The last three weeks have chewed on every single one of her nerves in much the same way she's chewed on every single one of her nails and cuticles and destroyed them so completely that the manicurist she found in the city scolded her for ten minutes without stopping.

She's no scientist. For one thing, she doesn't have the background or the interest, and for another she lacks the patience. She'd been so alarmed by the catastrophic failure of the first few tests that Shuri had to order her out of the lab and then explain, very seriously and at length over a few strong drinks later on that 'this is how science works.'

Sharon didn't question her, but she did stay the hell out of the lab after that. Thus the nail-biting, and the getting yelled at.

And today? Today she's eerily still, her stomach in knots. Steve is back, a calm and steady presence that helps zero amount. This might not be a mission in crisis, but her body doesn't know the difference; it's trying to focus on how to get out alive and she has to keep reminding herself that nobody is shooting at anyone.

The tension is climbing in the rest of the lab, too. Even Shuri, always so cheerful and competent, is a little strained. Sharon hopes the poor girl sleeps for a day straight after all this. "We're ready," Shuri says, and from her spot near the chamber begins tapping on her tablet while Sharon and Steve position themselves near enough to be seen right away, far enough not to get in the way if he needs any immediate medical attention.

And then there's a hiss and the cryo chamber opens smoothly and for the first time in so long, he opens those beautiful smoke-blue eyes and that knot in her stomach migrates quickly to her chest and squeezes.

"Hey," she says. She can't stop smiling. "Up and at 'em."