Hello, everyone! I'm really sorry about the wait, but last week was incredibly busy and incredibly tiring, and I actually didn't get the bulk of this chapter written until last night.
Someone mentioned in a review that I should show Christy dealing with nightmares (since I had brought it up as plot point before) and I realized that I hadn't had a "nightmare chapter" for a bit. Eh, what can I say, I like hurt/comfort ;) You also get one of my favorite "unconditioning" scenes and BABY PANTHERS. But Bucky's haircut will be next chapter.
Hope you enjoy!
Chapter Twelve
The most annoying thing about having nightmares, in Sam's opinion, was that he had a hard time remembering exactly what he dreamed.
Some people would think this a blessing, not a problem, but it meant he couldn't follow through on his own advice of talking things out—if he couldn't remember specifics, what was there to discuss? And Sam never liked advising something he didn't practice himself.
Tonight, however, was another story. He'd woken up in a cold sweat with his dream etched to the forefront of his mind.
It had been a jumbled mess of old flashbacks to Reilly getting shot out of the sky, mixed with newer images of Rhodey crashing down from Vision's blast, all covered over with a heaping amount of guilt and helplessness.
I was a pararescue and I couldn't do jack! I just…I just had to watch it happen. Both times.
He'd taken several deep breaths and tried to calm down enough to sleep, but his mind and body were not having that tonight, so he got up and padded into the Common Area, towards the kitchen.
I need a beer. Or water…or milk…or hot chocolate…
He had to smile a little at that.
I have to hand it to the kid, it's a genius idea. And she wasn't even trying to start a new tradition that night…
When he reached the Common Area, though, he found that he wasn't the only one awake at this late hour.
Bucky was sitting on one of the couches, scrunched into a ball and looking straight ahead with a thousand-yard stare.
"Hey, Barnes?" Sam called softly. "You in there?"
Abruptly, Bucky jerked back into reality. "Hey, yourself." he said, his voice lower than normal.
Sam sat down across from him in a chair. "Bad dreams?"
"Yeah…" Bucky sighed. "It's been worse since…y'know. I'm remembering things I didn't know I forgot, 'cause they weren't all that important, next to remembering about Steve and…who I used to be. But now they're coming back, and…" he shook his head. "They treated me like crap." he finished, voice dropping to a true whisper.
"That they did." Sam agreed, feeling anger-adrenaline start to course through him. "Anything you wanna tell me?"
Bucky shook his head. "Nothing I haven't already told you before. It was all a re-hash…let's just say I'm really glad that Zola's dead, and move on."
"I'll drink to that." Sam hissed. He'd heard enough about Arnim Zola to know that the man was bad news all around.
"So…what about you?" Bucky asked, cocking his head.
"What about me?"
"Well, unless you've taken to going on moonlit strolls for a new hobby—which, I won't judge…"
Sam gave a low growl. "Y'know, Steve's right. You are a jerk."
"You're the one who wouldn't move your seat up." Bucky muttered childishly.
"Well you're the one who crashed through my car window on the highway…"
"Hey, that's a low one! I didn't even know what I was doing!"
"So you didn't know you were crashing through a car window?"
Bucky folded his arms. "I didn't know I wasn't s'posed to. And anyway, you're dodging the question."
Sam hmphed. "That's my line." But, seeing that he was caught, he added. "It was nightmares, same as you. I…after you and Steve took off, in Leipzig, Vision shot a blast up after me…"
"Wanda told me." Bucky finished. "Vision shot a blast, aimin' for you, and he hit Rhodes instead."
"Crashed him straight to the ground." Sam shook his head. "I…I'm glad it didn't hit me, 'cause I'd've been a goner, but I didn't…" he took a long breath. "Before I jumped on this crazy superhero train and never left, I was in the Air Force. Pararescue; goin' in on helicopters, handling medical stuff. My wingman was a guy named Mark Reilly. One day, we were up flyin' and…an RPG knocked his dumb ass outta the sky. And all I could do was watch."
"I'm sorry." Bucky said sincerely.
"When I saw Rhodes fall…it was like Reilly all over again. Like I was paralyzed. And when I tried to help, Stark shot me off to kingdom come."
Bucky snorted. "Look, Stark's not exactly the most sane, rational thinker while under emotional stress. I…I wouldn't take it personal."
