(A/N): Happy Tuesday! We've got lots going on in this story, and it's pretty darn exciting! This time, we're bringing you InDeepDarkWood's Storm.

Thanks as always to the writers who reviewed and to TheRaspberryVigilante41. (We're also thrilled to see Mera; she's kind of amazing.) We love you all!

Chapter Thirty-Six - Favorable Winds

Ororo Munroe, formerly of District Eleven

District Four, Amazon Village

Written by InDeepDarkWood

"It is not enough to win a war; it is more important to organize the peace."

― Aristotle

It was strange to wake up with a cool breeze against her face. Ororo was so used to the oppressive heat of Eleven that it was suspicious to waken where the wind caressed her face and soothed the scrapes and healing cuts on her arms and face.

The people of Four had been far more welcoming than she had expected them to be, given the opinion she had formed from the few she'd met during and after her Games. She was staying in the Amazonian section of the district along with a few SHIELD agents and Forge. She knew there were other houses that had opened their doors and pantries to the soldiers and fighters, because she had seen the house Eric was staying in.

Ororo still scarcely believed that her brother was still alive. Between her landing in Eleven and meeting up with T'Challa, and then the rendezvous with other SHIELD personnel to establish that she would be going to Four to aid the fight there, she hadn't heard word from Eric, undercover and alone.

"Little Goddess," Eric said, waggling his sunglasses as he strode up to her. Ororo looked up from her conversation with Forge, breaking into a wide grin as she pounced toward him. Eric caught her in a bear hug, though she felt him wince just a little. She pulled back, a frown replacing the grin for a few moments. "Don't worry yourself about it," he continued, gesturing to his side and flipping his glasses down long enough to wink. "You should see the other guy."

"He lying somewhere licking his wounds?" she asked, the grin creeping back up.

"Naw, he's dead," Eric replied. "Or, at least, I hope he's dead, with those injuries." Beside her, Forge stiffened, and she glanced over to see a dismayed look on his face at Eric's words.

"What are you doing here? When did you get here?" she asked, attempting to change the subject. Forge had fought people; they all had. Ororo had thought he had gotten to a place where he accepted that that was what needed to be done.

She thought she had gotten to that place too, and yet every time she saw a grimace or a nauseated look on her friend, her own heart started to hammer and bound, and she felt a growing need to change the subject to something more pleasant. Anything more pleasant. She still wasn't sure if it was her own misgivings or her desire to protect her friend that led her heart to pound like that.

"Director's orders," Eric said. "Well, not straight from the director. Someone said all hands on deck, and I have two of those. I came with the Cavalry. And let me tell you, it was a show. The Cavalry is something else, and phew, those Fours can fight hard." He paused, glancing between Ororo and Forge. "What are you two doing here?"

"We came to fight," Ororo answered, "like you."

"We came for assistance," Forge clarified, putting a hand on Ororo's shoulder. "Ororo and Director Logan spoke to Four's leaders yesterday about aid for Eleven."

"I wasn't very good at it," Ororo admitted, scuffing the hard ground with the toe of her boot. "Everyone here seems to talk a lot, but it takes them an awful long time to get anything said. They were all very… important. Older."

"You're important, Ro," Forge said, giving her a nudge to one side.

"And that Diana girl isn't all that older than you, you know," Eric pointed out.

Ororo beamed at the words of encouragement. "Oh, Diana's got this leader thing down," she said, nodding. "She knew just how to handle everyone. She's like T'Challa. I don't know how she does it. After that meeting, she came up and invited me to meet with her and T'Challa when he arrives."

"I think she's Diana, Leader of Four; and T'Challa is the leader of Eleven. Just wait until that meeting," Forge whispered in her ear. "You'll see their differences even more clearly than before."

"Enough quarry talk," Eric announced, rounding behind them to push in between Ororo and Forge and place an arm around each shoulder. "Come check out my current abode. The owner of the house is one badass warrior."

