A/N:

Chadwick Boseman was an amazing actor and embodied T'challa in a way no one else could have. He believed in that character and his story and helped drive Black Panther to become one of Marvel's masterpieces. But, more important than all of that, he was a good person. From all the stories that have been told about him since he passed, that much is obvious. He cared for others and their lives while he was fighting one of the toughest battles there is to fight. To suffer in silence and still shine so bright, that takes someone special. T'challa doesn't feature in this story but he still has an impact as an example for Okoye to hold herself to. Just as Chadwick Boseman didn't feature in many of our lives but he should still be an example for us to hold ourselves to. Even in our pain be strong, be kind, be generous, and keep on changing the world for the better. Just like him.

My thoughts are with his family and friends.

RIP Chadwick Boseman.

4 July 2019

The Red Room.

It's insidious. I hate it. It's followed me wherever I go, no matter what I do. And now, even in the murk of this half-life, it floats on my peripheral just out of reach. Slipping into my thoughts and dreams and writing.

I feel you were supposed to be an escape from all of that, Tom. Somewhere to put the thoughts I needed to make sense of. A way to steer through all of it. And yet the Red Room keeps coming up. Time after time, entry after entry, it's there.

I thought I was over it. I thought I was past all of that.

And this one isn't any different because yet another thing has brought it to mind. Or keeps bringing it to mind.

Birthdays.

It would have been a taboo subject if we ever acknowledged them. After all, why celebrate being born into a life that lead to where we were? Birthdays didn't apply to us. People outside the programme celebrated. People outside the programme blew out candles and ate their cake and revelled in an achievement that wasn't their own.

Inside the programme none of that happened. Inside the programme we didn't know the date of our birth. The only birthdays we were given belonged to our aliases on long-term missions. They hollowed us of everything individual when we joined. Hacked everything to pieces until we were carved into something they could work with. They destabilised us, destroyed everything we knew, disrupted everything they could and whatever they gave us in return was tainted by their touch. Even the basics. All in the name for more control over us, because that's all the Red Room craved.

My first birthday after I joined SHIELD I almost broke Clint's neck. The date was in my records, stolen from Ohio, but I told no one. Of course I worked in an organisation full of spies. One of them was bound to go digging.

Just my luck it had to be my spy.

He came into the SHIELD gym, empty except for me because only a select few would be seen dead training with me; one of them was the boss, two were hip-deep in the paperwork that would let a former enemy loose on the field, and the last thought it was a good idea to sneak up on me, while I was otherwise preoccupied, and cover my eyes.

Clint gave me those wide eyes and a hurt expression. The face he often used when he tried to make someone (usually me) feel guilty. I remember I always thought his humour was a mask; one that would fall along with the illusion of me making amends and I would see the horrors similar to those I left in Russia.

Still on the mat, he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and held it up between his fingers. He watched as I calmed myself down and urged me to take the paper. I unfolded it to find a signed and dated form. A pass for the day. Freedom at my fingertips; as long as I was accompanied by the man who handed it to me.

"Happy birthday," he said and it was the first time I remember hearing the words since I was caught in that three-year-limbo where the Red Room was in my past and the promise in my future. When I was naive enough to believe, to hope, to wish that future might not come to pass because I'd had everything I'd ever wanted and I couldn't bear to imagine losing it.

I wondered if my parents ever said it to me. If they ever had a chance. My life before the Red Room was a void.

"I don't celebrate," I said. But I didn't give back the paper. I clutched it; confused and hopeful and above all curious to see what lay beyond the walls of HQ.

"Well, now you do."

I don't have anything like that for Steve. No get out of jail free card, no break to offer from everything that circled us. But I did have eggs, flour, sugar, flavouring, food colouring, sparklers, and some rusty baking skills to dust off. There was nothing to make the situation better and every birthday celebrated under these conditions was like several knives to the heart. But cake was cake, no matter what was happening.

He turned up after a long walk, still ruminating on the meeting he attended yesterday. The kitchen was bathed in sunlight, which glinted off every available surface. I was glad I decided to confine my baking adventure to the kitchen in my quarters. So, instead of lamenting the mess I'd created, he stood in the doorway and smiled at the red, white and blue layered cake sitting on the dining table.

"Nat-"

"Wait for it," I said, "you haven't seen the best part yet." I struck a match and lit the sparklers stuck proudly in the cake. He laughed and it echoed around the room as the makeshift candles sputtered and sparked.

"What's this for?"

"Depends what you're in the mood for celebrating," I said, "either you turning a year older or your country."

"And if I'm not in the mood for celebrating?"

I shrugged.

"Then I guess I was just in the mood for a snack with some pizzazz."

