The Panther and The Rose

by Difference-Equals-Normal

Briar Rose Stark is quiet, painfully shy, and definitely NOT a hero like her brother. But when the super villains are set free, and the world needs heroes, Briar doesn't have much choice to go beyond her shell and discover herself. But with danger at every turn, the real people she can count on come out. Especially a certain mysterious super-hero, calling himself the Black Panther.

15. Once Upon A Dream

Hee-hee-hee! I'm evil for making you guys wait, I know, but this chapter will make all that waiting worth it!

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Once Upon a Dream.

"Any changes?" I felt my entire body jolt at the sound of Hawkeye's voice, my mind sluggish to respond due to the lack of proper sleep. With a heavy head, I turned to look at the archer beside me, offering no words. Not that any were needed; it was clear as a blue sky what the answer was to his question.

None; Rose still had not woken up.

Looking at her vulnerable form, laying there so delicate and helpless, my mind thought over the night that brought about this heart-breaking sight. When there were no tears left for me to cry, I gently curled Rose closer to my chest as I stood up and left the tragic area. It was with a heavy heart that I carried Rose from the jungle to the half charred village. The mercenaries had either surrendered or where injured to the point where that could not act anymore.

When they saw me, carrying the unconscious Rose, Hawkeye and Captain America rushed to my side, demanding to know what had happened to their fallen friend, and where N'Jadaka had gone. I could not answer them, for the sorrow in my heart was too great. The night became the day as I carried my precious burden into my kingdom, the rest of my forces entering after me. My fellow Avengers walked beside me, as if acting as guards for the defenceless person in my arms, as we headed to the hospital. As soon as I had stepped through the doors, the doctors moved quickly. How they were able to pull Rose away from me, I do not know, but I was soon back at her side, sitting beside the bed that held my beloved, her body clothed in a loose fitting gown as wired and drips were attached to her body.

They also injected her with the nanites programmed to destroy the serum inside her, and my heart tried to lift itself in hope, but the darkness deep inside of me leeched its despair, declaring that Rose was beyond help now. That there was no saving her now.

Words would not come to me, no matter how much I willed them to come, but it was as if my body refused to let me say 'no more'. As if some part of me still believed...that she could be saved. Until that was true—or not—I remained by her side faithfully. My body ached from the battle, and from crying my pain, but I remained in my seat, never once letting go of her hand. The others would come to see if I needed anything, and if Rose had changed in the slightest way.

I barely ate or drank, consuming only enough to curb my hunger. It was only through the stubbornness of Chanté, Hawkeye and Captain America that I had a full meal in my belly, or even a shower to get rid of the smell of smoke—Hawkeye going so far as to say that the smell was keeping Rose from waking up.

A full day passed, becoming the 5th of June. Rose's birthday.

My love, I know this day is for you alone to wish whatever your heart desires the most, but please, answer my wish and wake up.

Please...

"Please, Rose. Wake up, my love." I whispered to her still body, hoping my words reached her through whatever darkness she found herself in. "Please...please..."

######

Please...please...please...

That same word kept repeating itself in a male voice, deep and desperate. But I had no idea what the word mean; what did he mean 'please'? Did the man saying it want something from me? Did he mean 'please, open your eye?' I guess I could do that.

Convincing my body that it was time to get up took a while, but soon my eyelids were slowly opening to let my eyes see the world beyond the darkness. What I found was a dark sky filled with tiny stars that looked more like fireflies. Tilting my head to either side revealed that I was lying in tall grass. I was a little curious about what else I could see, but the grass felt so comfortable.

I continued to lie where I was, content with the stars above to dance to their own tune. A soft breeze kicked up, sending a strange yet wonderfully comforting scent of something spicy mixed with an earthy tone. I inhaled deeply, letting the scent fill my nose and head. With the smell came warmth inside my belly, and the feeling of dancing butterflies.

I felt so relaxed; I didn't even hear the soft foot falls, or the grass rustling as a pair of something moved towards me. Closing my eyes for just a moment, I took another deep breath to fill my nose with that intoxicating scent.

"It's quite peaceful here, Rose." I opened my eyes and looked to my right; Lying beside me was my mother, exactly as I remembered her. Her short brown hair perfectly curled, her white blouse and brown skirt: all something she wore before she died.

"Thanks, mom." I murmured sleepily. She tilted her head to smile at me, her bright hazel eyes shining with her love. Her gaze flickered to behind me, and her smile widened a little. I turned my head and saw my father lying there, still dressed in a brown business suit and his jet black hair combed back.

"I've missed this feeling." Dad remarked as he looked up at the stars, a glazed look in his eyes. "It's been a long time since I have felt so relaxed." He then turned to look at me with a tender and loving smile that Tony and I rarely saw. When we did, we always felt loved and cherished.

Love...my love...Please, my love...

That same voice again, but there were more words, and the voice sounded more upset than before. Why was that man so concerned about me? Was I someone special to him?

"Rose?" My mother's soft voice drew my attention back to her and father. When I hadn't been paying attention, the scenery had changed: the three of us now sat around a fire, its warmth spreading throughout my body. My mother reached for my hand, entwining our fingers together as my dad put his arm over my shoulders. We were content to sit by the fire, watching the flames dance on the wood, when someone else joined us. A man dressed in a black outfit, his mask resembling a cat.

"Oh, there you are, T'Chaka!" My mother greeted warmly, my dad smiling in a friendly manner. The man—T'Chaka—gave them both a slight nod of his head as he sat opposite us. Strange...where have I seen that mask before? I have the weirdest sensation inside my chest. Like thousands of butterflies dancing inside my heart.

"My apologies for keeping you waiting." He spoke deeply. My parents accepted his words and continued to focus their attention on me, though I couldn't focus on them anymore. Something about this man seemed so familiar, so...

"You are remembering, aren't you, Briar?" T'Chaka asked me, though he made it sound like a statement. My parents' words seemed so distant now as my attention centered on T'Chaka. "This is a world between the realms of the living and the dead; the longer you stay, the more you forget who you were." He explained.

"Who I was?" I repeated in confusion, "But...I remember who I am."

"You only remember the 'you' that you are familiar with." He offered sagely, "What you forget is the 'you' that is created when your courage is tested beyond its limits, and where you find what it is that drives you to be that stronger 'you'." A stronger me...could I really be stronger than I am? Was there some part of me that was able to go beyond my limits? But what would drive me to do so?

The butterflies in my chest increased, their tiny wings creating such a fluttery sensation that I was having trouble understanding my thoughts. Why were they even there?

"I don't know what drives me." I finally told T'Chaka, feeling frustrated at myself and at my internal butterflies. "I can't think of anything that would make me a better 'me'."

"Yes, you do. You are feeling it right now." He countered, surprising me greatly. How did he know I was feeling something?

"Focus on that feeling, Briar." He instructed, "Look within to find what it is that drives you." I gave him a small doubtful look, but closed my eyes and focused on the butterflies. They were still fluttering like mad inside my chest, making the rest of my body feel all tingly...and warm. Not warm like the fire, but almost like the love I felt for my parents, just stronger.

The butterflies began to increase again, to the point where it was becoming painful. I reached my hand up to rub my chest, and felt something wooden there. I opened my eyes and looked down. In my hand sat a wooden token, no bigger than the palm of my hand, crafted in the shape of the mask T'Chaka wore. Strange...something about it...seems so familiar...

I stared at the object in my hands, the butterflies beating unbearably against my chest. This wooden trinket was the key, but how...

Like magic, a name popped into my head from nowhere...or did it?

"...T'Challa?" I murmured. At last, the butterflies exploded from my chest, flying around me and with their freedom came the memories of who I was, what I could be, and what drove me to be that better person. And it was all thanks to one man, who helped me move beyond my shyness, my insecurities, and encouraged me to be brave and strong. And I remembered how much I loved him.

"T'Challa." I laughed softly, "I remember now...I fell in love with T'Challa, and his kindness to me, the way he'd protect me from what scared me the most...and how cherished I always felt when I was around him." T'Chaka gave a small nod, pleased that I had finally remembered my true self.

Beyond the butterflies, I could see the world begin to fade away. I guess my time in this place was over, now that I remember who I really am.

"You're waking up now, Rose." My mother's voice explained, confirming what I had thought. "You have someone special waiting for you."

"Will I ever see you again?" I asked her, hoping that when my time finally came, I'd see her and dad again.

"When you're ready, my love." She promised, "When you're ready." More of the world was fading now: the tall grass, the scent on the wind, and the stars in the sky. All fading as I started to wake up, and see the man I loved the most.

"Briar." T'Chaka called, his voice fading softly, "Tell my son that I am proud of him, and that I love him."

"I will. I promise." I told him, and then spoke my last words to my parents, "I love you, mom and dad." I heard their reply as the last star faded away, and the butterflies enclosed around me softly, their comfort making me feel sleepy. My eyelids began to close by themselves.

I just hope that the next time I open them, I'll see T'Challa.

######

Waking up from limbo had to be one of the strangest experiences. Ever. I opened my eyes to see a dimly lit room with a silver ceiling. I was propped up slightly by whatever bed I was in and a pillow, allowing me to see the whole room without straining my neck. My hearing came back soon after, alerting me to the sounds of a heart monitor sitting very close to me. Sitting just underneath my nose was a nasal feed—ugh, I hated those things! I tilted my head to the left, confirming that I was in a hospital room: the sterile-with-hints-of-citrus smell was a hint, and the IV drip in my arm was another.

The strangest thing, though, was the heavy weight on my right arm. Oh, please don't tell me I have another IV in there, too! I turned my head to see if that was the case, but instead of another needle, I found a heart warming sight. Hunched over in the seat, one of his forearms folded under his head like a pillow, his other hand holding onto my own, was T'Challa, fast asleep (or passed out. My money's on the second one.)