Ororo could freely admit that Eric's homeowner was indeed a formidable woman, and she felt extremely lucky that Antiope had been too old to enter any Games, let alone her Games, since that would have caused the Fours to win each year with Antiope as a mentor giving them tips to win.

She stretched as she walked over to the window, the empty frame allowing the curtains to swing lazily in the breeze. Ororo let out a little sigh, leaning against the wood, breathing in the air and watching the ocean glisten in the near distance. The sea was a wondrous thing to behold, but it also inspired a little bit of terror when Ororo considered the sheer vastness that lay before.

The little bit of terror was warring with the larger bit of exhilaration she felt. She longed to see what the sea looked like in a storm; would the water droplets pound the waves like the dirt roads and send cascades of water up to the sky? She wondered what it would feel like on a boat, bobbing through the waves that were so unlike anything she had ever seen. Why did the Capitol not create someplace like here? she thought. This is so much nicer than anything there. "It even sparkles better than their lights," she said quietly to herself.

She wondered if there was anything left of the room she stayed in at the Capitol or if it had been destroyed. Or if the little window ledge she had sat by in the Games, keeping watch over Steve, was still standing, or if it too was gone.

She wondered if Steve himself was still alive.

"I miss him," she told the sea. Behind her, there was movement, alerting her that someone else was awake. She hoped it was Forge and not the SHIELD agents that were staying in the house. They were nice, and very friendly, but they were also nearly double her age, and even if she tried to be grown up, they didn't have many things in common besides the ability to hit things.

"Who is 'him', Little Goddess?" Forge asked in a teasing tone.

Ororo tilted her head toward him as he stepped softly up to the window with her. "Steve," she said. "I haven't seen him in so long… or maybe it's not so long, just a million things have happened since then and now, and a million and one of those things could cause him to wind up dead."

"He's probably thinking the same thing," Forge mused as he joined her in looking out the window.

Ororo glanced at him sideways through squinted brows, and then landed a punch square on his shoulder. "Was that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked incredulously. "That did not make me feel better."

"What?"

"You are a terrible friend," she continued, giving him another punch for good measure.

"I feel like I'm being punished for crimes I did not commit," Forge observed dryly. "Let the courts know that I came here to look after you –"

"Look after me?" Ororo practically exclaimed, and Forge groaned as she adopted a little lawyer speak. "I am going to presume that your loss of intelligent words is due to hunger; otherwise, I don't think I have enough strength in my arms for the knock-out you are so clearly asking for."

"I only meant I would look for you before you leaped," Forge said in a clear attempt to correct his stumble as he received another cuff.

"The courts ruled in favor of Ororo," she retorted, rolling her eyes and hauling him through the window by his collar. "You're lucky you're still in my favor, or you'd be going hungry right about now."

Ororo led Forge down to the main street, and they spent the next couple of hours gazing at the variety of fish caught in the fishermen's baskets, big, bug-eyed ones; long, flat ones; and fat, stout ones. They were slipping down streets in the hot pursuit of fresh-baked smells, and before long, they were eating bread by the dockside, flicking a splash of saltwater at each other and seasoning the bread with the sea.

The docks had been mostly destroyed in the battle to save Four, but any boat that was still operational was either out on the bay or returning to an anchoring spot in shallow water. Ororo thought it was a fine display of strength in how the Fours recovered. She had seen Diana and Kaldur, former district partners in the Games, speaking with the fishermen she now associated with Arthur Curry and the craftsmen that were Odin's people.

The fisherfolk had divided in half, as had the craftspeople, working to repair the damaged boats. Ororo had seen them walk off together into the Asgardian section in search of trees to help repair the dock.

Even in war, life must continue, she thought, smiling over at Forge.