"I didn't." Sam sighed. "Not really. But it was just one more time where I was stuck…I never felt so small. So helpless."
The guilt was evident in Sam's voice.
"Hey." Bucky leaned forward earnestly. "It wasn't your fault. With your friend, it was the fault of whoever fired that RPG. Wasn't yours. With Rhodes, it was…dunno. General Ross. Whoever started this whole dumb affair. But not you. All you ever do is help people…but you can't save everybody." He shook his head. "You're just like Steve—got the same stupid, noble streak. You're just more subtle. But I know something about guilt, and I don't want you carryin' around what I've gotta deal with day-in, day-out."
Sam let out a long, slow breath. "I knew the day would come when I'd get my words thrown back at me."
Bucky shrugged. "They're true. S'just…"
"Believing them is hard." Sam finished. "It's easy fighting for others; it's harder to fight for yourself."
Bucky grinned a little. "Yeah, but I think that's what friends are for. Or brothers."
"One and the same in this…family." Sam said the word quietly, not exactly sure it was right. And yet he couldn't think of a better one to describe this cobbled-together gang of people.
"Family." Bucky repeated firmly. "Only one I've got now. All things considered, it's not such a bad one. Even if my punk brother doesn't move his seat up."
Sam rolled his eyes, but then turned serious. "Thanks, y'know. For sayin' something."
Bucky nodded back, just as serious. "I've…had a lot of help, the past couple years. Figured it's time I start givin' some back."
Suddenly, the sound of quick movement and low voices sounded from down the hall, coming from Wanda's room, and Christy's.
Sam winced. "Looks like we're not the only ones at the nightmare party tonight."
"Yeah…" Bucky frowned and stood up to peer down the hall. "I wonder if we should check…"
"If it gets worse, yeah, but you don't need too many people around you after a nightmare. How 'bout we…" Sam trailed off as an old memory struck. "'Embrace the whole awake at two in the morning deal'?"
Bucky smiled, remembering the same memory. "I'll get the milk and chocolate powder out. Do we have enough mugs?"
"We better, I'm not giving one up." Sam muttered. "I came out here for a drink."
"Who's the jerk now?" Bucky said, his smile turning into a smirk.
"Still you. C'mon."
Most days, Pietro enjoyed having a mind connection with his sister. It gave him a safe outlet for his bountiful wells of sarcasm, as well as someone to share things with privately. Some things, however, made him wish the connection would disappear.
Nightmares, for instance.
Wanda could shield her mind pretty well while awake, but when sleeping, she really couldn't. It was the same with him. So any nightmares of his would seep into Wanda's dreams, and vice-versa.
Since the rescue from the Raft, Wanda had been on and off dreaming about the whole affair. But tonight had been bad.
"You have to let me out of here! Let me out! Let me go! Želim da idem kući! Pusti me odavde! Pusti me!"
Pietro's chest felt like a heavy, painful weight as he stumbled the few feet into his sister's room and all but collapsed on her bed.
"Wanda, probudi te! Molim!" he whispered, shaking her lightly. "Please, you have to wake up! You're killing me, sestra!"
Slowly, Wanda stopped mumbling and tossing and blinked open her eyes. "Pietro? Did I wake you up?"
Pietro hugged her. "Yes, but it doesn't matter."
"It does." Wanda sounded guilty. "It's my fault. All of it."
"Stop." Pietro hushed her. "What is this about?"
Wanda gave him a look. "You know what this is about! Lagos. Germany. Everything. If I had just…done something else…"
Pietro gave a long sigh. "Wanda. Moja prelepa sestra. You're being crazy! I think everybody had a fault for something that happened!" His voice turned to stone. "Like Ross had a fault for locking you up."
Wanda shrugged. "I made my choice."
"They hurt you." Pietro pressed. "When I found you, I was so angry."
"I know you were, brat. I saw your face."
"I just…" Pietro trailed off. "I wish they could see you like I do. All they see is a girl with crazy powers. But me…I know you. I wish people could see what I see."
"Vision said something like that." Wanda mused. "When he…"
"Tried to keep you at the base?" Pietro finished, his tone almost a growl.
"You know it wasn't his fault. He's basically two years old for experience. He wasn't ready for something that wasn't black and white…something like this, with so much gray and no one really wrong. But when he said that Stark wanted to avoid another incident, I asked him what he wanted. And he said…'for people to see you as I do.'" Wanda looked down. "So what do you see?"