It was a sight that warmed everything inside of me, and my inner self squealing in delight. While that side of me was happy to see T'Challa in an adorable sight, I was just glad to see that he wasn't hurt. I was a little content to let him sleep a bit longer, but I remember how much I ached when sleeping like that, so I decided to wake him up for he really felt any pain. Since my other hand was taken, I gingerly moved my left hand over my stomach and into his short black hair, my fingers gently rubbing against his scalp. For a moment, T'Challa didn't move an inch, until finally he frowned in his sleep, his mouth turning into an adorable pout as he began to rouse from whatever dream he was having.

Groggily, his golden brown eyes peeled open to the world. Lifting his head a little, he gave a yawn that would make a lion proud—something that made me smile. The hand holding mine lifted to rub his face then run through his hair. When his fingers touched mine, he gave a befuddled grunt as his hand pulled mine down before his eyes. He stared at my hand uncomprehendingly before it finally occurred to him to look up. We stared at each other for a few seconds till that poor tired brain of his finally kicked itself over, and his eyes went wide.

"Rose?" He croaked softly, as if he was speaking to a ghost, or a dream. My own brain tried to think of something to say, when it came across the perfect words.

"Told you I'd get back at you." I teased him in a raspy voice, but my words were just the needed push for him to finally realize that I was finally awake and safe again.

His face lit up brighter than a Christmas tree before he shot to his feet, nearly tumbling in his haste, and my vision swam with black as he wrapped his arms around me, his face burying into my neck. My right arm looped itself under his shoulder, my fingers digging into the thick material of his Black Panther uniform. Feeling my tears beginning to well up in my eyes, I buried my face into his neck, inhaling his scent of earthy tones and male musk, with a hint of spice. So, that was what I smelt in limbo: it was his scent.

"You're awake." He whispered into my neck, pressing a kiss there before leaning back a little to look at my face again, his eyes misting over with fresh tears. "You are really awake." Not wanting to ruin the moment with words, I pulled my right hand from its perch to tentatively touch his face, the tips of my fingers gently sliding across his cheeks, his lips, anywhere my fingers could reach.

He sighed at the contact, his eyes closing in bliss as his hand covered mine, savouring the touch of my hand against his cheek before he pulled my hand to his mouth and pressed tender kisses to my palm. The sensation of his kisses thrilled up my spine, even as his stubble tickled, and it warmed me up inside with bliss.

All too soon, his tender gestures stopped, if only so he could cradle my face in his hand, our eyes meeting. His were filled with such incredible wonder, and such warmth. I couldn't even describe what I could feel inside me as I looked back at him.

All that I could say was that I was so grateful to be back.

"I am." I assured him, my hand cupping his cheek again, "I'm awake, T'Challa. I'm right here." A smile wobbled across his face, and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. It was my turn to sigh in bliss from the contact, enjoying the feelings that spread throughout my entire body.

Eventually, we ended up sharing the bed, with me sitting against his side and close to his chest, his arms around me to make sure I was comfortable and warm. I mentioned that I'd feel a whole lot better without a needle poking me in the air, or without a nasal feed, but T'Challa opted to wait till the doctor came around. Not the answer I wanted, but I put up with it, and savoured being in his arms. At one point we fell into a light doze, my head against his shoulder, his head resting on the pillow and tilted towards mine. I'm not sure how long we stayed like this, but it ended too soon when the door opened and a group of people walked in. Peeking through my eyelashes, I watched as Chanté and Storm quietly walked over to the bed, sitting in the other chairs while Hawkeye and Cap stood, the former beginning to speak.

"I don't believe this: does he even plan on leaving this room at all?" He demanded in an almost quiet tone, "It's been a whole day already, and she's still not awake!"

"You know T'Challa won't leave till she wakes up." Cap tried to placate him, but Hawkeye could be pretty bull-headed about some things, and could go on for ages.

"And she'll wake up on her own time, not because some guy wants her to." He threw back, "Even if he's a king." I could feel T'Challa tense up beside me, but did not move or even wake up to protest. He didn't even say in his sleep that I was awake.

"You know what it really is? He's whipped." Hawkeye continued, "Starky has him wrapped around her finger so tight—" Ok, enough's enough!

"Finish that sentence, and I will break every bone in yours hands." I warned him. Beside me, I felt T'Challa shiver from withholding his laughter. I opened my eyes fully to give Hawkeye a dark look, one he caved under immediately. Well, when he was finished doing his impression of a stunned goldfish.

The others laughed at him, and eventually Hawkeye cracked a smile, too, as both Chanté and T'Challa helped me to sit up a bit more. Of course, by sitting up I really mean leaning against T'Challa while he leaned against the pillows, his arms around my waist.

"Good to see you're awake, Briar." Cap smiled fondly, "You had everyone pretty worried about you." Hawkeye looked like he wanted to add something, but a stern look from me silenced his words. Well...his words, but not any from Chanté.

"Were you insane?!" She asked sarcastically, "You went into the lion's den, by yourself, and you end up getting hurt? At what point did you think that was a good plan?!" I could only duck my head sheepishly, even as T'Challa rubbed his hand up and down my arms in a soothing gesture.

"Then again..."Chanté trailed off. When I raised my head to look at her, she merely wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and smirked. The look on her face was more than enough to tell me what she wanted to really say, and I felt my cheeks flush heavily—Chanté bursting out into giggles—as I tried not to let my mind wonder over a certain king.

"If I may interject?" Ororo interrupted with a smile, saving me from anymore 'light-hearted' innuendoes from Chanté. "But I believe there are a few questions we have that we would like an answer to."

"Indeed." T'Challa agreed, and I felt my head shrink into my shoulders a little. Oh, I know I had to face the music and tell them about Project Spindle Thorn, and what I was doing in the village, I also know that T'Challa (at the very least) wasn't going to like what I had to say. Well...here goes nothing.

"Ok." I sighed, drawing my knees up and wrapping my right arm around them, "So where do you want to me to start from?" Everyone looked at each other, silently wondering which question they wanted to ask me first, and who should be the one to ask it.

"Well." Cap finally spoke, breaking the silence, "Could you explain what Project Spindle Thorn is to us? I know Hawkeye gave us a brief explanation before we rescued you, but it seemed a little..."

"Far-fetched?" I finished for him, receiving a nod from him and the others, "Understandable. So, for starters, I should point out that there's no muscle-enhancer." There was a harsh gurgling sound, drawing everyone's attention to Hawkeye. The look on his face was similar to what someone would look like when they've had their whole world turned upside down.

"Come again?" He asked meekly in confusion.

"There's no muscle-enhancer." I repeated, "The scientist who originally founded the project wanted to try creating it, but there was no conceivable variable that allowed for it. The only thing that could ever be created was the sedative serum, and you know how that works." Unfortunately, they all did, particularly T'Challa.

I could feel the muscles beside me tense before he slipped his arm further around my shoulders and carefully pulled me as close as he possibly could. His other hand sought out mine and entwined our fingers. I felt so guilty for putting him through this whole mess, but then I remembered what the alternative could have been, and that scared me a lot more than this.

"So, you never created Spindle Thorn, first?" Hawkeye questioned, his mind whirling with many other things he wanted to ask. "But-but...the rumours! They..."

"Were just that: rumours." I informed him, "The project was originally created by one of Fury's scientists, when he went over the edge. After Fury dealt with him, I was called in to make sense of all the gibberish." The others were quite stunned at the little revelation, but I'm guessing they were all privately glad that I really had no major hand in this thing.

"Huh." Chanté commented, a thoughtful look on her face, "In that case, since you did not create it, how did you know how to stop it? As I am under the impression that this Fury fellow would have wanted this project to remain in its original capacity."

"You would, as would anyone else who's ever met him." I muse in agreement, "But even he was against this, mostly because of what the original serum would do to a person." The very second those words fell from my mouth, I immediately regretted, especially when put like that. Everyone—but especially T'Challa—had a bad enough time coping with me being hit by my own version of the serum; when they heard about the original serum, it could very well destroy the poor king's mind.

"What do you mean, Rose?" He questioned. I could feel the wince on my face just as the other could see it, and they all braced themselves for what happened next. As much as T'Challa really did deserve to know the truth, I just hoped like crazy that he doesn't get scary angry about what could've happened.

"The original serum..."I started before the pang of guilt caused me to swallow painfully, "it...it caused the victim to be...trapped in a-a catatonic vegetive state." In the next few moments, I could hear the soft ticking of a nearby clock as everything went silent. My inner self took action by hiding itself in the safest part of my mind, slamming the door shut and locking it. I wish I could do that myself, or something that took me away from here.

As I predicted, I felt T'Challa freeze beside me and I was grateful that I couldn't see his face. Everyone else I could see, and their reactions were bad enough: seeing his would probably hurt me more than the serum. The only person's reaction I could bear was the ever thoughtful Chanté, who looked to the ceiling as she contemplated her next words.

"Let me see if I understand you correctly, Briar." She finally spoke and fixed me with a curious look, "The original creator of this serum was a delusional nut case, and after he was 'dealt with'—in a manner of speaking—you were called in to do what, exactly?"

"I was called in to find a cure for it." I answered softly, drawing my knees closer to my chest as I tried to shrink away from the still frozen T'Challa. "Fury didn't want this getting out of S.H.I.E.L.D hands without a means of curing it. So when I was called in, I found the cure and the plants natural fail-safe." The curiosity in her face increased, as did nearly everyone else's. I'll give you a guess as to who was still frozen.

"Natural fail-safe?" Ororo repeated.

"Water destabilizes the poison composition on an almost molecular level, so the more water the affected person takes in with my modified version, the higher chance of them waking up again." I elaborated, "The cure part was the nanites; they'd eat the serum literally from inside the body. In tandem with the water, there's an increased chance of them waking up."

Everyone looked so stunned at how well thought out I had planned things, Hawkeye and Cap even looking rather proud. The only person I couldn't see was T'Challa, and Chanté offered me a sympathetic look when I glanced her way.