"Do you think you should wear a yellow dress for your meeting today?" he asked her, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Ororo shifted closer to him on the dock. "I want good luck, remember?" she said, flicking her wrist up to jingle the bracelet he'd given her at her Reaping. With the same arm, she shot her hand out to give him a shove, overbalancing him on the dock. Forge let out a little cry as he toppled off the dock, and Ororo cackled with laughter until he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the seawater after him.

This meeting was in the same tent in which Logan had convened the leading families of Four after the battle for the district, but that seemed to be where the similarities ended in Ororo's mind. For a start, Arthur Curry's imposing frame was nowhere in sight, which was both pleasant for Ororo to learn and somehow something to feel apprehensive about. The delegate in Curry's place was Kaldur Ahm, who was speaking in casual tones to Shuri; the two were likely discussing something electrical. Ororo was keen to join them; she was interested in electronics, but she had never been given the opportunity in Eleven, and her stunt in her Games was largely thanks to luck and Tony Stark.

She held back from their conversation, though, choosing instead to remain close to T'Challa, watching the Asgardian delegate chat with Diana with a feeling of half-dread weighing like a rock in the pit of her stomach. She did not have the threat of death on her side to make her fearless as she stood in front of Thor Odinson. They had not met since their time in the arena, and Ororo had not spoken to him, nor had she ever planned to speak to him. She had killed the person — thing — that murdered her. She didn't think Thor would feel any differently when faced with his killer.

"What is bothering you, Ororo?" T'Challa asked quietly while they waited for the meeting to start. "Do not tell me that you are nervous. You are surrounded by your peers, by your brethren. And they, like me, will listen to you."

"I'm not nervous," she whispered back. "I'm just hoping I don't get noticed."

"Ororo, you are sporting the most vibrant hairstyle in the room," T'Challa mused. "I think you are going about being covert in entirely the wrong way." Ororo didn't reply, and instead, she tipped her head toward Thor and Diana, raising her eyebrows pointedly in explanation. "Ah," T'Challa said, nodding. "It is hard to come against a former opponent and not consider that the violence between the two of you then will come between you again now." He let out a small sigh, and Ororo reached over and gave his upper arm a squeeze of reassurance, despite his words being meant for her. "All of us are better to let the past remain in the past and to learn from the mistakes we made then to better avoid making the same mistakes now," he continued.

"So I should not electrocute our allies?" she teased, side-eying Thor, as T'Challa chuckled and nodded at her little joke. Thor glanced over, recognition in his gaze as he watched T'Challa and Ororo, before he left Diana, headed toward them. Ororo ignored him, turning her head to look elsewhere, though her heart had begun to hammer in her chest, knowing he was coming closer. "T'Challa," she said softly, gripping his arm more securely and trying to focus on the conversation and not the approaching Thor. "Your past was not your mistake, but you are using their mistake to make yourself a better man. Do not forget that."

"Ororo Munroe, is that you?" Thor's booming voice was like thunder, and Ororo jumped despite herself. "You've grown so tall; you're nearly as tall as I am." She froze as Thor's hand gently gripped her shoulder, creating a human chain as Ororo kept her hand tightly on T'Challa's arm. Bracing herself, Ororo turned to face the man she killed. Don't panic. You are strong. You don't let them see you cry. Don't let them see you a-trembling.

"It is good to see that you are well, Ororo," Thor said, his entire face lighting up in a grin. Ororo's jaw nearly dropped, though she held her composure. The conversations around them had quieted down, signalling that the meeting was about to start, though Ororo couldn't keep silent for the entire length of that.

"You're… happy to see me well, Odinson?" she asked, tilting her head to one side. "I mean, it is good to see that you, too, are well."

"Of course!" he announced, his grip shifting from her shoulder to a hearty clap on the back that nearly knocked the wind out of her. "It took many months to reclaim my pride after my defeat to you. I tend to lean a bit to the side of grumbling when I lose. Rare as that occasion may be." He shrugged, accepting his flaw with dignity. "I am happy to congratulate you on your victory now, though, and I admit, I do feel slightly better now that you are a more comparable height for an opponent, at least."

