Command • T'Challa

Running Out

T'Challa didn't know what had come over the young woman who was following him to the plane. She was so unique, so different, even from the others.

The fact that she was beautiful had come to his attention just a little bit.

Maybe a lot, but that was almost an afterfact in the void that his father's death had just created. T'Challa had to go back to Wakanda, if only for a day, to address his people.
He never called them subjects, because, while he was their leader by birthright, they were subject, not to him, but to decide what was best for themselves. King T'Chaka had been more of a president than a king. People, T'Challa believed, must be treated with respect and honor.
He was just having a little trouble with the respect part when it came to Miss Grace Alburn.

She hadn't said a single word to him since he told her she was to come with him to find Barnes. Not one word, and barely looked him in the eyes. She just walked a few steps behind him, her black bag slung over her shoulder, walking in long, stiff strides.

"I will not have you put into jail, Miss Alburn, as long as you comply with my orders." he said, hoping to get some response out of her after all this silence.

"Oh, I'm so grateful." Grace said, sarcasm dripping inot her tone. "What did I do to deserve such mercy from your highness?" she mock-asked. T'Challa winced at her words. He should've known that she would respond in such a way. He was still getting used to her sarcasm-people never had the nerve to talk that way in his culture, and so he assumed that it was an American way to passive aggressively express rage.

Rage indeed. He knew she was indignant, and he wanted back the girl he'd seen last night, the diplomatically gracious young woman he'd been spellbound by only 24 hours earlier.
So much had changed since then. Now he had lost his father, had the throne fall to his shoulders, and now she was a tool-weapon and a political prisoner to a country she'd never even been to before.

Perhaps, T'Challah thought, as theyou kept walking through the airport hall, that her demeanor would change, maybe even lighten a little, once she saw how breathtakingly beautiful Wakanda was.

Just like her.

He put his thoughts away as his senses suddenly told him that danger was nearby. He felt his chest for the folded-up suit he kept compressed there at all times, hidden beneath his shirt, ready ton be put on at all times.
But by then, it was too late. He heard Grace cursing, then heard a blow, then felt something hard connect with the back of his head.

And from there, he knew nothing at all.

...........

He awoke to the feeling of severe pain radiating from the back of his head, and the feeling of cold stone pressed against the left side of his face and his body. He opened his eyes slowly, greeted by the blurry image of Grace laying on a stone bench on the opposite side of the room. Her eyes were closed. She didn't look peaceful. even in sleep she seemed tense and wound up. He sat  up slowly, his body stiff, his head still throbbing. What had happened?

"HYDRA happened." Grace said, startling him.
"Have you been watching me whIle I was out, you creep?" she asked, sitting up, swinging her legs over to face him.
"No." he said, simply. Grace we had been hoping for some sort of snappy comeback, but suspected that even princes weren't on top of their wits after waking up from a blow to their head, you onow, the thing that the crown is supposed to go on? Yeah, that.

"How do you know?" T'Challa asked her.

"Because they want to bait our friends to come get us-to keep us from finding Barnes." she said, almost sounding unconcerned, like she didn't care about any of it.