Chapter Thirty-Four
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The new rooms were airier and built with stronger glass.

I couldn't decide if I liked more windows or less; the view here was better, yet on bad days, felt too exposing. It was also a private apartment now, separate but connected to Dad's via an interior door. I liked the privacy more than he did; Dad couldn't make it a single night, as I discovered the hard way.

I had been fast asleep when he snuck in, and thus didn't know he'd been sleeping on the floor at the foot of my bed when I accidentally stepped on him the following morning.

Despite my foot nearly busting open his stitches again, Dad didn't drop the habit. And I didn't ask him to. He probably still remembered all too well how I had managed to disappear from a moving train without anyone's notice; there was no such thing as a truly secure place after that event.

And that was besides the comfort his presence gave me, when nightmares chased me in my sleep.

It was certainly a strange sight for the nurses when they came in to check on me, and found Dad curled up on his side on the floor, pretending he wasn't in pain.

"Njengotata wengcuka," one woman said to the other, hiding a giggle behind her hand.

They were both fighting smiles as they helped Bucky to his feet, before checking on my busted knee and flashing my pupils. I had a few cuts and bruises left from my little jailbreak, but nothing serious, not as bad as the strain I put on my knee, which was only just coming out of its post-shattering pain. I still walked with a slight limp, however.

I hadn't told him yet what I had read in the Glass Presence, and Dad hadn't asked. I figured he wouldn't, but I also suspected he didn't realize how much was in there. That I was in there. And that, I thought, he'd want to know. I just hadn't figured out a way to bring it up yet.

And that was besides everything else that I had read. The stuff about him in there that I didn't think he knew about, either. More than I ever thought I'd find, or want to know.

Engraved indelibly into my mind.

Yet there was progress, I thought. No more incidents in the following week, trying to adjust to some new normal, trying to get myself accustomed. And some things never changed; Dad had offered to braid my hair, and I had let him, and for a little while everything felt normal again.

I didn't expect to see Shuri again so soon; though it felt like we had made some sort of peace that night at the fire pit, I knew better than to think she'd keep seeking me out.

But I was a little wrong.

Just after the nurses were leaving our morning check-in, the Princess appeared in the doorway.

"I require your presence," The Princess said, hands behind her back and bouncing slightly on her feet. Though her expression was impassive, she seemed possessed of an excited energy. She spoke directly to me, and when I didn't immediately jump to my feet, she added wryly, "I'm sure your father can take care of himself for an hour or two."

I heard Dad snort behind me, but he offered no protests. I shot him a look, before looking back at Shuri. Her demeanor had changed considerably since our first encounter, but a part of me was still wary.

The other part of me was getting cabin fever.

And I was curious. Killing the cat and all, but I gave Dad a questioning look and he merely nodded his assent. I was surprised how easily he relented, considering how he wouldn't let me out of his sight since the moment we got here.

With a huff, I shifted myself out of bed, testing the weight on my knee before determining it okay to walk on. All my experience from extended hospital stays said that too much bed-rest would hurt more than it helped; at a certain point, the injured muscles needed gentle stretching and exercise in order to get stronger before a sometimes-permanent weakness set in. And with my accelerated healing factor, that exercise factor had to come in sooner rather than later. I didn't know if I could end up with a permanent injury, less severe than the permanent loss of a body part. But I'd rather not take the chance.

Slippered feet moved quietly across cool flooring. The slippers were a little small for me, but soft, and I followed Shuri out of the room. She turned on her heel and bopped away ahead; as I stepped out the door, I noticed one of the Dora Milaje waiting outside; not one of Shuri's escorts, as the woman instead turned inside after we had left.

I watched her over my shoulder, frowning slightly as I overheard her and my dad's voices in low conversation. But I was already too far away, and Shuri was not slowing down.

She was nearly a head shorter than me, but I had decided not to be that much younger. Only a year, maybe two — and perhaps enough of a royal ego to make up what she lacked in height.

She was dressed in white again, but now in a more streamlined, tailored dress and, I noticed, close-toed shoes. Chunky soles, but more functional than fashionable, I thought. The metal beads glittered in the braids coiled atop her head, and though she lacked excessive ornamentation, there was no doubt as to her status in these halls.

My clothes were, in comparison, much less fancy. They hung on me loosely, partly due to my changing weight, and partly because I'd finally gotten out of hospital gowns and wanted the extra movement — slightly baggy joggers and a loose black shirt with a distressed gray insignia emblazoned across the chest, giving me the impression that it was a borrowed rock band t-shirt. Maybe even Shuri's, I wondered. It was too short, or perhaps cropped on purpose — I hadn't worn it before today, otherwise I might have reconsidered, because if I raised my arms too high it revealed my bare midriff.

