nerves_of_ice | [oom] see right through my walls

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[oom] see right through my walls

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."

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She waits for a moment after the cloth over the door falls back, but soon enough there's nothing in the little hut except for her, her thoughts, and the silence.

Well, not really silence. She can hear the goats outside, the wind in the grass and the trees, the faint ripple of the lake water. But in here?

She turns to look at the bed, arms crossing over her stomach, fingers tapping on her elbow until she shakes herself and goes to sit on the edge of the mattress, taking off the sandals she'd been wearing so she can tuck her feet up onto the neat blankets. She pulls the folded throw under her head and settles onto her side, slightly curled, and looks at the wall until she closes her eyes with a deep breath and a sigh.

(It smells like him. She wishes that weren't as comforting as it is.)

Fortunately, she hardly has any time at all to worry about how she should feel about this situation: her fatigue comes crashing in on her like a wave and it's only moments before she's drifted off into deep sleep.

At least these beads aren't too small, he thinks. He arranges the receiving baskets around the larger one and begins to pick through, pulling out a few at a time.

"Word is that you have a guest," Ayemi says, and Bucky nearly drops the handful of beads that he's holding.

"Uh, yes," he replies. "Sharon. She's a friend of mine."

"Hmm." The elder eyes him closely. "And this friend came all the way to Wakanda." She considers that, and considers him, then gives a firm nod. "Next time, you will bring her here and introduce her to me."

It's nice and warm in the hut, with a cool breeze blowing through the window, and she sleeps steadily for who knows how long before she begins to stir. She'd turned over in her sleep, and when she cracks her eyes open and sees a figure standing by the side of the bed, she smiles, dozy. "You're back early."

"Oh? Am I?"

It is not Bucky's voice, and Sharon blinks wide awake in an instant, only to startle back at the sight of Nakia, standing in the middle of the hut with her hands on her hips and a forbidding expression on her face. "Oh my God," Sharon gasps, falling to her back and staring at the ceiling with her hand to her racing heart. "Nakia. You scared me half to death!"

He agrees to the introduction, and evades as many of the significant details about Sharon's past as he can, and sorts the beads under Ayemi's sharp eye. Eventually she turns to telling stories of her children and grandchildren, their mischief and travels and trade.

It's soothing, he finds, even if he's not sure exactly why. The quiet rhythm of the beads clattering into their baskets is peaceful, and the sense of accomplishment from helping to create something useful is ... nice.

"What are you doing?" Nakia demands, as Sharon rolls up to sitting, rubbing at her face.

"Sleeping?" she hazards, but her friend is already steaming straight ahead. "I expected you back an hour ago! You were up all night because of him and now I find you here alone in his bed?"

Sharon groans and presses her hands to her face. "It's just a bed, Nakia. Nothing nefarious. We shared one before, it's fine, he was just letting me get some rest. No ulterior motives, I promise you."

"I will decide that," Nakia promises, pointing at her. Sharon makes a sound like a dying animal and flops back to drag the throw over her face. "I was wrong," comes out muffled, and Nakia steps closer, a sardonic hand to her ear.

"Oh? What was that? Since when do you admit mistakes?"

Sharon pulls the blanket off her face and glares at her, but her friend just sits on the edge of the mattress and puts a firm hand on her leg. "I hated to see you so hurt," she says, a little more gently, and Sharon nods, reaches for her friend's hand.

"I know. But we talked. It's okay, I promise. He didn't mean what I thought he did."

At some point during one of Ayemi's stories, Chichima comes over and settles beside Bucky's knee with her doll. She waits until her grandmother smiles at her before she pipes up, "Can I have some beads for Ndela?"

"Yes," says Ayemi. "White Wolf, pick some of the best beads for my grandchild."

Gravely, Bucky sorts through the basket in front of him and the others to the side, and comes up with ten beads of varying colors, which he holds out to Chichima. She takes the first one in her tiny fingers and starts tying it in her doll's hair.

Nakia does not look convinced. "That must have been quite a conversation." Sharon rolls her eyes at the ceiling.

"Yes, it was. A private conversation." She sits up and crosses her legs underneath herself, letting her hands fall into her lap, and gives Nakia a rueful look. "Thank you for coming to rescue me. But it's okay, I promise. Don't be mad at him because I wasn't thinking straight."

Nakia shakes her head and clicks her tongue, looking for a moment out the hut window towards the rolling plains beyond. "Just because he did not mean it doesn't mean you did not feel it," she says. "And I will be as angry with him as I please."

Sharon huffs a laugh and shakes her head, groaning. "Stand down, Nakia," she says, wry. "Whatever you were planning, call it off."

Nakia looks at her, all wide-eyed innocence. "Planning? I have planned nothing."

Sharon waits. "That I did not think he deserved," Nakia admits, after a long moment, and smiles, her eyes warm and sympathetic. She reaches out to tuck a lock of Sharon's hair back behind her ear. "You are sure?"

"I'm sure."

Chichima tells him all about Ndela's adventures as she ties bead after bead into the doll's hair, then holds her up for examination. He studies the doll with the same sort of attention that he'd give a complicated problem before pronouncing her hair "very nice."

Chichima waves at him, moves her doll's hand to make Ndela wave at him, then does both for her grandmother as well before she skips away. When Bucky looks up, he finds Ayemi watching him.

"Well done," she says, very simply. "Thank you. I will send for you again in a few days, yes?"

He nods to her.

"I'll come, when you do."

