THE DEATH SEASON ▹ final avengers ✓

36 | the end ( for good )

The grief seemed endless, and she never knew where to put any of the weight she carried: the guilt, the visions, the hurt. There were so many people who didn't understand, and even more people who thought they did understand but really didn't. T'Challa was perfect, though; he fielded every question from stray fans or reporters, and he answered every question of theirs instead. He never told them to stop crying or stop being so sensitive. He simply listened and offered advice when asked.

Despite their mother's joking promise, it didn't take T'Challa at least three years for him to move on. He didn't move on at all, he can't. There will never be another Mrs. Udaku.

There's a lot to carry. But they don't have to carry it alone.

"So, what does this stand for again?" Morgan sits on her knees, handing the older girl another small screw without her even needing to ask.

"Local Integrated Systems Architecture."

Kiwi squints and makes a face, signing, "That doesn't even mean anything."

"Ah, but it stands for something. And that's what it's about." Maria teasingly waves them away, putting on her best New Yorker accent, "Now, move outta my way, punks, I'm workin' here!"

Morgan snorts and brushes her hair from her face, nimble fingers dashing away the thick brown strands that always seem to get into her eyes.

Maria and Morgan are still as thick as thieves. They're a riot act, absolute chaos whenever they're in a room together. There are far too many safety hazards to ever really leave them without some kind of supervision, usually Kiwi because apparently Tony can't be trusted.

A small black metal disk sits in the palm of Maria's hand, and her eyes narrow when she carefully twists the small silver screw into place.

"I'm totally going to be the next Tony Stark..."

Kiwi squints a singular eye, "Except for the facial hair."

"Thank God!" Now braiding her hair down her back, Morgan giggles, "'Cause you would not look good sporting a goatee."

Little Kiwi chokes on a laugh as he continues typing on his holophone. He and Auntie Shuri are currently in the developmental stage of how to redecorate the lab; it's all very hush—hush.

"Yeah, yeah, everybody's gotta be a comic." Maria grumbles under her breath, shoulders suddenly tight and tense, "Look, if you're both in here to make jokes, then you know where the door is."

Morgan glances slowly at Kiwi who is nearly curling in on himself at her outburst.

"Mar..." Her big soulful eyes somehow manage to turn even softer, "We didn't mean anything by it, okay? Just relax."

"I am relaxed!" Maria huffs before rolling her eyes and sighing, "I'm sorry, I just... I need to get this done on my own. I can't stop, not when I'm this close."

"No one wants to force you into this..." Kiwi's hands move slowly, carefully, in his perfect gentle love that he gets from their baba, "You don't have to do this."

"Yeah. I do." She purses her lips, focusing back on the small disk in her hand, "I'm really close now, just one... more... thing—,"

And when the small device flickers with life, the device hums and beeps and then a pale blue shoots out in beams towards the ceiling. The beams begin to rearrange and take shape and then all of the sudden there was an image projecting before them. Then, within this image is an all too familiar face.

"Whoa..." Morgan slips to her feet, breathless and wide-eyed, "Oh my, God..."

Kwezi nearly falls off the table, stumbling back to gaze at the blue glowing hologram.