But in the meantime, it would do. Nothing too tight that might restrict blood flow to healing injuries.

The palace was a maze of halls and corridors, cut of dark stone polished so smooth it almost looked like metal. We went down several sets of stairs and an elevator. On the whole, the journey took nearly fifteen minutes, once the underground tram was accounted for — a ride so smooth and silent it felt like we weren't moving at all until it started to brake again. Our way was made mostly in silence, but only felt truly awkward when we were standing in the elevator chamber with the two Dora Milaje that followed Shuri. The close quarters made them, and their vibranium spears, especially prominent in my peripheral vision. I still recalled very clearly what it was like to be struck by one.

"They don't usually accompany me everywhere," Shuri said, as if she knew what I was thinking. Before us, the elevator's panel blinked another number down. "They just don't trust you. Nothing personal."

I closed my eyes, inhaled, exhaled. That much I could've figured out for myself, but there was something in Shuri's casual, self-satisfied tone that demanded a little jab of my own. "Huh. I thought it was because your mother didn't trust you."

Shuri jolted slightly, taken aback, before throwing her head back in a bark of laughter. "Ha! You have no idea."

Behind us, the Dora Milaje shared an aside glance.

When the elevator opened (after my ears popped), we walked out into clean white halls with walls of blue screens. Music rolled in, a surprisingly upbeat sound that wouldn't have been entirely out of place in a club, perhaps. Or perhaps Tony's workshop.

Shuri led around a corner, and opened her arms up to reveal the tall room that lay beyond. "Welcome to my lab!"

It was several floors of partly open space, with the far wall revealing a long window spanning the entire height of the laboratory, opening out into what looked like a mining cavern, glowing faintly in the darkness. But what was far more interesting was what laid before us, as Shuri nearly skipped down the ramp towards the first level below.

There were a multitude of tables and workspaces, machines and lab technicians, wearing the same white material that Shuri was; she gestured to an array of suited mannequins, dressed in what appeared to be different versions of the Black Panther suit. "Ignore those, they're ideas for my brother he hasn't seen yet. Haven't worked out all the kinks…"

Instead, she walked me through an array of different stations and items; a majority of them made of vibranium, it seemed. Some of them were general devices, but more than a few were weapons, little grenades and soundless shoes.

It was all very cool, I had to admit, though I wasn't entirely sure why Shuri brought me here. To show off, I supposed, as I came to understand that she spent a lot of time here.

"This isn't just a hobby," she explained to me. "It's my job. My official title is Royal Engineer. Or something to that effect, everyone still calls me Princess. But I'm very good at it. All the latest technology in Wakanda? My designs. The Jabari Tribe wish they had someone like me up in those freezing mountains…"

"You made all this?" I asked, looking around. There had to be more than a hundred projects here, and that wasn't including what I could remember seeing in Birnin Zana, in my brief scamper through its streets. I remembered the hover trams, the holographic bracelets, lights like glowing tattoos painted on building walls.

"Of course!" Shuri grinned, none too humble to announce it. "But that's not all I wanted to show you."

She gestured for me to follow, and on another level below, she brought me to a table, with a very familiar object laying on top.

My shield.

"I've taken the liberty to clean it," Shuri explained as she walked around the table, gesturing to the shield, angled on a small easel. It gleamed under the light, pure vibranium utterly unblemished even after everything it had been through. "All that ugly paint, I didn't think it suited you."

I stared at it for a moment, remembering what Dad told me. "It's not like Steve's shield. This one came from stolen metal."

"I'm aware," Shuri smiled that little smile, like she was hiding something behind her back. She bounced on her toes. "T'Challa said to give it back to you, and whatever, it hardly compares to the massive amount Klaue stole that Ultron stole from him, that was eventually turned into an android, whose quasi-human consciousness now makes it ethically difficult to reacquire. Anyways! This bit is yours. But I can give it a new paint job if you like. Something more modern, perhaps?"

With that, she pulled up some holographs of different designs, in different colors and patterns, but all with a distinct geometric style that seemed iconic to Wakandan culture. When I failed to express any interest, Shuri frowned and asked, "Hmm, I'll keep working on it, then. Did the red star have significant meaning to you?"

Without thinking, my hand went up to cover my left shoulder, rubbing the skin beneath my sleeve. "Yeah. For the shield, it started out unrelated to me. An undercoat, I think. But for me, it's different. I didn't have a choice either way."

