Next chapter so soon because I am that great of a person.
Nobody was happier than me to leave Siberia; there was a reason I'd chosen California as my home. I was meant for summer and sun not winter and darkness. Steve didn't seem to feel the cold and Natasha had grown up in Russia, so they didn't comment as we stepped out the airplane into the terminal, though bemused looks were exchanged when I moaned under the heaters above. From here, we were splitting ways. Sam was to accompany me to a safe house while Steve and Natasha made use of the wifi access in Moscow to plan their next move. They seemed glad enough to be rid of my hindrance and I was happy to be away from the line of fire.
My ticket read Central Wakanda, wherever the hell that was, and departure was a good four hours away. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't recollect anything about the country. Sam steered us all to a burrito stand, claiming he needed to inhale grease to feel at home. They were in fact delicious and soon even Natasha was smiling and joking around. Sam was such a light spirit. It was hard to stay downcast around him.
Steve erupted in laughter at their reminiscent conversation. Sam clapped his hands, faced scrunched up as Natasha mimicked some crazed villain they're taken down. "And then he was all, I know what's best for you. I know what a girl like you wants," she said. "And I was like, I'm into some kinky stuff but ruling a world of corpses isn't one of them."
"That's my favorite part!" Sam cheered.
"I remember the look on Flag Smasher's face. You threw him off so much all it took was one hit to the back of his head with my shield and he was down," Steve finished the daring tale.
I finished off my burrito and stood to locate the bathroom. After downing that jumbo coke, my bladder was scarcely holding it together.
"Hey," Natasha called. "don't blast any small children between here and the lady's room." She offered a small twist of her mouth upward, but I don't think she was kidding.
I just nodded my obedience and wove through the hordes of people to the stalls. Though it was significantly warmer here, there was still frost in the air. I hoped Wakanda was much further south. The line was ridiculously long, stringing clear out the door. I waited and waited and dozed off at my spot leaned against the wall at one point. I only woke because of a little girl impatiently kicking at the back of my calves. I winced as it woke the nerve endings in my tightly bound leg. Loose jeans served to hide the injury, so child couldn't have known better, but still I wanted to snap at the mother to control her. Fortunately for all of us, it was now my turn to pee. The Moscow airport should consider themselves lucky because only a few seconds of waiting more and I would've just gone on their floor.
By the time I made it back to the table, Natasha and Steve had split. Sam was helping himself to a second large burrito with his legs propped against the overgrown potted bush to his left. I plopped into my chair, tugging the drawstrings of my hoodie tighter around my face. Sam's sunglasses and ball cap were evidently enough to conceal his identity from prying eyes.
"No goodbye?" I questioned.
"Steve got a phone call he had to take outside. They're just gonna head for their hotel after that. Do some recon." Sam replied. "You know Maximoff?"
"I know her name."
"Well you know she's in hiding like us. Steve got her and Barton set up without a trail and was waiting to hear back from them. They're safe. That's what she called to let him know." Sam wasn't worried about eavesdroppers. The airport was so noisy even I had trouble hearing him.
"Wasn't there two others on your team?"
Sam smiled quickly but it vanished as something sad clouded over his expression. "We lost one of them. Lang can handle himself. This isn't his first time disappearing from the radar." Sam fingered his burrito before pushing it away half finished. He was studying me, searching for a chink in my carefully constructed defenses. "What happened out there?" he asked finally. He wasn't a superior condemning my actions. He wasn't coworker suspicious of my motives. He waited until Natasha and Steve were gone so he could ask it as a friend. "One second you were cool under the pressure and the next it was like…I don't even know." He'd seen what happened but he didn't know how to explain it, but then again neither did I.
"I didn't mean to endanger us," I apologized.
"I know. I not asking for you to say any damn Hail Marys. I want to know what was going through your head."
I chewed away at my lower lip, avoiding his gaze by picking at the chipped paint on the metal table. I rocked back in my chair so that only two legs supported me. "I don't know," I muttered.
"Well, describe it as best you can."
I knew he was a PTSD counselor, but I didn't need his psychiatric radar analyzing me. "Can we not do this?"
He nodded slowly, and folded his hands on his lap. "You're not a part of this mission anymore, so I suppose not. But if you ever want to talk…"
"Yeah, thanks." I clipped off his words.
The wait for our boarding time was painfully long with only silence to fill the void between us. Our seats were on opposite sides of the plane so as not to draw too much attention. The lady beside me drooled on me in her sleep, but still she was better company than the overprotective Falcon. I kept myself busy making origami out of the safety pamphlets, sending a few airplanes sailing after the flight attendant.
When we finally landed, I practically rolled down the ramp into the small airport. The plane had been meant for only fifty people at max and only half of the seats had been filled. My back ached from being cramped for so many hours on end. I cracked a few joints as I waited for my bag at the baggage reclaim. Sam tapped my shoulder when he passed by, unnoticeable to any onlookers. I sighed and followed him out a single side door that was only slightly sketchy. It led to a side alley where a conspicuous black van idled away on the dirt road.
A black woman with a face almost as terrifying as the dense jungle that lay behind her stood in front of the vehicle. She had on a grey figure hugging suit to display her hard earned muscles and wore heels that were so sharp I wondered if they didn't double as daggers.
"Lovely to see you again, Zaire," Sam turned on his charm and extended his hand palm down towards the woman as if he expected her to kiss it.
Zaire merely huffed and opened the door to the backseat for us.
"What about our stuff?" I asked.
"It was recovered," Zaire answered simply.
Sam hopped into the blacked out SUV without hesitation and made himself comfortable by stretching out his long legs over the expanse of the leather seat. I shrugged and plopped myself down on top of his feet. Zaire shut the door tightly and slid into the driver's seat. There was a glass plane between her and us. I wondered if we were more prisoners than refugees.