"Huh." Hawkeye remarked thoughtfully once enough of the pride had gone away, "That's incredibly smart of you, Starky." I shot him a flat look, which he responded to with a cheeky smile. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything within my reach to lob at his head, so I'd have to settle for getting him back later on.

"There's another thing." Cap addressed in a thoughtful tone, "In the village, you unleashed a fireball into the sky. And then you told N'Jadaka that a tainted serum becomes explosive."

"Well, the first part; that was actually a sun orb." I corrected him, "When the serum enters the body, it causes the skin to be hyper-sensitive. I sent up a sun orb because the sunlight acts as a catalyst for the serum to activate and cause damage." That part certainly caught everyone's attention, though I knew they weren't going to like what I had to say about what came next.

"Wait a minute: you mean if it wasn't for the light show, you and the back-stabbing giant wouldn't have been sent into comas?" Hawkeye demanded with a frown, "Then why did you—"

"I had to activate it." I cut across him, "Leaving the serum inside someone without activating it does more damage. In fact, I'm actually surprised those poor children managed to survive for as long as they did." My words must have put things into perspective for everyone, if the looks on their faces was any indication.

"Could it be due to how starved they were?" Ororo offered thoughtfully, "Their physiology must have delayed the reaction." Maybe, but at least it's better than the thought I had: given how bad they were, the serum should have taken effect much sooner. Still, it didn't stop me from being thankful that things happened the way they did.

"As for the explosive part, well, S.H.I.E.L.D. found that out when destroying the original serum." I added, "After my version was created and approved of, Fury had some agents destroy the first batch. Somehow, they decided to use a furnace, and...well, turns out that if you heated the serum to a specific point? It created a really big inferno." After I had finished explaining everything, I hoped I didn't have to talk about it anymore: I'm hungry, I'm thirsty and I needed a shower.

However, I'd love to see someone try to get out of a hospital bed with a bunch of people saying 'no' to you. To be fair, though, Ororo and Chanté were suggesting that I wait for a doctor to come by. Cap and Hawkeye were the ones ordering me to stay in bed. Where was T'Challa, you ask? Quiet. Not even a little peep.

"GUYS!" I finally snapped, effectively silencing everyone, "I realize that my track record isn't fantastic right now, but I'm fine to get up and move." To prove my point, I swung my legs over to the left and started to slid out. Chanté—bless her—provided additional help when I got to my feet, assisting me to keep steady and move the IV. Ugh, being unconscious for hours and not moving did nothing good for me muscles; they were full of the tingly 'pins and needles' feeling, and it hurt!

Ororo also helped by ushering the men out of the room, going so far as to literally toss a protesting Hawkeye out with a gust of wind. That gave us a good laugh, even if I silently worried about how quiet T'Challa left. It was like there was a wall between us now...I guess I've messed things up a lot worse than I thought.

Well, maybe it's for the best that we weren't a couple: with all the trouble I've caused both in the now and in the past, it'd be a bad idea for us to be together.

:If it's for the best, then why do I feel the worst?:

######

After having a warm shower and scrubbing all the dirt and grime away, a doctor came around to see how I was fairing. As I was examined, the doctor informed me of the children and how well they were doing: a few hours before I woke up, they came around and were surrounded by their families. Well, at least I did some good somewhere. Once the exam was over, and the nasal feed and needle taken away, he was happy to let me leave, providing that I take things easy for the next few days.

Speaking of days, imagine my shock when I learned that two hours before I woke up, it became my birthday? The second that Chanté and Ororo found out, they dragged me to the palace where we ate an elaborate meal. Somehow, they managed to pry some of my more embarrassing life experiences, and I really doubt that I'll ever live down the black forest pudding fiasco. Ah, what the hell. Who cares?

We'd gotten halfway through the giant mean when I suddenly remembered what N'Jadaka told me, about Ororo and T'Challa being engaged once upon a time. That was the thing, though, wasn't it? 'Once upon a time'; the beginning of some many fairytales from times past. Some stories had a happy ending, others didn't. I guess that they had the 'not so happy' ending, just as I made for my own story. Did that mean I should be upset by that? Should I be upset that T'Challa never mentioned his whole past to me, or that Ororo never mentioned the part of them being engaged?

No, it didn't, and I couldn't be upset with any part of it. Just as T'Challa tried to tell me; it is in the past. I can't change it to be what I want it to be; because that would mean I never become the person I am today.

As for the other thing N'Jadaka mentioned...well, you can't really expect everything coming out of a villain's mouth to be the truth now, can you?

"Hello? Chanté to Briar, hello?!" I pulled away from my epiphany as something poked my shoulder repeatedly. Before my arm began to bruise, I caught the offending finger in my hand and levelled a playful glare at its owner.

"What?" she asked innocently, but I knew otherwise. Ororo obviously thought the same and burst out giggling, which then set the rest of us off, and we spent the next few minutes gasping for air between our laughter. When we came to the end of our giggle fit, Chanté retrieved her finger and repeated her earlier question. "So what has you thinking so profoundly, Briar?"

"Oh, nothing much, really." I sighed, "Just things." I probably shouldn't have put it that way, because now Chanté was even more curious than before, and knowing her? She wouldn't drop the subject unless she was ordered too, then she'd get really sneaky to find her answers.

"Things like a certain king we all know?" She prompted slyly with a Cheshire cat grin, "And no, you cannot hide it from me: I have eyes and they see things that happen! Especially between said king and a close new friend of mine." Even Ororo looked somewhat curious now, and I can't say I blame her all that much.

"Well, if you must know...yeah, I was thinking of him." I softly admitted to them. At their quiet insistence, I elaborated my main concern that I failed miserably in kidding myself that I was ok with. "I'm just worried that he hasn't spoken a word to me, ever since I informed you all about the original serums effects to a person. Or that leaving an inactive serum inside a body is a bad idea." Leaning back in my seat, I gave a low exhale and reached for my drink.

Ororo and Chanté were silent as they contemplated all that I just told them, giving me a chance to think to myself. I had honestly thought I was ok with things between T'Challa and me not being as close and affectionate as they were before. Not being cuddly close was something I could live with; not having him around to talk to was pushing the limit a bit too much.

So, in other words, I'm ok not being the girlfriend, but not ok not being the friend.

"No offense, Briar, but have you looked at it from his perspective?" Chanté argued gently, "Think about it: he is madly in love with you, to the point of wanting to do everything in his power to keep you from every danger in the world. He even sat by your side when you were hurt, both in New York and here in Wakanda.

"And then, after you put yourself in danger numerous times to bring about peace, you drop a proverbial bombshell about the original serum that could, more or less, kill somebody." She added, "If I were in his shoes, and just heard all that from somebody I was in love with, I'd be in shock that they could have died."

...

I could only stare at Chanté and at her logical explanation, utterly dumbstruck. Could that be why T'Challa is acting like this? Was he that upset that I could have died these last few nights? Really?

Well, what if it happened to him?! The serums were only ever tested on mice and the average human, not on somebody who uses a chemically unique herbal body paste that was used in his particular bloodline for years and years! For all we knew, the combination of the serum and body paste could have been extremely lethal—meaning if T'Challa had been the one hit with the serum, he could very well have died. Then where would the rest of us be?!

As far as I know, T'Challa doesn't have any living relatives, so Wakanda would be left without a king (or queen) and champion, which would lead to civil war, lots of bloodshed and who knows what else?! Geez, was it that hard for him to see all that?!

"Of course, there is a silver lining to all of that." Chanté added in a tone I could quite pin down. I gave her a flat look, which she answered with a devilishly sly grin. "Once the shock wears off, I predict his majesty will be all the more protective and...um...affectionate, of you than before."

Ororo burst out laughing at the same time my face turn red with a rabid blush, I imagine I could pass as a tomato. Before I could stutter out a response, a servant walked in to announce that the king and my fellow Avengers wanted to return to New York, and they had agreed (without my input) to leave within the hour. Wanting to spend our last few moments together, Ororo and Chanté helped me pack whatever I had brought with me and take it to the Quinjet.

Chanté had extracted a promise from me to come back and visit her every once in a while, just as the other Avengers appeared—Hawkeye having a particularly smug and cocky grin on his face for some strange reason. I'm not even sure I want to know why, so to preserve whatever sanity I have left, I didn't ask and merely followed them onto the air shuttle.

Once we were airborne, Hawkeye and Captain America started a conversation about who-knew-what, and I found myself getting a bit sleepy. Since there was no need to rush anywhere, I got as comfortable as I could in my seat and shut my eyes; the conversation and the hum of the engines lulling me to sleep.

######

I gotta tell ya, jetlag sucks. Especially after you've been unconscious for 12 hours after so many fights. So getting my body clock back to normal took a day longer than usual to correct itself. Thank the heavens for Mr. Foxworthy to help me out with things; while I got myself back on US time, he'd been out and about finding a gown and accessories for me to wear to the Summer Ball.

And yes, despite my 'adventure' in Wakanda, I was still determined to go to the Ball, mostly because I sorely needed a distraction from a certain person.

Between telling Mr. Foxworthy what happened to me and sleeping, I hadn't seen or heard from T'Challa since we got back. Maybe he needed more time to think things through, or not, I wasn't sure. All I was sure about was sticking to my statement of not being so close to him again: something as big as what happened to us tends to put a strain on a friendship, so I really had my doubts about ever being her girlfriend.

Well...my mind knew that, it was proving a bit more difficult in trying to convince my heart that any chance of there being something between T'Challa and I were well and truly zip, zilch, nada, a big fat zero. But there was a stubborn part of me that still refused to believe it, and I blame it on the fact that whenever I remember T'Challa, I also remember how he made me feeling loved and cherished.

Geez, I'm getting the feeling I'm being pathetic about this. Well, I couldn't really change anything anymore: it has been decided. T'Challa and I would remain work colleagues, and only that.