Pulling up my sleeve, I showed her the tattoo. Shuri stared at it for a moment, her eyebrows raising as my meaning caught on. "Ah. I see. Well, now you do have a choice. No rush, obviously. Have you thought of adding to it?"

"Adding to what?" I asked, confused, looking down at the shield.

But Shuri pointed at my arm instead. "Your tattoo. Adding more to your arm. Or removing it entirely. We have the technology for that, too. Very clean."

I had thought of removing it, briefly, now and then. But every time, I'd come to the same conclusion of keeping it, for the same reason I had when Aldrich Killian asked me about it years ago. I wasn't going to hide what happened to me.

But adding to it…? I hadn't considered that before.

(Not the least of which because it would be ridiculously expensive at home, with money I did not have to throw around on that sort of thing).

Still, I was intrigued by the idea, and tucked it away for future consideration.

"I'm keeping it," I told her at length, dropping my hand back to my side. "But thank you. I'll think about it."

Shuri blinked at me, a slight frown pulling her brow, that had me afraid I'd insulted her somehow. Until she said, "There are dozens of powerful men across the world that would salivate for this plain disk. And here you are, not even reaching for it, even though it's been yours for the past several years." She tilted her head. "You don't miss it?"

Her question took me off guard. "I-I do! I just… I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

I licked my lips, wondering how to phrase this. "I don't know if I want it back."

Shuri, hands planted on the table, held my gaze until I had to look away. After a moment, she said, "It's not just about the history, is it?"

"No," I said. "I just — I don't know if I can go back to that. To… being a hero. Or whatever I was before."

Now Shuri looked truly surprised, shaking her head in disbelief. "But what about the team? Who will lead them?"

It was my turn to be confused now. "Team? What team?"

"Your team!" Shuri exclaimed, gesturing sharply to me, and when I failed to produce any understanding, she huffed and grabbed a tablet. A few moments, while she drew something up, before passing it to me. "That team! Those are your friends, right?"

I took the tablet, frowning as I turned it over. On the screen was a digital copy of TIME magazine, the latest edition. On the cover was a photograph, captured low to the ground, a scene filled with smoke, debris, and framed by the boots of army soldiers. In the midfield, centered in the image, was a tight group of people. For a moment, it resembled the Avengers, but their smaller and slimmer profiles belied younger people.

A smaller Iron Man suit. A red-and-green caped android hovering in the air, side by side with Scarlet Witch in her signature red, hands aglow as her hair whipped in the air. Spider-Man in a city he didn't belong in, crouched low on the ground, while Quicksilver was the only one slightly out of focus, caught mid step, his face and limbs blurred with movement so fast even a high-quality camera couldn't catch still.

And in great bold letters across the bottom of the frame, read:

THE YOUNG AVENGERS?

It finally dawned on me, just a little.

I looked up at Shuri, training my expression to remain neutral. "This is not my team. I'm not even in the picture."

"Maybe not, but you could be," Shuri insisted, and there was a strange intensity in her dark eyes. She was smiling, for some reason. Excited by this, as if she were a fan.

"I tried to kill them," I pointed out. "And I probably would have if T'Challa hadn't been there to stop me. I was never a part of this team."

I didn't want to pull up the memory, or have to explain it to Shuri in detail in case she didn't believe me. That event, among all of them, gave me the worst nightmares. Wondering what would've happened if the Soldatka had won.

Shuri scowled, pressing her lips together in frustration. "Yes, but they came together because of you. To rescue you, right?"

"Sure," I said with a meager shrug. "Not that they would've been successful."

Zemo would've assured that I killed them first. Or myself. No matter what.

"I haven't seen any of them since," I added, just as Shuri opened her mouth again to argue with me. "Not since the Alps. I don't even know what they think about me now. Even if they did let me on this team again, would they really let me lead after what I did?"

I didn't even know if they'd talk to me after this. If Peter would even look at me after everything that happened. I still had no idea how the hell he got to Europe, this picture of him in Paris was by far the most extraordinary image of Spider-Man I'd ever seen. In the back of my mind, I knew Peter must be kicking himself, wishing he had taken this picture. His boss would've paid a fortune for it.

"Maybe!" Shuri threw up her hands. She dropped them again, sighing. "I don't blame you for wanting to step back. Recovery is important, I know, I know. But I believe they exist right now because of you. So don't… don't give up on the idea, hm? You can use your gifts for good. This shield included."

It occurred to me that this was all quite a kindness Shuri was offering me, a level that I didn't think I had earned yet. Maybe this was her usual personality, but a part of me suspected it was something else.

I studied her for a long moment, long enough that the silence hung. Shuri held my gaze, until she started to shift awkwardly, getting uncomfortable, glancing to the side then back again.