"Brave." Pietro said instantly. "Smart. Loyal. Caring. Trying very hard and learning as much as you can about your powers. Singlehandedly helping heal seventy years of brainwashing."
Wanda blushed. "Steve and Sam help."
"Yes, help, but you do the work." Pietro wrapped his arms around Wanda's shoulders. "I'm so proud of you. That's why it kills me when people like Ross…they see powers, not a person. Not my sister. And they lock her up like an animal…"
He lapsed into frustrated silence.
"It was bad." Wanda finally admitted softly. "I thought I was going crazy. I would have gone crazy without the others. I couldn't move! And the collar sometimes shocked me if I tried to contact you."
Pietro went rigid. "It hurt you when we talked?"
"No, not every time, but if I had too much emotion or we talked for too long, it would register. It wasn't a bad shock…"
Pietro growled. "Wasn't bad! It shouldn't have happened at all!"
Wanda gave a choked sob. "All I could think was that I wanted to go home. But then I didn't even know where that was, because…we don't belong anywhere. I don't belong anywhere. Not really. Nowhere wants us, any of us. They don't understand."
Her voice was full of despair. Pietro cradled her close against his chest.
"You were invited to stay here by the king of this country." he said slowly. "And the Old Man said you are an Avenger. We belong with…them." he gestured vaguely. "All of them. You know, I don't think home's a place. I used to, but…not anymore." He smiled. "The kid showed me this poem…she reads the strangest things!"
"Yes…" Wanda managed a small smile. "She does."
"Anyway, it said that home was…'something you somehow haven't to deserve'." he said, trying not to stumble over the awkwardly-phrased English. "It's where they don't care what you did, they take you anyway and help you get better. No questions."
"'Something you somehow haven't to deserve.'" Wanda repeated, feeling the words chase away her despair.
Pietro was right. It was no longer the two of them against the world. They had a family now; a family they didn't have to earn or deserve.
It felt good.
Pietro turned his head and frowned slightly. "I hear noise." he gave a sad smile. "I don't think you're the only one with a bad dream tonight, sestra."
From the direction of Christy's room, they could hear quiet crying and Steve's low voice.
"Oh, mače…" Wanda said, untangling herself from her blanket.
Pietro sighed. "We should let Steve handle it. She always wants him after a nightmare." He shook his head. "I know."
Wanda wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sure she was happy to have you with her at Clint's house. But come on, I hear something in the kitchen. Sounds like the boys."
"What are they doing in the kitchen?" Pietro asked.
"Oh, Sam makes hot chocolate for nightmares. Christy told me it started…soon after they found Bucky."
Pietro licked his lips exaggeratedly. "Sounds good!"
Wanda shook her head. "Come on, zvekan." She gave him a kiss. "And thank you."
Pietro shrugged. "It's my job, right? I'd do it anytime."
Someone has to, after all…
Steve had never been a very heavy sleeper (catching every illness known to man would do that to you) but after the serum, thanks to enhanced hearing, the slightest noise could wake him up. He'd learned to tune some things out, but tonight, he was grateful for the ability.
He had woken up to the sound of crying and his first thought had been for Bucky. But the sobs were too high and too frantic to be Bucky's…so that left only one other person. The one person in the whole world he least wanted to cry.
Dragging himself out of bed, he stumbled down the hall and into Christy's room. Her bear was clutched up tight against her chest and she was crying like the world was ending.
"Hey…" Steve sunk down on the bed and pulled her into his arms. "What happened?"
"It—it was real! It was real!" Christy sobbed. "I thought it was real and I was so scared!"
"Shhh…" Steve hushed. "What was real?"
Slowly, Christy managed to calm down and form sentences. "Th-they t-took me away. Th-they s-s-said you were a bad guardian b-b'cause you broke the A-Accords, and they took me away from you!"
"Who?" Steve asked, feeling shock. He knew that nightmares were often nonsensical but who did Christy think had enough power to do such a thing?
"R-Ross. And government people. Random people." Christy took a breath. "Not real people. I know that now. But they were real in the dream!"
Blind anger shot through Steve like a knife. Ross! Congratulations, bastard, you're now featuring in my daughter's nightmares as the boogeyman! Happy?!