Then again, I never realized just how sneaky and clever a certain friend really was...

######

"You've been avoiding her." T'Challa raised his eyes from the book he was barely reading to look at the purple archer standing in front of him, noting the disappointed scowl on his face. Closing the book with a low exhale, the king ran a hand over his eyes to rub away the traces of missed sleep, while privately agreeing with Hawkeye's words.

In truth, he had been avoiding Rose ever since Wakanda, when she had awoken from the serum's clutches. As she explained the sedative and its origins, T'Challa felt his stomach turn to lead and sink into his feet. Even though he was relieved that –contrary to what Hawkeye had earlier said—Rose did not create it, he was still deeply disturbed that the original scientist had created something so dangerous, and that the same serum could have easily been used on Rose or his people.

The other thing that greatly disturbed him was how easy she had accepted her fate before she awoke. It could have been due to her desire to protect others, but T'Challa had trouble accepting that, and always wondered if she had an ulterior motive. His heart reeled in dismay and anger whenever he thought like that, and he always felt so ashamed of himself that he could not bring himself to see Rose anymore, lest she become furious for being thought of as dishonest.

It was easy to avoid her in Wakanda: receiving news about the health of those hurt by Project Spindle Thorn; making sure those responsible (namely N'Jadaka and the two smugglers) were kept in a secured location to await justice; finding a new home for the now homeless villagers—the fire had not destroyed much, just the chieftain's hut and a food storage hut. But the memories had done the most damage, and the people wanted nothing more to do with such a dark and evil place. Thankfully, there were places for them within his kingdom and people willing to help them find peace.

When it became time to return to New York, T'Challa had wanted to take his own jet, but somehow Hawkeye (of all people!) managed to get the upper hand, whip the metaphorical carpet from under the king's feet, and got him to travel back in the Quinjet. The Panther Deity was on his side, however; shortly after take-off, Rose had fallen asleep in her chair and was out for the rest of the trip. She did not even budge when Captain America carried her to her room.

After that, it was again easy to avoid her just by not going to the mansion, and if Rose came to the embassy, she would be told that the king was simply too busy to see her.

"I don't get you, Panther." Hawkeye sighed heavily, folding his arms in front while giving his friend a confused-and-slightly-disappointed look. "I mean, you're crazy in love with Starky, but after she saves your butt, you don't even want to be in the same room as her! What, you don't you like having a girl come to your rescue?"

"If that were the case, then should I not be resenting the fact she saved me—us, from the Leader and the gamma radiation?" T'Challa responded in a flat tone, "Since I do not, then it would follow that I am not bothered by her recent act of saving my kingdom." Hawkeye clearly knew better than believe what he saw in his friend.

"Really? You're not bothered?" His friend challenged, "Then why are you hiding here in your embassy, being moody as hell, instead of at the mansion with Starky?" When the Panther made no sound, Hawkeye gave a low groan before sitting on the ground before the king, pressing his hands together in a prayer-like gesture.

"Ok, let me see if I'm reading you right: you love Starky, you don't hate her for saving your butt in Wakanda, yet you won't tell her that because you've been avoiding her ever since the whole mess ended. So somewhere between the beginning of the whole Spindle Thorn mess and now, you have changed either how much you really care about her, or how you see her. Which is it?"

Fixing his friend with a levelled but half-hearted glare, T'Challa rose from his seat and walked to the edge of the rooftop, his hands folded in the small of his back as he stared at the world below, not wanting to answer the question. Even if he had no clue as to what changed between him and Rose.

"Oh, no, King Kitty: you are not getting out of answering that easily!" Hawkeye announced as he hurried over to the silent king's side. "Come on; you put so much time and effort into Starky, and she's clearly in love with you, so there's no way you're backing away from her now. Especially after all that she's done to save your kingdom."

"Perhaps that is why I am avoiding her." T'Challa mused quietly, "Rose has done so much for my people. Too much, even. History has made it clear that she is too willing to sacrifice her own life to protect myself and my people, and take on opponents far stronger than herself." Taking a chance, T'Challa glanced at the archer from the corner of his eyes, and saw his confused pout.

"...so...you're not ticked at her for her part in Spindle Thorn, you're more ticked that she is protecting your home turf?" He asked slowly and in much confusion.

"No. I am 'ticked', as you say, that she has so little regard for her own life and that she can be so damned calm in accepting whatever fate she has made for herself!" T'Challa responded harshly. Such a reaction came as a surprise to Hawkeye, but then he wasn't in his friends position.

The memory of her smiling face as she lay in his arms and slipped into her death-like slumber haunted his every waking moment, no longer letting him sleep without waking every so often in fear, gripped with unseen terror of that it was all just a dream and that Rose was still in the hospital bed. There was an even more disturbing nightmare, where Rose was still in that accursed village, at the mercy of N'Jadaka, Those nightmares T'Challa hated the most, as he often found himself waking up to his own screams.

Hawkeye had been quiet as he took in both the king's words and the expressions on his face. Too quiet, in fact. T'Challa glanced at his comrade, and nearly jumped at the smirk on the archer's face; the Panther Kin had come to learn that whenever Hawkeye was grinning like that, it always meant something devious.

"You know, when you said all that stuff about Starky just then, I had a vision of somebody else." He spoke, "You probably know him, too. About 6' plus, broad shoulders, has his own kingdom, and dresses like a giant black cat. Sound familiar?" It was not lost on T'Challa who Hawkeye was referring to, but the king found no humour in his words.

"Seriously, though. Put yourself in her shoes and Starky in yours. How do you think she'd feel if it were you that had been hurt by the serum?" The archer questioned in a sombre manner, "At the very best, she'd be scared out of her mind. The very worst? She'd feel so guilty that she places the blame on her own shoulders, and accept any punishment handed to her." The archer's words ran cold throughout the king's veins, turning his heart to ice with dread.

The thought of Rose having to see him be hurt with something she aided in creating, and having to wait in agony as someone she loved so dearly lay unconscious, possibly within death's tight grip...T'Challa knew that he could not of lasted a minute longer when she was hurt, so what chance did she have? Especially with the added weight of her guilt of having a hand in his fate.

"You are right." T'Challa sighed heavily as he turned to Hawkeye, "I could barely handle myself when she had been hurt. If our roles had been reversed, she would not have lasted." Seeing that his words had brought the king to his senses, Hawkeye began to preen smugly, until T'Challa brought his friend back down the ground by addressing another issue that had been weighing heavily on his conscious, ever since Rose herself brought it to his attention.

"But how can I approach Rose now: knowing that, even though she means everything to me, I cannot bring myself to tell her the whole truth of my past?" T'Challa asked his friend, walking back to the large tree and leaned against its trunk, seeking shade from the afternoon sun.

"Depends on what truth you haven't told her." Hawkeye answered easily as he followed, "You'd be surprised at how accepting she is of certain things. I mean, she easily pushed aside you and Storm being engaged once, or that you two had a deeper fling that Rose was originally told." Inhaling deeply, T'Challa opened his mouth to explain what he meant, when the words were processed in his mind, and exhaled sharply enough to bring a pain to his chest.

"How did you know that?!" The flustered and winded king rasped, rubbing his chest to ease the sting, while Hawkeye merely shrugged in a nonchalant way.

"Surprisingly enough, I heard it from Starky herself. Kinda." Hawkeye answered truthfully, "I overheard her talking to her butler about it a few days ago. My guess is, she found out from N'Jadaka before things went to Hell in a hand basket."

T'Challa could only stare at him with a slack mouth and a dumbfounded mind. Rose had known the very last thing he ever wanted to tell her, and to be told be someone who was once a brother then a madman bent on revenge. If she had known all that, then how in heaven's name could he ever hope to prove that he loved her so powerfully?

A tight knot had been twisting itself into his stomach as their conversation started, but not it had spread throughout to the rest of his body, and into his heart. T'Challa had thought that after their argument, things would all right and that after the matter with N'Jadaka was resolved, he would simply need to find a way to sooth Rose's hurt feelings. But now? Hearing what she knew, it changed everything for the worst.

Now...there was no way for T'Challa to ever claim Rose's love.

"Hey, T'Challa? Since I can see the cogs going into overdrive in that thick skull of yours, can I point out again that Starky doesn't care?" Hawkeye asked him loudly. T'Challa gave him a look one could only describe as hopelessly lost, causing the archer to sigh heavily.

"Look, in all the honesty I can muster, I'll tell you thing: Briar is a one-of-a-kind lady, who will do everything to protect those she loves, and it's a bonus that she can look beyond someone's past to see that good inside them, even when they can't see it themselves. All you have to do is take the chance she's giving you, and make something special for the both of you. So the question you need to ask yourself is 'are you ready to take that chance?'"

Deep in his heart, T'Challa knew that he was willing to take that chance, and if given the opportunity, he'd take it in both hands and hold it tightly. But that would mean he would need to see Rose, and to know that she knew more about his past than he ever wanted. Could he even let go of it to give her everything she ever deserves?

From the horizon of the setting sun, a light breeze swept above the metal jungle, its cool touch caressing the king's face with a rare gentleness found only in one person. Along the wing came a delicate smell of roses and vanilla, reminding T'Challa greatly of Rose's own scent that made his head twirl and his heart jump in his chest. Hawkeye felt differently, and shuddered the barest hint as he looked around.

"Hoo! Man, it may be summer now, but that was a cool breeze. Kinda strange, ain't it? He asked as he returned his attention to his quiet friend.

"Indeed." T'Challa agreed absent-mindedly, "The winds have changed somewhere."

"Well, that's good, isn't it? A change." Hawkeye commented in a tone that the Panther's full attention. Knowing what the archer was really referring to, T'Challa could only shake his head and privately admire the archer's tenacity.

