Chapter 24: Prairie Dog

It was almost sunset when Bucky finished with Dr. Abodon and made his way to the roof with his phone and earbuds. The doctor gave him a lot to think about—management of his current condition versus the risk of irreparable brain damage or, worse, that Shuri might accidentally turn him into the Winter Soldier permanently. James Barnes could cease to exist or drift forever in that god-awful underwater, nightmare fugue state beneath the Winter Soldier– a helpless observer in his own body.

He plugged the headphone wire into the phone and found the Pandora app Steve set to a 40s station. Earbuds in, he lay face-up on the roof to gaze at the clouds drifting lazily against the dimming light of the hazy sky.

Old Sad Eyes by Kate Smith started playing, and it stole his breath. He hadn't heard the song since 1942. It was a sad, sweet song about a dog who wonders where his buddy went, keeps poking around for him, and doesn't understand his best friend went to war.

Bucky never had a dog. The closest he ever got to a pet was a stray cat he used to throw scraps to outside the apartment. Still, the sentiment of the song stung. He thought about his mother, setting a place for him at the dinner table every year. He thought about the tears in his father's eyes when he'd said goodbye before being shipped off.

He pictured his sisters' faces. Some of the features were fuzzy, except for Becca. Seeing her recently brought her face into focus. The photo Becca gave him of Christmas in 1949 helped, but the image was degraded, low quality, and cracked in places.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the sound of their voices, but the music interfered. He paused the song and tried again. His mother's voice was deeper than typical for a woman. She hated it.

Ruth and Margaret had similar voices, but Margaret's was slightly higher pitched. That's the only way he could tell them apart when they were yelling through the bathroom door. Except sometimes he couldn't—like when they purposefully imitated one another to cause trouble.

He smiled at a memory. He was on the sidewalk below the apartment with Jenny Roberts, working up to asking her out, when his sister's voice sailed from a window above.

'Kissy Jimmy is at it again!"

He went red in the face and looked up but couldn't see anyone in the open window. He was sure it was Margaret, and flew up the stairs, into the apartment, and down the short hall to his sisters' room. He and Margaret got into it in front of the other two girls, and it wasn't until Ruth burst out laughing that he realized he'd been had.

That had been Ruth's way of getting back at Margaret for wearing her shoes. Being the only boy, the girls never really needed a reason to pick on him. He got an entire room to himself, so they each took turns making him pay for the unfairness of being the oldest, and the only male child.

He'd just gotten his memories back. Could he risk losing any of them? What if he forgot his mother's face? The day he met Steve? Or his first kiss with Susie Delgado?

But, if he didn't take that risk, he could lose himself entirely if the wrong person got to him and activated the Winter Soldier.

The thrum of an engine and the crunch of tires pulled Bucky out of his reverie. He sat up and scooched to the edge of the roof to peer over. Two black sedans pulled up in front of the main entrance. Half a dozen men dressed in suits exited. They walked with purpose, their backs straight and their shoulders squared.

Their body language told him they were prepared for conflict.

An uneasiness settled in Bucky's gut as the men disappeared into the building. He kept himself low, eyeing the drivers still in the vehicle. A single man remained outside, standing by the passenger door of the lead car, his eyes scanning the property.

A couple minutes later, a beep came through the headphones still in his ears. He looked down at the phone and saw a text message from Steve.

Prairie Dog.

It was a Howling Commando code for evading patrols. It meant hit the dirt or take cover. Bucky flattened himself on the roof, yanked the earbuds out, set his phone to vibrate, and slipped it in his back pocket.

-0- -0- -0-

"Now, gentleman, you know the drill." Maria Hill stood in the lobby facing the men, flanked on either side by Tony and Steve. "No warrant. No entry."

The graying man in the navy-blue suit who'd identified himself as Agent Allen pushed his glasses up his nose and eyed her. "You know I can phone in a warrant."

"Then you would have already." Tony smiled sweetly at him, then clapped his hands. "Sorry, G-holes, but there're just too many super top-secret gizmos and gadgets here. If you'll kindly give one of your cards to Ms. Hill, we'll make sure to chat with someone about arranging a tour later."

Agent Allen reached into his pocket and handed a card to Hill. She snatched it and slipped it into her jacket pocket. "Thank you, Gentleman."

Tony waved at them. "Bye, bye."

Steve waited for the men to get in their cars and drive off before he turned to Tony. "I'm surprised they showed up without a warrant. That tipped their hand."

"My guess is they tried to get a warrant and couldn't," Hill said. "Otherwise, you're right, Cap, they would've shown up with one."

