Hawkeye whistled after Bucky finished describing their trip across three continents in just a couple sentences, with added commentary from Sam. The former Winter Soldier was just thankful the archer's mohawk was gone, that the man had finally settled into some semblance of peace and now focused on raising his family. The somber remembrance of Natasha would forever scar Hawkeye, like Steve's loss did to Bucky, but they had an opportunity here to prevent it from happening to others. Hawkeye didn't know Shuri, but he'd fought T'Challa too.

Then he said something interesting about Wanda and Vision hiding out in Scotland for sometime.

"After we fell out with Tony, I was under house arrest and they had to run around Europe." Hawkeye held up a bow, aiming the arrow at a practice target near his country home. "Wanda...she called me before everything that happened with Westview. I should have known something was wrong. I was so busy with family everything after the Blip that I..."

"It's okay." Sam put a hand on the archer's shoulder. It wasn't okay, Bucky thought. He couldn't fault anyone for prioritizing the people around him, but he too was an orphan of war and time. No one looked after them, and always wondered after the fact what went wrong. How did he become the Winter Soldier? Why did he run? Why did he not kneel in gratitude for being spared on only forced to therapy?

Trauma was a word spoken by but seldom dealt with by the virtuous. Steve was the only exception.

Hawkeye released the arrow and it missed. "She told me S.W.O.R.D. kept Vision's body."

"We know."

"She also said high-ranking operatives messed with his programming. If what you guys' are saying is true, it's not just his memories they messed with. He'd be their most powerful weapon. They wouldn't just lose him so easily...if they did at all."

Bucky and Sam left soon after, but not before dialing Nakia and Okoye, hoping the iPhone they'd bought the former was still in one piece.

Namor didn't see her the next day, and she didn't care, because if Shuri had been working hard before, she was on the verge of manic now. The guilt that took residence in her gut yesterday dissipated to a simmer, and she would accept nothing other than razor sharp focus moving forward.

Her first order of business was to clear the lab. The explosion left the lab full of ashy, black water. Totl and one of his friends helped her drain the room, replace the filters and reroute pipes to fill it with fresh water. She briefly toyed with the idea of building a lab in one of the caves so that she could work in familiar conditions, but transporting copious amounts of vibranium out of the water without the safety of Talokanil transportation systems was dangerous. And the synthetic blue flower, if and when she succeeded, wouldn't bloom in air.

She worked into the night to improve watermasks so that Juana could stay above water for longer stretches of time. Family and friends watched the Talokanil around-the-clock. Her condition worsened in the evening only to improve when Fen scavenged enough medicinal herbs to stabilize her. Juana was out of the danger zone but the problem was that her lungs, even with the current masks, could only hold out in air for a few hours before requiring a return to water. Yet water slowed the recovery of her severed arm. This cycle of movement in and out of the water would deteriorate her body; she needed to stay above air long enough for her arm begin healing on its own.

Finally, around dawn, Shuri managed to finish a working prototype. As she slept, Totl volunteered to test the 12-hour watermask before securing it on Juana. The boy was turning out to be supremely useful and defensive of Shuri's presence whenever someone took to glaring at her. The new guards — older, seasoned women — followed her with a hawkish stance but usually said nothing. Word began to ripple throughout the domes that she was trying to recreate their sacred flower, and for better or for worse, most of the Talokanil were either too fearful, annoyed, or reverent to bother her. Oh well. She had enough seaweed gifts. The children, at least, still waved at her, and Atzi's group of friends always poked their friendly heads into the lab, though she was unable to take them up on their offer to go whale-driving.

On the second day, after a forceful lunch and a heaping bottle of green slush (Atzi insisted it was an energy booster but even those American energy drinks tasted better, and why did so much of the food here have to be green?), she confronted the problem of the damaged machine. The main unit was blown into smithereens. She salvaged some of the well-insulated wires and panels but the core of the machine was hopeless to recover. The only option was to work with another device Juana and her team collected, except it was half-damaged and didn't match any of the descriptions Val gave her.

