Never mind. Bring her to me in the throne room, when she arrives. I will deal with her myself."

He clears the image, then taps the Kimoyo Bead again. "Nakia. I need you."

* * * * * * * * *

"You cannot be serious."

"I don't see why this is a problem. You brought Everett Ross here--"

"Ross was dying! And he was never allowed to know that the man he was seeking was here! Nakia, I have made a promise to protect him."

"She is not a threat. Not to him."

"I will be the judge of that."

Nakia throws up her hands. "Fine. You will see. I hope it does not bother you that I stay and watch?"

T'Challa smiles. "Of course not."

Comments

[from_the_outside]

She smiles, a little, too.

"The world is a worse place without Peggy Carter in it," she says, rueful. "But she did what she loved and she was good at it even when no one around her wanted her to be. And even with how SHIELD turned out...I have to believe she put more good into the world than she took away."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It is. And she did," he says, absolute certainty in every line of him. "It wasn't her fault that HYDRA got in like the poison snakes they are. And what she helped build is tearing them out, one piece at a time."

A thought strikes him, and he lets his hand fall away.

"Here. Let me show you something."

[from_the_outside]

She lets her own hands drop and steps back to get out of his way, taking advantage of the sudden distance to wipe at her eyes and sniff back her stuffed up nose.

Her eyes are curious as she watches him, but she waits patiently for whatever it is he's thought of.

[nerves_of_ice]

He takes up the backpack and sets it on the end of the bed to make it easier to reach, then unzips it and reaches inside. He rakes the notebooks out, spreading them across the blanket, and looks quickly across them.

After a moment, he pulls one to him, then a second. He flips through the first, pushes it aside, and does the same with the second one he'd picked. He finds something about a third of the way through and tries to flatten it open with his hand as he glances up at Sharon.

"Look."

On the page, in handwriting that's a little ragged but still clear --

...it was a dumb idea to keep her out of the field squad. Carter's got more skills in her little finger still than half the rest of us did back then. But she did a hell of a job at base ops, too, and from what I heard never complained. Lot of people could learn from that.

[from_the_outside]

She wanders over to look over his shoulder as he sorts through the journals, then leans down to read the indicated entry. "This is...you?"

Looking over at him, her eyes are shining again, but this time it isn't with tears. It's complicated, but not sad. "You remembered Aunt Peggy?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods.

"For a while, after D.C.," he starts, slowly, "I wasn't... I didn't know how to ..."

He breaks off there, blows out a breath, and tries again, staring at the words on the page.

"I knew I was Bucky. But I didn't know who Bucky was. I figured maybe if I started -- if I could put the pieces back together, I could remember me, as well as them. So I got a notebook, and started trying to sort it all out. She's in a lot of the stuff from back then."

[from_the_outside]

She leans to pick up one of the notebooks, and turns it over, running her thumb over the cover. "So that's what these are."

All the bits and pieces of his broken memories and self. "Very smart." There's a sudden sharp swell of gratitude in her chest for whatever instinct made her steal these back from the Task Force.

They shouldn't be in anybody's hands but his own.

She puts the book back down, and looks at him. "Did it help?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Yeah," he confirms, unconcerned that she's holding one of them in her hands.

"It did. I think it did. Enough that I kept going, at least. It's all in here--"

He taps his temple with two fingers.

"-- but some of it's mixed up or hard to get at. Doing that helped me put the connections back together."

[from_the_outside]

She reaches up to tug his hand away, teasing. "Well, don't rattle them anymore than they've been rattled."

There are quite a few books, she realizes, when she looks back at them. "I bet Shuri will be able to help you pull more of it together now that you have them back. She is scary smart."

She glances a half-smile at him, warm. "And she's really good with you."

[nerves_of_ice]

"She's a genius," he says, in a tone of admiration, letting his hand fall away when tugged. He rests it absently on one of the notebooks.

"I don't think I was under more than two or three weeks before she'd figured something out."

[from_the_outside]

She sits on the edge of the mattress and studies him. "That's great, Bucky."

There's definitely a little worry in her eyes, but it doesn't have anything to do with Shuri. "You're not...going to go back under again, are you?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Not if I don't have to," he says. "Why?"