Only then, with a flat look, did I finally say, "You want to be a part of this team, don't you?"

"No!" Shuri's eyes widened, her cheeks darkening with a flush. She inhaled, puffing up her chest, before deflating again. "I really really really want to be on the team. And you are my only way in."

I couldn't help but laugh, but it only made the princess more flustered. She clenched her fists to her side, sounding indignant as she added, "T'Challa already gave me permission! He thinks it's okay, even if my mother… doesn't. But so long as you agree, then there's nothing to worry about!"

But that wasn't my concern at all (though it was quite interesting that the King had both already considered it, and had agreed…). I just gaped at her and asked, "Why? Why do you even want to be a part of this team?"

"Why not?" Shuri shot back. "My brother got to join the Avengers, why can't I? I'm smarter than him, I have my own equipment, you've seen all that. And I can make more, too! I want to do what he does. And I want to see the world! See the things he's seen. And more! Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to be trapped in this country, this city, this room, your entire life?"

It wasn't that I didn't find her unconvincing. In fact, that told me more than enough why Shuri wanted to be on the team. But that didn't mean I thought it was a good idea. "You don't know anyone on the team, or how you'll get along with them. You don't even like me."

She made a face. "I never said that."

"Well, you really didn't like me a week ago."

"Yes, yes, I know," Shuri rolled her eyes, as if annoyed at the reminder of how she provoked me into jumping out a window. She tapped the tips of her fingers together. "That wasn't my… best moment. I don't know you, and you don't know me, either. And I know I have no actual experience. But I thought — well, since you're here, I could try. Prove myself somehow. Though I would prefer not to fight you."

Prove herself? Well, that certainly explained the showing off of her lab and projects; what I realized now as a not-so-subtle presentation of her skills and assets as a potential team member. With, of course, the offering of a redesigned shield to earn my personal favor.

I shifted on my feet, feeling a little off-balance. Like I'd just walked into a job interview, not realizing I was hiring.

"I wouldn't ask you to," I said finally, shaking my head. I didn't want to fight anyone, not unless I had to. And definitely not Shuri. "And… what you have here, it really is impressive, your highness. But I don't think I'm the person you think I am. I don't have the power to get you on the team even if they let me join. If it even still exists. They'll have to learn to trust you, too."

That was, unfortunately, not the right thing to say. Shuri slammed her palms to the table again, thrilled. "I'll earn it!"

I blinked at her, still unsure she actually understood what she wanted to sign up for. "You know, if I'm really the leader of this thing, as you say — that means you'd have to listen to me when we're working together. Like you listen to your brother."

That was the best comparison I could make, I figured, already guessing how Shuri might feel about that. As typical with sibling relationships, I suspected that would be a hard pill to swallow; Shuri seemed displeased but tried to hide it, shaking her head and smiling, "A small price to pay as your second-in-command."

"Whoa, my what?" I caught myself before I could laugh again, but I couldn't force back the smile, waving a hand back and forth. The Princess sure had a set of vibranium balls. "Well, aside from the fact that there are no official rankings as far as I know, you expect the rest of the team to listen to you, too?"

"They would," Shuri said, a feline smile that spoke of self-assured confidence. "If you told them to."

I narrowed my eyes, making a face. "Unfortunately, Princess, the team isn't going to be much like your throne room. Things don't just happen because I say it happens. If I'm allowed to say it at all."

And that's not to say I already had an idea of who'd be my second-in-command. If that was ever a thing. But I knew who I trusted most.

"That's alright," Shuri finally surrendered with a casual shrug, so it didn't feel like surrender at all. "There's enough time for that. But if and when you return — you'll ask them, right?"

She looked at me, bold and upright, with only a thinly-veiled imploring behind her eyes. At last, I sighed, folding my arms across my chest. "Sure, fine, I'll ask. That's the best I can do. But no promises. I… I have no idea what it's going to be like when I get back home."

Between the indeterminate timeframe and Secretary Ross' unrelenting hunt for any heroes, adult or otherwise, I couldn't even say if my friends, team or not, would still be out of his clutches. A lot could happen.

"So long as you do," Shuri replied with a smile, and with a primness that seemed more performance than nature, she placed her hands together and walked towards the next table down the line. "There are more things I'd like to show you anyways. I think I have some electrified daggers you might be interested in."

I stood there, resolute. There was no way I was letting Shuri bribe her way into my good graces. She said she wanted to earn it, and I was willing to see it through, whether I had that authority or not.

Still, I couldn't help but glance at her out of the corner of my eyes. "Electrified, you say?"