It looked familiar, though. Its main component looked not unlike the ones in the plans Riri had once shown her.

"No," Shuri whispered, "It can't be—"

Recognition of a different detection mechanism led to her relief. It was not Riri's work, but it was close. What she held in her hands were the remnants of the world's second non-Wakandan vibranium sensor.

"Who made it?"

"I feel like I'm giving you so many of my secrets with little in return. Did you forget my lessons already?"

The room smelled horrid. Shuri wanted to vomit and made a mental note to ask a guard — erm, tell Namor directly — to be a better host. At least they looked well-fed, though two men were moaning about the lack of food that didn't grow under water. Rick was sound asleep in a crevice nearby.

"Just tell me. I promise you better living conditions."

Val tugged at her purple shock of hair. Shuri resisted the urge to point out her scraggly roots. "You said that last time but my hair is still grimy."

"Washing it won't make a difference."

"Oh, catty today, are we?" Impressed, Val nodded but with a hint of derision. She lounged in a tucked away corner of the cavern hidden behind a stalagmite. It was where she could see everyone at once, but not immediately be detected by visitors. A fitting place for a shrewd woman. "Okay, I'll bite. Tell me first if you found any part of it."

Shuri must have hesitated a second too long but Val was also the Director of the CIA. She didn't get to where she was without a modicum of intelligence and a bullshit detector. "Hm, so these people didn't recognize this one? Interesting."

"Did you steal another college student's plans?"

The beginnings of a frustrated scowl glower broke across Val's face and Shuri understood that as a yes. If Val was the best the CIA had to offer, then outwitting them would be easy.

Near the end of the second day, Shuri send a guard to call for Namor. She came back minutes later, relaying a message that he was busy and would "come to her later."

He didn't come that night, or even the next morning. Shuri spent the third day mildly annoyed, making plans to go to the palace herself but a guard stopped her. She wasn't allowed anywhere but the catacombs, the Americans' cave-prison, or her lab. Shuri could easily out-maneuver them but then she'd be prevented from helping Juana, so despite instincts harkening back to her pre-Snap rebellious teen years, she swallowed her spunk for the greater good. She was getting quite good at that this year.

After sending Totl on his merry way with a message requesting that the Americans be allowed to bathe, she resumed working with parts of the vibranium sensor. Whoever made it was brilliant (not on her level, but close). Launching the final sequencing program after triple-checks was simple enough. She retired for the night, miffed at Namor but confused as to why since he had left her in peace for three whole days (Doesn't he want to make sure I don't explode anything else...but obviously I won't.). At least he'd granted her request for better accommodation of the hostages and told Totl as much.

When she woke up on the fourth day, she realized that was exactly the problem. He hadn't bothered her.

She wanted to be bothered.

She waited until the DNA sequencing system worked seamlessly before sending a request for his presence. He had to come now, right?

The guard she sent came back alone. "There was an unmanned underwater vehicle spotted outside the outer radius. He will be absent for the day."

With the sequencing system underway with a new sample of Juana's blood, Shuri gritted her teeth and removed the vibranium mold for the synthetic arm from its cavity a little too hard. It cleaved cleanly into half.

Totl's jaw dropped. "Was that your panther strength?"

"Sure. Yeah." Shuri clenched her jaw.

The next day, Juana was able to keep her eyes open for a full three hours. Shuri greeted her and exchanged casual pleasantries but was too nervous to stick around while her family and close friends swarmed her. She could be most helpful by getting her back into good health with two arms.

That afternoon, Juana's genome sequence was fully mapped. Shuri was acutely aware that she was now hovering at less than two weeks to finish the blue flower but she ploughed through with what she did best.

No matter that she was being avoided. In fact, she was avoiding him. Panthers were equally adept at short bursts of speeds and consistent strides over a long period of time. Namor was semi-immortal, but she was Shuri and she was stubborn.

