Chapter 1

A small Asian woman left the reception desk after acquiring a visitor's pass, eyes scanning the lobby of the Wakanda International Outreach Center in search of her godchild. A small number of people littered the place –most of them of African descent. She caught sight of the olive-skinned boy near the elevator. Little Jamie had caught the attention of Nakia and her companions whilst she was occupied at the reception. She recognized the other two as King T'Challa and Princess Shuri –no one can miss the huge framed photograph of them by the entrance, the other two women who looked incredibly badass with their shaven and tattooed head, she guessed, were their guards. A man who could only be Captain America stood by their side. And then there was another man. She could not see his face for he was crouched in front of Little Jamie. He was ruffling her godchild's hair when she reached them.

"James?" She called softly.

Everyone turned to her, including the four year old; a big smile plastered on his face, his blue eyes gleaming with happiness. It was the kind of happiness Lucy had never seen on his godchild's face before. "He is Dada!" He chirped and as if to prove his point, hugged the man in front of him.

A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her whole body tensed at the sight. To say she was shocked was an understatement. It could not be. He could not be that bastard who ran away and left her best friend five years ago. But Lucy be damned if she ever forget that asshole's face, even if he now sported a beard. Everyone seemed amused at the situation but not her. It took all of her willpower to calm herself, she lets out a deep breath and forced out an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry about that." She offered then took the boy's hand, gently tugging him towards her. The bastard had the audacity to smile at her as he stood up. Acting as if he does not know me, huh?

"It's fine, ma'am." He said.

"James, let's go, mama is waiting for you." Lucy excused herself and the kid. The elevator door opened and before hopping in, Jamie turned to the man one last time and waved.

"Bye, dada!"

Lucy stood inside the elevator, debating with herself on whether she should inform her best friend, Jamaica, of what transpired at the lobby. Everything is going so well in her life now. She is happy and contented with her new life in Oakland after leaving New York. Lucy knows it would shake Jamaica's world if she told her of this encounter, and she would not want that to happen. Granted, Jamie had been longing for a father figure ever since he knew what a father is, and Lucy sees that as Jamie's mother, it breaks Jamaica's heart that he had none.

Still, that bastard, that James Buchanan Barnes has no right to be a father to Little Jamie. Even if they share first and last names. He left. And he does not care one bit, it seems. The asshole looked awfully happy with his life. Fuck him. Lucy thought. He will never get near Jamie –and Jamaica for that matter– again.

The ding sound of the elevator pulled her from her thoughts. With Jamie's hand in hers, they stepped out to the floor together and approached the door to Jamaica's office. Lucy decided, as she turned the knob, Jamaica does not need to know.

"Mama!"

The chirping sound put a warm smile on Jamaica's face as she looked up from her desk. Her son ran towards her, arms stretched out. She met him halfway, lowering herself down as she welcomed the boy into a hug. "I missed you, my Jamie." She cooed then gave him a peck on the cheek. "How was school today?"

"We write A-B-C and Teacher Ron give me a star. Look!" The boy raised his left arm to show her the stamp on the back of his hand. It read 'Very good.'

"Good job, my little doll." She pinched her son's cheeks lightly before giving him another kiss on the forehead. Jamaica turned to Lucy who stood by the door. "Thanks for picking him up." She said. Her best friend looked a little tense. But before she could ask if something was bothering her, she spoke.

"Anything for Jamie." Lucy replied. "Anyway, I'm meeting up with Anna in a while, I'll get going now." She walked towards the two of them and gave them both a hug. "Bye, Jamie, be a good boy." She reminded then left.

Despite the abruptness of it all, she turned to her son again, dismissing her worry. Jamie was unpacking his things on the carpeted floor of her office. He took out his activity book from school then handed it to her mother. The smile on Jamaica's face never faded as she took the object from him. "Let's see your homework for today." She picked him up then sat him on her lap, and together, mother and son scanned the pages, looking for his assigned work.

Jamaica would drop him off at the Child Study Center before going to work. By noon, Lucy would pick him up and bring him to her. After dropping him off in her office, she would help her son with his homeworks, sometimes he would take a nap on the couch, but most of the time she let's him play at the Center's playground, together with the kids of other workers. Nakia, her boss who oversees the Outreach Center, was very considerate to those like her: a single parent.