He stepped forward and grabbed the knife I placed next to it, I stuck the sparklers in the sink. He handed me a plate. "To turning another year older."

"Happy birthday Steve."

He tapped his cheek and pointed at me. "You have a little something right there."

7 July 2019

Hi Tom,

The more I read about these stones the more I understand that we never stood a chance against Thanos.

Not really.

Not the Guardians on Knowhere when he had three stones. Not Tony and Co on Titan when he had four of them. And not the rest of us on Earth when he was one away from a complete set.

How could we ever fight that type of power?

I'm going through the files from the Dark Elf, all the information he gave up after a few threats from a growling racoon. And the power of the Reality Stone is almost beyond comprehension.

It's all there for those who know how to look. Records and rumours scattered across history, all vague and blurry and needing a good eye to see what they had to say. Just as much information in the lines as between them.

In short, it makes the unbelievable believable, whether it's small-scale or large. It creates reality from nothing then bends it to its user's will. Even without the info from the Dark Elf we had aerial footage from London all those years ago, and eyewitness accounts from Tony and Nebula to prove it.

But there was more to it. As well as creating whole realities it made them so believable that the illusions were solid, the people within them as real as the people in ours. It transformed people and items and worlds and everything that exists.

Imagine having that to protect you, to incapacitate your enemies without them even realising. The Reality Stone offers the user so much. Even the ability to heal when used with another stone. And, of course, it was indestructible, its demise only possible the way Thanos had caused it.

That was one stone. Of six. And we dared to take it on. To think we could win.

I had no doubt it was this one that created the cage of stone that trapped me against the ground.

And it makes my skin crawl.

Of all the stones this one concerns me most. My reality has been altered and shattered and stitched together more times than I can count. Memories planted in my head. Beliefs and trust and a blind patriotism fertilised by their lies and the way they framed the reality they wanted us to consume.

I take comfort in things that are as they seem. Knowing they are steady and real. Ironic, I know, considering my lifestyle, but it's true. And the thought that they could be fabricated so easily.

Well, it's a nightmare.

One I try to push to the side and out of mind. I have enough nightmares haunting me without this one squirming its way into my head.

Yet, despite all of this. Despite its fearsome power and the danger it poses. I can't help but think what I wouldn't give to have it in my hands and be able to create a reality where Thanos never happened.

19 July 2019

Hi Tom,

When Captain America first turned up in the forties it was to a lot of fanfare and celebration. He was a symbol of hope to a nation caught under the thumb of war. Everything he did was applauded, whether it was entertainment (okay, so maybe on the Front he went unappreciated but back home the papers were generous with their praise) or conflict.

Throughout the years there were secret heroes, not given the credit they were due. Like the Pyms who saved the world on the down low, and of course Danvers, whose transformation into Captain Marvel was kept confidential. No one reported on them, no one celebrated them. No one knew them.

Then came Ironman. Making a splash across all the front pages and news outlets in the biggest way. Another hero who had applause follow him everywhere. Until property was damaged and people's lives were put at risk with the Stark/Stane battle in the middle of a busy road in the middle of a heavily populated city. And just a couple of years later his Expo was attacked.

And Bruce was exposed to radiation in the lab and rather than dying a gruesome death he developed another personality. A personality that saw everything as a threat and destroyed without discretion.

Then Thor was banished to Earth with no concept of our ways or our limited knowledge of the worlds around us. Followed by his brother's misguided desire to rule and forced to fight an Asgardian destroyer that almost levelled a town.

And the Avengers came together for the first time and defended the planet against an invading force. Led by the same god who attacked Thor but this time hyped up on whatever Thanos had done to him.

We saved people, we limited the damage where we could, acted as fast as possible, learnt how to fight a threat we'd never heard of. All to keep the planet safe.

After the relief of survival faded we were vilified. Our existence questioned. Blamed for the deaths of those Loki and his army claimed. And of those caught up in the crossfire. All discussions that followed us through whatever we did, that turned people against us, that led to hate groups and hate mail and just plain old hating. Polls that tested our popularity while detesting us.

And I can't say we haven't always deserved it. We always tried our best, we never wanted people to get hurt as a result. But we should have been smarter about it. The Iron Legion wasn't always there and when we introduced them they became a symbol of the things plenty of people hated about us.

It was a surprise when none of those stories or conversations did the rounds in light of Thanos.

And it was even more of a surprise when the Quinjet landed this morning and everyone onboard was excited, happy even, to be at the compound. To be in the presence of the Avengers. To meet their heroes.

They were all from the WOOPS facilities. The winners of one of the Christmas competitions.

I knew they were coming. Pepper set the date in my calendar as soon as it was finalised. Then set reminders for two weeks beforehand, then one week, and every day since. It was also hard to ignore the improvements made around the building and grounds. I almost hunted Tony down so I could use him as a punching bag when the gym was cordoned off.

