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.

25. The Ultron Imperative

Hi-ya! Whelp, I'm still alive: Panther hasn't found me or killed me! *pans to a side to see the author's entire back is riddled with arrows* ...Fine. Panther didn't find me, but Hawkeye did...and he's more vindictive ever since Pony-con. But's all worth it, if only because of this chapter. Speaking of which *ahem, ahem*...

Disclaimer: The Management of Chaotic Inc. wishes to advise the reading audience that this chapter is rated M; there is minor adult content. If said content offends you in anyway, then please remind yourselves that you were fore warned. Also, we'd like to point out that the aforementioned adult content is to be blamed on the Black Panther...in a manner of speaking.

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The Ultron Imperative

How does someone go on, when they've seen what they have? When does the pain end, or does it even go away? Why does a person with so much hurt in their hearts stay, and decide not to put a stop to it all?

All these questions, but no answer. Not one that will satisfy the dying heart.

If only there had been one more minute to spend with you.

One more moment to hold you close and not let go.

Just one more time to tell you that I love you with all my heart

There is no more time now. All of those seconds are gone. You are gone.

There is…no more.

######

The pain was unbearable as I stared blankly at the floor, at the spot where a smear of blood now stained…at the spot where my Rose…where you fell in battle.

You could not have withstood that beam of energy; it took Thor as easily as it took you, so why did you even try?

I spend all my thought on how you smiled, at how your nose crinkles as you laughed, the way your cheeks would turn that beautiful shade of pink whenever you felt bashful, of the softness of your kisses.

But it does not matter anymore—I can only recall those memories with the bitter knowledge that those were my last with you.

Another memory arises and it is the one that will haunt me the most, of how I made you think—that my silence meant that I no longer cared for you.

I should have told you that my silence did not say that at all: I was silent because I was waiting for you to talk to me, to say what you wanted to say without feeling any panic over what I could say in response.

As soon as you stood next to me, I should have held you in my arms, chasing the fear in your eyes away and shown you every bit of love that my heart held for you.

But I did not, and now I am trapped with the knowledge that the last thing you thought of me was that I hated you, when the truth was that I hated myself.

None of this matters anymore, now that you have…

I feel a soft warm breath against my face, and hear a soft whimper as Voltaire presses his head against mine. My arms move by themselves as they encircle his neck, holding the grieving canine tight.

Of course, I will not be the only one to feel the loss of such a soul as yours; your brother will feel it, as will your beloved dog. The others will feel the emptiness, but not it the way we will. Dr. Pym will feel the pain in a different way—knowing that because of his creation, two dear friends have been taken away forever.

Iron Man and Dr. Pym are now destroying anything to do with the monster that did this to you, Captain America having been taken to the hospital with Jane Foster watching over him, while the others are standing over Thor's hammer. Wasp wants the Hulk to move it, but he tells her that he could not even pick up the magical hammer—simply because the Hulk was not Thor.

I feel a hand on my shoulder as Hawkeye stands beside me. He does not offer any words of hollow kindness or condolence, not out of spite but because he understands that there was not anything he could say that could make the pain inside my heart any better.

Wasp tried to speak to me, but the Hulk silently nudges her to leave me be. I am grateful for him doing so, because I could not trust myself to speak. Not yet…perhaps not for a long time.

Somehow Hawkeye is able to get me to my feet and guide me away from your final resting spot, something I wish I could protest against but my body is moving on its own free will. The others follow after us in respectful silence as Hawkeye guided me to the Meeting Hall. Only Voltaire remained behind—letting him grieve in peace.

None of us could have predicted what was to come next.

The wall before us exploded in a shower of glass and rock as dust nearly blinded us all. When we could see again, I could not comprehend why Iron Man was now in his Hulk-buster armor. The behemoth armor then swung at us all—Wasp was quick enough to change size and dodge the attack while the rest of us were sent sprawling to the ground.

Hawkeye shot an arrow at the giant armor, but it suddenly halted itself in mid-air. We could only watch in disbelief as another of Iron Man's armor deactivated its stealth mode, revealing it to be the catcher.

"Stark?! What are you—?" The rest of Hawkeye's question was drowned out by more explosions coming from the walls. Even more of Iron Man's armors now surrounded us, each one humming with deadly energy.

"That's a lot of Iron Man." Wasp dryly commentated. Unbeknownst to the others, I placed a hand against my rib-cage: one of the rocks had hit me in the side, and quite possibly did some damage. I almost give a sad smile—while the others may not have noticed, you always sensed when I had been hurt, and then you would question why did the Panther armor did not protect me.

"You attempted to destroy me, Avengers." A cold, mechanical voice spoke, shocking us all. The dust settled as one particular Iron Man armor stood before us. "You failed."

"Ultron?" As Hawkeye's tone betrayed the confusion of the menace that once again lived, I could feel my anger rising again. How dare this monster live while you do not! How dare it mock my efforts to avenge your passing!

It all became a strange waking dream afterwards—I could not be sure who made the first move—as we all began to battle the armors. The pain in my side began to be bothersome, but my anger ignored it as its thirst for vengeance started to take over me, guiding my body's movements while my mind could only stand back and observe my actions, both fascinated and appalled by the ferocity of my movements.

At some point one of the armors managed to surprise me and throw me to the floor. It was misfortune that I had landed on my damaged side—the pain forced the air from my lungs in an excruciating gasp and filled my eyes with stars. When the last one disappeared, Hawkeye stood before me with his hand lowered to me in a silent offer of help. Still a little dazed, I accepted his help in standing up, not at all unappreciative of the arm he slid around my shoulders to keep me steady.

"What's going on?" Wasp immediately demanded of Anthony Stark, now garbed in his antique armor. "I thought Ultron was destroyed!"

"Yeah, so did I," He agreed as he turned to the shrunken woman, "The real Ultron's attacking the S.H.I.E.L.D Hellicarrier right now. We've got to stop it." Under the circumstances, I would point out the flaws in that otherwise faultless plan, but these were not circumstance I would ever count as ideal, especially as he armors began to pick themselves up again.

"Stop it from doing what?" Hawkeye inquired as he reached over his shoulder for another arrow, "What does that thing even want?"

"It wants to end all life on Earth." Iron Man simply said, those words filling the archer's face with dread. I watched as the feelings in his face vied for dominance before he settled for resolution.

"You go—take Hulk and Wasp. Panther and I will finish up here." He told Iron Man, and dismissed all of their protests. Tony must have sensed something in Clint before nodding and leading the other two away. As they left, the androids pulled themselves together and—as you would have said—prepared for round two. I turned to Hawkeye, briefly wondering if he had gone insane, but the decided that if this was to be my final battle, then at least I was with a friend.

"Oh, and T'Challa? Don't be an ass and get yourself killed." Hawkeye warned before he unleashed the first arrow. Now the second wave had begun, and the pain in my side was starting to hinder me greatly, so much that not even my rage could overcome it.

An android got a lucky strike and knocked me backwards, Hawkeye falling beside me not a few seconds later. Only two of the android armors remained now, but neither of us could find the strength to destroy them. "Well, at least we tried." Hawkeye panted then gave me a sidelong glance, "So much for not getting yourself killed." If I were not in so much pain, I would have told him that I appreciated his efforts.

The androids raised their hands, readying the beam that would end our lives, when the strangest thing occurred.

"Oi, Tin Can!" A sharp yell echoed across the destroyed room, catching all our attentions. As the android before me turned to whoever it was that yelled, there were hurried footsteps, and the next moment there was a battle axe—of all the impossible things—slicing through the armor like a hot knife through butter.

The second armor was also destroyed—by a bold of lightning from the one source we did not expect to see.

"Where is Ultron?" Thor demanded from the both of us, seemingly oblivious to the shock on our faces. My mind was seeing what my eyes did, but could not comprehend it. If Thor was here, and truly alive, then surely that meant…it meant…

"T'Challa?" The gentle, hesitant voice behind me matched the tentative touch against my shoulder, drawing my attention to the figure kneeling behind me. The darkness inside begged that I do not turn around to face the person kneeling there, because it could not be you. It was not possible…

I turned slowly. Mt eyes shut themselves closed, even as I faced the figure. I could feel the shaking hands as they cupped my face, feel their path down to the sides of my neck as they slowly began to lift the cowl from my head. Tender fingertips with calloused pads softly pressed against my bare face in a way so like yours. "T'Challa, come one. Open your eyes." That same gentle voice coaxed as the person slid their arm around my shoulders, supporting my head. As I lay cradled there, I could smell the scent from their skin: a hint of warm vanilla ice cream and fresh baked biscuits—just how you smelled.