When Jamaica moved to Oakland, five months pregnant with James, she swore to forget her past and start anew. She thought she would live and die in the jungles of New York. Born and raised in Harlem, Jaimaca is the only offspring of an interracial couple who lived in an old Brownstone. Her father was of African descent. He taught her practically everything she needed to know in life. He was a quiet man with deep thoughts. He loved jazz and she got that from him. It was an olive-skinned immigrant from the Pacific Islands who caught her father's heart. Her mother died when she was born because of complication. He was the only family she had.

Jamaica never inherited her father's ebony skin, which she loved so much. Instead, she got her mother's olive ones. Once, when she lamented about not having his black skin, he said, "It is one of the things I loved about your mother, and I would want for you to love it as well." And she did.

Lucy Lim entered her life when she was in high school. This awkward, skinny, Asian girl had offered Jamaica her dumplings when she tripped and fell over nothing in the cafeteria, her lunch flying everywhere. She remembered having sat there cursing gravity when the smell of steamed meat invaded her nostrils. It was the start of a beautiful friendship. If it were not for her, Jamaica would have withered away the same day her father exhaled out his last breath just months after her graduating from college. It was Lucy who had been there for her when she hit rock-bottom. She offered support and a shoulder to cry on.

Jamaica can never thank her best friend enough. Maybe, it was the fact that both were Asians, which was why they clicked so well. Lucy was estranged from her family because she decided she wanted a girlfriend and not a boyfriend, a wife and not a husband. When Lucy decided to move to Oakland, she wanted for Jamaica to come with her. Jamaica was reluctant to leave Harlem at first but her best friend's incessant persuasion finally got to her. She had promised her she would help her every step of the way, and she did.

She still does. Even after Jamaica had gotten back on her feet. She has a steady job now at the Wakanda International Outreach Center. It was Anna -Lucy's girlfriend- who recommended she apply for the job of Project Coordinator. The Center had just opened then and was in dire need of people. Wakanda, it turns out, is the most technologically advanced nation on Earth. And it is in Africa. It came as a shock to her. Her whole life, she believed the land of her ancestors was nothing but a third-world continent. Jamaica had never been so wrong in her life.

Knocks on her door pulled her back from her thoughts. She gingerly lifted James off of her and sat him down on the carpet beside her table. "Finish your homework, little doll." She instructed just before the door opened, revealing Nakia and a man she has only seen in monitor screens and holograms during meetings.

"Miss Coleman, it is a pleasure to finally meet you personally." The King offered his hand with a smile.

"The pleasure is mine, Your Highness." Jamaica accepted the offered hand and they shared a brief handshake. She then called James over who was watching curiously. The boy approached them and stopped by his mother's side.

He beamed a smile at the King. "I'm James." He stretched his hand out, like he had seen the King do earlier.

"Nice to see you again, little boy. I am T'Challa." The King replied and shook the boy's hand good-naturedly. Jamaica gently nudged him back to his spot.

"Again?" She asked, one brow rose.

"I've had an encounter with the boy earlier. It was interesting, to say the least." He stated, rather amusedly, in his heavily accented speech. She only nodded and smiled in response. Nakia must have sensed her uneasiness with the way her body tensed as she chanced a look at her son.

"Do not worry, sister, it was all good." She assured before stating that they need to go. T'Challa just wanted to meet her. Jamaica remembered when Nakia first introduced her to the King over a video call. She had said,

"Our most efficient partner in the Center."

She felt elated at having praised like that. She was just doing her job, Jamaica had reasoned out. T'Challa thanked her for her efforts nonetheless. Six months later, Nakia approached her at her station, told her to pack her things up and follow her. Jamaica feared the worst as she collected her things and placed them in a box. She did not have much then, just a few files and folders, a couple of pens, and a framed picture of her three-month old son. She followed her boss to the elevator and asked if they were firing her, Jamaica had just gotten back from Maternity Leave the last week. Nakia chuckled before turning to her.

"You will see." She only said as they both reached the 7th floor and Nakia led her in a room. It was completely bare, aside from what looked to be brand-new desk and swivel chair. "Starting today, this will be your office. You are being promoted to Project Manager."

The news brought tears to her eyes. She did not know whether to drop the box or wipe her tears or hug Nakia. In the end, Nakia hugged her, while Jamaica was holding the box, then wiped her tears for her. All her hard work paid off. It humbled her to know that the Wakandans trust her this much.

For the past five years, the Outreach Center had been her home and its people her family. They helped Jamaica rebuild her life. They gave her a sense of purpose. She promised she would not let them down. After all, she is not just doing this for herself and the community.

Jamaica is doing this for him. Amidst all the heartbreaks and struggles she faced, the world gave her the most precious gift she could ever receive, her little doll, James Coleman Barnes.