"He couldn't do that." he assured slowly. "First, because he doesn't even know you exist. And second, because I wouldn't let him."
"I-I know." Christy whispered. "I just…"
"This isn't the first time you've dreamed this, is it?" Steve asked.
Christy shook her head. "I used to dream it more before the adoption was finished. Then, it was just that I got taken away for something stupid. I stopped dreaming it after a while, though. But then, the Accords happened, and…"
"And it started up again." Steve filled in. He sighed. "I'm so sorry, baby. But you do know he really couldn't do that, right? No one could, without proof I'd hurt you or put you in danger. No one's taking you away from me."
"I know." Christy repeated. "I just really don't wanna not belong to anybody again. I hated that. People took care of me, but it's not the same. I…I like it when Sam or Uncle Tony calls me Mini-Cap, because that means I'm like you. I belong with you, and I don't wanna leave."
Steve let out another long sigh and held Christy close. "Someday…you're gonna want to leave. Not because someone made you, but because that's what kids do. They…" his voice caught. "They grow up. But that doesn't mean you can't come back if you need some help, or need me. I'm always gonna be there for you, baby. I…I'm on your team. And until that day, no one's making you go away from me. Promise."
Christy nodded, knowing that her dad was deadly serious. He never promised anything he didn't keep.
"Thanks, dad." she whispered. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I know it's hard for you to sleep sometimes…"
Steve brushed off the apology. "That's what parents do." he smiled sadly, thinking of his own mother. "They make sacrifices. And it's okay…it comes with the job description."
The door creaked open and Bucky's head poked in. "She okay?"
Steve nodded. "Bad dream."
Bucky rolled his eyes. "Join the club, kid. That's four outta six. Five if you count the twins' freaky mind connection."
Steve raised his eyebrows. "Is everyone up?"
"Basically. I woke up and then Sam woke up, and then we made hot chocolate."
Christy looked slightly happier. "I like hot chocolate."
"Come get some, then." Bucky said. "We made enough for everybody."
As they made their way into the Common Area, Steve bumped Bucky's shoulder. "Thanks, punk."
Bucky shrugged. "We were all up anyway. Figured if there was gonna be a nightmare party, there might as well be drinks."
"Were you up about something?" Steve asked, concerned.
Bucky nodded. "Yeah, nightmares about you-know-what. All these old memories…stuff I hadn't tried to remember or hadn't known I'd forgotten. So much…" he shook his head. "So much pain. And for what? To destroy the world? It makes no sense."
"People like the ones with HYDRA don't make any sense, 'cause they're operating on an entirely different way of thinking." Steve said quietly. "To them, people are expendable because they're threats to order. But we know better." He grabbed a mug from the coffee table.
"Yeah…" Bucky couldn't help but smile. "We know better."
It wasn't a conventional thing, to be drinking hot chocolate at two-thirty in the morning. It wasn't even ideal.
But for now, it was a thing, and it was alright because they were together. And together, they could chase back the nightmares with one simple truth:
Whatever came next, they were not alone.
Steve ran his finger down the list of words. "One, two, three…four, five, six…seven. We're over halfway." he stated, with mild surprise.
"Good." Bucky said feelingly, trying to take slow, deep breaths and failing a bit.
"Your breathing isn't smooth." Wanda said, twisting the red tendrils between her fingers. "You should try to relax."
Bucky shot her a glare. "I don't tell you how to warm up your glowy red magic."
Steve started to tell his friend to lay off, but Wanda threw her hair back. "I'm only saying what Sam told you. You know I'm right."
Bucky relented. "Fine." he muttered, taking a more relaxed breath in and out. "Happy?"
"I'm trying to help." Wanda pointed out.
"I know." Bucky said, feeling like a complete heel. "Sorry. Just wound up."
Wanda softened. "I know. It's not easy. But, like Steve said, we're over halfway. This is really going very well."
Bucky sighed. "Yeah, better than I thought. Is the next one weird? The last two were."
The words he was referring to had been "nine" and "benign." Benign was fairly obvious, relating to HYDRA's lies about how "kind" they were to their Asset, but nine was, like seventeen, connected to strange numerology. ("They must've offered a class," Steve had joked grimly.) Apparently nine was, in some cultures, a number of completion; symbolizing HYDRA's complete control over Bucky's mind.