So what if he'd caught her basically massaging his abdomen and fake healing him? Was that a crime? Hadn't he kissed her first?

The idea of clawing a matching scar into his chest and healing it again did come to mind. She banished the thought. She didn't want to be kissed, she just wanted...something. Anything, really. He had been so liberal with his presence and touches when she first arrived that it felt abysmal now that she was left to dry, literally.

By the fifth day, the vibranium arm and hand were completed, and the sequencing machine was prepped to receive more blood samples to put together an analysis for the blue flower's DNA. She asked a guard to send for Namor, this time with the explicit reason that she needed his blood, but the guard returned with a shake of the head. Namor was visiting outer sector domes with Fen to evaluate the rippling effects of this season's illness.

The pipette Shuri held crumbled between her usually nimble fingers. Maybe she should delay restoring the blue flower and cure this damned illness while she's out saving the planet.

That night, at least, Juana was fully conscious and almost back to her normal self, draped across the hammock she once slept in. The relief in the catacombs and its latest round of visitors was palpable. The Talokanil said nothing as Shuri fitted the prosthetic over her elbow, the material melding with organic material perfectly. The vibranium was coated with a shimmering blue metal-pigment alloy and the three fingers the healers preserved attached to the other end next to two fingers that Shuri crafted meticulously.

"I can replace them with extendable tools, if you want." Shuri offered. "A screwdriver, a light saber, anything."

Juana forced a smile. "No need for that. Thank you." In the background, her mother gave her a stiff nod.

It wasn't much but it was a start. Shuri didn't dare wish for forgiveness but at least her happiness. On her way out of the room, she pointed at Totl and told him to find her the best fish or else.

On her return to the cabin, Shuri thought of all the ways she could claw Namor's pointy ears off. This should have been right up Killmonger's alley, but after his last laugh, he disappeared all week. She reasoned that he was a grown man, with no need to step onto the ancestral plane and meddle with her girlish musings unless it helped him. His absence was joyfully welcomed but it left her uneasy. She stepped into the cabin, about to cross to her room as she'd done the nights before, but her eyes latched onto the mess in the office.

He was here, she thought. But there was no one inside now; only a clutter of items across his desk and daggers scattered on the floor. She worked quickly. A cluttered room was as bad as a messy lab.

She straightened her back, arms full of weapons, when a shadow crossed over her. Her instincts compelled her grabbed a dagger out of the pile and brandish it at the intruder.

Namor quirked an eyebrow, dripping at the entrance. Shuri felt annoyed and light-headed.

"I'm going to rip your left wing out." She managed. She hadn't thrown something at him in far too long.

He crouched to clear his desk. After his wandering hands — his hands, Bast help me — found what he'd come for, a small slab of stone, he grimaced at her. "Then will you claw my back again?"

Very funny. "Masochist."

"Sadist."

"Elf-looking fishboy."

He narrowed his eyes. "Fishboy?"

Shuri turned on her heel and began to place the weapons on the lone shelf in the office one-by-one, keenly aware she was dressed in her now frayed tracksuit, multiples washes to wring out blood taking its toll even on Wakandan jersey fabric. The impeccable timing on this jerk. "Don't you have work to do?"

A pause. "A king is a king even during rest."

She jutted a chin out at the slab in his hands. "What's that?"

He was gracious with answers today. She should point a dagger at him more often.

"My cousin wishes to carve a necklace for his betrothed. His wedding is in two days."

She remembered Fen's explanation of Talokanil courtship, but she hadn't thought to ask about weddings. A Talokanil wedding would be a sight to witness if her impromptu dance party all those days ago was a measure of how Talokanil celebrated. The only wedding she'd ever attended was Okoye's and she was barely thirteen at the time. Thanos took away T'Challa and Nakia's chance to wed.

"Can I—" she started, the same time he spoke.

"Do you—"

Another pause.

Fine. It was business as usual, then. She tightened her grip on one dagger and his eyes flashed as she released it slowly onto the shelf.