"We're high profile," Tony added. "What they have—if Fury is right—is squat. Obviously not enough to get some judge to sign off on them raiding the compound, especially after we saved the world."

Steve gave Tony a hard look. He hadn't forgotten why the world needed saving. "Ultron is the reason it was in jeopardy in the first place."

"You just keep harping on that, don't you, Cap?" Tony glared at him. "Remember, I'm right. Aliens are coming."

"Who needs aliens to destroy the world when it has us to do it?" Steve retorted.

"Gentlemen, act your ages." Hill looked at Rogers.

"Yeah, Cap. Be the older, more mature one." Tony slapped him on the shoulder. "Let's table this for now and figure out a way to hide Barnes should the feds come back with a warrant."

Steve sighed. Tony was right. Ultron was behind them, and the bigger threat loomed ahead. They needed to put aside their differences and work together. First things first, he had to find Bucky.

Steve texted his friend. "Heading to Veronica." He looked up at Tony and asked, "You're sure our devices are secure?"

Tony gave him a withering look.

"Okay." Steve smiled apologetically and pocketed the phone. "Sorry I asked."

-0- -0- -0-

"What's going on?" Bucky met Steve and Tony at the door to his room.

"Feds suspect the Winter Soldier is here," Steve told him as they entered.

The air in the room felt suddenly heavier. It was happening. He couldn't stay at the compound much longer.

Bucky leaned against the wall. "I'll pack a bag and find a place to lay low."

Steve pointed a finger at him. "No, Buck. You're staying here."

"It's not safe, Steve." He offered a smile that reflected his grim mood. "And I don't want to risk anyone getting hurt."

"You know we're the Avengers, right?" Tony said. "We have an android who can float through walls, a woman who can mess with minds, Captain America's razzle dazzle, and a bunch of awesome suits and tech the feds can't match. Hell, even if they knew you were in this room and tried to break in, they wouldn't be able to. It's a bunker down here. They'd need a Hulk to break in."

"A what?" Bucky asked.

"Big green guy," Tony explained. "Tore up Johannesburg almost three months ago. Currently MIA. You didn't hear about that?"

He'd seen something on the news about Iron Man and a battle in Johannesburg, but at the time, he was preoccupied with staying out of Hydra's hands. "I might have, but I was kind of busy at the time."

Tony waved a hand in the air. "The point is, we got this covered. I've got three different ideas ruminating right now on how to deal with the feds when they return…even if they manage to get a warrant."

"And if we can speed up getting you to Wakanda," Steve said, "they can search this place all they want."

"I've already got FRIDAY working on securing digital files and security footage," Tony said.

Bucky had a sickening thought that made him lean harder against the wall for support. "What about the Red Book?"

If they got a hold of that, the code words to control him would be in the wild—seen by countless government eyes, copied, stored in multiple files…

"Shit." Tony sounded flustered. "It's secure, but a warrant might be a problem. I'll take care of it."

"How?" Steve asked.

"I'm going to call Agent Allen and invite him back in, give him the grand tour. You…." Tony pointed to Bucky, "are gonna hide in plain sight."

-0- -0- -0-

Agent Allen was almost twenty miles away from the compound when he got the call from Tony Stark that he'd talked to his lawyers, and they advised him to let the feds have a look around.

Allen didn't know a single lawyer who would advise a client to do that, so he was automatically suspicious. Still, he had the driver turn the car around. The other sedan followed.

Almost half an hour later, he pulled back up to the compound. The day was fading fast. Captain America and Iron Man greeted them, and Allen tried not to roll his eyes at their pretentiousness in suiting up to meet them. He was immune to star power.

"Hello, gentlemen," Rogers said.

Stark's helmet retracted, and he flashed them an exaggerated smile. "Don't say I'm not accommodating. If you want the tour, follow me. Just don't touch anything. There's sensitive equipment, but we'll let you see any place a six-foot-two man could be hiding."

Tony's helmet enveloped his head again as he led them through the impressive facility. The first stop was the gym on the ground floor. It was unoccupied. Stark went on about how it was modified for the Avenger's training and offered to let them try their hands at pounding the reinforced punching bag.

Allen politely declined. They spent the next hour being led on a tour of the various labs, offices, the lounge, even the residential rooms. They encountered two females, one he recognized as Natasha Romanoff. The other was introduced as Wanda, a new recruit.

"The basement now, if you don't mind," Allen asked.

"Sure thing." Iron Man, Captain America, Allen, and the two other agents headed down in the elevator.