"Do you mind, Haven? I'm losing feeling," Sam complained, wiggling his toes in his running shoes.
"Least it's not from frostbite," I said and he barked with short laughter. Zaire glanced back as if annoyed by the intrusive sound.
"Well, we're in the middle of Africa, so I hope not."
"How long are you staying?" I asked softly. I did not relish the idea of being dropped off with complete strangers no matter how much Steve's team trusted them.
"A day. Maybe two. Depends how long it takes me to talk with T'challa."
"T'challa, as in the King of Wakanda?" Now I know where I'd heard of this country before. Its King had played a role in the recent inner battles of the Avengers. "As in the Black Panther?" I only knew about the schism from what Steve told me my first day during debriefing. T'challa's name had come up more than a few times.
"He knows more than a little something about self control. He agreed to hide you on the condition that you train every day. Oh, also, if you're discovered he's throwing you under the bus. Saying you broke in and threatened him."
"Liar. Steve worships this dude's nobility. He wouldn't do that to his guest."
"You're no fun, Haven. Roll over and take the punches."
I flipped him off and Sam reclaimed his feet, propping them on my lap instead of under my ass. "You'll be safe here. We'll take care of Menzel."
I nodded, twirling the end of my long braid between my fingers. The van hit a pothole that nearly sent my head careening into the roof. Sam's heavy legs kept me in place. Turns out he was good for something.
"Off road," Zaire warned too late.
I leaned to peer out the front window as we surged headfirst into the suffocating jungle. Trees rose up from every angle. Roots and vines reached greedily towards our tires. Zaire somehow managed to avoid every obstacle, however without even taking off her heels. She glanced back while swerving us around a tree to look at Sam. Guess his flirting hadn't gone unnoticed. She scowled at where his feet lay and cut the wheel sharply to make a hard turn. I was thrown against the sliding door and I think I saw a smirk ghost across her features.
I smacked Sam for getting me into trouble and tapped against the glass. Sam had his eyes shut, appearing asleep and almost relaxed by the chaotic driving. "You can have him," I called. More frowning was the response.
"Hu?" Sam murmured drearily.
I pushed his head back down and went back to gawking out the window. Wakanda was a wild place, but there was something almost serene about how the sparse human houses fit in seamlessly with the trees. They didn't cut down nature as it suited them. They cohabitated the land with the jungle. Zaire startled a nesting flock of birds and they flew towards the sky, telling that there was indeed blue above the canopy of trees.
Three back to back sharp right turns and they lurched to a stop. Sam was sent careening to the floor, barely stirred from his snoring state. Zaire was out and opening the door before I could even unbuckle. She offered a peaceful hand towards me which I took after understandable consideration. Once I was helped down to the grassy lawn, she gave it a squeeze. "It was not Sam Wilson's beauty I was looking to," Zaire said.
My cheeks actually flushed with the flattery. I wish I was attracted to girls. Zaire would've been an interesting hook up at least during my stay. All power, no attachment. I could use something simple.
Sam stumbled from the car, knocking his fist against my cheek as he stretched and yawned annoyingly. I wished we still had training lessons so I'd have an opportunity to humanely beat his ass.
"Woah," Sam murmured, drawing my attention to the white palace before us that literally sparkled in the twilight. "Steve didn't say he got you a room in the palace. I thought the King would be keeping you in some no nonsense shack."
"The friends of Captain America are afforded the highest honor by his Majesty," Zaire said.
"Sure you have to leave tomorrow?" I wagged my eyebrows at Sam and skipped forward a few steps.
Sliding glass doors opened soundlessly for me after a red light flashed in my face and nearly blinded me. Zaire strolled stoically behind, hands folded behind her back like a composed soldier. Sam whistled, and rubbed his hand over a golden orb that sat at a welcome desk. The secretary behind it scowled similarly to Zaire and obviously fought off the urge to use the ornamental spears on the wall as weapons. I fell in line behind Zaire who knew where we were going and Sam jogged to walk beside me. His light brown eyes were wide, taking in more riches than our combined lifetimes had shown us.
"I lived in a trailer until I enlisted," he whispered, suddenly conscious of how the pristine white walls carried even the smallest of voices.
"I spent most nights in a barn because I liked the cows better than my family," I replied.
Zaire stopped outside a pair of double black doors, a starling contrast to the rest of the palace. She knocked and clicked her heel against the marble flooring while waiting for an answer. I glanced apprehensively towards Sam. He didn't appear any calmer than I felt. I would find no comfort there.
There was a beep then a gush of air as the doors slid open. The air in his office was so pure I felt like I could swim in it. I swirled my hand at my side, drawing more of the cleansing molecules closer to my body.
"So you're the air manipulator?" An accented voice drew me back to the purpose of this office—to house a King.
The air in my palm spun into a tight ball of visible tension. I squashed it, blowing Sam sideways a bit. T'challa and Zaire were completely unruffled. Maybe it came with being a Wakanda native. He stood in a baby blue suit being a desk carved with images that appeared almost religious. He donned a handsome smile meant to win over hundreds of hearts in seconds and it sure worked on me. Now I see why Steve trusted him so entirely.
"You've been holding out on us, man." Sam offered his hand which T'challa shook firmly. "I've been researching this new gear for my landings. Shock absorbers for my knees. You know I'm not as agile as I used to be and I was thinking…"
"Is this the purpose of your accompaniment? To partake of my wealth?"
"Well, it'd be a nice bonus to our friendship."
T'challa smiled tolerantly and turned towards Haven once again. "I am King T'challa," he said though he had to know she already knew that. "You are Haven Rosales. I welcome you to my country."
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