Could it really be you?

On their own will, my eyelids began to slowly open. Adjusting to the light, my eyes finally saw what I had hoped to the Heavens above that it was real.

You were there, with tears in your eyes—they are happy tears, because you could see that I was finally seeing that you were really alive once again.

"You…you are alive?" That simple question brought a smile to your face—a smile like the first rays of sunshine after a storm—and you gently kiss my brow and cheeks. The warmth of your kisses, your embrace, all convinced me that you are here, you are alive.

"I'm here," You whisper happily between gentle kisses, "I'm alive." At one point our lips met, and I so gratefully return all of the love I found in your lips with the love that began to overwhelm my heart.

Suddenly—for some reason—I had to pull away and cough violently. I felt dizzy and light-headed, and everything began to sound like I was submerged underwater.

You are still there, holding me close even as you fret over me. I wish I could tell you that I was all right, that I was thankful for once last kiss with the woman I loved, but dark spots began to fill my vision, and everything became numb.

######

"You are very scary. You are so very scary. In fact, you're scary to the point of being absolutely terrifying." Tony had been unable to comment on much else about me after our finale battle with Ultron on the Hellicarrier. Instead of giving him an answer, I rolled my eyes at his 'fear' of me, though there was no stopping my smile of fondness at him.

Surprise! I'm back. Confused? Well, allow me to explain myself.

When Ultron's 'beam-o'-death' hit me, I wasn't killed—I was really transported to a safe location…that was in another dimension. As it happens, this other Earth was home to Merlin, so at least I had a friendly face or two. As for the 'how did I get here' bit, a close friend of Merlin's pointed out that that there was a spell on me—a very, super ridiculously powerful spell that prevented me from being completely and utterly kabooshed into teeny tiny pieces, name by sending me to another dimension.

It didn't take any level of superpowers to figure out just who was responsible for that, or that a conversation with said all-powerful, dimension-hopping person was needed in the foreseeable future. Not that I'm ungrateful, but it would have been nice to be informed about something so huge being done to me.

However the whole 'shifting dimensions' experience wasn't smooth sailing. True, the spell did take me to a place where I knew someone, and alive…I just didn't get there in one whole piece.

In short? My arms just down from my elbows were well and truly, completely and oh-so utterly kabooshed.

When I came to, Merlin was there (plus a few other people that made me think 'oh, holy crap!' and nearly geek out)and she explained that after getting over the shock of seeing me literally 'drop in', she began all sorts of healing spells, incantations and what-have-you. Turns out she gained quite the treasure trove of magical knowledge since I last saw her; mostly revolving around the healing arts.

Mental note, must find some sort of 'healer' for the Avengers.

She also explained that while she was frantically working to rebuild my arms, she found something icky in the remains of my twin stumps: tiny fragments of magical wood. Apparently the magi-staff I have…had, also came with some sentience about it, so it tried its best to deflect the blast. Sadly, due to Ultron being a lot more powerful than either of us, my faithful weapon was shattered beyond repair, taking my arms with it.

At this point, one of Merlin's friends piped up and said, while the staff couldn't be fixed, they did find enough pieces to act as little seeds so it can regrow…after a few decades or more. I might have been a little freaked out by that, but then again I was almost dead, so eh. But at least my staff would live on…in a sense. Ugh, getting back to the main point!

Now that my arms were reconstructed (that was the weirdest, freakiest feeling EVER), I had the fun and pleasure of relearning how to use them again. Thankfully, Merlin knew someone that could help—and knew a time spell or two—and subsequently introduced me to her right-hand person, Selene.

Holy Hell and everything crazy, Selene: without a doubt the most mind-blowing, freaking-ly awesome-est (and foremost completely humble) person I have ever met. Incidentally, she also happens to be one of the seven strongest people in the entirety of all things magical and physical. I mean, she could maybe give Hulk a run for his money. To put it into better perspective—if Selene ever had the inclination of going bad, she could easily rival Alenka and BEAT her.

I think everyone could agree that they were severely thankful that Selene was just fine and happy-dandy with giving Merlin advice, guidance…and bodyguard protection. Also, let me say this—I can never look at a certain comic book character the same way ever, ever, EVER again, in the nicest way possible.

One other thing about her: in the past I made the observation that Quartermaine was one hell of a personal trained when it suited him. Nuh-uh, no, no, no, silly little me, he has nothing—NOTHING—on Selene. To be fair, I was learning how to use my arms and hands again (which is not easy, by the way! I have so much more respect for those who have permanently lost limbs). As a bonus, Selene taught me a few other fighting styles and recreational activities—one of which did absolute wonders for my figure. I now have the body I've always wanted…not to mention the perky butt, too!

I was jokingly telling Selene and Merlin about the sort of reaction T'Challa will have when he sees me, when it sort of crashed in my head about just how I got here in the first place. Apparently, the trauma of first time dimension shifting and losing my arms made me repress the more recent memories (God, was I such a heartless cow or what?) up until now, when they all came flooding back to me.

Now trying to control my suddenly overwhelming urge to go back home, Merlin had a time keeping me calm and collected while Selene began to prepare the spell that would send me home. As it happens, even Alenka knew how powerful Selene was, and gave the magical lady the exact spell that'll take me home to my own dimension. She also had a spell that can bring me back here if I ever wanted to make a social call…strange, but then this is Alenka we're talking about.

Anyway, while I was waiting 'patiently'—read nervously despite Merlin's efforts—for Selene to finish, my young magical friend made the decision to tag along in case I needed back up….though her exact words were 'I'm not sending you on your merry way, only to have you come back here and all my hard work down the pits'. To Merlin's annoyance, an archer decided that they would like to come along, too. Not sure why but what the Hell? The more the merrier and the less chance I have of getting myself kabooshed again.

Finally the preparations were done. Despite my two bodyguards tagging along and all the training she's put into me, Selene lent me her battle axe so that I wasn't totally reliant on Merlin or the archer. So, with weapon in hand and allies at my back, the spell was cast and we were sent to my home dimension…just in time to see T'Challa and Hawkeye almost bite the big one themselves in a more permanent fashion.

I must have yelled something (Hawkeye would later confirm that I did) and rushed at, strangely enough, one of Tony's armors, and swung the hefty weapon in my hand, cleaving the empty chassis right down the middle like it was nothing. Well…that was a bit 'holy Hell', even for me.

The other armor was destroyed by a miraculously revived—and understandably furious—Thor, but at that moment I was more concerned about my boyfriend. I know that the last time we saw each other, before things went to Hell, things were icy, but I still loved him even if there was the chance that he didn't feel the same way anymore. Though I may or may not need to worry, if his response to me being alive was an indication of how he might have felt. At least until he started coughing up his own blood. Paging Dr. Merlin with the crash cart!

Good news was that Merlin was able to heal him (with more ease that she had with me, I will point out), but the bad news was that the rest of us were needed to stop Ultron on the S.H.I.E.L.D Hellicarrier. It pained me to leave his side again, but there wasn't anything I could do for T'Challa right now, so we left Merlin to it and headed to the battle.

When we got there, I couldn't be sure what surprised everyone the most: that Thor and I were alive and well (it kind of scared them when I suddenly appeared and hacked Ultron's arm off in a single slice), or that I had a far greater control over all of S.H.I.E.L.D's computer systems than even Director Hill. Ultron had somehow gotten a hold of Hill's mental key codes for the global missile arsenal…yeah, that's right: global…missile…arsenal. As in every missile armed with a nuclear warhead that every government (and maybe a few rogue groups) has on Earth, and all were launched to destroy every living thing on the planet, right down to bacteria.

There was only a tiny flaw in the plan, something the synthezoid nor anybody else didn't know until then was that I had access to the FENRIS program: a back-up contingency embedded deep within every mainframe that reverted all control of S.H.I.E.L.D systems to me, even cancelling out prior orders—like the one that launched all the missiles. Ye-ah, neither Hill or Ultron liked that, mostly Hill though.

But in the end what really stopped Ultron was Hank downloading logic into the synthezoid's programming. As it was, the would-be-destroyer was just as flawed as the rest of humanity, and therefore couldn't exist in his ideal world. Huh, logic…who knew?