Life, for the past few weeks, was a constant reminder of what loomed ahead. Of another thing to dread.

Until the kids and their chaperones stepped down from the jet and the looks on their faces were something I could never forget. Nor was the slight twinge of pride I felt at being part of a team that they could look up to. It was a reminder I didn't know I needed.

The work we did was good. Necessary.

It always would be.

And there would always be haters, but there was every chance they were alive to hate because we saved them.

It was only supposed to be one kid, their plus one and a chaperone. But the decision was more difficult than we anticipated so we opened it to three of each. Nine visitors in total.

Nine visitors who shook our hands and stumbled over their words, whose eyes widened when they met Steve, who took a step back when they realised I was the Black Widow. Nine people who walked through the compound doors and jumped at FRIDAY's voice. Who explored our home and pointed excitedly at Bruce when he stumbled upon our little party. Nine pairs of eyes widened in awe when I showed them the pictures of space I'd collected from our recon and called Carol, Rocket and Nebula, who all happened to be in the same place for once. Nine people who weren't sure what to do when Okoye called in and I introduced her as the leader of Wakanda. Nine people who fawned over Rhodey's suit and played with FRIDAY and filled the halls with laughter. Who looked like Christmas had come early when we took them to the armoury stuffed full of all our old gear.

Nine people with a lot of questions that flew at us in broken English or their native languages.

"Where's Thor?"

"Could The Falcon talk to birds?"

"How did you beat the robots?"

"What's it like living here?"

"Is it true the organisation was your idea?"

The last question, aimed at me, proved effective in stopping all conversation. I felt Pepper's eyes on me as I processed the thought of being the subject of idle gossip that wasn't bad.

"It was a joint idea," I said.

"Thank you," the kid said, "from everyone in our homes. We- we don't know what would have happened to us."

It was a tender moment. An innocent one. A rare thing hidden between the harsh realities of life that so often kept us down. We hadn't had anything like that in a while. Then it was ruined by FRIDAY alerting us to an incident outside of New York.

"Rhodey," I said.

"On it."

"Steve, take the jet and go with him, intel suggests it'll need two of you."

And just like that the day I was dreading ended, and I felt the smallest pang of regret. The kids looked sad, but it wouldn't last long. To make the most of their time abroad we'd sprung for an all expenses paid trip to New York, centred around the visit to Stark Industries' head office.

Life was going to be difficult for those kids. There was no way of knowing what the years ahead held for them. At least we were able to provide something nice. A bit of peace in their tumultuous world.

At least, given everything they'd been through, they had the capacity to love instead of hate.

26 July 2019

Hey Tom,

We're pretty secluded here in the compound. It's separated from the city. A lesson learned from Avengers Tower. Civilians were put at risk from the debris that fell to the ground below when we were attacked there (as well as by whatever was doing the attacking). Tony figured if we were away from the general populace then our mere presence was less likely to put them in danger.

The compound itself was surrounded by a lot of land and that, in turn, was surrounded by a lot of trees and water. There was only the one road in and FRIDAY kept an eye on the airspace as well as the perimeter and, because Tony was paranoid (something I encouraged because there really is no such thing as too careful), the ground beneath. You never know when someone might use the sewers or tunnel their way in - and given the amount of enhanced people appearing I wouldn't be surprised if a Moleman turned up.

So when Okoye landed on our doorstep I was more than a little taken aback.

"Surprised?" She said with an arch of her eyebrow. There were two guards with her, neither wearing the traditional Wakandan garb of their position, but rather loose fitting clothes that allowed them to blend with Western society as well as kick some serious ass should the opportunity present itself.

As soon as FRIDAY had told me our guests were here I ran outside to see for myself, a couple of knives tucked away in my jacket and a loaded gun in hand - just in case they weren't who FRIDAY thought they were. Of course, the guards didn't take well to the sight of an armed me approaching them.

"Disappointed," I said, flicking the safety back on and holstering the gun, "FRIDAY didn't notice your approach." I eyed the aircraft behind them, the sleek design leaps and bounds ahead of the Quinjet.

"Ah, yes. Shuri did her job well. There isn't anything outside of Wakanda advanced enough to track our crafts." She gave me a one armed hug and her guards narrowed their eyes when I reciprocated. "I will send blueprints to Stark. If another usurper were to take the throne the Avengers would be the only other people capable of taking them down, and it wouldn't do for our second line of defence to be undermined by their inferior technology."

"I wouldn't use those exact words with him," I said as we walked to the compound, "his suit might be made of iron but his ego isn't."