"I finished the machine." She detailed her updates, from cleaning the lab to Juana's new super-powered arm. She would collect more samples of Talokanil blood tomorrow and finalize a genome map of the blue flower. Then she'd print it (when he asked what printing meant, she ignored him, despite her base instincts to describe the fantastic 3D printer in her Wakandan lab in fine detail) and she would be done.

Namor rubbed his jaw. "That sounds unusually simple."

She waved her free hand. "It's not, usually. For me it's decently challenging."

"Boasting is beneath you, too."

"It's not when you disappear and act like this isn't a project that will end a political impasse." And then she cringed, because that sounded petty and like she was angry, but a different kind of anger like—like—jealously. She bit the inside of her cheek. "You don't know me."

They both knew she was lying. He departed with a strange look and she went to sleep plotting for something she only acknowledged when she woke.

She was going to corner him into embracing her by the end of the day.

Namor gave the slab to the first warrior he spotted on his return to the city, one he knew was hoping to gift a fish soon but didn't have the means to afford carving materials. His cousin had completed his carving weeks ago.

Shuri spent the morning in the catacombs instead of her lab. A break, she told Atzi. Atzi was no longer on duty to guard her, but the Talokanil joined her for meals on the cave floor occasionally when not worrying over Juana, fiddling with aquatic plants she would consume once she returned to water.

Her target arrived soon after her breakfast, and as expected, his eyes widened just enough to convey surprise. He nodded at them in a brisk greeting, leaping towards his office. Shuri excused herself and followed, teal dress swishing with her swift movements.

This part of the plan was not as clear. Namor did as he wished; he was equally likely to go about his day ignoring her, start a conversation about his ancestors, or...touch her. Closely.

The last option happened twice in her room. Once in this office, and once in his throne room. She calculated the variables, beginning to arrive at a possible output. He spoke in the awkward lull that hung between them.

"Are you plotting my demise?" He stared at her with a touch of concern, conch shell in hand, as she entered behind him.

She tilted her head. What expression must have been on her face?

"No."

He put down the shell, turning his full attention towards her. "The sickness is spreading to the inner city. The healers do not know its impact on humans. Consider your lab quarantined for time being."

She crossed her arms. "And delay making the blue flower? Neither of us want that."

"A dead inventor is of no use to Talokan."

"Is the sickness killing people?"

His nostrils flared over the jade in his nose. "Keep your excursions to a minimum."

He left the way he came.

After lunch as she prepared to dive below, she was perhaps a little too clumsy, woops she slipped on a puddle, and oh no, the glass of her water suit's helmet was cracking.

It wasn't, actually, she just loosened it enough for air to rush through, but to be sure, she needed glass. And thus, Namor. She said as much to one of the guards, who blinked at Griot's translation.

"I can ask the collectors. They may have glass collected from their excursions outside Talokan."

She shook her head, summoning the decidedly mischievous look she would give her parents, and started to pout. "I'm not sure if they will work, and since I can't go to them myself to see the items, and they can't bring everything here, I need to speak with your king." It was too defensive.

The guard looked at her oddly and shrugged. Namor took one look at the suit and made a noise of irritation.

"Are you so heavy that a simple fall broke it?"

"You're calling me fat."

"I am questioning why the person who made a near indestructible suit made something so poor."

Aghast, she crossed her arms. "I'm not a god, K'uk'ulkan."

He twitched and waved a hand, turning to leave. "I'll send an engineer."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "That's fine. I think I can just patch it with an extra scrap of vibranium."

He stared at her, long and hard. He left wordlessly and she mumbled fruitlessly to herself as she snapped the helmet back in place.

Short of setting off another explosion, Shuri decided that perfecting at least one analysis in the makeshift lab that early afternoon was sufficient enough reason. She asked a guard to call for Namor again and offered a muttered prayer to Bast.