Predictably, none of us got any form of thanks from Hill, and she even had the nerve to demand that I hand over FENRIS to her. Ah, ha, ha, ha…no.

Instead of acquiescing to her request, I politely…well, I'd like to think that I simply and politely said 'no', but the others said I put Hill in her place, and under no uncertain terms suggested that she drop the idea of getting FENRIS, or get me to join S.H.I.E.L.D, or else.

Given the fact that she just witnessed how easily I blocked a super smart android from the computer system, plus a few (well, quite a lot, actually) agents informed their boss that hounding me was just about the most single-dumbest thing she could ever do (Hmm, I wonder if they were worried about retaliation from Wakanda, or about my methods of revenge?), Hill swallowed the bitter pill and backed off. I'm pretty sure she hates me now, but meh, who cares? It felt good to knock her down a peg...oh, who am I kidding? It was AWESOME.

All of the left the other Avengers, particularly my brother, stunned speechless, though Tony recovered first after a while and proclaimed how scary I was now….which pretty much brings everything to the present.

"Yes, Tony, I'm very scary." I agreed with him, "But right now, this very scary person has another person to see, and quite possibly do a tonne of grovelling to mentioned person." I pointedly ignored Clint as he started to make exaggerated kissy faces, and ducked down the hallway leading to the medical wing with other dimension archer just behind me, just in time to see Merlin trying to carefully restrain T'Challa from getting up, despite his demand to find me.

If I had any lingering doubts about our relationship status, they were now well and truly minimal.

Moving quickly, I pressed my hands against his shoulders, quite easily pinning him down in his weakened state. T'Challa struggled against me for a few more seconds until my voice penetrated his distressed mind, and finally calmed down and saw that I was by his side once again. T'Challa didn't seem to notice that Merlin and her friend had moved to the other side of the room to give us some degree of privacy. All he seemed more interested in was gently touching my face, assuring him that I was really alive and not part of something he dreamed up.

My heart skipped a beat as his fingers caressed my face, my skin sent all a-tingling as I leaned into his touch. That was all the confirmation that T'Challa needed right there, and shifted his hands to my waist and pulled me on top of his body, and slanted his mouth firmly against mine in a fevered kiss before I could make any sort of protest. After that, my mind pretty much went to Goop-ville, leaving only the need to return his kisses with my own.

At least until somebody gave an awkward cough, reminding the both of us that we still had company with us.

"As glad as I am to see that your boyfriend in feeling much better, perhaps the pair of you should go easy on yourselves for the next few days?" Merlin inquired with a playful tone that made my cheeks turn red.

"That may be an idea," I agreed sheepishly as I pushed myself off of T'Challa, to his wordless protest, "I can't thank you enough for your help, Merlin."

"Just let me have Selene's battle axe, and we shall call it even." She replied in a half-joking way, "As skilled as you have become with it…"

"You're on the verge of being terrifying." The archer interrupted. Merlin and T'Challa gave me a somewhat confused look when I burst out laughing—clearly my adventure with the battle axe made them think along the same lines as Tony—before agreeing with that assessment. Once the weapon was safely in Merlin's possession, she led her companion out of the lab to see the others, effectively leaving T'Challa and me all alone.

I heard T'Challa shifting, but thankfully (for his sake) he was just pushing himself into a more comfortable sitting position. Once he was settled against the pillow again, he simply smiled when he noticed that I was giving him the once-over with my eagle eyes.

Even though he's smiling at me like that, and eager to kiss me, I still can't help but wonder if things really are ok between us, especially after my major FUBAR-ing of the conversation at the Baxter Building earlier.

"T'Challa, I—"

"Rose, I—"

The both of us looked at the other before breaking into soft laughter, though I'm pretty sure neither of us will be in a laughing mood any longer, not after this conversation. Before I could get the first word out, T'Challa took my hands in both of his and pressed them against his chest.

"Rose, I need to apologize to you for my actions earlier today." He began, his voice taking on a velvet soft tone. "It was never my intention to anger you—or upset you—the way that I did, I only thought to keep you safe. Perhaps asking you for ideas might have been a better way to go." He offered me a sheepish smile in addition to his apology, but I could only muster half a smile as my stomach began to plummet.

"I also did not speak to you afterwards because I wanted you to tell me what was troubling you, without you feeling pressured." His explanations certainly did put everything into a new light, but it also brought up a whole new crop of uncomfortableness on my part.

"Actually, if any of us needs the bigger reason to apologize, it's me." I informed him, "I shouldn't have blown up at you the way that I did. I let my emotions get the better of me, and what's worse is that I took it out on somebody that I should never have hurt, especially over something stupid."

His eyebrow creased upwards slightly as he tilted his head to a side, his confusion silently asking for an explanation. Internally wincing at how damn adorable he looks when he does that, I took a deep breath in and spilled out how Quartermaine, Wu and even Chantè pointed out just what sort of nation Wakanda really was, and how I started freaking out over who it was that I was dating—a man with a powerful presence or a powerful king—and what said person would do if S.H.I.E.L.D ever got really pushy about my joining their ranks, willing or not.

The more I explained it out loud, the more stupid I began to feel about how I reacted about…pretty much everything. I also realized how unprepared I was for dealing with situations like this, and possible future scenarios where my boyfriend's royal status could become a sore point. Throughout my talking, T'Challa remained quiet and focused on something on my face that only he could see. After I finished explaining what made me act like a completely heartless twatmuffin, he didn't say anything still. He just stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time in his life.

Of course by the irrefutable Laws of the Universe, anything that could happen right now would do so in spectacular fashion. Unfortunately, the one thing I wanted the most to happen was replaced by JARVIS interrupting the moment, just to inform T'Challa that some of his people were trying to get a hold of him.

Frankly, it was a toss-up between us who was more irritated by the interruption.

Compounding our efforts of reconciliation even further was Voltaire practically flying into the room and launching himself at me. Well, that one I don't mind so much, since I was just as happy to see my little fur baby as he was to see me. I just wish that the reunion didn't include a face-full of dog fur as he jumped into my arms—I could only just somehow manage to stay upright as I now juggled a 200 pound furry and wriggly weight.

Ah well, that's my fur baby for you.

######

Somehow, I managed to lose track of T'Challa (have I ever mentioned how much I hate it when he does that sneaky ninja thing?), though he was kind enough to leave a message for me with Merlin…who looked rather smug about it. Thankfully I was spared from any awkwardness when her archer friend made a comparison of T'Challa and me to Merlin and her new boyfriend.

Oh, now the shoe's on the other foot! Gloat City, here I come!

Sadly for me, Merlin and her friend couldn't stay all that long—Selene has a big tendency to get rather…shall I say 'clucky'?—if Merlin isn't in her sight for an hour or two, regardless if Merlin is with trusted allies. With a quick hug goodbye, Merlin and the archer were pulled back to their own dimension, leaving me all by my lonesome self. Though not for long, if the rest of the Avengers had anything to say about it.

The first person to find me was Wasp, and I spent the better part of however-long being questioned by her on everything that had happened to me. Since it really wasn't so fantastic a story I'd tell it more than once, I asked her to get everyone else together in the upstairs sitting room so I could tell the whole group. Once she had shrunk down and zipped away to do so, JARVIS piped up with the question of whether T'Challa should be called back to hear this as well.

I did have to think about that, before deciding that this was something I should really tell him in person, and most definitely when he felt much better.

After everyone was gathered in the desired location, I told them all that happened after Ultron 'zapped' me into 'oblivion' –and believe me that wasn't a fun conversation to share, especially the part about my forearms being destroyed and then rebuilt. Tony was the most upset when he heard that, among other things. By the time I had finished my story, it was pretty late in the night (nearly morning) and it was now that I began to feel myself crash from all of the adrenaline rushes. Thankfully the others agreed not to push for any further details, so I was blissfully free to head up to my room with my ever faithful shadow Voltaire.

I think I only just made it to my room before dropping face first onto my ever soft and cushy bed before going out like a light.

######

For the next few days I spent either around the Mansion surrounded by my friends, or up in my room catching up on sleep or reading. When I was with the others, we ended up in the training room. I'm not sure if it's my imagination or not, but I seem to be much stronger than I used to be. Eh, probably just me and my imagination.

These thoughts went out the proverbial window when Steve came back from the hospital. Clint told me that, after what happened to Thor and I, Ultron went honky-tonk-bar-fight nuts on the rest of the teams, with poor Steve taking the absolute worst of it—enough to be admitted into hospital for a few days, healing factor or none.