They toured a large storage room, another laboratory, a second gym, and then walked down a long hallway toward a massive metal door and an electronic panel.

"What's behind that door?" Allen asked.

"The Veronica room," Stark's voice answered from his helmeted suit. "It's a reinforced living quarters, experimental for super soldiers, enhanced individuals, etc." He walked up to it. "FRIDAY, open the door."

The door unlocked and Rogers led the way, gesturing for them to follow. Allen scanned the room. It was simple but pleasantly decorated. He opened the refrigerator. It was fully stocked with beer and food.

"Does someone stay here?" he asked.

"We use it as a hangout place, currently. You know… if anyone wants a little more, uh, privacy," the Iron suit replied, then pointed. "Bathroom's through there."

Allen checked it out. Satisfied that the room was empty and didn't show obvious signs of heavy occupancy, he and his men left. They spent the next hour walking the grounds, checking the hangar and equipment buildings, and venturing into some of the surrounding woods.

It was dark by the time they finished, which made any further search of the grounds impractical.

"Thank you for your cooperation," he told them.

He might not be able to get a warrant to search the compound, but he was determined to get the compound under surveillance. Unfortunately, the 100-acre buffer and Stark security would make surveillance more challenging. If he had to set up camp across the river, he would.

-0- -0- -0-

Steve watched them leave. "Good job, both of you."

"Yeah, well, Tony did the talking. I did was the walking. How do I get out of this suit?"

Tony's voice filtered from helmet. "Like this."

The helmet retracted, and the suited hand reached up to remove the photostatic veil from behind the occupant's ear. Suddenly, Tony's face vanished, replaced by Bucky's.

"This suit isn't the most comfortable," Bucky said.

"It's meant to take a beating, not do yoga in," Stark's voice countered.

The suit opened, and Bucky walked out. It remained standing autonomously.

"I don't think this will satisfy them," Steve said.

"Maybe not," Tony's conceded, "but it will buy time for that safari you've been wanting to take, Cap. Gotta go now. Pepper's giving me a dinner ultimatum."

-0- -0- -0-

The next afternoon, Steve and Bucky spoke to Shuri. They had the green light to bring Wanda as an added safety measure, and Wanda eagerly agreed to go along. The next morning, they were packed and on the Quinjet.

Steve was acting pilot. He wasn't as familiar with the craft as Romanoff or Stark, but he'd learned how to fly it, and much of its operation was automated with AI-assistance. Once they left the Eastern Seaboard, he set the autopilot for the coordinates Shuri provided and swiveled in the chair to check on Wanda and Bucky. They were seated on benches, opposite walls. Luggage was stored in a secure bin in the rear of the craft, but Bucky kept his backpack next to him.

"Flight time is 12 hours." Steve told him. "So, get comfortable."

"I spent 12 days stowed away on a cargo ship to cross the Atlantic Ocean." Bucky stretched his legs on the bench and leaned against the back wall. "Twelve hours is nothing." He pulled a paperback copy of a book titled The Chosen from his backpack. "I brought something to pass the time."

Steve was shocked by the revelation. He hadn't known how Bucky got out of the country since commercial passenger jets hadn't been an option. Even with high-end fake documents, the metal arm had been a liability. After the destruction in DC, everyone was looking for the guy with the chrome arm.

Steve sat on the end of the bench next to Bucky's feet. "You had it rough on your own. Why didn't you reach out to me?"

Bucky set the book on his lap, glanced uncomfortably at Wanda, who seemed politely engrossed in her phone, then shrugged. "I didn't have much of my memory back — just bits and pieces. I went to the Smithsonian, read about you and the short biography about me." He shook his head. "I didn't know what was real, who to trust. Every instinct I had told me to run, hide, stay out of Hydra's hands, and work on figuring out the jumbled mess inside my head."

Steve stared at the floor, his mind going back to the days after he'd gotten out of the hospital. SHIELD and HYDRA were in tatters and the good guys left in SHIELD were scrambling. Even if Bucky had reached out to him, the best Steve would've been able to do for Bucky was hide him. Still, it would've been in a warm, comfortable apartment, not the back of a shipping container on the ocean.

"Hey, it worked out, right?" Bucky offered.

Steve managed a smile and nodded. His gaze went to the book. A fold in one of the pages told him Bucky was about a quarter of the way in.

"What's that one about?"

Bucky grinned. "Two Jewish kids in Brooklyn during World War II, striking up an unlikely friendship. The author was born in 1929, in the Bronx." He tilted his head, and a wistful sadness dampened his smile. "When I read this, it's almost like I'm home."