She laughed and it sounded as if it'd been a while since she allowed herself to. The doors opened to let us in and the almost silence of the compound enveloped us. The humid air of late afternoon was replaced with the comfort of an AI-controlled coolness.

"What brings you to our neck of the woods?" I asked, trying to remember the state of my working space.

"The Wakandan International Outreach Centre. The loss of T'challa was risk enough to its continued existence, but Shuri and Nakia as well. I worry for its future. There are still those back home opposed to the king's decision about revealing the true nature of Wakanda."

"It's not as if you can take it back," I said, "withdrawing support and closing down the outreach programme won't change that."

"If they won't listen to me," she said, "they won't listen to an outsider. I'm doing what I can to keep it going, but no one else can match Shuri's intellect. What took her weeks to deliver will take the remaining R&D team years. It is grinding to a halt and there's nothing to kick start it again. And Nakia's Social Outreach department can't agree what to do."

We turned into the living area I worked from and I was more than a little relieved to see it was presentable. My uneaten lunch still sat on my desk, along with a cold cup of coffee. Before I could say anything FRIDAY launched a graphic I hadn't seen before.

"Captain Danvers would like you to know she's visiting this planet," the Irish lilt danced from the unseen speakers. The graphic was of a planet that looked like plenty of others. The display came with the email from Carol, complete with an abridged history as part of my lessons. The name and coordinates hovered to the right of the hulking figure, just in case anything went wrong and I needed to send the remaining Guardians after her.

"You work with this every day?" Rather than take a seat on the sofa, Okoye stepped forward to study the image in front of her. She grew up in the most technologically advanced country on the planet, I didn't expect anything here to impress her. But the view of a world beyond the ones we knew of in our solar system gave her pause. Her guards too.

"Yeah."

"With just three people?"

"It helps that one of those people is Danvers."

"Even so, I would rather my position in this new order than yours. At least all my problems are on the same planet." At last she took a seat on the sofa and relaxed into the comfort it offered. Her guards remained standing, though FRIDAY kept an eye on everything I knew how important it was not to let anything interrupt your focus. They were intent on keeping Okoye safe and while I meant no harm, that didn't mean there wasn't someone else out there scoping the compound from afar.

I tapped a reply to Carol and took up my chair behind my desk. I may have a guest, and she may be the leader of an ally country, but I still had work to do.

"Your outreach problem," I said after a few minutes, "as long as they focus on what can be used to address the world's current issues, it doesn't matter that new tech isn't delivered as fast as normal. You're so used to all the technology you have it might be easy to forget that most people in the world have never seen anything like your most basic equipment. There are things happening in the world, and you may find Shuri has already provided the solution. Removing that programme from the world isn't an option."

One of the guards stepped forward, placing herself in between us so I couldn't see Okoye. "The governing of Wakanda does not concern you."

I looked at her, aware I was walking a thin line but forged onwards anyway. "I may have been on the run when it was launched, but even I can tell the positive impact the outreach centre has on the world. If it shuts down there'll be a lot of people who'll feel like you've given up on them, just like the rest of the world."

"And they won't like Wakanda very much," Okoye shifted to a different position on the sofa so she could see me, the guard wasn't impressed, the former general stared her down before continuing, "that could work. The actions of Erik Stevens is still fresh enough to sway those on the Tribal Council that need swaying. Why didn't I think of that?"

"I have no doubt you did," I said, "sometimes it's easier to accept your own ideas from...outsiders."

"Hey Nat," Steve called from down the hallway, "have you seen the aircraft out front? Oh, hi." He stopped short at the sight of the three warriors, two of whom were pointing spears at him.

"Stand down," Okoye said. "Hello Captain Rogers."

"Uh, hi. Again. This is unexpected, General."

"I had business in the area, well, in America, and was hoping we could spend the night here. As soon as I land I will be forced into meetings and I would like a good night's sleep beforehand."

"You're all more than welcome," he said, "Bruce and I were just talking about dinner. Given last night's disaster we thought we should order pizza." As he spoke he went from looking at Okoye to looking at me. Though, there was a moment his eyes flickered to my full plate and I thought he might make a fuss. "Of course, if our guests don't object."

Okoye nodded. She'd spoken to me once about the difference in food between our continents. She didn't hate ours but she did prefer what Wakanda had to offer; altogether more vibrant with flavour and not dulled by the grease that plagued our food.

"Great, I'll go collect," Steve said.

"I will join you," one of the guards stepped forward, "to make sure they do not tamper with our food."

Okoye rolled her eyes as the two of them left the room. "She's enthusiastic, I'll give her that." I laughed.

"One good thing about Wakanda opening up to the world," I said, "you can invest in a takeout chain that specialises in your cuisine."

"That," she said, "is something for the Social Outreach Department."