When he found out that the two of us were alive and well, the first thing Steve did when he walked into the Mansion was he pulled me into a big bear hug and squeezed, HARD. Clint is still laughing about my squealing and squeaking in protest, although I'm pretty sure my groan of 'fuh-uh!' was what released me from Steve's iron-clad grip. Not that I have any problem with gestures like that, it would just be really swell if I could breath. Of course, Steve then demanded (politely, I must add) an explanation of how we were still alive, so I had to retell the same story in full to him. Only afterwards Steve asked how things stood between us and Ant Man now: something that had completely slipped my mind.

Between Merlin bringing my back home and the final fight with Ultron on the Hellicarrier, there wasn't really a moment for any of us to actually talk to the other. Now that I think about it, I don't think Hank was there when I told everyone about my small adventure.

Now that it had been brought to my attention, I had some serious thinking to do about this…whatever 'this' is.

I guess the ultimate question I need to ask myself is whether I could forgive Hank for creating Ultron in the first place. To be fair, Ultron was originally created as a peaceful unit to help rehabilitate the captured super-villains, both before and after the mass breakout. Things only began to go iffy when Kang invaded, and the synthezoid was needed to help even the odds. The whole 'violence' reprogramming and the interface with the future technology on Kang's flagship must have warped the synthezoid into what he became.

Knowing all of that, plus the fact that Hank was the biggest pacifist in the whole world, it didn't exactly help me in making a decision.

In the end, I decided to go see Hank in person, and maybe figure out something then.

What a strange coincidence that I got a text from T'Challa, asking me to be dressed fancy-schmancy for tomorrow night…hmmm.

######

"Hello, who-Briar?! I-you-hi-hello!" Hank burst out nervously, hesitantly returning the smile I was giving him. It was hard to tell if he was unnerved by my showing up at his lab at Grayburn University, or by the fact that I was rather dolled up for the occasion.

"Hi, Hank," I greeted in as warm a manner I could manage, "Is it okay if I come in for a while?" The poor man struggled with the decision before nodding and standing to a side in order to let me pass. Once I was inside the room, however, I barely registered the sound of a closing door, since the interior of the lab was mind-blowing in all of its awesome glory. Specimens of various insects, either under small glass domes or in display boxes, dotted about the room, as did numerous books and other pet projects. At the furthest end of the room was a giant terrarium that reaches the ceiling, filled with plant life and several live butterflies, each a different and vivid color.

"You know, out of all the time I've known you, this is the first time I realized how awesome your day job is." I complimented him as I walked around the room.

"Ah…thank you." He replied uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck. The poor man looked like he was just about ready to sweat bullets, and determined to look everywhere else but at me just to avoid eye contact. Maybe I should explain myself to him.

"T'Challa invited me out a bit later on." I informed my nervous friend, "I told him to pick me up from here." Instantly, relief flooded Hank's face, though a faint tinge of pink remained in his cheeks.

"Oh! Oh, well, uh…you look lovely." He complimented shyly. Despite the kind words, I couldn't help but glance at my reflection in the terrarium glass beside me.

After I received the text from T'Challa, I went out for some last minute shopping, eventually finding the little red number, and immediately fell in love with it. A red cocktail red that hugged everything just right, and felt it was made of silk. The short sleeves hung off my shoulders and dipped into a sweetheart cut, revealing enough cleavage to tease the eye. To go with the dress, I wore a pair of black flats, and curled my hair slightly. As much as I love it, however, I just hope T'Challa does too.

"Thank you," I replied as I looked back at Hank, "But I actually didn't come here to talk fashion with you. I wanted to talk to you about what happened with…with Ultron." Now that my real reason for being here was out in the open, Hank's face began to fill with a sort of tight hesitant tension and trepidation.

"Oh." That was just about all he could manage for the moment, then he got his second wind and let it all come tumbling out.

"I'm really sorry—so sorry about Ultron, and what he did to you and Thor, and everyone else!" He blurted out, "I know it doesn't make up or what's been done, but I swear I never thought things could end up how they did. And—" Hank continued his apology, but I was busy asking myself how I could ever be mad at Hank for Ultron's actions. The answer was simply: I just couldn't.

Hank is as much a victim as the rest of us, only he'd forever live with the guilt because of his hand in creating a monster. I know Hank has only ever good intentions, so I can't fault him for that—not without remembering the hand I had in Project Spindle Thorn. Now all I had to do was to convince Hank that I forgave him.

"Hank? Hank!" I raised my voice slightly to catch his attention, which didn't seem to work as much as I hoped for. Well, then…

SWAT!

Hank gave a light yelp as I gently cuffed him upside the back of his head, finally paying attention to what I had to say to him.

"You know, if you went through the Avengers mission files, you'd remember that—not even all that long ago—I went through the same thing that happened to you." I gently reminded him, "Project Spindle Thorn ringing any bells?"

"Well, yes." Hank admitted as he rubbed his head, "But I fail to see how that has any connection to this."

"You mean other than the guilt of having a hand in creating something so awesomely terrible, and having said creation turn against those you care the most about in the whole world?" I retorted, raising my eyebrow a titch in a challenging way. Hank looked ready to counter my point, but seemed to think it over in his head for a good while.

"…how did he take it?" He eventually asked in a quiet voice, "T'Challa, I mean, when he found out about the project?" Well…since I'm being honest here, might as well go all for it, so to speak.

"Not that well, from various sources." I admitted, crossing my arms over my stomach, "From the time I came out of the mini-coma till the Summer Ball, T'Challa never spoke a word to me—even when we in the same room, which was rare, since he couldn't be within sight of me for more than a minute." Hearing how T'Challa once acted—to his now girlfriend—surprised the Hell out of Hank greatly, if that look on his face was a clue.

"I admit that sucked, a lot." I added on, "Knowing that T'Challa quite rightly blamed me for the mess; my own hand in creating something with near devastating consequences. Sure, my mistake never tried to blow up the world, but emotionally speaking…" I trailed off, not because I wanted Hank to see a point…mostly because I couldn't think of anything else.

Hank's silent delve into thought allowed me the chance to do the same thing. It was still had to believe some days about what happened in Wakanda, to that village. Deep down, I knew that a very good chunk of all that bad was on N'Jadaka, and that he abused research that should never have been brought back to the light, but it still doesn't exclude my hand in it.

: Those poor kids…: My mind instantly went back, and I winced at the memory of those poor village kids, and the type of Hell they went through.

"Does it ever get easier?" Hank suddenly asked me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Does what get easier?" I asked back. The sad, kicked puppy look was almost unbearable to look at—whether he meant for his face to look that way or not, it was still hard on me not to fling my arms around him and hug him like a rag-doll.

"The guilt," He expanded, "Surely you still remember the trouble…"

"I do," I nodded, "But I also remember the good I did. Thanks to my magi-staff, I was able to destroy everything but the paperwork. Thankfully, whatever is left is in Wakanda, where it can't hurt anyone." If I ever see Nick Fury again, I would have to thank him for letting the Wakandan scientists take what was left of Spindle Thorn: that was one I didn't want the new S.H.I.E.L.D having.

"I can't imagine the good that came from me taking down Ultron." Hank murmured, "What Hill said…"

"Hill's an inexperienced green-gilled yuppie." I cut across him vehemently, startling him, "She's in the wrong line of work if she thinks S.H.I.E.L.D is some goodie-goodie outfit. They may on the side of the angels, but they've done a lot of things that side with the Devil, too." And how, I might add. Some of what they did…sheesh!

Pondering over my words some more, it seemed like I had almost gotten through to the conflicted soul, but Hank still needed that little extra push. But what else could I say to get him there? I pretty much used up all my points in getting him this far. Actually, there was one thing. I just hope I get this right.

"You know…someone wise once asked me a question about themselves.'' I started slowly, catching Hank's attention.

"Really, what did they ask?" He inquired, curious.

"He asked 'what do I have?'" I told him, "I didn't get it, especially when he answered 'I have eyes that see'…but I understand it now." At Hank's puzzled look (and praying that this goes well), I crossed the small distance to stand in front of him, reached out and held both of his hands in mine.

"My eyes see you as you really are, Hank; as a man who wants to make the world better for everyone; a man who tries to help those that have turned down the wrong path, to make them better not only for themselves but to others as well." I told him earnestly, "You, Hank Pym, are the most kind-hearted, wonderful, talented person on this planet."