Namor arrived an hour later. It was his first time in her lab. She was highly protective of her equipment. Newcomers often fiddled with the objects and machines strange to their eyes, but one wrong move could set off another explosion. She told him as much and her guards moved closer to him, just in case, but he was not a stranger to research. She watched, at first with protectiveness but then respect as he scanned the instruments of her lab, naming them with startling accuracy and questioning whether using liquid vibranium would be more effective than semi-solid vibranium as an underwater insulator.

"I heated vibranium before carving it into the sun." He explained.

It should have surprised her, but a king of the strongest nation in the seas—if not the whole planet—had to have been a genius in his own right. More blessed than Chac than she was by Bast, perhaps.

I'm still better, she thought, as he focused on her thermal cycler, a DNA amplification machine, with a curious look. When he was done poring over her machines, she held out a needle to his consternation.

"I am a mutant. My blood is not necessary for this."

"Actually," she started, her voice taking on the feather-light tone of awe when speaking about her work, "it's probably the most useful. You still have the flower's effects in you, but not fully. It's perfect as a cross reference for my blood as a human sample and the ones of Talokanil blood."

He eyed her needle suspiciously. She rolled her eyes, tugging the hand that didn't hold his beloved staff towards him. "Don't you trust me?" She taunted.

He waited until the vial of his blood was sealed to respond. "Do you trust me?"

"I'd rather stab you."

He grunted in approval and left.

It was too late by the time she wondered why he accepted her request to come all the way to her lab just to tell her she didn't need his blood.

That night, Shuri lounged in her room, reflecting on her failures. Having run out of believable reasons to call him, sans an impending invasion, she decided that she could accept this failure because the whole ordeal was embarrassing anyway.

Then Namor came striding through the open archway just as she turned over to sleep. He stopped at the foot of her bed, evaluating her. A standstill and a battle of the wits ensued, though markedly less life-threatening and ominous. Shuri sat up, pulling the blanket up to cover herself. The white night gown covered enough but the thin strips and high-neck still felt too...

It wasn't the clothes, she realized. She has worn shorter dresses with her arms out for fancy events at the palace or even to work in her lab. It was the mutant in front of her causing her brain to fire in five different directions at once.

He let his staff fall onto the bed. "Explain."

There was a delay in finding her voice as she pushed aside a reservoir of colorful, un-Princess-like vocabulary.

"I was about to sleep." She snickered. "Surely you know how inappropriate this is."

He bit the inside of his cheek; she knew by the momentary dimple this created on his otherwise defined face. "This is an early time for you to retire. Go see Fen tomorrow."

"I'm fine — I have my beads."

"Your beads are functional, again?"

She rolled over. "Yes. Now go away."

He exhaled a long breath. "You are good at arriving at wrong conclusions. I am too, occasionally, except this time I will request an explanation from you before making my own."

She turned back over and sat up, the blanket pooling at her waist. His eyes flickered down his nose at her. "And that is?"

"You want something from me."

She repressed a strangled yelp, opting to glare at him. "Obviously. I want you to let me go, let the Americans go, stop the desire to escalate to violence where possible so my country isn't in the crossfire for your vengeance, and accept my help before it's too late."

He reached over the bed to grab her wrist and pull her up. She could've resisted, had she wanted, but followed through with the motion, swaying onto her feet on the cold stone floor. The dress thankfully fell to cover her knees before she left the warm comfort of her blanket. "Overwhelming, long talks suit me, not you, Shuri. You are more intelligent than that."

She pursed her lips. "Then why do I feel like an idiot?"

When he didn't answer, Shuri turned around, attempting to resettle onto the bed. She felt a rustle behind her and a rush of air. One of Namor's arms snaked around her waist, pulling her backwards and taut against him. The mixture of sweat and water smelled like salt. His chest was a controlled fire. He cradled her head against jaw, his beard tickling the side of her temple. Her body instinctively recognized his, curling against him, her tense muscles relaxing.

"What are you doing?" Her breath hitched.

His lips brushed her ear. "What you were asking me to do all day."