That one had been hard to fight, but Wanda had used the memory of "The Bridge" that Steve had shown her to push back the lie. In the end, HYDRA's brainwashing had never been complete, because all it had taken to crack it had been one word: his own name.
For "benign," she had called up more recent memories of friendship and kindness, reminding Bucky what it actually looked like to be treated with respect. "Benign" had been easier to repel, given Bucky's growing realization of his terrible treatment by HYDRA.
Steve frowned down at the "list". "Next is 'homecoming'." he said.
"Well, this oughta be fun." Bucky muttered. He put on an exaggerated Russian accent, "Vvvelcome home, Ziminy Soldat. Now you serve Mother Rrrusia!"
Steve smirked. "Be glad Natasha's not here."
"Natasha would agree with me! She defected, remember?"
Wanda sighed. "Boys…are we ready?"
Steve and Bucky snapped to stillness and nodded. "Ready." Bucky replied.
"On my mark." Steve said quietly. "Get set…" he took a breath. "Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu."
He'd practiced this one the longest of all, to get all the syllables correct.
Bucky gave a violent twitch and Wanda jumped in mentally.
Her first sight was of a dim, gray room; but one that was somewhat bigger and less cluttered than others she had seen in the memories. There were people walking about, heading wherever they were needed. A short, dark-haired man with far too many medals to have won them honestly stood beside none other than Bucky.
He was dressed in his signature blackish-brown leather, his hair reaching to his chin, and his eyes already looked weary and confused.
The short man glanced at him and gave a triumphant smile. "This is a homecoming for you, Soldat. You will stay here now, and we will give you your missions, your purpose."
Bucky just blinked slowly, clearly wary to speak.
The memory filled with perhaps the vilest emotion Wanda had encountered yet: complete acceptance.
HomecominghomehomethisishomewhereIbelongpurposemissionthisismyhomenow…
"NO!" Wanda let loose a mental scream and her powers pulsed with ferocity. "This is NOT your home! No, no, NO! Do not believe them!"
The man gave a soft, nasty-sounding laugh. "Such a great revenge, is it not? The Americans lose two heroes…and we profit from their loss!" He tsked. "Ah, but you don't understand me, do you, Soldat?" He patted Bucky's arm in a way that made Wanda's skin crawl. "Just know that you have been…repatriated. This is your vozvrashcheniye na rodinu."
Wanda felt her temper flare up quite a bit. Sokovia had been a Soviet puppet state during the heyday of the Eastern Bloc, and as a consequence, nationalism now ran high. On that point, she could sympathize with Bucky; taken away from home and forced to become "the enemy" of his own homeland—and everyone else's.
"He is American, tupan." Wanda hissed mentally. "And you will not be getting him back!"
Concentrating hard, she pushed back against Bucky's passive acceptance and the man's lies with another memory.
"This is your real homecoming!"
A tall, skinny, blonde-haired girl cautiously approached a hoodie-clad man in an alley. "Are…are you looking for someone, mister?"
"The man on the bridge…" The man whispered. "I knew him."
"He's looking for you."
"He shouldn't be…"
"He'll never stop. 'Till the end of the line, remember?"
"'Cause I'm with ya…'till the end of the line."
Slowly, almost painfully, the blind acceptance started to drain out of the memory. Blind grief and anger replaced it.
MyhomethisismyNONONONONOTMYHOMELIESLIESLIESLIARSALLLIESIbelonghereNOIBELONGWITHSTEVE!
It was like a mental tug of war as Bucky's emotions battled between themselves. Wanda aided as best she could, fortifying his resistive streak.
At last, it seemed the entire aura of the memory had done a complete 180. Where there had been nothing but acceptance and passivity, there was now strong sadness and even hints of anger.
This is better than before…but I won't leave him here…
With one last push of concentration, Wanda pulled all the hope she could muster into the scene before her.
This is not the end…it didn't stop here. They gave you a counterfeit, just like rasvyet. There was a better daybreak they wanted you to forget, and when you threw off their chains, there was a better homecoming waiting for you. Never forget that.
It worked; the hope infused into the memory until the aura grew bittersweet. It would never be a happy memory, but it would be one that didn't cause pain—or brainwashing.
Finally, Wanda allowed herself to back out. Bucky lay back against his chair with his eyes clenched shut and his face soaked—in tears or perspiration, Wanda couldn't tell. Steve was sitting still, his face full of concern like always.