"But…Ultron. I stilled created him. He—"

"He became his own after the Kang invasion." I interrupted gently, "Yes, your brain was used as a template, but Ultron was sentient enough to make his own choices. You can't be held responsible for someone else's bad deeds, especially when they chose to abuse the power they were given." I dropped our hands and took another step closer to thread my arms around his waist, pressing my head against his chest to hear his nervous heartbeat under my ear.

"I see the real you, Hank, and the real you is one of my best friends ever, and nothing is going to change that." I finished, squeezing his body a little to help emphasize my point. I just hope this entire thing works.

The air around us was quiet for a few minutes—I was starting to get very worried that I said something wrong when Hank slowly wrapped his arms around me and rested his cheek on top of my head.

"You've been hanging around T'Challa too much." He commented in a gentle teasing tone, "You sound just like him." I gave a soft laugh, glad when Hank joined in. And internally glad my legs didn't give out in relief!

"As long as my message got across, then I'm happy." I replied, making him chuckle as he stepped back from me.

"Maybe it did—we'll have to wait and see." He spoke, neither confirming nor denying if my words really did get through to him. And I thought T'Challa was damn annoying with his ninja disappearing act. Still, rather than push for an answer, I directed the conversation to the various projects he had scattered about the room.

To say that Hank was more than happy to be back in his true element was a very big understatement: for the rest of however-long-it-was, Hank talked me through what he was working on. I will admit I didn't have a single clue about bug study, but seeing Hank's face lit up and his eye twinkle like that after an oh-so-long time was worth every bit of information going over my head.

He was just telling me about how he replicated the genome of some insect when my phone gave a loud DING sound—it was my message alert tone, and that message was from T'Challa saying that he was waiting for me outside the campus grounds.

"Dang, and just when we were getting to the fascinating stuff." I pouted before looking up to Hank, "Maybe I can come back soon?"

"I'd like that, Briar." He nodded with a genuinely warm smile on his face, "In the meantime, thanks." It didn't need to be asked what the thanks were for, so I merely smiled back. Ever the gentleman, Hank escorted me out to where T'Challa said he'd pick me up, though I had to laugh when Hank blushed at some of the students making wolf-whistles in our direction. But all of that faded to the background when the powerful roar on an engine tore through the air. What came next almost dropped me to the ground.

A sleek, jet-black sports car of unknown origins pulled up in front of us, and who should step out of the driver's seat but the king of Wakanda himself, dressed in an elegant black suit and matching tie.

I swear if it wasn't for Hank holding my arm, I'd be nothing more than a puddle on the ground. Even so, Hank wasn't immune to appreciating a damn fine car when he saw one, despite fearing whatever sought of retribution its owner may harbor towards him.

"Good evening, Hank." T'Challa greeted in a friendly manner, wearing a matching smile. If Hank wasn't the least bit suspicious of this nice behavior—especially if it came from the boyfriend of the woman who was 'killed' by a rouge android—then I was definitely suspicious for the both of us.

"T'Challa." Hank replied nervously, and really did start to sweat bullets. I didn't say anything to either of them, but the private look I was giving my boyfriend clearly said volumes—do something silly, or stupid, and I will maim you…painfully. Seeing as one of us was almost scared stupid, and another promising to hurt him, T'Challa wisely came clean.

"I had a recent visitation form a higher authority." He explained calmly to the pair of us, "This particular person pointed out that wallowing in anger was pointless, amongst other things." A higher authority…oh, either Alenka or Diego must of had a word with him.

Wordlessly, T'Challa opened the passenger side car door and offered his hand out to me. Giving Hank one last smile and hug, I held onto the offered hand as I slid into the awaiting seat. Once I was settled into the soft leather seat, T'Challa closed the door and turned to Hank. Unfortunately the windows were tinted rather darkly, and I couldn't quite hear what was being said—if I find out that T'Challa had something mean to Hank, I swear I'll—

The threat died away when I vaguely saw Hank gave a small smile of relief, and shook hands with T'Challa. I guess my boyfriend was being serious when he said that he'd let go off any grudge against the former Avenger. The thought was further cemented when one of them made some sort of comment, and the both of them laughed happily.

Now that my fears had been allayed, I let myself appreciate my current surroundings—and boy, if I wasn't already sitting down, I'd be on my backside in sheer awe. The car had the typical appearance of a sports car on the outside—sleek in shape for optimal aerodynamics, low to the ground, and all of the other requirements for a car built for speed. Inside, however, was the look and feel of a luxury car. The two seats were covered in soft leather, so much that it almost felt like sitting in warmed butter, and the sound system!

My inner super geek perked up and immediately started listing everything in sight, right down to the smallest details—I was so absorbed that I didn't see Hank walking back into the university with a lighter step, or even notice that T'Challa got into the driver's seat until I heard the door shutting behind him.

"Enjoying the view?" He teased with an impish smile. In response, I could only roll my eyes and playfully huff in mock annoyance, something that only made his grin widen maddeningly.

"I suppose I am." I reckoned, and then spied from the corner of my eyes that T'Challa seemed a tad more intrigued by –ahem —other assets, rather than my teasing him. Well, then…

Making it seem like a very innocent gesture, I lifted my arms above my head in the limited space and arched my spine as I stretched any kinks I might have had. Another peek said that T'Challa was 'wowed' by my actions, though it became really hard to look innocent when took one look at my face and realized that I did that on purpose.

"What?" I inquired innocently…or as much as my own impish smile allowed.

"Very amusing, Rose." He chuckled as he keyed the ignition, "I just hope that you'll remember that turnabout is fair play." My next question was on the very tip of my tongue, but it was lost when T'Challa revved the car's engine. Sweet mother of holy moley, what an engine!

The powerful beast under the hood roared into life, and its purr vibrated everything inside of me, making my stomach quiver with millions of tiny butterflies. If that wasn't enough, T'Challa then upped it by shooting off the mark with such speed that it made me squeal, the feeling inside of me intensified; each time the car swept around a corner added more to the feeling till my guts felt like jelly.

What's more is that smirk on the driver's face—he knew the effect this was having on him! Oh, it is so on!

…Once I get some sort of control over my own body, that is.

By the time T'Challa pulled up to the front entrance of the Wakandan embassy, my heart was still pounding wildly in my chest, my legs were shaking slightly. It wouldn't surprise me if my face looked flustered and a bit pink.

"Everything all right, Rose?" I darn near started at the sudden noise, which wasn't missed by T'Challa, if the concern in his wonderful golden eyes was a clue.

"Yeah, I breathed out shakily, "Just a little bit excited, is all." It wasn't a lie, but definitely an understatement. T'Challa didn't say anything more, but I spotted his nose twitching just the tiniest bit. I nearly asked when the most feral, predatory-like smile twisted his mouth, his eyes taking on a new golden hue that both worried me…and made me feel more excited.

"So I see." He rumbled out before smoothly exiting from the car.

: Why do I suddenly feel like the rabbit before the wolf? : I mentally whimpered as I watched T'Challa walk around to my side and opened the door, holding his other hand out for me to take.

Grateful for some sort of anchor, I tried to ignore how my hand slightly trembles as it slid into his larger, warmer hand and my body slowly moved itself out of the car and onto the pavement. Before I could try to catch my breath, T'Challa had my hand threaded around his arm as he escorted me inside the tall building. There were a few people inside the lobby, each trying to conceal a smile as they saw the pair of us walking straight to the elevator. Hang on, this place looks different. Even the inside of the elevator looked different.

"Is it my imagination, or has the look around here changed?" I carefully asked once the door closed behind us and the box began to ascend.

"Everything has changed since you were here last." T'Challa nodded, which made my head spin slightly. When he said 'everything', did he mean every room in the building, or just a few minor things? Once we got up to his private suit, I found out that he really did mean every room; including his…by a lot.

My mouth dropped as I timidly stepped further into the 'new' room. In the new layout, on the left side of the room, books completely dominated the wall—so much that a small balcony had been added, plus wrought iron railing and spiral staircase in the corner. In a little nook within the book case on the ground floor was a sound system, including—of all things—an old record player. The door to his bedroom was now a deep chestnut brown, matching the large cabinet next to it; the shelves filled with little trinkets and knick-knacks…crystal trinkets and knick-knacks.

The right side of the room now sported a large book case filled with DVD movies (good grief how many were there?), a pair of double doors, and along the wall were paintings of—frack me sideways, is that a Van Gogh?!

