The Mimic - One-Shots

T'Challa

Overview: During T'Challa's funeral, y/n reflects on her final evening with the King. (Wakanda Forever spoilers ahead!)

Word count: 5,055

Warnings: Grief, loss, bittersweetness

*****

Y/n had known.

She had known for a long while that T'Challa was sick. She had been one of the few people entrusted with that information. Yet, when she was informed of his passing, it still ripped all the air from her lungs.

*****

"Alright! Can anyone guess how you can block a move like that?"

Y/n and Yelena were running one of their many self-defense classes. Thirty children stood in front of them, all in perfect rows with enough space to perform any kicks or punches. It was quite a run-down studio, but it was clear that the pair had put a lot of love into it. From the jigsaw mats on the floor to the foam padding on any pillars that the kids could run into - it almost felt like the gym in the compound.

Many children shot their hands up to answer y/n's question, all watching with pure interest as the pair demonstrated the move once again. The move was only a backfist and a reverse punch - extremely basic in terms of fighting, but they were teaching a class of under-tens.

Y/n had a bright smile on her face, giving it a few more moments before she decided to pick one of the quieter kids. However, just before y/n could point to the little girl, the squeaking sound of the doors at the back of the studio could be heard. Usually something like this wouldn't distract y/n, it was normally just a parent dropping off a forgotten water bottle, but not today.

Today it was Queen Ramonda and the Dora Milaje.

Y/n didn't need to make eye contact, she didn't even need to look directly at them to know what had happened. She had been waiting for this day for a while, but she had never been expecting it to come. It felt comparable to the blade Thanos had sunk right through her torso. That silence, that shock, the knowing that this couldn't be patched up with a simple bandaid. But, y/n kept her bubbly smile.

She had to. She had to keep up her character for the kids. Breaking down in front of them wasn't right, nor was it fair. They were children. They didn't need to be exposed to the grim reality of life just yet - hell, if y/n had the power, she'd make sure they'd never be exposed to it.

Yelena glanced between y/n and their unexpected visitors for a split second, processing the looks on their faces. She could read y/n like a book, even with that bubbly smile she could tell something was wrong. However, they were teaching a class of thirty children, and they still had twenty minutes left of the session. So, she had to snap back into 'teacher mode'.

The blonde let out an excited gasp as she nodded toward the back of the room, smiling gratefully as the Dora Milaje played along. She had no idea that they had just lost their king, she was just trying to find a good diversion. "Look who's here!" Yelena exclaimed, ushering them to the front of the room.

Y/n carefully slipped away from the spotlight, her eyes completely fixed on Ramonda. She still looked so graceful, but y/n could spot those eyes anywhere. Lost, almost. It was heartbreaking to see. Careful hands guided Ramonda out of the studio, neither of them uttering a word just yet. Both hoping they could prolong his life if the words never left their mouths.