Reality in Motion

option two

The days that passed after Q woke up from her cryogenic nap were weirdly peaceful. It had been a long time since she was allowed to just sit and enjoy the sunshine. Before, there had always been something going on: Steve, the Avengers, her search for Bucky, a funeral in London, the chaos that happened in Berlin, and then what happened in South Korea. If she had had the time to sit and enjoy the sunshine, there was something lingering just under the surface: like in Croatia with Steve when she hadn't yet told him about Bucky. She hadn't gotten a chance to just breathe in over three years. Until she woke up in Wakanda. Where there was nothing holding her back or anything on the horizon.

Like T'Challa had told her, there was a small cottage nestled deep in one of the valleys outside the city. The valley they lived in provided a lot and T'Challa was happy to provide whatever else it was that they needed. Like the countryside home big enough for both her and Bucky to share. There were a few stray goats, a little garden that needed upkeep, and the children from the Amari village had visited multiple times just to check in on the White Wolf and his friend.

The two relatives relied on a routine, which they established within the first day at the cottage. Not that there was much to be doing around the cottage except continuing to heal and learning to live again. Still a routine, no matter how menial it was, grounded both of them.

Each morning, the sun woke Bucky up first. The morning light spilled over the mountains as it rose to bathe everything in its warmth. He took the quiet moment to himself to run through what he knew. Where he was, who he was with, what he was doing. Remind himself that he was in control. No one else. It was a habit that had been ingrained into him once he left Hydra. Once he started to regain himself back again.

Q would start to wake up when she heard Bucky moving through the kitchen area. Being a light sleeper didn't have anything to do with it; anyone would wake up from hearing Bucky accidentally bang a couple pans together or knock into the counter with something. All in an effort of learning how to live with one arm. Though it took two days for her to remember that it was Bucky, and not someone from Hydra or somewhere else. They were safe. No one had figured out where they were.

Most of the citizens of Wakanda didn't even know Bucky and Q were still in the country. There wasn't a national announcement or anything like that. Part of the reason they were staying in the secluded countryside was so that not everyone found out. There was no need for word to get around that the king had decided to harbor an international, American fugitive and his CIA niece because he felt sorry for them. The only ones who knew were T'Challa, Shuri, some of the King's Guard, and the children from the Amari village who were growing on both of them rather quickly.

Thankfully, Bucky didn't mind doing most of the cooking. Though it became sort of a team effort between the two what with Bucky learning how to do everything one-handed. Even though Shuri had created a new prosthetic for him, he refused to take it. For as long as he could remember, the metal arm symbolized nothing but the tragedy he went through, what he did in the name of Hydra, and what he had become. The irony of it was, he remembered a time where he refused to use the prosthetic until that small act of rebellion was forced out of him. If he was going to heal from it all, he couldn't have any lingering reminders - no matter where the arm was coming from. He wasn't fighting anymore. He was just trying to live.

So Q helped where she could: cracking eggs or terribly chopping fruit or whatever else prep-wise. Food prep aside, she quite literally lent a hand with whatever he needed from her as he got used to living with one arm. Whether it be getting dressed, making his bed, hanging up laundry or cleaning up after the day. They made a good team.

Their days were filled with light farm work. As much as Q wanted to complain about the manual labor she was doing or the lack of foods she liked, she knew she shouldn't. T'Challa was nice enough to let them stay, she could do a few chores here and there. She was an adult after all. Plus, she had found a soft spot for one of the baby goats that she affectionately named Chad.