"It is, but it will not be easy." The kind answered as he looked to the world around him, "I know what it is I must do, though it means confronting my past, and it is something that I have been hiding from for so long."

There were only a rare few moments in his life where T'Challa had let his guard drop and paid the price for such an act; this was one of those times. Taking advantage of his friends distracted mind, Hawkeye pulled out his bow and used one end to smack the king on his head. The archer took a small amount of twisted glee when he heard the king give a startled and pained yelped.

"Hawkeye, what was that for, exactly?" T'Challa asked through gritted teeth, his hand reaching up to massage the now tender bump that lay there.

"Doesn't matter, really." He replied with a cheeky grin, "Since it's in the past." Unable to help himself—and possibly giddy with glee for getting the drop on T'Challa—the purple fiend gave an equally cheeky laugh.

"That may be true, but it still hurts." T'Challa rumbled, lowering his hand to see if there was any blood. Luck was on Hawkeye's side; there would be a small bump, but he hadn't hit the king hard enough to break the skin.

"Yeah, I know: the past can hurt." Hawkeye replied as he patted T'Challa on the shoulder, "But the way I look at it? You can either run from it, or...learn from it." Realizing the meaning of his words, T'Challa ducked in time to avoid the bow from connecting to his head again. And with that lesson, T'Challa learned something that would help him greatly in his decision about Rose.

"Ha, you see?!" Hawkeye crowed triumphantly, "So, whatcha gonna do?"

"First, I will take your bow." T'Challa grinned, snatching the weapon from the slow reacting Hawkeye and tossed it into the tree branches, much to the archer's protests. As the archer began to climb, T'Challa took off at a fast clip to the elevator.

"Hey! Where're you going now?!" Hawkeye demanded.

"I have a Ball—and a woman—to attend!" T'Challa called back. Before the elevator doors fully closed, the king heard the wild laughter of Hawkeye, and could not help his own smile. There was much to do in so little time, but if it came together just right, then T'Challa would be leaving the Ball with a great warmth in his heart and a certain young flower in his arms.

######

Tonight's the night: the 8th of June. In other words, the night of the Summer Ball.

For the entire day I was on pins and needles, completely jittery about the night ahead and what it promised me and every other high society person in New York right now. I would have been a total wreck if it hadn't been for Mr. Foxworthy and Voltaire keeping me sane. Also helping me out (though in a very unusual way) was Thor. Yeah, how strange?

He happened to enter the kitchen just as I was finished my lunch meal, and we started talking about the Ball, and about what I might do there. Then somehow, the topic turned into chance encounters, which lead Thor telling me about his chance encounter with an alien. An actual alien! He, Tony and the Hulk were called to assist Ant Man and Wasp with a problem at some observatory somewhere, and that's where they met the alien.

Of course, they also had to deal with a bomb that would've destroyed a good chunk of the Earth, if it hadn't been literally tossed into space. Still, I can't believe I missed out on meeting an actual alien! Oh well; Thor did mention that the alien may come back at some point, so maybe I could see him next time.

Thor then asked in anything happened here recently. Ha, ha, ha: did anything happen here? I was just in the middle of explaining when Mr. Foxworthy came down to tell me that I needed to get ready for the Ball. Wow, time sure flies!

Unfortunately, in all the excitement, I had forgotten that in order to be 'presentable to high society', I would have to sit through an hour or more of torture. You know, primping, make-up, all that jazz. Then again, the end result will definitely be worth all the effort..

After and quick shower (when did I get a bottle of vanilla body wash? Oh well.), I dried off and slipped into a dressing robe and left my bathroom, to see both Mr. Foxworthy and Alenka—the latter's presence being a tip off as to the new body wash. I was then guided to the vanity by my butler, where he began to work his magic on my hair. For some reason, I could never get my hair to go into any fancy style: the most I could do was a pony-tail, and that was it. Mr. Foxworthy, however...

While my hair was still damp, he twisted small sections of it into little ringlets, and pinned them in place with a ruby-and-gold hair pin (I have no idea where he got them), and continued till all my hair and twisted up and pinned in place, and coating it all in a layer of hairspray. Before I could get a chance to look at his handy work, Alenka took over and saw to my make-up.

Normally I despised that sort of thing, usually only putting on a tiny bit of mascara and (maybe) some eye-shadow—Alenka knew and felt differently for a big occasion like this. For whoever knows how long, I was fussed over by Alenka, and nearly huffed in relief when the last bit of rouge was applied to my cheeks. My effort to see their work was thwarted once again when they turned my away from the mirror—this time so I could put my dress on.

To be completely honest, I have no idea what my dress looks like. When I had told Mr. Foxworthy that I still wanted to go to the Ball, he got a strange gleam in his eyes and said 'leave it to me, Miss Briar', and that was it. At some point, he must have asked Alenka to help him.

"So, what dress did you get me, Mr. Foxworthy?" I asked him as he helped me to stand up.

"The perfect one, of course." He smiled kindly, "Trust me, Miss Briar, you will love this particular dress." Since he's never let me down before, I can take his word for it. He kept his back turned and fussed over the large bag carrying my dress while I put my undergarments on, though I had to give the strapless bra a look—those things had a tendency to slip down on me. Alenka—bless her!—cast a little spell to prevent such a thing, then told me to close my eyes.

I was a bundle of nerves as she helped me slid into the material, trying my best not to peek. Although, just because I was told not to look yet, doesn't mean I couldn't guess by feeling. From what I could tell, it was—

"And don't even try to guess, young lady." Mr. Foxworthy chastised gently, pulling up a zip in the back and securing a tiny hook, "My word, Miss Briar! You really are impatient tonight." Alenka just found it all amusing, much to my annoyance, as she helped guide my feet into a pair of shoes.

"I'm not impatient, I'm anxious. There's a difference." I whined lightly, increasing their amusement, "Can I see what I look like now? Please?" Chuckling softly, I felt a pair of gloves slid onto my hands and up just past my elbow, and someone placed a necklace and earring in their propers spots, and FINALLY I was allowed to look. Opening my eyes, I shot both my friends an exasperated a yet grateful look before turning to the floor-length mirror behind me.

My breath hitched in my throat as I looked at the woman in the mirror, staring in wonder at what I saw. In the back of my mind, I vaguely remembered what I looked like this morning: a shade paler than usual, with bruises on my throat, forearms and various spots on my shoulders from where I had been grabbed and thrown against something. On top of all that, I had deep bangs under my eyes.

Now I had trouble trying to find a trace of any bruise. All I could see was natural soft ivory skin that lowed with radiance. My bright hazel eyes were framed with mascara and a shimmering eye-shadow, my cheeks sporting a subtle red tinge and my lips painted red. All in all, it looked so natural, like I hadn't been through the ringer these last few days.

I looked down at my dress, and all thought left me. My dress was...just beautiful.

A sleeveless gown in a rich ruby red colour, the velvet bodice clung to my body perfectly, as if it were made especially for me. Along the top of the sweetheart neckline (which did marvels for my bust, may I add) was a band of gold ribbon the size of my thumbnail, matching the simple design of golden vines and small flowers at the bottom of the bodice. The satin skirt fell into an A-shape and flowed elegantly to the ground, moving with the softest of hushed noises. I lifted the hem up enough to see the bottom hem of the petticoat and the pair of red high heels with the closed toe and strap around my ankles.

Letting go of the material and straightening up, I noticed in my reflection the ruby-and-gold teardrop necklace and earrings, and the velvet red elbow length gloves on my hands.

I could hardly believe my own eyes. For the first time in my life, I looked beautiful, and felt every inch of it, too. My heart swelled with emotions, almost bursting from the feelings insides, and I started to feel a tad overwhelmed

"Now, now. No need for tears." Alenka soothed as she and Mr. Foxworthy rubbed my shoulders in an affectionate manner. "Even if they are happy ones." I gave a watery chuckle, and let Alenka fuss over my skirt to make sure that it fell the right way.

"Where did you find such a beautiful gown, Mr. Foxworthy?" I asked him. From the corner of my eyes, I could see the sky was darkening as night fell. Soon, I would be in a room full of other rich people, and a tiny swarm of butterflies crept into my stomach.

"I've been holding onto it for a while, actually." He answered, "It belonged to your mother: she wore it to her first debut at the Summer Ball, where she met your father." He gave a soft smile as he looked at me, a proud twinkle in his eyes.

"You look so beautiful, Miss Briar. Just like a princess." He commented gently, "I know that your parents would agree, and be so proud of you." I could feel my emotions welling up again, and my eyes began to mist slightly. Without a word, I hugged the older man, grateful that—even though my biological father was no longer here—I still had another father figure to guide me through life. Alenka stood up tall, and gave me a look similar to a proud mother. She didn't interrupt my hug with Mr. Foxworthy, but she did telepathically imply her feelings, at the same time as soothing mine. She was good, no denying that.

Of course, all good moments had to come to an end at some point, and JARVIS took the moment to inform me that it was time to get going, more or less.

Stepping away from the warm embrace, I gave myself one last look-over and took a deep breath to calm my resurging nerves. Both my friends gave me an encouraging smile—which helped a lot—before Mr. Foxworthy looped my hand through his arm and escorted me out, Alenka falling into step behind us. When we reached the bottom of the stair case, I nearly groaned as Hawkeye entered, saw me and gave a loud wolf-whistle, catching the attention of the others. While Hawkeye cheekily commented on my look, Cap and Thor and were more gentlemanly about it. Even Voltaire did a double take before breaking into a goofy smile and yipped happily.

A flash of light nearly blinded me, thanks to the camera in Alenka's hands. With some persuasion from her, I had a few more photos taken: some with the other men and Voltaire, before I was allowed to go on my way. Voltaire followed behind as Mr. Foxworthy escorted me to the awaiting limo. I was given a few last minutes bits of advice from him before I was handed the invitation to the Ball. Voltaire lifted his paw in a wave, something I returned with a smile.