"Fine." Nakia stands, and shakes a finger at her. "But I will be watching."

Sharon pushes at her friend's hip. "Watch away. Just not now, I want to sleep. Go away!"

"Are you sure you just want to sleep?" Nakia says, slyly, and laughs her way out the door as Sharon tosses a sandal at her. "Come and find me later, yes? Have a good rest, Agent 13."

And then she's gone, leaving Sharon to her mutters and yawns, until she glances at her watch. It's only been a little over an hour – there's plenty of time for her to catnap. She bundles the throw back up and pushes it and her left hand under her head, then closes her eyes again, shaking her head.

She'll have to warn Bucky to give Nakia kind of a wide berth for a bit. But when she falls asleep again, it's with a smile on her lips.

He makes his way back to the area around the hut without incident, stopping to check on the goats as he crosses from the end of the path into their field. They bleat in annoyance or hope for grain, he's not sure which, but settle down quickly enough as he passes by.

When he reaches the hut, he takes a deep breath to steady himself before ducking through the hangings across the door.

Sharon is asleep, curled up on her side with her head on the woolen throw, a tiny smile on her face. Whatever dreams she may be having, they're clearly not nightmares.

He watches her for a few seconds, there in the quiet, before he murmurs, "Sharon." Loud enough to wake her, he hopes, but low enough not to startle her. "Time to wake up."

She makes a stubborn, annoyed sound and curls up tighter, pulling the throw back over her head and putting her arm on top. "Go away, Nakia," gets mumbled from the rumpled pile of fabric that was once her head and face.

Damn. She was having a really nice dream, too.

"I'm not Nakia," he informs Sharon, a little dryly, "but I can go look for her if you want to talk to her."

"Or you can sleep a little longer if you want." This time he sounds more gentle. "Since you had a rough night."

There's a pause, and then Sharon pulls the throw off her face and blinks at him until her eyes focus. "What? Oh, no."

She sits up to push herself to the edge of the mattress and then up to standing, raking out tangles in her hair with her fingers. "Nakia was here earlier, I thought she came back...how was your visit?"

She sounds sleepy, but that pale, drawn look to her face has mostly faded away.

"It was good." Rather than loom over her, he starts to take a seat in one of the chairs, but stops himself as she gets to her feet. "She had me sorting beads."

"Nakia came looking for you? Everything okay?"

I will be watching.

"Mm." Vaguely noncommittal. "Mmhm. Yep." There's still a glass of water on the table; she reaches for it to rinse her mouth out, and to conveniently hide behind a curtain of hair for a quick moment. "Everything's fine. She was just checking in. I guess she thought I'd be back at the Citadel by now."

She puts the drained glass back down, smiling at the mental image of him sorting beads. "I can see why she would want some help. That sounds like a finicky job."

He gives her a curious look, then marks it off to her still waking up. "I guess so, a little. I think she said they were trade items."

He shrugs and leaves it at that, and on doing so finds himself without anything to say.

She smiles, a little. "Not a bad way to while away an afternoon."

And she can just imagine the older ladies of the various tribes being delighted to have him come help them with their little tasks. "So is this about how your days mostly go?"

It's nice. Quiet. Everything he deserves and more.

"More or less," he agrees. "I take care of things as much as I can. The kids liven things up between their lessons, before they go home. Either T'Challa or Shuri visits every couple of days."

He sighs, very slightly.

"I'm probably due for the next series of scans and tests in Shuri's lab, come to think of it. Especially now."

"Now that she has the journals, you mean?"

He doesn't sound all that enthused, and she can't blame him. Even thought Shuri is clearly cut from a different cloth from everyone who's worked on him before, he can't enjoy being poked and prodded at. "Do you need to go in and see her?"

"Yeah, the journals. And yeah, probably. When she's ready," he's quick to add.

"I told you she got the roots out. But... there's more to it, we think."

"No rush, then."

She slips her hands into the back pockets of her borrowed pants and considers him. "Yeah, I bet. It sounds like there's...a lot of layers to dismantle."

It'll take time. But time is something he finally has, and Shuri has all the skill he needs. She tips her head towards the door. "Do you want to come sit outside with me? I always need a little fresh air after a nap, and I think I saw a nice shady tree out there."

"Looks that way," he agrees, a little grimly, before a slight smile touches his lips.

"You probably saw more than one. Okay. Lead the way to whichever one you're thinking of."

Yeah. She's pretty sure they don't need to discuss all the things that still need to be fixed in his head. Not right now, anyway, so she just smiles and leans forward to wrap her fingers lightly around his wrist and tug him back out the door.

He may have just spent the last few hours outside, but she takes a deep breath of the mellow Wakandan air and turns her face up briefly to the sunny sky before spotting a promising looking tree. It's near – but not too near – the goats, and has a broad trunk rising gracefully from thick grass, and when she lets him go to sit down with her back against the bark, she's got a nice view of the plains that stretch out towards the horizon on one side, and the lake on the other.

She leans her head back against the tree and rolls it to look at him, her smile small but bright.

"I like it here."

He doesn't protest, instead allowing himself to be pulled after her without resisting. She settles against the tree, and he sits down a little distance away on the grass, still in the shade.

"It's nice," he agrees. "I'm glad you like it."

She deserves a pleasant refuge.

"Do you have a favorite part about being here yet?"

Favorites are hardly something he would have been able to allow himself before, except maybe in very small doses every now and again. But if he needs practice in forming opinions, he could hardly have a better mentor than her: she has opinions on everything.

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