"Can I see it?"

Bucky held the book out. "Knock yourself out."

Steve took the novel and opened it to the place Bucky had marked. The style of writing was simple, and in the two paragraphs he read, he found himself pulled into the story—perhaps because he knew 1940s Brooklyn so well.

He handed the novel back to Bucky. "I'd like to read it when you're done."

"Sure. I'll finish before we land."

Steve left Bucky and Wanda to their entertainment and returned to the pilot's seat. He swiveled and stretched his legs out, grabbed his tablet, and dove into work. He and Tony had a lot to work out with the Feds and Bucky.

Six hours later, Steve was drumming his fingers on the side window of the cockpit when he heard Wanda ask, "Are you okay?"

Alarmed, Steve turned to face the cargo hold. He saw Bucky stuff the book in his pack and shift away from Wanda. The corners of his eyes were red.

"Yes," Bucky huffed.

Steve relaxed and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Good book?" He bit the inside of his lip to hold back a smile.

Bucky gave him a challenging look, then muttered with a hint of a smile, "Shut up."

Wanda asked, "Where's our in-flight movie?"

Steve smiled. "I'll put that in the suggestion box."

Six hours later, they approached Wakanda in the middle of the night. Steve received flight instructions with specific coordinates. As the plane followed the path, it looked like they were going to fly straight into a dark cluster of large trees.

"Wakanda control, please confirm coordinates," Steve asked.

"Confirmed. You are on the correct trajectory," came the reply.

Bucky was behind him. "Steve…" his tone was concerned.

Another voice came over the line. It sounded like Shuri. "Don't worry, Captain. You will not crash into trees."

Seconds later, the forest vanished, replaced by moon-lit water before a beautiful city.

"Holy shit." Bucky muttered.

-0- -0- -0-

It was a refreshing night when Bucky stepped off the plane at three a.m. local time, seven hours ahead of New York. His backpack was slung over his shoulders. Jet lag was never something that affected him after the serum, and as the Winter Soldier, the repeated cryofreezes and constant traveling wreaked havoc with his circadian rhythm.

It was only during the past three months with the Avengers that he was able to get into a routine sleep-wake cycle. He wondered whether he'd have any issues adjusting to the new local time.

Steve was in front. He set a duffel bag on the ground and greeted an older man with graying hair and a beard who Bucky assumed was the King based on his clothes, demeanor, and entourage. The King was surrounded by Dora Milaje and flanked by a regal woman in a white dress with an elaborate hat. T'Challa and Shuri stood on the King's left. Bucky recognized Ayo and several other Dora Milaje from the Wakandan's visit to New York, but the other faces were unfamiliar.

Wanda kept pace alongside him, and Bucky saw the monarch's gaze shift to him with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.

The King stepped forward. "You must be James Barnes."

"I am." Bucky wasn't sure of the protocol for greeting the Wakandan king.

The man's probing gaze put him on the defensive. Bucky got the strong sense the King was only begrudgingly tolerating his presence.

The King stepped forward, and a trio of Dora Milaje moved with him. "You already know my children." He gestured to the regal woman beside him. "My wife, Queen Ramonda. We are allowing you here because I respect the judgment of my children. They have convinced me that helping you and the Avengers serves Wakandan interests, and it will take a united effort to defend against the coming threat. Tomorrow belongs to people who prepare for it today."

Bucky nodded his understanding.

"However," the King continued, "none of you are to leave your rooms without escort." His gaze went to Steve and Wanda. "Do not breach our trust."

"Yes, your majesty." Steve bowed his head in deference. "You have my word. We will respect your boundaries, and we appreciate your help."

Bucky admired Steve's diplomacy and calm. For having just been told they were more prisoners than guests, Steve seemed remarkably at ease.

"Good." The King clapped his hands, and suddenly Shuri and T'Challa smiled. "Ayo and Nomble will show you to your rooms. Tomorrow you will join us for lunch."

-0- -0- -0-

Shuri followed her family into the Citadel. She hurried her steps to keep up with the King. "Father, you should be nicer to them, Barnes especially. He has suffered more than any of us can imagine. We must not add to his suffering."

The King continued his stern march, with his wife, son, and Dora Milaje surrounding him. "Child, you are brilliant but do not yet possess the wisdom of experience. Their presence here threatens our way of life, and I will not allow them free reign of the city."

