Tony and Peter were huddled over something on the bed, their backs blocking any view from the door.
"If we adapt the fuel source from my wrecked suit, we could give it more flight time."
"What we really need is more movement in the feathers, look, if we add a joint here and give those engines a quarter inch more space, we can maximize lift."
Clint watched from the door, waiting for them to notice his presence as they tinkered on the Angel suit.
"Feathered wings? A bit much don't you think?"
Tony and Peter both jumped at the sound of his voice.
"Yeah, well you're talking to the kid who got bit by a spider and made web shooters and a spiderman onesie, subtle isn't exactly his thing." Tony said smirking at his protégé.
"Hey!" Peter objected from underneath the outspread wing.
"You sure he didn't get that from you?" Clint quipped back.
Tony was about to reply, a saucy grin on his face, when they heard the wolf howl and everyone froze.
Peter pushed the wing off himself and sat up. "Tony?" his voice was shaking and tears rimmed his eyes as the cry vibrated through him and faded. "Shay's back."
"What do you mean back, Pete?" Tony asked, worried by Peter's reaction.
"Her glow, it's back! When she fell, after Thanos dusted- it just faded out, that's when Pip howled and he must have felt it go too, and I'd just gotten so used to it always being there, you know? I could always feel it, even across New York, but it was really gone and I thought that meant- and then she started breathing again and it still didn't- but its back now, the glow. Shay's really back."
Her senses woke first, immediately aware of the presence of two people in the room. Pippin's wet nose found her left palm and the warm current of their bond filled her with a feeling of love and comfort. She struggled to open her eyes, the heaviness of deep sleep still pressing on her.
Her right hand was suddenly enveloped in the cool air of the room and the sound of a chair being pushed back as her eyes opened.
"I'll go tell the others." Bucky's voice was oddly stiff and he left the room before she could read anything in the inscrutable expression he wore.
"Welcome back." Loki's voice was warm as sunshine and Shay opened her eyes to see his wide smile and offered hand. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."
She accepted it and the contact of their hands glowed.
"I am Loki, Frigga's son, brother of Thor, co-regent of Asgard."
"Sharice Wilder-" Shay answered matching his polite manner, "Angel and daughter of Earth, it is a pleasure to properly meet you, Loki." Her eyes sparkled with amusement at their first meeting.
"The pleasure is mine, Lady Mercy."
Shay's face fell, as the memory of battle returned in a rush. "How many?"
Loki told her of the eight who lay in the hall.
Tears tracked down Shay's cheeks as T'Kazu's last moments replayed in her mind. The natural current of her magic flowed through their connected palms and Loki shared in her grief.
Clipped tones in the hall interrupted the silence and Shay looked up as the door swung sharply open.
Several things happened at once. Pippin's ears stiffened in alert, the lips pulling back slightly in warning growl. Loki materialized a staff and stood just out of sight of the door at the ready.
"Sharice, you're awake!" Shuri nearly shouted, moving as though she would throw herself on the bed only to be stopped short by the broad side of Okoye's spear.
"What did I just say, Princess? Calm and quiet." Okoye said, her tone low and sharp as her spears tip. "Sharice needs rest, if you two can't follow such a simple command I will show you the way out."
T'Challa held up his hands in a show of peace and chuckled. "Okoye, you are supposed to answer to the king, not order me around."
Okoye's stance shifted and she stood at attention between Shay and her visitors. "I do what I must to protect the king, but the protectors of Sharice would not hesitate to set steel to either of your royal skins, if they thought you threatened her healing."
The way she spoke made it difficult to determine whether or not she counted herself among those protectors. At her words, Loki stepped out of the shadows and Shay watched the knife behind his back vanish again as he gave a short bow to her.
Okoye returned the bow and turned back to T'Challa. "In all other matters, you know I answer to the throne. But in this case. You are king of Wakanda, but Sharice is the Angel of the world."
"Of all worlds." Loki added solemnly, setting his staff on the floor beside the wolf.
T'Challa did not react immediately and if Shay hadn't sensed his thoughtful approval, she may have been worried. When he spoke, it was with a smile that lifted one side of his mouth with affectionate amusement.
"I will take that under-advisement Okoye, Shuri and I will restrain our enthusiasm, if we might be allowed to address our friend and sister?"
Loki and Okoye both looked to Shay for answer and stepped aside when she nodded her agreement. Shuri and T'Challa approached more gently.
"Sharice, how are you feeling?" Shuri asked, pressing Shay's hand gently in her own.
"I'm alright, tired, but ok." Shay tried to smile, but the effect was more a grimace.
"Where does it hurt? The medication I gave you should last another hour at least; do you need another dose?"
Shay shook her head, her eyes closing for a moment as tears pressed through her lashes.
T'Challa spoke for her, "it's not that kind of hurt Shuri."
Eight dead.
T'Kazu, Vision, one Dora, two of the kings-guard, two from the border tribe and one of the Jabari warriors.
A hundred more had been taken with serious injury to the medical tents, but their recovery was assured.
Eight Warriors laid in state in the hall of honour.
Far less than they had had reason to fear. Each man and woman who stepped onto the battle field had understood that death was more likely than victory.
They had however, been victorious.
Eight deaths were a small price to pay for the survival of all worlds. So, the statistics and strategists would say.
Eight men and women who would never again rise from their beds to embrace those who loved them. It was too high a price still for those whose arms would now be forever empty.