"'Grumbling' is perhaps a tactful word," Diana said dryly from behind Thor. She seemed a lot more relaxed in this environment than the previous meetings Ororo had seen her in.

"I would like to point out that of the two people here that have tried to kill me, only one has succeeded, and that, dear sister, proved to be a temporary situation," Thor said with a grin. "If I were a gambling man — which I am — I would think that these were reasonable odds."

"Two?" John Constantine asked. "I think you better count again there, mate, and you'll better your odds." He paused, flicking his finger toward Shuri and Kaldur with a small grin. "I'm sure T'Challa's capable, and his lovely sister was more than willing to do you in after losing her brother, given half the chance."

"Come, come," Diana announced as Shuri smirked at the words in perfect sync with Thor's laugh. There was a slight pause as Diana glanced back to John, her brow furrowing, before gesturing with her hand for the surrounding people to gather. "First, I would like to extend Four's deepest regards and welcome to you, T'Challa, leader of Eleven. We would like to wish you favorable winds and a gentle tide."

"I, too, am pleased to be a part of this union," T'Challa returned. "I am even more pleased that Ororo's words did not go unheard."

"You will excuse Arthur Curry's absence; he has taken it upon himself to search the surrounding water's edge for Hydra agents," Diana said, continuing her greeting.

Ororo let out a small sigh of relief. She had thought Curry's absence was his way of showing displeasure at the proposed agreement between their districts.

Ororo listened to T'Challa and Diana go back and forth, their words formal, to the point — and yet, they still held a familiarity that only times of war could bring out in people. Ororo's gaze wandered to the Four contingent. Kaldur was nodding at T'Challa's words on pooling resources to strengthen both districts, while Thor shook his head, the warrior in him coming out as he voiced concerns for defense of Four if their warriors left the boundaries of Four unguarded.

John Constantine from Twelve was a step off to the side of Diana, his face a picture of neutrality. Ororo hadn't expected anyone from Twelve to be a part of a conversation that was not to impact Twelve itself. Ororo was about to turn her focus from his face back to what Diana was proposing when John's expression changed subtly; his brow furrowed slightly along with a slight shift in weight from one foot to the other. The change was gone after a moment, but the small movement caused enough disturbance for Diana to break off her sentence and glance his way.

"John, what say you?" Diana asked. Ororo watched them both and saw the way Diana's back straightened. "Do you not agree with Thor's concerns for our border?"

Our border, Ororo thought, musing at Diana's choice of words when she was speaking to a Twelve.

After a moment, John finally replied in an even tone. "There are other ways of protecting a border than throwing things at the people that are trying to cross it. That never ends well."

"We are not going to simply throw things at our assailants," Diana replied. "But without manpower, how can we keep it safe?"

"Who made your border, Di? The Capitol bastards, that's who." John gestured out toward the door. "Do you know what's beyond your border, Di? 'Cause I know what's beyond Twelve's, and it's bloody fantastic. Trees that go for miles and will make any stranger's head spin because it's so bloody vast." He looked at Kaldur, who was nodding in agreement. "You've been past the bay in the waters, right? Past the eels and other fish-monsters."

"Aye," Kaldur said. "It's a beautiful thing, the unknown."

"But here's the thing: It doesn't have to be unknown. Damn it, Di, you can just expand Four's borders to well past the treelines and make your own protection. You'll need less people to patrol it, too, when the bad guys have to trek through endless forest and swampland to arrive at the damn destination." John took a deep breath, and his face went back to the neutral illusion it had before.

Ororo was fascinated by how Diana had seen all that from a foot movement.

"We don't have the expertise for such an operation," Diana said after a few moments, taking the words in calmly, the way T'Challa seemed to absorb hot air and exude freshness.