"Examine what is said, not who is speaking, Father. You do not have to be so rigid. Barnes was kept as a prisoner, and now you have made him one again. He is here at my behest."

"You are doing him a kindness. He should not quibble with the terms of our generosity," the King retorted.

Shuri ran to keep up with him. "He is not. I am the one quibbling. Barnes and his friends are no threat to us."

"Even the lion defends himself against flies," T'Challa chimed in, a tiny smirk on his face that infuriated Shuri.

Shuri shot her brother a glare. "A child is a child of everyone."

The King sighed. "Barnes is no child."

"He is a century old," T'Challa added.

"He is a vulnerable soul, much like a child, if we can help and do not, we shame ourselves."

Finally, her mother turned to her, but kept her stride. "We are helping, Shuri. Mind your tongue."

The King slowed his pace and turned to his wife. "She is your child."

Ramonda smiled. "Oh, I think her stubbornness is all yours."

-0- -0- -0-

Nomble showed Wanda to her room, adjacent to Steve and Bucky's. Ayo entered the room ahead of the men. Two full-sized beds rested against the far wall. The room was furnished in a simple, elegant style, with charcoal furniture, a plush white rug, gray tile, a small seating area, and a large window that overlooked the city.

A sleek, metallic dresser sat against one wall next to a full-length mirror. A flat screen television rested on top of the dresser, with the remote at the base. A small black sphere was next to the remote.

"The washroom is through there." Ayo pointed to an archway. "We provided a television. We don't use them much in the Citadel, but Shuri thought you might appreciate one. You may also thank her for the streaming services provided."

"We'll be sure to do that," Steve said, "and thank you for escorting us."

She bowed her head in acknowledgment, then pointed to the sphere on the dresser. "This is a Kimoyo bead. You may use it to contact me if you require anything. Simply roll it in the palm of your hand to activate. I will use it to contact you, as well. You should carry it with you whenever you leave the room, under escort, of course."

Bucky eyed the unobtrusive sphere. It didn't look like any communication device he'd seen.

"You are no doubt fatigued from your travels. Someone will arrive in the morning with breakfast. They will place it outside your door. It will keep until you wake. Lunch with the King will be at noon."

Bucky set his pack on one of the beds. "Uh, what's the dress code for lunch?" He slipped out of his jacket and set it on the bed next to his pack.

Ayo tilted her head and gave him an incredulous look. "Formal."

"Oh." He eyed his backpack.

It was new, bigger than the one he used when hopping around Europe. He'd packed a couple of pairs of jeans and shirts, a pair of sweatpants, underwear, socks, a change of shoes, personal hygiene items, a couple of books, and his cellphone.

"Is all that you brought contained in that one pack?" Ayo asked. "Do you not have more on the aircraft?"

Bucky shrugged. "I travel light."

She sighed. "I will have suitable attire sent to your room in the morning." She turned to Steve and asked, "Captain Rogers, do you require attire?"

"I didn't pack a dress suit, either."

She inclined her head. "I will leave you both to rest. Goodnight."

As soon as she left, Steve set his duffel bag on the floor and dropped to the edge of the bed. "You tired?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not really.

"Me either."

"But we should try to get on local time."

"I suppose that's sensible," Steve agreed. He plopped on the bed and took off his shoes and socks, leaving them discarded in a pile on the floor.

"Dibs on the bathroom," Bucky announced.

-0- -0- -0-

Sunrise arrived sooner than expected. Bucky hadn't slept a moment before the room filled with sunlight. Steve seemed to fair better, looking rested and cheerful. The window had no curtains or blinds, but Bucky spotted a small panel on the right side of the frame. He touched it, and the windows darkened. The longer his finger remained in contact with the panel, the less transparent the window became, until it cycled clear again.

"Cool," Bucky muttered.

Breakfast and clothing arrived. They devoured the food, showered, then tried on the garments. Each had a pair of black pants. The material was almost silky but appeared synthetic. Steve had a matching long-sleeved shirt and a metallic, royal blue jacket to complete the ensemble. The jacket closed in front at the waistband of the pants. The back hemline hung lower, with two panels that fell just behind his knees.

Bucky's black jacket was adorned with silver designs on the lapel and sleeves. He almost didn't recognize himself in the full-length mirror.

"You clean up well," Steve teased.

Bucky rolled his arms in the jacket. It fit perfectly on both shoulders. "How'd they know our sizes?"

Steve shrugged, adjusting his jacket and taking his turn to look in the mirror. "I don't know, but I'm beginning to wonder why a country that's obviously a technological superpower wants to stay under the radar."