[from_the_outside]

"Just wondering."

She taps a finger on her thigh and looks at him like she's weighing something in her head.

After a second, she comes to a decision. "I have something to show you, too."

Getting up, she goes to where she'd left the two wool throws and picks up the green one, then comes to sit back down on the edge of the mattress again with her lap full of soft green fabric. "I told you," she says, unfolding it carefully, and smiling when the low light in the little hut falls on a small ornament, about the size of a coaster, a beautiful mess of gold and gray and glass.

She holds it up to catch the light, and smiles at the rainbow it paints on the other side of the room. "It has a delicate center."

[nerves_of_ice]

Looking at her smile, the way she's holding the artwork up to the light, he has the sudden sensation of stepping into quicksand, far from solid ground.

"I'm impressed it didn't shatter," he says, hearing his own voice echo in his ears as if from a distance.

[from_the_outside]

"I can occasionally be careful with fragile things," she says.

In the hour and half before she'd left her Berlin apartment for the last time, she'd packed up her few delicate or sentimental items, the few personal pieces she'd added to what was never really a home, and mailed them first to her planned location in Wales, then home to Virginia. She'd kept only the clothes she thought she'd need, some resources to make her life on the run a little easier, Bucky's belongings, and these.

The three things that were all that was left from the last good night she had.

[nerves_of_ice]

"That's not what I meant."

He's not sure what he did mean, but he knows it wasn't that. He gives himself a mental shake.

"It's pretty. You picked a nice one."

It reminded me of you, she'd said, and he pushes that thought as far from his consciousness as he can get it.

[from_the_outside]

She gives him an assessing look.

"Yeah, I think so, too."

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods, and steps back - mentally and physically, moving across the little room to brush his fingers over where the light from the glass has landed on one of the woven hangings.

"I'll tell Steve you're here," he says, eyes on the fabric. "Tonight. He'll be glad. You can talk to him, if you want."

[from_the_outside]

"That's okay."

She watches him and sighs a little in her head.

Well. He who hesitates is toast. She smashes up that ten foot pole and goes in. "Bucky, I'm sure you're right and he'll be happy to know I'm fine, but I don't think it's...important...to him the way it seems like you do."

He's not looking at her. She sucks on her teeth and tries a different tack. "I haven't spent the last six weeks pining over Steve," she says, finally. "And I doubt he's spent any of that time pining over me, either."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Sharon."

He keeps his tone gentle; keeps it kind. It's easy to do.

"I have eyes. When you brought us the gear - from the back of the car, I could see you and Steve."

He shakes his head and turns to look at her, a small smile on his face.

"Like I told you before. He's a good man."

[from_the_outside]

"He is a good man," she agrees. That's easy: Steve is as good and honest and wonderful as any man can be.

She lowers the ornament and pushes up from the bed to deposit the blanket on the chest again, and the ornament on top of it before turning to face him.

"But one kiss doesn't make him my true love. And it doesn't make me his, either."

[nerves_of_ice]

He doesn't move.

"I didn't say it did."

[from_the_outside]

Her mouth twists and she eyes him a little like a bullfighter watching the gate right before it bursts open under the weight of an infuriated bull.

"There isn't anything between me and Steve," she says, fighting the urge to speak slowly and enunciate clearly. "He kissed me once on a very stressful day for everybody involved, and that's it. You told me to think about it, and I thought about it. I thought about it a lot. I've had a lot of time on my hands to think. Although," she points out, a little thoughtfully, "I'm not exactly working with all the necessary information. It's an incomplete dataset."

[nerves_of_ice]

He's not sure what to think about the look she's giving him. He also doesn't let himself think too closely about the meaning behind her words.

(Steve Rogers is his best friend. And they've been down this road before.)

"Incomplete dataset?" he asks, and a second later thinks that maybe he shouldn't have, but it's too late.

[from_the_outside]

"Well, in the interest of collecting all the relevant information, I should get a kiss from you, too."

She lets it sit for a second, then lifts her eyebrows in faint challenge.

"How else am I supposed to make an educated decision?"