━◦○◦Shot: IKEA◦○◦━

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episode one-shot - Finally at IKEA

Over a month in Delacroix and Shamara felt as though she'd lived forever in her grey-trimmed house in the Spanish Moss, overlooking the water. After so many years of turmoil, the peace she had with her husband felt stark. Sarah and Sam down the street and the other neighbors who now saw past her Arab nose had made Louisana home. It was like peace had sprung from nowhere yet had always been there. Even though her years of living in a survival mentality had made it difficult to truly settle. Her mind was . . . troubled.

Shamara leaned back on the porch steps, lacing her shoes, "Bucky? You ready to head out?"

"Yeah."

Hesitance. Shamara looked back towards the door, barely able to see Bucky in the foyer. He fussed with his jacket and stared in the mirror.

Shamara tried to support Bucky's discomfort with his metal arm outside of their town. After all, he was so comfortable there, she felt he deserved the guard in other places. But now, summer was in full strength. So, she had convinced him to only wear one of his gloves and his lightest jacket. Just looking at him made her feel hot enough to throw up, even if her body temperature was now manageable.

"You look great, babe," Shamara beckoned him.

He faced her, pointing to his left sleeve. It creased in odd places. Though Shuri's design was perfect, his arm was still a prosthetic.

"I don't like the stares," Bucky walked over.

"I know. I don't either. But it'll get easier with time," Shamara took his hand. "You have nothing to hide or be ashamed of."

He breathed in heavily, "If it looked like a prosthetic, I'd be more comfortable."

"But your arm is pretty. Well, arms."

"Always the charmer, Mrs. Barnes," Bucky cracked a smile.

"I try," Shamara squeezed his fingers and stood. "Come on."

They walked down to her car, which Steve and Angie had driven down a couple of weeks ago. Things were a little less awkward with Bucky's best friend, but not normal. Shamara struggled to know how to talk to Steve, and Bucky mostly reminisced with him. Having Angie there helped, despite her not-so-subtle comments about "grandchildren."

"Angie, I'm your age," Bucky had rolled his eyes. "You'd be more like an auntie."

"No way, kiddo. I told you. You don't get to consider yourself my age until you have back trouble and at least one bone replacement -. Doesn't count!" She'd raised a finger when he lifted his left hand.

They started driving towards New Orleans while Bucky texted Sarah about things she might need. He still hadn't gotten his driver's license, though they had it scheduled at last. Nearly an hour of bantering about their list later, they reached the city. Shamara pulled into the shopping circle, tightening her grip on the steering wheel without thinking. Crowded areas still made her nervous when she was in civilian clothes and attitude. As if Israel would know the moment she let her guard down. And noises had become harder to deal with as she lived in such a quiet area.

"It's okay," Bucky reached for her hand. "You are dead to them."

"But I'm not dead," Shamara parked. "The story can only hold them back for so long."

"They won't look in Louisana. Even if they did, we would have a warning because what the heck are those kinds of people doing here."

"I have to keep . . . stay alert," she unbuckled and opened her door.

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