The door closed between us, and I was chauffeured to the annual summer gathering place of the well-to-does, and I could only hope that it'd be my best night ever.

######

The key to winning a game of strategy was patience. It took as much to move the pieces into the correct positions in order to win the game, the victory becoming all the more sweeter. It could also be said of love; doing certain activities, saying the right words at the right time, all like moving the chess pieces to where one needed them, and when the perfect moment comes, one should grasp it and not let it o.

All T'Challa had to do now was wait.

He had arrived at a respectable time to the grand hotel where the event would take place; a little ways from the city, but still in the upper echelons of society. Accepting the glass of sparkling cider from a waiter, T'Challa took his position beside a large white marble pillar, the large dance floor and entrance within easy sight.

More people began to arrive, some T'Challa recognized from the tabloids, others he didn't know of. A good portion of the new comers were female, dressed sensibly in whatever latest fashion the world had declared to be 'in' at the moment, though one or two of them desperately needed some help. Keeping an eye open on those who came up the stairs, T'Challa casually sipped from hi glass as he waited for Rose to appear. He partially thought to have asked her butler what she'd be wearing, but then why spoil the surprise?

The small orchestral band played in the background, providing music for some to dance by, while others were content to stay around the edged of the dance floor and talk to their friends or trade gossips with others; the latter was something T'Challa kept a wary eye on.

A fair few of the ladies present would often cast their eyes on the king, obviously attracted to him. Some were more bolder in their gestures, and he knew that at some point the looking would stop when one of the approached him to either talk or ask for a dance. Barely suppressing a sigh, T'Challa did his best not to notice the looks thrown his way, mostly by listening in the conversation taking place near to him: a group of men discussing business, of all things. T'Challa was about to move to a more advantageous spot when one of the men mentioned Tony Stark's name, catching the kings attention.

"So where is Tony?" One of them asked the others, "It's not like him to miss a party this big."

"I heard he had some business to deal with." Another answered, swirling the liquid in his glass with a mildly bored manner, "Or, he could be off playing superhero again." This caused the group to mumble in agreement, even though they didn't appear appeased.

"Still, you can't call in a party without Stark." The first man maintained, "He always made a big entrance to get the Ball going, so to speak."

"Yeah," Another man sighed, "It's gonna be a long night, then, with no Stark to liven things up here." They gave their agreements before moving onto another topics—this time about cars—when another member of the group, one with a nose to shame an eagle, nearly choked on his drink in shock.

"Good Lord in Heaven." He finally spoke, "Look at her!" At his prodding, the others followed his line of sight. Apparently they weren't the only ones to notice; several other groups were whispering to themselves as they looked to the entrance. Since there was nothing to do until Rose arrived, T'Challa let his eyes wander to the woman that was causing such a sensation.

The second his eyes landed on the newcomer, T'Challa suddenly knew two things. The first was that Rose would never cease to amaze him. The second was that Rose looked very alluring and seductive in red.

Swallowing the sudden thickness in his throat, all that T'Challa could do was watch with wide eyes as his beloved walked up the stairs, her red dress perfectly encasing her body in ways that had him tensing in a good way. Letting his eyes roam over her figure, he marvelled at how he saw no trace of bruising, or any other sign that she had been at all hurt in the past week. In fact, her skin appeared softer than before, if it were possible.

Noticing the amount of attention on her, a soft blush illuminated her cheeks as Rose looked away sheepishly, an act that made her only more endearing. As she moved over to one side of the ballroom, everyone else seemed to break out of the spell and return to whatever there were doing beforehand. Only T'Challa kept his eyes on the innocently ravishing young beauty, and as an old couple engaged her in conversation, the king decided to make his move.

######

Ok, when I made the decision to go to the Summer Ball, a little part of me hoped that I didn't make a big entrance sort of thing, that attracted the complete attention of the elites that were already there. Of course, that plan was shot down the second I walked up that staircase and entered the glamorous event. Great.

As a majority of them looked at me, I felt like crawling into a hole somewhere and not come out for the rest of the night. In a rare spot of kindness, the universal forces that be cut me some slack and everyone returned to their own little groups and conversations. I moved over to the refreshment table, where an old couple approached me.

Now, even I—the most shyest computer geek—knew who Gerard and Elizabeth Woodsworth were. They were big on humanitarian fronts, particularly in war torn areas, and even had a few charity houses here in the States. If you wanted to make friends with the big people, then these two were definitely the ones you wanted to impress first, especially if you were involved in humanitarian scenes.

They also happened to be close friends to my late parents.

"Hello, Briar." Elizabeth greeted warmly, delicately pressing a kiss to my cheek as we hugged, "It's so wonderful to see you again."

"And without your brother." Gerard added as he settled for shaking my hand, "That brother of yours finally giving you some breathing space, huh?" One of the best things about Gerard was his sense of humour: he always knew what to say to make someone smile. Just don't do something stupid and get him mad—you really don't want him mad at you.

We spent a few more minutes talking about various things, before ending up at the topic of the Ball itself and some of the dressed we could see—and some we wish we didn't. Elizabeth was just finished her 'observation' of one woman wearing a deep emerald green gown but had sapphire blue jewellery when Gerard made an observation about my own gown.

"Speaking of gowns, the one you're wearing in absolutely divine." He commented, eyeing me from top to bottom, "it suits you."

"Yes, it absolutely does." Elizabeth agreed with a wide smile, "As does the jewellery: I've always imagined you would look good in red and gold. Glad to see I was right." I couldn't help but blush a little at their compliments, and while it made them chuckle, it made me wonder if there was any chance of me not turning red again tonight.

:Yeah, good luck with that.: My inner self snickered, nearly making me groan out loud. It was right, of course, but for once I wish I wouldn't be reduced to a tomato face whenever I was given a compliment.

"So where did you find your outfit?" Elizabeth inquired, "It does look vaguely familiar." Normally—at least in the fashion world—wearing something from your parents' time was rather frowned upon. Then again, what I was wearing didn't look old fashioned, and I really doubt that the younger ball-goers would believe how old my dress is. But at the very least, the Woodsworth deserved to know.

:Universal kick in the ass coming in three, two...: My inner voice commented before a rather strong tingly sensation thrilled up my spine, make my insides turn into jelly and my heartbeat increased with a fluttery sensation. What was that?!

:One hunky panther coming up on your six, that's what.: My inner self answered, almost drooling. Wait, panther? As in—

"Good evening, Miss Stark." I didn't even need to turn around to recognize that voice, or the deep seductive purr he used to speak my name. Ignoring the bewildered looks on the Woodsworth's faces, I somehow managed to turn around without falling into a puddle of goop. A feat that just narrowly missed being a reality when I saw T'Challa.

Ok, he was handsome in his Panther uniform; he was border line demi-god handsome in regular clothes. Now he was truly god-like in just how he looked in a black tuxedo, to the point where I was beginning to feel cheated in not being his girlfriend. While I was thinking how much I hated the universe, my whole face felt warm, and it only got warmer when T'Challa gently took my hand in his and—without taking his eyes off of mine—lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the backs of my fingers.

:It's official. The universe is cruel and wishes to crush me in every way possible.: My mind whined pathetically, but I barely paid attention to it, instead focusing on T'Challa.

"You look ravishing tonight." He complimented softly after returning my hand, "I do believe red suits you." It didn't help that his eyes revealed just how ravishing he really thought I was. All I could do was tilt me head down as I murmured my thanks, while silently wondering how the hell I was going to get out of this with my dignity intact. A long shot, I know, but it was either leaver or end up doing something I'll end up regretting later on.

"Oh? Is this a friend of yours, Briar?" Gerard's voice (mercifully) brought me back down to earth and shook me out of my minor brain back-fire. Paying no attention to the smug gleam in a certain king's smile, I turned halfway to my old friends and nervously gestured to T'Challa."

"Uh...G-Gerard and Elizabeth Woodsworth," I nervously sputtered out, "This is Lucas Okinawa; an old class mate of mine from Oxford." I was sort clueless as to why I said his alias, but then my logic kicked in and reminded me that revealing T'Challa as a wealthy king may not be such a good idea. A glance from the corner of my eyes as T'Challa shook hands with them both told me that he appreciated the gesture.

"Really? Elizabeth inquired in a tone that said she didn't really believe me, something I felt was unwarranted, especially after all that T'Challa has ever done for me in the months that I've known him.

"He was a big held to me back then." I further explained, in a tone I knew she wouldn't miss, "There were a few times were I had trouble with the lessons, but Lucas was gracious as to help me." I didn't need to turn around to see the look in his eyes, nor did I have to hear the soft chuckle he gave under his breath.

"Hmm."Gerard hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching as a strange glimmer entered his eyes. I know I've seen that look before, but where did I see it?

"Well, then, Lucas." Gerard chatted casually, "What prompted you to be so chivalrous to a smart girl like Briar?" I didn't miss the sidelong look Elizabeth gave him, and I'm betting neither did T'Challa. But—ever the gentleman—he didn't call her on it.

"It all started over a book, if you would believe." T'Challa answered casually, "I was in the library, searching for a text, and as I reached for it, another hand reached for the same book. I was surprised to see a young girl at such a university, but Rose quite easily displayed her intellect, and after that moment we were friends."

...Ok, even I believed that story, and I was one of the peoples involved who knew the real truth!

"That sounds like Briar, all right." Gerard chuckled, "I suppose you two have some catching up to do, then? It must've been a long while since you two last had a chance to talk." I froze. As in, complete body freeze and mind pausing mid function. Gerard wasn't implying what I think he was implying, was he?

"A few years, at least." T'Challa nodded in agreement then turned his head to me, "If it is all right by you, Rose?" I wanted to say no, or at least make an excuse to not be alone with him and say something really stupid—

"I'd love that." I blurted out in a timid tone.