"But we do," Ororo piped up, almost surprising herself with her words. You are just as important as they are, she thought, remembering Forge's sentiment. "We have gardeners and orchard growers, that are patient at teaching and kind to their charges, or else nothing edible would grow."

"I don't think anyone gave Isley that information," Thor said, chuckling.

"Let her speak," Diana said, giving Thor a look. "There will be time for jokes later, brother."

"Eleven can send you some of our best gardeners and foresters. They can help you to create a physical barrier to aid in Four's defense," Ororo said, bolstered by the allowance Diana had given her. "Our quarrymen may be older, but that only means they have many years of experience and can help your builders with more stable structures that will keep them supported."

"You can send Erbesol here, brother," Shuri said. "Then he at least might have a chance in competition without me to constantly beat him."

"Shuri, I think the time for jokes has not yet arrived," T'Challa replied, though his lips had twitched to a small smile. "Ororo has some excellent points. We will send as many growers as we can spare to help you protect your borders."

"Defense is good," Ororo said, "but making peace is better. Why have your warriors fight stragglers when your trees can do that for you?"

"Four will send a quarter of their warriors to aid in protecting Eleven," Diana said. "Arthur Curry thought it more appropriate to send a fifth, or less, but I like to think of myself as a more generous negotiator. I think, perhaps, a little like you, Ororo."

"The Sea King is a stubborn man. You must have made quite the argument," Kaldur said, some of his pride showing through as well as his obvious affection for his king.

"I can see where Arthur is coming from," Diana replied. "We have the sea for protection, but he worries our other borders are too immense, given our injured. Ororo's proposal will ease his concerns for our peoples." She paused, shooting a look at Kaldur. "It is a good thing he is like you, always wishing to care for the lambs. There are always ways to change a man's mind, when you know the right thing to say."

"Have you been speaking to Mera?" Kaldur asked, still a little dubious.

"Arthur and I do not need a mediator," Diana said, though there was a small smile on her face. "We share the same goals. This is not the time for that, however." Diana held her forearm out to T'Challa. "We are in agreement, then?" T'Challa gave her a quick nod and reached out without hesitation to grip her offered arm tightly. She locked her hand around his. Ororo didn't think Diana had been taught their custom. It made her smile a little inside that the districts, so different in many ways, had similarities such as the handshake.

Ororo thought about it later, standing on the veranda of Antiope's home, her stomach content and full from the feast the warrior had prepared for many of Four's visitors. Behind her, murmurings of conversation drifted out, above the music strumming in the corner. There had been wild dances earlier, with Diana in the center, looping arms with Kaldur, John, and even T'Challa and carrying them along in frenzied steps.

Ororo had joined in, and Thor had caught her arm and swung her clean off the ground and around in a circle before passing her on to T'Challa as he whooped along with Shuri, and then T'Challa had looped in with his sister, and Ororo had danced with Eric. Her brother had been correct; Antiope was a badass — in battle and in hosting.

Ororo breathed in the sea air, tasting the salt and sea on her tongue, watching the little harbor boats bob at the destroyed dock as the occasional larger light from Arthur Curry's search party swung back over the bay.

The wooden boards creaked behind her as someone came to join her, and she glanced over to see Forge, his hair wild with the sweat and thrill of the dance as he leaned against the railing, half-watching the sea, half-watching her. "So, did you talk about anything else?" he asked. "After they agreed to your brilliant plan?"

"I think so," Ororo answered. "Did you know they shake their hands like we do here?" She leaned closer to the railing, so her chin was resting between her hands. Forge followed suit, and the horizon's view was altered. He shook his head, his chin rubbing against the wood. "You said that Diana and T'Challa were different, Forge, and they are, they're their own people, that's for sure." She paused, watching the lights twinkle, and hearing the distant lap of waves, even above the music and laughter. "But they are also very much the same."

They stood in quiet together for a time after that, until the audible call of her name caused Ororo to turn back to the house, watching Shuri beckon them back. Even in war, life rolls on.