My stunned—or utterly blown—mind directed my eyes to look at the wall opposite the front door, where the giant window sat innocently. The dining table and piano were still there, but now the wall was covered—not with more famous paintings, thanks heavens—but with photos of T'Challa and me.

"Is everything to your liking, dear Rose?" The warm timbered voice stole into my thoughts, bringing my attention around to where T'Challa now sat. Gone was the L-shaped couch, in its place was now a large, circular couch of soft white material. My mind drew a blank when I noticed the odd stone structure in the middle of the rug.

Seeing my confusion, T'Challa silently beckoned me over, pulling me against his side when I was close enough, I hadn't the chance to shift into a more comfy (more like dignified) position when T'Challa produced a small black remote control and pressed the single button. I gave a startled cry as an orange flame spluttered to life from the smooth surface of the stone basin, my body pressing itself into the side of my boyfriend, much to his amusement.

"Do not be afraid, darling." He purred deeply, the vibrations emanating from deep within his chest and tingling against the center of my chest, and lower. A part of me wanted him to keep talking like that (something that my inner self agreed with whole heartedly), while a different part of me was indignant at how…um, flustered T'Challa was making me. Instead of listening to either side, I settled for a neutral field.

"Isn't that a fire hazard?" I breathlessly asked him, making a valiant effort to ignore the tingles inside of me…though I wasn't having the greatest of luck, dammit. "Having an open flame without an exhaust, I mean."

"Normally, yes," T'Challa hummed in agreement, discarding the remote and turning his body just the slightest so that now my chest was pressed quite snugly against his. He is very determined to unnerve me, isn't the cheeky sod? "However, Diego has assured me that the mystical fire will not cause any damage." My boyfriend continued, even as one arm wrapped itself around my body, keeping me pinned right where he wanted me, whilst the other hand slowly rubbed up and down my side and back.

: God damn it, he has talented hands. : I nearly choked on my tongue as his hand sent ripples against my skin. At a certain point, right in a suddenly sensitive spot, there was no stopping the soft little moan that escaped me.

T'Challa responded to the soft sounds I made with deeper, more intense rumbles from within his own body, and another more intimate response from elsewhere. There's no doubt that a part of me wished very much to answer that particular call, but the rest of me knew that going any further was a very, very bad idea in the history of bad, terrible ideas.

Mind you, I was finding it increasingly difficult to pull away and say something.

Thankfully the heavens took pity, and sent someone else to do that for me. A door somewhere burst open, and then came the hurried footsteps. And then there was the voice that stopped anything going any further.

"Where is she, where is Briar?!" Chantè demanded frantically, her voice coming closer to the door. I only just pulled myself off my boyfriend when the door burst open, revealing a nearly distressed looking Chantè. When she finally saw the pair of us—mostly me—anything that T'Challa said was drowned out by her near supersonic squeal as she pretty much launched herself into my arms ad started to hug the air out of my lungs.

As effective as it is to calm my raging hormones, perhaps it would be a better idea if I could still breathe. Unfortunately, all that I could manage to say were strangled, garbled noise; it was just my luck that Chantè finally listened and let me go.

"And there goes my rib." I grunted as Chantè got off of me and T'Challa pulled me into his side.

"Sorry." She sheepishly apologized, "But when word got back to us that Avengers Mansion had come under attack, I became worried about you." Naw, ain't she a sweetie?

"Well, for the most part, I'm in one piece." I assured her…okay, so she doesn't need to know about my arms just yet! Sheesh! One worry-wart is gonna be bad enough, I don't need two of them.

"That is—wait, 'most'? What do you mean?" Dammit! What is it with Wakandans and catching me out like this?! Sadly, the look in my feisty friend's eyes clearly said that there wasn't much of a chance in Hell that I would get out of this mess…if I told her everything, that is.

"I…my magi-staff broke." I hesitantly explained, "Ultron's attack destroyed it completely." It wasn't the whole truth, I know, but like I already mentioned: I don't want two worry-warts on my tush. Thankfully, Chantè didn't ask any further but instead cooed in sympathy over my weapon.

"Poor Briar," She spoke, "I know you were very attached to that weapon." Yeah, and now that it's gone I've pretty much got no chance of keeping up with the other Avengers now. True, I could go the Tony Stark way, but…

"Well, at least I now have a reason not to be on the front lines anymore." I sighed, "Without a weapon—or anything else—I won't be of much help to the team or anyone else." Wow, that suddenly became a rather depressing thought. If I had of been paying attention to the other two, I would have seen them exchange silent looks, with Chantè winning their private argument with a rather strong look. Yikes, if those sorts of looks made even T'Challa cower, I'm glad I'm not on the receiving end.

"As it happens, Rose," T'Challa began, the arm around my shoulders squeezing gently, "There is something we could do for you, in regards to a weapon, of a kind."

"What my eloquent king means, "Chantè cut across—yeesh, that's another look to avoid—and getting to the point, "We have a pair of prototype gloves, similar to the ones the Black Panther wears." Ooh? Okay, that sounds interesting, I think.

"Uh-huh," I trailed slowly.

"If we do a bit of inventive tweaking, we could add all sorts of features." Chantè added, then she got very excited and started talking very rapidly in her native tongue before squealing happily and running off, leaving T'Challa and I in a confused state.

"Perhaps you would like to decide for yourself what you would like?"

"If you don't mind too much."

"Not at all."

"Thank you."

######

After making sure that a certain somebody didn't get too far ahead of the rest of us, T'Challa offered to take me up to the roof garden so I could get some fresh air. I was surprised when T'Challa led me to the bookcase—in particular the area just behind the staircase—and lifted me hand to a random book.

"If you would do the honors, dear heart?" He kindly asked me. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes was enough to make me pause—usually with good reason—but his charming smile disarmed me so utterly that I pulled on the leather-bound book—

—which made the section of the bookcase slid away, and revealed a small private elevator.

"Ooh, you sneaky!" I laughed giddily, "A hidden elevator."

"Of course," T'Challa simply grinned in reply, "Once is always expected to have an item of eccentricity in their possession."

"Or a way to sneak away from nosey people, more like," I teased even as I followed him into the small room. His silence, coupled with a playful little pout, was more than enough of an answer for me, and made me laugh a tiny bit. When the door quietly slid shut behind us, we were left in near darkness, save for the very small lights spaced around the cubicle at waist height, reflecting off the polished reflective walls.

Maybe it was suddenly being in a small enclosed room with an incredibly damn sexy man, or maybe my blood was still racing from what happened earlier, but either one led to the fact that T'Challa smelt fantastic: a heady mixture of something smoky, and earthy, combined with whatever cologne he had on. All in all, it packed one hell of a punch that made my knees wobble slightly. Before I fell over and hurt myself, I threaded my arms around my boyfriend's waist and pressed myself up against his body, snuggling into his warmth. Aside from a soft hum of curiosity, T'Challa wrapped his arms around me and pillowed is cheek on top of my head, effectively surrounding me with all of him.

"You smell wonderful." I murmured quietly, gently nuzzling my nose into his chest. There was a deep rumbling as he purred, something that didn't help me keep cool, calm and collected, but to Hell with that!

Unfortunately, the door re-opened to allow a brighter source of light to shine in and ruin a perfect moment for cuddling. When I turned to look at the offending light, all thoughts of cuddling my absolutely huggable boyfriend fell to the back of my mind when it clicked that I was actually looking at the sunset.

"Wow that was…wait, what?" My brain was pretty much stumped and turned into slush, so T'Challa-the brilliant, sympathetic man—took the lead and gently escorted me out to the rooftop. Compared to what I've seen inside, there wasn't anything new up here, except for one thing: sitting quite cosily near the only tree was a modestly sized outdoor canopy bed, its light material draping over the wooden structure quite artfully, in a soft creamy beige color.

"Oh, how gorgeous." I gushed to T'Challa."

"Another gift from Diego," He explained as the pair of us crawled onto the oh-so inviting mattress (sweet lord is it comfy!) and stretched out comfortably. "Although I still believe he has done too much for us already." I felt my eyebrow arch itself in curiosity, prompting him to explain further.

"The call I received almost a week ago was to inform me of the plans to reconfigure the embassy; something that occurs every few months, in case the building plans are leaked to some undesirable forces." That makes sense, in a way. It also explains a few other things that had been bugging me since I got here.