—a-a-a-and my heart overrules my head, once again. Fan-freaking-tastic. Well, since I put myself here. When T'Challa offered me his arm, I slid my hand into the crook of his elbow and, with a quick wave to the Woodsworth's , allowed T'Challa to led me to wherever he wanted to take me to. We walked past a few people, some of them were female. And boy howdy, was I getting some nasty looks from them?! Clearly, I wasn't the only one to notice how attractive T'Challa was in a tuxedo, but I was the only one he seemed interested in tonight, so I allowed myself to be proud of the little fact.

That feeling lasted until I was led to a rather secluded balcony. "I would prefer for us not to be disturbed." He explained with a conspirital wink, which did not make me feel any more confident that before. I'm starting to think he likes keeping me off-balance.

As he closed to door behind us, I took the moment to focus on the surroundings. This hotel had a good view of the view of the city, especially at night. There was also a nice breeze in the air, offering a nice distraction from whatever the heck was going to happened next. At least, I wish it did: right now I felt completely nervous about whatever T'Challa wanted to talk to me about.

My mind began thinking about anything it could; from the logical to the just down-right silly, which did nothing to help my nerves. Maybe T'Challa just wants to talk about normal things, or even maybe wants to see how I'm holding up from our adventure: after all, we haven't seen each other since we got back.

The negative side kicked in and pointed out that I hadn't seen or spoken to T'Challa ever since I woke up from the 'death-like slumber' that Project Spindle Thorn inflicted on me, and when I explained what could of happen if it were the original batch. So maybe the great Panther king was going to confront me about that. Or even about how much I over-reacted when I thought he and Ororo were still an item! Good Golly, someone put me out of my misery, please!

Actually, before someone obliges, maybe I should explain myself to T'Challa. It is the least I can do for him.

:Ok, be calm.: I told myself as I turned to face him, :Take a deep breath, and calmly tell him you're sorry, and explain everything to him. Just don't panic and blurt everything out.: It's good advice: sound, practical and logical advice.

"Rose, I—"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for every mean thing I said to you in Wakanda, and about running off to face the bad guys alone, and I'm really, totally sorry about not telling you about Spindle Thorn when I should have!"

...Why is it that I can never follow my own advice? Honestly, I had I a good idea, and I instead let my mouth get the better of me...again.

Meanwhile in reality, I stood before T'Challa with my hands clamped over my mouth, completely red in the face while T'Challa stood there with a look of stunned surprise etched onto his features. Time crawled into minutes before T'Challa was able to recover himself and turned his stunned look into a curious one with a hint of humour. At least he's not angry...yet.

"Come again?" He asked with a touch of teasing in his voice, "You spoke so quickly, I did not catch a word." Some of his humour managed to get to me, I couldn't help the sheepishly apologetic smile as I lowered my hands from my face.

"R-r-right. Well, um, I-I wanted to—need to, actually—apologize. For a lot of things." I began nervously, "About the argument we had, before everything haywire. I shouldn't have said anything about you and Ororo: that's your business, and none of mine."

"Very true, and I accept your apology." T'Challa nodded, "However, one could make the argument that, if I had of told you about Ororo before, that argument would never of happened in the first place." Oh, no: he was getting the blame for this!

"Yeah, that argument could made." I replied, and held up my hand to stop T'Challa from talking, "But then another would argue that because of your history with a certain man, you found it hard to trust people, and an even harder time to share some secrets. I know what that's like, because of Justin, and I should have seen it before I lost my temper."

T'Challa looked at me with a blank face before the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile as he gave a quiet chuckle. "I guess we are both to blame for that score." He remarked, "Perhaps, though, we could leave that memory in the past? After all, we cannot do much to rectify our choice of words." No kidding. I nodded my head in agreement, something my inner self was grateful about. Now for the rest of my blunders.

"I also wanted to apologize about Spindle Thorn." I continued, trying my best not to cave under the pained-and-dark look in his eyes. "I didn't tell you about it, and went to the village alone, because I didn't want to see you get hurt by it. Given the logic, and all." The last word barely got out before I lightly yelped as I was pulled against the rock hard body of the Panther king with the dark look. Despite how angry he looked, I couldn't stop the flush on my face or the butterflies in my stomach.

T'Challa was getting ready to say something when my words registered in his brain, and the dark looked lost a tiny bit of its bite. "What do you mean, 'given the logic'? What logic was there in your nearly dying?" He asked firmly. Taking a deep breath and then releasing it, I braced myself for whatever came next.

"The serum—my version, that is—was only ever tested on mice and the average human, not on ones that use an herbal body paste specific to a particular bloodline." I explained softly, "Logically, if the serum was ever introduced into your body, there'd be a big chance of it reacting negatively, and you would have either died or entered a deeper coma we couldn't save you from." That nasty little thought sent a cold shiver up my spine before settling in my heart and making feel a little frightened.

T'Challa must have realized the validity in my words—or sensed my fear—because the dark look dropped from his face completely, and he moved his hands from my waist to around my body, spreading warmth to combat the cold thought.

"Since I don't use a body paste made from special herbs, the serum would only do its normal amount of damage on me, and I could survive." I continued quietly, and grateful that I never had to go through something like that ever again. The arms around my body tightened their grip a bit more, so that I was snugly pressed underneath his chin, and felt warm and safe again.

"Very well." T'Challa exhaled above my head, "I will concede that you had the higher chance of survival compared to me. But I still do not wish to see you risk yourself for my safety, especially with something as dangerous as Spindle Thorn. So you must promise me to never do that again." ...um...

"Which part?" I asked innocently, "If it's the 'get hit by Spindle Thorn' part, then that's way too easy: all of it is destroyed—my version and the original—and the flower's pretty much extinct: the only sample is in S.H.I.E.L.D's vault, and I gave all the research notes to the scientists in Wakanda." That should have pacified T'Challa, even a little bit, to know that there was no chance of another Spindle Thorn fiasco, but he still had a look of disapproval.

"And what about you risking your own life to protect mine?" He demanded. Oh, yeah. That part.

"Well, to be fair, that may be a harder to keep." I admitted sheepishly, "But only because you're my friend and we're on the same team, and I don't like seeing my friends get hurt, especially if it's by something that can be prevented beforehand."

Out of nowhere, a cold ice block sank into my stomach, followed by a thought I really hop wasn't about to become reality. Though I knew T'Challa had every right to act like my thought said he should, it didn't ease my poor little heart, and if the thought did end up becoming real, I knew it'd beak.

I just had to be brave and ask the question every inch of me was demanding to ask.

"We...are we? Still friends, I mean." I asked meekly. Friends I can handle (with some reluctance), but if T'Challa decides not to be friends, then I can predict a long and gloomy life ahead of me.

T'Challa seemed to be giving my question some serious thinking-through; his poker face not giving any hint about what he might be thinking. As I waited for him to come to a final verdict, my stomach was twisting itself up into terrible knots, and my chest was filled with a tightness I had never experienced before. A small part of me was grateful for him holding me in his arms: if T'Challa did say 'no, we are not friends', then I at least had this last bit of warm contact between us to treasure. Even though I'm still scared of what his answer could be.

:Saints preserve me; just answer already!: My inner self demanded from T'Challa. As if he could read my thoughts, T'Challa looked at me dead in the eyes. I could feel my entire body freeze and my breath hitch in my throat. When my mind began to work again, I wished on anything and everything in the world that we'd still be friends at the very least.

I nearly jumped out of my skin and out of his arms when the balcony doors and the Woodsworth's began chatting.

"There you are, Briar!" Elizabeth exclaimed happily, "We were beginning to worry and you and Lucas." When I looked to Gerard, he rolled his eyes and pretended to sigh. Meaning that Elizabeth was only worried about me, and not at all concerned in the least for T'Challa.

Before my mind could catch up to itself, Elizabeth linked her arm through mine and proceeded to whisk me back inside. A glance over my shoulder showed that Gerard and T'Challa were following us, both of them in their own conversation. You know, as much as I like Gerard and Elizabeth, they have the worst timing ever!

Arriving back at the ballroom, Elizabeth proceeded to walk me around, introducing me to her friends. OR rather, the single male friends she knew of. Unbelievable; she was actually trying to play match-maker for me! Sure, so was Gerard earlier, but at least he caught onto me having a huge crush on T'Challa and tried to help! Elizabeth? Uh-uh, no such luck. Gordon Bennet, help me!

Plastering as polite a smile as I could manage, I was dragged from one eligible rich bachelor to another by Elizabeth, while wondering how the hell I was going to get away from them and back to T'Challa. Then again, he never answered my question about us still being friends.

But surely he wouldn't leave me to suffer...right?

######

:Ugh! If I have to listen to another minute of this guy talk, I'm gonna scream.: I complained to myself, while somehow managing a polite smile as I was forced to listen to some guy drivel on and on about how much he was worth, and how much more he'll be worth when he inherits his father's fortune. That sort of talk was bad enough, but he spoke in a snooty, irritating 'I'm holier than thou' tony of voice that made me want to gag him with a dirty, smelly, Hulk-sized sock!

About ten minutes ago, Elizabeth introduced the pair of us, and then 'conveniently' needed to be elsewhere, and I've been stuck listening to this guy ever since. My only consolation was that when I saw Elizabeth talking to her husband, he had a very disapproving scowl aimed right at her, which she wilted under. Ha, that'll teach her!

Now, if only I could get away from this guy. Where's an Avenger when you need them?

Thinking of Avengers got me thinking about T'Challa: I hadn't been able to see him since we were dragged back into the party. A small part of me was even considering the idea that he's gone home, and an even smaller part thought that he might even be dancing with one of the unattached females here. As my ears began to suffer, I started praying for some sort of divine intervention before my ears killed themselves.

"Excuse me?" I almost wept in relief when T'Challa finally appeared beside me, "I apologize if I am interrupting, but I have a prior engagement with Miss Stark."

