[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 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?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He backs up, staring at her, and runs right into the wall.

"That's not a good idea."

[from_the_outside]

She gives him a disbelieving look when he hits the wall, then shakes her head.

"And why's that?"

[nerves_of_ice]

Because Steve Rogers is my best friend, he thinks, and can't say.

Instead, he shakes his head at her, and - moving at top speed - tries to duck past her, heading for the door.

[from_the_outside]

"Are you seriously just running away from me right now?"

But she doesn't try to stop him, just follows him outside to see how far he's planning on going.

"Score another one for Sharon Carter," she says to herself, under her breath. "He literally fled rather than kiss you. Awesome. Still got it."

[nerves_of_ice]

Not very far, as it turns out.

"White Wolf! White Wolf!" The children have returned to play with the goats, and have just as clearly been lying in wait for him to emerge from the hut.

(After a difficult discussion with Shuri, she'd agreed to draw that line firmly rather than risk something happening if he was startled awake.)

"White Wolf! Who is that woman? Where did she come from?" They dash over to surround him, patting at his arm with gentle hands, their questions tumbling over each other. "How did she get here?"

Bucky turns, with a little difficulty, and meets Sharon's eyes.

"Her name is Sharon. She's a friend of mine." A tiny smirk touches the corner of his mouth. "I don't know how she got here, but you can ask her yourself, if you want."

[from_the_outside]

Almost instantly, she is surrounded by a throng of waist-high children all clamoring at once, and she shoots an amused look back at Bucky. "We're not done with this, White Wolf," she promises, but she's already laughing, cheerfully acquiescing to the tugs on her sleeve and listening carefully to an endless stream of questions.

"Hi," she smiles, and sinks down to her knees to address the children on their own level. A few small hands reach out to touch her hair, others keep tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention.

"Yes, I did just get here," she confirms to one. "I walked," she reports to another, and leans in like she's imparting a secret. "And I was on a boat for a long time."

"Um, it means 'a plain,'" she says to a third, and points out towards the sweeping green fields around them. "Like those. Big wide fields."

"Yes, they are very cute," seriously, to a girl no taller than her thigh.

"Well, I wanted to see my friend," she answers, and looks at Bucky with laughing eyes. "Even though he can be kind of mean to me sometimes."

[nerves_of_ice]

The children gasp. "White Wolf! No!" Three of them run back to surround him. "You're not mean! Don't be mean!"

"I'll try not to be," he promises them, solemnly, and looks up at Sharon. He can admit to himself that she's beautiful, laughing and lively and teasing like this in the middle of the gaggle of children. "I don't want to be mean."

[from_the_outside]

She arches an eyebrow at him, grinning: two can play at this game, Bucky.

"Better not be," she says, archly, then turns at an insistent tap on her shoulder to gasp and coo over a beaded bracelet on one chubby dark brown wrist. "That is beautiful," she says, with absolute sincerity, and the little girl flushes right up to her hairline with pleasure.

A couple of boys start showing off by proving how quickly they can run from the hut to a nearby tree and back, and after she applauds them, she listens closely as the little girl with the bracelet tells her very seriously and in total confidence all about her favorite goat.

"You guys like to play with the goats?" she asks, and is rewarded with a happy cacophony of shouts that makes her laugh. "What kind of games do you play?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He smiles, a little ruefully, but says nothing.

"Ampé!" shouts one girl, before frowning. "But the goats aren't good at it."

"The White Wolf plays tag. And hide-and-go-seek," a boy informs her. "Do you play games?"

[from_the_outside]

"I love playing games," she tells him. "And I'm very good at hide-and-go-seek. And...hopscotch, do you know that one? Or Simon Says? Or red light, green light?"

There aren't any stoplights out here, so she's not sure that one will be familiar.