"Okay?" he asked lowly, glancing at Wanda.
Wanda shrugged. "Seemed so."
"Bucky?" Steve called a little louder.
Bucky finally opened his eyes. A small amount of sadness still lurked in them, but none of the passivity Wanda had sensed.
"Welcome home, pal." Steve said, his voice sounding clogged. He reached over and half-smothered his friend in an embrace.
As they broke apart, Bucky muttered, "I like your 'welcome home' better than the Colonel's."
"Who was he, anyway?" Wanda asked. "I didn't recognize him, but I don't think he earned all those medals the correct way. He looked too young for that."
Bucky made a face. "Who knows? Prob'ly dead." His face screwed up again. "'Just know that you have been…repatriated.'" he mimicked, putting on a thick accent once more. "Well, too bad for you, fella—I'm American! We don't take control kindly!"
"You don't take control kindly." Steve said fondly, his eyes shining.
"Stubborn." Wanda hissed, in the same amused-but-exasperated tone she used for Pietro. "Stubborn boys."
Bucky shrugged, his mouth turning up at the corners. "Guilty as charged." He leaned back against the seat. "I need a break."
"Same." Wanda said, stifling a yawn. These sessions required a lot of mental work on her part, and she very often slept afterwards.
Steve helped both of them up. "C'mon. Let's get back and you two can nap. Or watch Sam teach T'Challa the finer points of Monopoly."
Bucky shook his head. "Oh, God, I'd pay to see that."
Steve smirked. "Lucky for you, you don't have to pay at all."
As they walked back to their living quarters, Bucky felt something bright swell up inside him.
This was home. This was where he belonged; surrounded by his oldest friend and a myriad of newer ones. This was where he stopped trying to escape.
This was where he was free.
Welcome home, me. He thought, smiling a little. And I'm not leaving anytime soon.
Christy tugged at the soft, dark cloth that covered her eyes. "Was the blindfold really necessary?" she asked, trying not to whine, but feeling frustrated.
T'Challa, who sat beside her in the back of the shiny black limo, laughed. "Yes, omncinci, the blindfold is really necessary. It is a surprise."
Christy folded her arms. "How do I know you're not kidnapping me?"
T'Challa shook his head and played along. "First, because I am a man of honor. Second, I have seen Miss Romanoff fight and have no doubt she passed some of her skill onto you. You are not someone I would like to be an enemy of."
Christy nodded slowly and uncrossed her arms. "That's fair, I guess. And Aunt Tasha did teach me to fight."
"All the more reason for me to avoid antagonizing you." T'Challa took her hand gently. "I promise you will like this surprise. Guaranteed."
"Okay…"
At last the vehicle stopped moving and Christy heard T'Challa say something to the driver in Wakandan. She heard the door open and T'Challa tapped her shoulder.
"Come with me, umzala. Your surprise is this way."
Still feeling incredibly disoriented, but trusting T'Challa, Christy grabbed his hand and walked awkwardly into…somewhere. She could hear voices and other strange sounds, something that sounded like…
"You can take the blindfold off now, little one."
Christy reached up and undid the cloth as quickly as possible. As she blinked and adjusted to the light, her jaw nearly hit the ground.
Before her was an enclosure with several small panther cubs.
"Is this a zoo?" she whispered, thunderstruck.
T'Challa smiled. "It is a nature preserve and rescue center, making sure that our wild animals stay wild, but also get the care they need. The mother of these little ones was found badly injured and died a short time ago. So the cubs are being raised here, until they can be released. I thought you might enjoy seeing them."
Christy let out a tiny squeal and edged closer to the enclosure wall. "Hi babies." she whispered. "Hi. Hi. You're cute. Who's a cute little national symbol? You are!"
T'Challa's already wide smile got even wider. He glanced questioningly at one of the workers, and received a nod in response.
"Would you like to hold one?" he asked
Christy spun around, her eyes shining like stars. "Can I?" she whispered.
The worker, a young woman, stepped forward. "You must be very careful and let them come to you. But you may touch them, and hold them if they let you."
Christy nodded earnestly. "I'll be good."
She was led into the enclosure and sat down on the small wooden bench. One of the curious cats started over towards her immediately.
The woman smiled. "That is Jama; he is always the first to explore something new."