"Absolutely!" I blurted out, completely overriding whatever Mr. Snooty was going to say. Ignoring him, I let T'Challa take my hand and escort me away from the dull conversation. Huh, I guess we were still friends, if the save was anything to go by. I think.

"You are a life saver." I commented once we were out of earshot, "I think my ears were about to jump off my head if I listened to that guy any longer." T'Challa didn't say anything in reply, but the smirk on his face was all I needed.

I lost how much time I spent with T'Challa after that; we talked to other people, but thankfully a majority of them were couples. Those that weren't got the hint that both T'Challa and I were off-limits to everyone else. And it felt wonderful to have him act like we were dating each other, without it being uncomfortable. Before I knew it, it was half an hour till midnight, and I felt tired. Not completely, but starting to get there.

"Tired?" T'Challa asked me softly.

"A little." I agreed before covering a yawn, "Shame, though. I never got a dance." All at once, several thins bean to happen. T'Challa gave me an indescribable smile, then threaded my hand around his arm and led me to the dance floor. Other couples who had finished dancing to the last song left the area, leaving just T'Challa and I. And finally, the next song began to play from the piano; a familiar song that stole my breath as I looked up at T'Challa in stunned wonder.

All he did next was hold my hand in his while he placed his other on my waist. My free hand made its way to his shoulder, and I was led into a waltz as a band member started to sing.

"There's a calm surrender to the rush of day.

When the heat of a rolling wind can't be turned away."

All my star-struck mind could do was continue to stare at T'Challa as we slowly waltz together, the world around us disappearing to leave only the two of us and the song. Ever so slowly, I felt my face melt as the love inside me started to show.

"An enchanted moment, and it sees me through.

It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you.

And can you feel the love tonight?

It is where we are.

It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer that we got this far.

And can you feel the love tonight?

How it's laid to rest.

It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best."

The look in the eyes of the Panther King was tender, as if it was a blessing to be dancing with me right now. After all that has happened to us lately, I was beginning to feel the same way.

For even just this moment, all that I cared about was being in the arms of the man I loved the most.

"There's a time for everyone,

If they'd only learn

That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn.

There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors

When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours.

And can you feel the love tonight?

It is where we are.

It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer that we got this far."

I could feel T'Challa pull me closer as we danced, our eyes never once looking away. My heart, for the first in forever, felt whole and at peace with everything. Oh, if only this dance could last forever, so I never had to lose this feeling.

"And can you feel the love tonight?

How it's laid to rest.

It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best."

The song was coming to an end, much to my sadness. But leave it to T'Challa to make it end on a special note. As the last line was sung, he pulled me closer as we slowly came to a stop before he slowly lowered me into a dip.

"It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best."

The pair of us started at each other, lost in our own little world, until the sound of people applauding us—some even wolf whistling—brought us back into the bigger world. I felt my cheeks bloom as T'Challa pulled me out of the dip and walked me off the dance floor.

:Ok, so that happened. Wait...what did just happen?: Aside from my universe just shrinking so that only myself and T'Challa were left, dancing to the most romantic song ever recorded remained? Not much else. But was something meant to happen, that's my question.

I barely paid attention to where T'Challa was leading me, so dazed and lost in my thoughts was I. It was only when I heard the sound of traffic that I managed to pay attention to what was going on: I was tucked under the Panther King's arm as he walked us to an awaiting limo.

"You looked tired, so I am taking you home." He explained softly when I looked up at him. Going home did sound like a good idea, but the journey from here to there was going to be very interesting. I was handed into our ride, scooting over to make room for T'Challa to sit beside me. Once he was inside and the door closed behind him, the driver waited a beat before pulling into the traffic and started to take us to Avengers Mansion.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Rose?" T'Challa asked, his soft yet deep voice reverberating inside me and turning my inside into jelly. Not trusting myself to speak just yet, I gave him a warm, sincere smile and nodded. He returned my smile and then pulled me into his arms. With a soft sigh, I vaguely marvelled how well we fitted together like this, his arms around me, my head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

Of course, there was a small little niggle to an otherwise perfect night.

Earlier this evening, I asked T'Challa if we were still friends, yet I never got an answer. Ok, his actions have proven that he does still care about me to some degree, but I would like to know what degree that was and hear him say it out loud. It also doesn't help that our dance together threw me for several loops.

:So then ask.: My inner self prodded, :It wouldn't hurt to ask.: I guess it wouldn't.

"T'Challa?" I called softly. He gave a quiet hum in response, and I gathered whatever courage I could manage on such short notice. "Earlier, I kinda asked if we were still friend? What were you going to say before Elizabeth interrupted?" Now that I had asked the question again, I felt the nervous butterflies return in full force. Perfect.

I felt a hand curl underneath my chin, gently turning my face till I was face to face with T'Challa, who wore an expression that made my breath hitch, and the butterflies spread further throughout my body. There was such a peaceful look on his face, even as his golden eyes burned with a brightness of another, stronger emotion.

"I believe you are right." He finally spoke in a deep, low tone that sent shivers done my spine and excited me, for some reason. "Perhaps, this will answer your question." His hand moved from my chin to cup my cheek, his face leaned down and his lips lightly pressed against mine.

:Oh! Oh, my. Oh...wow.: My mind sighed as my eyes closed in pure bliss as the feel of his velvet soft lips gently moving against mine. Every inch of my body went limp into his arms, thought my hands somehow managed to find a purchase on his chest to pull myself closer as I responded. The arm he kept around my waist tightened, holding me in place against his chest as his other slid to the back of my neck, his fingers tenderly massaging my neck.

I sighed into the kiss, and I could feel his body tremble as T'Challa moaned in response. I wish that the moment didn't have to end, but at some point we needed to breathe. Reluctantly I pulled away first, taking a second to catch my breath, T'Challa doing the same thing.

"I have wanted to do that for a long time." He whispered thickly before pressing a delicate kiss to my lips again, "Goddess, it is all I have dreamed of for so long." My poor little brain was a pile of goop now, but my heart took over and said the words I was so eager to say to him.

"I love you, T'Challa." I whispered softly. My eyes finally fluttered open, and I felt my heart soar at the loving and tender smile he wore.

"And I love you, Rose." He replied, then pressed another deep and long kiss to my lips, something I eagerly answered to as the both of us became lost in the bliss of that one innocent action.

######

The limo eventually stopped at Avengers Mansion, though I was extremely reluctant to get out. I wanted to spend more time with the man I loved so deeply. Unfortunately, my feet decided otherwise and I was walking towards the mansion doors, hand in hand with T'Challa. There were no lights on in any of the windows we could see, meaning that everyone was probably asleep.

At least, I thought everyone was asleep.

T'Challa opened the door for me, and Voltaire was there waiting, watching us with bright blue eyes. Unable to helped ourselves, T'Challa and I gave the gentle giant white dog affectionate rubs on his head, earning a grin for our efforts. That's when I realized that, in order to get to my bedroom, I had to walk up the large staircase, which my feet said would take more effort than they could give right now.

I felt my head lower with a soft sigh, and was thinking about just sleeping on a couch down here when I was swept off my feet and into the arms of the Panther King. I couldn't help the soft gasp as I automatically looped my arms around his neck and pulled myself close. With a smug little smirk, T'Challa easily carried me up the stairs—Voltaire in tow—and down the halls to my room. I opened the door, letting Voltaire sneak in first and T'Challa slowly put me down on my feet, but neither of us moved away, both of us quite content to leave our arms around each other.

"Thank you." I murmured gratefully, my arms resting around his neck.

"You are most welcome, Rose." He answered. He then tightened his grip on my waist as he pulled closer, so that my body was flush was his, and lowered his head to press another heart-warming, bone-rattling kiss to my lips. I could hear myself moan softly as I responded, savouring the feeling of his warm, firm mouth against mine. Eventually, we parted to regain our breath, though pressing tender kisses wasn't exactly helping.

Finally, I managed to (grudgingly) pry my arms from his neck and away from his body to rest my hands on the door frame and inside doorknob, even as I continued to kiss T'Challa. Slowly, T'Challa pulled his hands from my waist, bracing them on the door frame also, and used the leverage to slowly pull himself away from me.

"Shall I return in the morning?" He asked in a thick voice, the haze in his eyes telling me that he was as much moved by our loving kisses as I was.

"I'd love that." I answered with a smile and left a soft kiss on his lips, "Goodnight, my handsome warrior king." The smirk he wore did nothing to calm me down, which I'm pretty sure he knew, the scoundrel.

"Dream well, my alluring goddess." He purred seductively as he returned my kiss with his own, and several more following. I couldn't help myself and softly chuckled, and enjoyed his presence a while longer. All too soon, I pulled myself away and took a step backwards.

"I love you." I whispered, resting both my hands on the door. T'Challa took a step backwards too, a soft and loving expression on his face.

"And I love you." He replied. A soft smile slipped onto my face, even as I slowly closed the door between us. I caught one last glimpse of him before the door finally closed, and I turned to lean my back against the wood with a sigh.

My heart was fluttering like mad, but this time it was a different flutter, and my whole body felt like it was moving through a haze. I pressed my un-gloved fingertips against my lips, feeling the tingly sensation of his kisses, and the tingle that still raced up and down my spine.

:Can we say 'FINALLY!'?: My inner voice chirped happily, and I had to give an incredibly happy giggle.

Yes, we could definitely say that, because what I have been wishing to happen has come true. Through many hardships and emotional turmoil, T'Challa and I were finally together.

---

YES! Oh, rapture! Oh, bliss! It FINALLY happened! *does a little happy dance before pausing* of course that does mean Tony will find out, and the amount of emails I'm gonna get will be staggering...ah, who cares?! It's finally happened! *goes back to the happy dance, to the amusement of T'Challa and Rose.*

Oh, yeah. I also don't own the rights to the Lion King. I just bored the song and the gag. Bye-bye!