"When others know what you have, they want it," Bucky replied.

"True, but it seems like they can defend themselves, and if Wakandan technology was more advanced than the rest of the world's back in our day, a lot of lives would've been saved had they joined the war."

Bucky gave an acknowledging tilt of his head. "They also could've helped out during the alien attack in New York."

Steve nodded. "I guess we'll count ourselves lucky that they're willing to help with the next invasion."

-0- -0- -0-

T'Challa eyed the three guests as they entered the banquet hall. Rogers took the lead. Barnes and Maximoff were close behind. Maximoff wore a tunic-style dark red dress with black embellishments on the lapel and sleeves.

"Welcome," the King announced with an air of formality, standing at the head of the table.

T'Challa's mother stood at the other end of the table. T'Challa and Shuri were positioned on one side, leaving the other vacant. The Dora Milaje stood guard behind the royal family.

Rogers bowed his head. "Thank you… uh… Your Majesty."

Barnes' eyes scanned the room efficiently, doing a focused sweep of the armed royal guards before moving to the rest of the room. His stiff posture and cautious gaze betrayed unease. When he moved toward their seats, it was with a coiled grace—appearing casual but with the deliberateness of a wolf following a scent.

The King sat, and the others followed. Steve, Wanda, and Bucky sat in the vacant chairs opposite T'Challa and his sister.

"How did you sleep?" Shuri asked.

"The bed was very comfortable," Rogers answered diplomatically.

"Yes, and the shower was amazing," Wanda added.

Shuri looked to Barnes. "And you, Bucky?"

"I'm still adjusting to the time change," he answered.

The food arrived, distributed by Citadel royal servers. T'Challa noticed Barnes' careful observations. He watched and mimicked. His arms remained in his lap until T'Challa reached for the vibranium handle of the carved wooden spoon, at which time Barnes reached for his spoon.

Rogers, on the other hand, was confident and casual, displaying more common American manners, occasionally placing his arms on the table. Maximoff took a tentative sip of her soup, giving a smile and a nod of approval.

"What is the soup? It's delicious," Wanda asked.

"Ground beetle," Shuri answered.

Wanda's spoon hovered halfway to her mouth. Barnes and Rogers seem undisturbed by the information.

T'Challa elbowed Shuri and smiled. "Pay no attention to my little sister. The soup is made with local vegetables." He threw her an irritated glare. "There are no insects."

"Wouldn't bother me." Barnes stated, side-eyeing Rogers quickly. "We had to trek across Austria during World War II. We ate whatever we could find that wouldn't kill us."

Steve scrunched his nose. "Cave beetles."

"Imagine if you hadn't had a sniper around at the time?" Barnes grinned.

Steve nodded. "Tough times, but true." He looked at T'Challa and jerked his head toward Barnes. "Buck shot a couple of bucks."

"That your idea of a joke? After the crap rations the Germans gave us in the POW camp, eating venison was like dining in a fancy restaurant. Messy, but our bellies were full for a couple of days."

"White men waging war for power and money. It's an old story," King T'Chaka said.

"War is a plague upon all humanity," Shuri responded.

"True," the King acknowledged with a disapproving scowl.

T'Challa restrained a smile. His sister was outspoken and opinionated, like most teenagers. Unfortunately for his parents, she was also smarter than everyone in the room.

"It's a shame that war seems inevitable," Rogers replied, his expression suddenly serious. "I'm afraid another one is coming."

"We will discuss that later," the King said.

"Of course," Rogers agreed.

The rest of the meal was spent in light conversation. T'Challa was pleased to note that their guests seemed to relax as the time passed—Barnes most notably. His eyes no longer constantly scanned the room, though he remained alert to movements of the servers and the shifting of the Dora Milaje as they adjusted their stances and spears.

It wasn't until they finished dessert—Chocolate Malva Pudding with an almond fudge glaze—that Shuri brought up the business at hand.

"Sergeant Barnes," Shuri began, "I would like to escort you and Rogers to my lab after the meal to discuss the algorithm I've created to counter the Winter Soldier programming."

The shift in Barnes' demeanor was immediate. He seemed to sink in his chair without moving, and his gaze darted self-consciously around the table. "Sure," he muttered. "Can't wait."

Author's Note:

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! As always, I love comments (they make wonderful holiday gifts, and you don't even have to wrap them) :)

FYI: In case you missed them, I posted two other recent stories: Winter's Soldiers (just under 10K words) and Christmas Only in My Dreams (a snippet). Just go to my works to find them.