"Since a build on such a grand scale would take a long time to get through, I'm guessing Diego speeded things up for everyone?" I speculated, propping my head up onto my head and T'Challa did the same.

"He did, and as you have seen, he added a few others tidbits for us." T'Challa responded with a slight scowl on his face, clearly indication that while he appreciated all that the demi-god has done, T'Challa wasn't all that comfortable with the few extra bits, or maybe that he now owes Diego a favor. I watched as T'Challa internally agonized about what an all-powerful being could want from him before I reached out and carefully touched my fingers against his face.

The simple contact brought T'Challa out from his thoughts, his golden eyes instantly connecting with mine, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. My own mouth curled into a soft smile as T'Challa curled his other arm around my waist and pulled me closer against his warm body, lowering his head to mine and kissed me sweetly.

A soft little moan escaped me as I lost myself in the kiss, my hand trailing down from his face to down his neck and chest, feeling him tremble as my near feather-light touch. It was when my fingers were brushing against a spot on his stomach that T'Challa pulled his hand from around my back and pressed it against mine with a heavy moan, trapping it against his body when a near cold shot zipped down my spine.

T'Challa noticed my hesitation immediately and pulled away slightly, frowning in concern as he searched deep into my eyes for a reason.

"Rose?"

"Uh, there's something I need to tell you." I quietly told him, cringing internally and externally. As much as my inner-self gave reason upon reason on why I shouldn't be telling T'Challa about my arms (preventing him from harming Hank being the prominent one), another part of me said—and quite loudly—that I shouldn't have secrets from someone I love.

Besides, I promised the others that I'd tell him, and Steve said he'd hold me to it.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, my legs curling around me, T'Challa also sat up—his face never that look on concern and worry.

"When I told you and Chantè that my staff was destroyed earlier?" I carefully began, "Well…that wasn't the only thing that got destroyed." Now T'Challa looked really alarmed—verging on fully panicked—when he pulled me into his arms, practically onto his lap, as he began to check me over. See? Worry-wart, what did I tell you.

"T'Challa." I firmly addressed, putting a stop to any questions he might be desperate to ask me. Once I was sure that I had his attention, I wriggled my arms out from being pinned to my sides and held my hands in front of his face.

He looked at them in confusion, and then looked at me. The serious look on my face was what clued him in the end, and the expression of panic turned into a puzzled frown as he very carefully placed his hands against mine.

"When Ultron tried to kill me, that staff reacted on its own, and did its best to deflect the attack." I began in a soft tone, interlacing our fingers together and closing them around his hands. "Unfortunately, the staff couldn't counter against that much power, and it exploded into oblivion…taking part of my arms in the process."

T'Challa raised an eyebrow, and his grip on my hands tightened a bit, but he made no sound, letting me continue with my narrative.

"When I regained consciousness, I was in Merlin's dimension—hence her reappearance—and she was able to rebuild my arms rather easily." Even though it'd worry T'Challa even more, I couldn't help but wince. "That wasn't a pleasant experience to go through."

"Your arms being rebuilt—that doesn't surprise me." He snorted heatedly and rolled his eyes.

"No, I was thankfully tanked up on medication to feel any of that." I admitted lightly—and surprised him a lot—before explaining myself, "I really meant having to relearn how to use my arms and hands again: it felt like having wet noodles attached to my elbows." Any sarcastic wit that T'Challa might have laid on me died on his tongue as both of his eyebrows shot into his hairline.

"Merlin was kind enough to introduce me to a close friend of hers, and they helped me out a whole bunch." I finished telling my boyfriend, "Said new friend also found out the reason for my unexpected trip between our two dimensions—when it's more convenient, maybe you could help me do something nice for Alenka?" The blank look on his face easily told me that while he got a good portion of the conversation, the rest of it—quite possibly the important parts—went straight over his head. My bad—I think my nerves were getting the better of me again.

"Can I try that again?" I asked, and shot him a grateful look when T'Challa nodded. "Okay then, first point: I'm not dead, so no hurting Hank in anyway, deal?"

"The notion had not even occurred to me." Liar; he's probably imagined at least fifteen different ways of harming the former Avenger. I'll get back to that later though.

"Second: Alenka has—at some point in our friendship—put some sort of magical doo-dad that prevents me from dying, namely by sending me to another dimension, at least."

"… 'Doo-dad'? What are you—Erp!" That last part was me lightly bouncing in his lap, effectively putting a stop to any teasing on his part. Mind you, he did have a rather stunned look on his face now. At least, I think he was stunned.

"Third: while the 'spell' kept me alive and shunted me to a safer location, the result of Ultron's attack beam meeting my magi-staff left me with two…missing limbs." I was almost about to say 'bloodied stumps' but I really don't want to give T'Challa another reason—or any more—to try and hurt Hank.

"Forth: the other Earth I was sent to was Merlin's home, where she was able to heal my arms…to a point. To help with the rest, she introduced me to her friend Selene. Actually, can we hold the conversation for a few minutes? I really, really want to geek out about her to you."

"If you wish," T'Challa consented, and very patiently listened as I flew into full on geek mode and gushed about her. When I got to the part about her teaching me a few new fighting styles, he became intrigued…but he then gained a concerned look when I got to the part of me finally getting the body I've always wanted.

"Not that I hated I looked before, but it was nice to find a bunch of exercises that work for my body type." I assured him, and then plastered an impish smile on my lips, "Plus, my backside has never looked this perky."

I could just about hear something in his brain go twang as his face resembled a…well, a dumbstruck boyfriend who was now trapped. It was a valiant effort on my part to not burst out laughing, especially when he began to resemble a gaping goldfish. Taking pity on poor T'Challa, I brushed my lips against his in a gentle apology and rubbed the tip of my nose against his.

Finally, I finished my geek out by mentioning the comic book character Selene greatly resembled, and even T'Challa looked like he'd have the same sort of trouble I will whenever we see that particular character again.

"Now that I've finished geeking out, I should probably get back to our previous conversation, huh?" I questioned once T'Challa looked like he had everything sorted out.

"Most probably." He nodded in agreement. A silent breeze sifted over the rooftops, passed through the material covering the canopy and brushed against my skin, the flesh covering in goose bumps as I shivered slightly.

Ever the doting boyfriend, T'Challa maneuvered the both of us till I was on my back and he was pressed against my side, using his massed frame to both shield me from the gentle breeze and to keep me warm. His arms encircled me to help spread his warmth, and to keep me safe and close.

As much as I loved being in his arms like this, it made it really hard to concentrate on finishing the conversation. When I expressed this to T'Challa, the man had an ingenious solution. "How about you quickly summarize the rest of it, we head back inside, and I shall give you the grand tour of the newly refurbished embassy?" See? Ingenious.

"In short—I'm not dead, I probably can't die, my backside looks great, and I will hurt you if you go after Hank. The poor man's got enough on his plate as it is." I quickly summed up, though the pointed look I gave him could only help in reinforcing a few of my points.

"Rose," T'Challa heaved a heavy sigh, "I promise you, I have no intention of reminding Hank about the worst moment on his entire life. Besides, you are right when you say that he has suffered enough."

"I am, aren't I?" I hummed softly, before breaking into a sad puppy pout, "Still…you promise?"

"I promise." He assured, and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips to strengthen his words. As tender as his kiss was, it still rocked my body like an avalanche, and I wanted more.

"Promise?" I asked again. I'm pretty sure that T'Challa would've been offended by my asking, but it was pretty clear that he knew what I was thinking (he always does, that brilliant sneak) and smile.

"Absolutely." He chuckled softly and kissed me again. When he pulled away just enough, I asked again and he answered with a positive affirmation followed by a kiss, and the little game carried on. The small fire that hid in my gut began to grow with each gesture, almost surging into an inferno when one of his hands slowly crept along my side and curved downwards behind my hip and came to a rest on one of my butt cheeks…and squeezed. It really didn't help that another cold breeze swept from the other directions and caught my full in the back, and I squealed loudly before cursing. For a brief second, T'Challa thought it was his fault, but he calmed down when I started complaining about the damned breeze.

"If I wanted chilling cold, I'd put on the air con and wear shorts." I grumbled, "But right now, I want to be…" I quickly stopped myself before I embarrassed myself, but the widening grin on a certain somebody's face knew exactly how I was going to end that sentence.

"You want to be?" He inquired in that darn infuriating teasing tone, which did not help me when I began blushing, or to help ease the still raging fire in my belly. Rather than dignify that with an answer, or dig myself into a deeper hole, I settled for hiding my face into his chest…only to cop a nose full of Eau de T'Challa, which sent my insides into overdrive.