Jama started rubbing up against Christy's leg, and finally climbed up the bench.
"Hi…" Christy said, reaching out to pet the cub gently. "Hi kitty. Good kitty…"
The other cubs soon came over as well, curious as to what the fuss was all about. Christy felt like she was in heaven.
"They're so cute!" she kept gushing.
They aren't the only cute ones… T'Challa thought, covertly snapping pictures for Steve and the others.
The lady worker, whose name was Nceba, finally snapped Christy out of her dream world with another dream.
"It is getting time for their feeding." she said. "Would you like to help?"
Christy's mouth dropped open. "Would I?!" she said in a strangled squeal. "Yes, please!"
Nceba laughed. "Come. Their milk formula and bottles are over here."
Together, they mixed the formula for the cubs' dinner and placed it carefully into angled plastic bottles. When they returned into the enclosure, the cubs came over immediately, yowling for food.
"They know it is time for food." Nceba said. "Come and sit down again."
Christy glanced at the bottle. "I fed my baby cousin before, but not a baby animal."
"It is not so different than feeding a human baby. Make sure to keep the bottle up like this." Nceba demonstrated by tilting the bottle up slightly and putting it near one cub's nose. The little cat quickly latched on and started sucking. "Here, you can feed Lindani. She is mostly still."
Lindani had already climbed up the bench and was looking very eager for dinner. Christy gently tipped the bottle up and put it near her nose. "Here, Lindani. Good girl. Here's dinner."
The bottle was emptied in short order, leaving the cub's dark muzzle stained white with milk.
"Good girl." Christy murmured again, giving her a pet. "Good baby."
After all the cubs had drunk their fill and lay saturated in the dirt, T'Challa walked into the enclosure. "We will need to leave soon…"
Christy gave him her best puppy-dog eyes. "Couldn't I please see some of the other animals?"
T'Challa relented (who wouldn't?). "Yes, yes; of course you may."
Christy smiled. That look always works…
After viewing the rest of the animals (including lions, her absolute favorite), Christy finally allowed T'Challa to lead her out of the reserve, back to where the limo was waiting. They both thanked Nceba, and then got into the vehicle once more.
As they drove away, Christy said quietly, "Thank you very much for bringing me here."
T'Challa nodded, his eyes shining. "You are most welcome. I think the 'national symbols' enjoyed you as well."
Christy kicked her leg out a little. "It's just…I'm sure you had other stuff to do today."
T'Challa groaned, thinking of the paperwork still on his desk. "I always have other things to be doing. But this…this I wanted to do. I wanted you to see more of my country than just the city."
"Thank you." Christy echoed. "And your country is pretty."
T'Challa acknowledged the compliment with a smile. They lapsed into silence for a few moments, until Christy asked, "So…who ended up winning that Monopoly game the other day, after I got out?"
"Pietro of all people." T'Challa muttered disgustedly. "Sam was not pleased."
"Doesn't sound like you were, either." Christy pointed out, grinning. "But that's Monopoly for ya. Ruining relationships since 1935! That's what Dad says, anyway."
T'Challa had to laugh at that.
"I'm glad we came here." Christy added, looking out the window. "We needed to go somewhere far away after everything. Somewhere quiet with no bad memories." She smiled a little. "Somewhere safe. I like it here."
"I am glad." T'Challa whispered, once more folding his hand over Christy's. "I am very glad indeed."
Awww! Complete and utter vicarious enjoyment for me...I LOVE baby animals! Just animals in general. And I watch way too many baby wild animal clips on YouTube.
Translations (All Serbian/"Sokovian" unless noted):
Želim da idem kući! Pusti me odavde! Pusti me!: "I want to go home! Let me out of here! Let me out!"
Probudi te! Molim!: "Wake up! Please!"
Sestra: "Sister"
Brat: "Brother"
Moja prelepa sestra: "My beautiful sister"
Mače: "Kitten"
Zvekan: "Silly"
Ziminy Soldat: "Winter Soldier" (Russian)
Tupan: (according to googletranslate...) "Dumb***
Omncinci: "Little One" (Xhosa/"Wakandan")
Hope that was worth the wait. Tune in next time for "Freight Car" and a giant mess of feels, as well as Bucky-gets-a-haircut, we-burn-the-HYDRA-book, and an interesting offer from Clint. Until then...
Reviews are wonderful things...