"Why don't we go inside and take that tour now?" T'Challa offered, even as he still chuckled over my little slip up. As much as certain parts of me wanted to do something else (Geez Rose, control yourself), I settled for nodding and letting T'Challa help me off the bed and back into the elevator.

A sudden though hit me as the elevator door opened, though I was a bit hesitant to voice it to T'Challa—he may not like it.

"T'Challa, can I ask you something?" I softly asked once the door closed behind us. Quite possibly sensing that it was something important, or hearing the quiet worry in my voice, T'Challa instinctively wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer against him.

"Of course, Rose; anything at all," He responded. Taking a deep breath to try and put the words in a good way, and try and calm my hot and cold nerves. I titled my head back and looked T'Challa in his golden brown eyes.

"Are we…good?" The question might have been asked in a quiet voice, but I may as well have said it with enough force to bring T'Challa to his knees, and cast some sort of questionable light on our…uh, very recent shenanigans. T'Challa stood there, just looking at me. I was beginning to think the worst when T'Challa carefully placed his hands against my cheeks and gently kissed the top of my nose.

"We are," He murmured positively, "We are good and perfect for each other. While we may have some things to talk about later, they can wait. For now, I just want to spend my evening with the most perfect woman I have ever met in my life."

There was a pause before T'Challa broke into a devilish smirk.

"Was that the sort of answer you wished to hear, or would you have preferred my brutally honest answer of 'your insanity matches mine flawlessly, and I swear I will spank that perky backside of yours if you try to change that insanity'?" It was now my turn to resemble a stunned goldfish, before erupting into helpless laughter. Well, I guess that answered my question once and for all, but geez—what a way to ruin the moment there.

"Okay, okay, you win." I giggled as I buried my face into his chest again, listening to his deep laughter as it rumbled in his chest, and feeling the last of my cold nerves melt into new warmer ones. It was one of those nerves that gave me an idea—I just hope T'Challa is willing to try it with me.

"So then, if we're good…can I try something on you?"

"Like you really need to ask that off me," He retorted playfully. Matching his cheeky smile with a shy one of my own, I slid my hands to his shoulders and carefully used the leverage to pull my face closer to his.

All sense of teasing was gone from T'Challa as his hands pulled at my waist to help me in whatever I was planning to do, and it was becoming rather hard to figure out what to do next…though my next action laid the path open for me without much effort on my part. As I tried to figure out how to proceed, I caught my bottom lip between my teeth—a very old habit of mine.

Instantly, I felt something hard press against my belly, and if it weren't for T'Challa pulling me closer against him, I might have seen just how hard that something was. But looking into my boyfriend's eyes, I nearly lost my breath at how dark they were—almost like something primal was waking up—and it was hungry.

Part of me became very intimidated, but that was shoved to a side as I let my body act on its own, and pressed my lips against his. T'Challa eagerly responded with surprising gentleness—how he can hold back like that is amazing—and rumbled deep in his chest and one of my hand moved to the back of his head. T'Challa pulled back slightly—his mouth opened the slightest as he tried to catch his breath. I barely caught mine when I darted forward to kiss him again, this time taking advantage of his parted lips and slid my tongue into his mouth, and cautiously brushed against his own. At the same time, my other hand slid to his tie and began to work it loose. The reaction was instantaneous.

Moaning in the deepest, most primal sound of pleasure, T'Challa moved one of his hands from my waist to entangle with my hair, and angled my head to a position that suited him. Once I was where he wanted me, T'Challa pressed his mouth even tighter against mine, his tongue relentlessly pursuing mine. His other hand was busy too, roughly palming its way down to the curve of my butt and—briefly pausing to squeeze the area—slide just underneath, lifting my let leg so that it could curl over his hip.

The piece de resistance was when he took advantage of our positions, and lent forward till my entire back hit the wall of the elevator.

All inhibitions nearly turned to dust as I squealed in excited pleasure into his mouth, both of my hands now working his tie loose and began to undo all of his shirt buttons from top to bottom. When the last button was popped open, I greedily ran my hands against his broad heaving chest, his massive shoulders and down against his quivering sides and belly. If he wasn't hard before, he definitely was now!

It became really clear how much strength T'Challa was holding back when one of my hands brushed against a sensitive spot on his belly: the hand that was curled around my elevated leg pulled away, only to slam the side of his fist against the wall above our heads with a resounding bang. My gasp of excitement (or was that alarm?) was drowned by T'Challa ripping his mouth from mine, throwing his head back and giving a shout in absolute rapture and male pleasure.

As he attempted to regain some control over himself, I took the opportunity to take stock of the situations. We were in a small enclosed space, with raging hormones—T'Challa has me pinned between the wall and his equally hot and rigid body, clearly excited; I was trapped, my body was now crazy sensitive and filled with tingles everywhere, and probably just as excited as T'Challa is, and the small space seemed to amplify his amazing scent. His chest rising and falling as he panted in heavy exertion, T'Challa swallowed thickly and lowered his head to look at me. And no, the dark gold in his eyes did diddly-squat to help calm me down; if anything it just made me and my body feel all the more wild.

"Well," He rumbled out breathlessly, "That was some 'something' you wanted to try on me." Talking seemed to have escaped me for the moment, so all I could do was hang onto the sides of his opened shirt and pant heavily, my chest (no thanks to the neckline of my dress) moving in time with my lungs, and suddenly feeling too tight for some reason.

"Now, it is my turn to try something on you." T'Challa grinned in a very predatory, cat-like way before lowering his mouth again, this time not to my mouth, but to beside my neck. When he pressed his first open-mouthed kiss to my overly sensitive neck, there was no chance of me stopping my cry of pleasure, or how my body instinctively bucked against his. Actually, I think that's what doomed me.

The more T'Challa kissed my neck, the more my mind began to cloud over. Between my gasps for air, I began calling his name as both his mouth sought out that really sensitive spot along my neck, and his free hand began to slowly creep back down to my hooked leg, leaving a trail of tingles in its wake. Hang on; he wouldn't do what I think he would…would he?

"T'Challa…Oh, god, T'CHALLA!"

######

We never did go on that tour, nor did we have that conversation about our flaws and how we could work on them. Geez, we didn't even get out of the elevator till very late in the evening.

No! No, no, no way—not even remotely what I meant!

…Kinda. Ugh, it's so embarrassing!

Let's just say that I was more excitable than either of us thought, and though T'Challa was quick enough to notice that…he wasn't quite fast enough to stop the result. That invisible trigger went, and my mind went blank for a few minutes—except for all of the stars. When the last of the stars faded my eyes, I felt my cheeks turn bright red in embarrassment. I think I might have started getting teary-eyed, but T'Challa wasn't going to let that happen.

That man—that sweet, kind and gentle man—just held me in his arms as I rode the last wave out, and still held me even when I tried to push away. Holding me against his chest, T'Challa started speaking in that warm, soothing voice of his, explaining what just happened to me was perfectly natural, and that he was sorry for pushing me that far. Flustered and embarrassed as I was, I knew that I was equally to blame for having started this in the first place.

The more T'Challa spoke to me, the calmer and less humiliated I began to feel. Mind you, I was starting to feel uncomfortable standing up. I mentioned this to T'Challa, and his solution was simple. Keeping a firm grip on my body, he lowered the both of us to the floor. He lay out on his back, with one arm tucked under his head and the other around my waist, his knees slightly bent so that he could fit comfortably in the small space; I was curled on top of him, my head resting over his heart, one arm pressed against his side as my other hand traced invisible patterns on his other pectoral.

By the time dinner had come around, we had definitely calmed down, and I didn't feel embarrassed (or all that much) anymore, but neither of us were inclined to break the peaceful moment with ideas on food.

If anyone opened to elevator door, we may think differently, seeing as we did pose a rather scandalous image: the king's tie undone and his short pulled open, and me rather rumpled and feeling…well, you get the point.

But to us, everything just felt so…so perfectly right.

---

I did warn you guys that it was M rated, and that I blame Panther for this! Doesn't help that the man is now all too smug about this, either. I just hope he doesn't get any ideas...or if he does, he keeps them to himself.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and the fact that Briar is still alive! Please review, favorite and watch-be warned that mean and nasty reviews will be dealt with by the Hulk-and I hope to see you guys next week! Bye, bye for now!