Shuri sat, curled up like a cat on a lab stool knees to her chest, chin resting on her knee, studying the man below the frosty glass canopy. His body was covered in a light frost, tubes attached at his one arm to feed him, computer cables attached to the mechanical stump on his left. The swirling purple and gold vibranium tribal art of the walls reflected off the cryochamber and gave the man within a deathly pallor although he was not in danger of dying.

T'Challa approached cat-like to his sister, hands clasped reverently behind his back. Steve Rogers had departed several days ago, entrusting the mental care of his best friend to the brilliant Wakanda princess. He stood next to her as she pondered the former Winter Soldier.

"I do no need my tech to see he is so wounded." Shuri said quietly with a touch of sadness. A frown disturbed her pristine forehead.

"This is true." T'Challa agreed solemnly.

"Why." She whispered, the frown becoming a crackle of angry lightening in her ebony eyes.

T'Challa looked at her sister questioningly.

She did not return the gaze but kept hers fixed on the glass dome. "The world, brother. The world so full of hate. This man's pain started so long ago. It has only compounded through time. Why is the world so?"

The king felt the kindling of anger as well because his precious sister was having her faith in humanity shaken again after the death of their father. Shuri was far from naïve however. She had exposure to the outside world as their father made sure they read and studied history, current events and spoke to many worldly scholars. That education and exposure didn't help to cool his temper. He felt like a father seeing their child's innocence being taken away before their time. Fighting the urge to shield her from the truth, he replied, "Shuri, the world is just so large, we cannot throw our arms around all of it. I do not know why humans treat each other so badly, but you, sister, you have a power to bring good. Use that power to turn back the darkness."

Finally, she looked at him and T'Challa saw a swirl of emotions; disgust, anger but most of all hope. "I will, brother."

T'Challa smiled and turned away from his genius sister to leave her with the frozen Bucky Barnes.

"You are a mess, Sargent Barnes." Shuri chirped at the unmoving Bucky, a bowl of breakfast in her hand, still in her morning clothes. She pulled up a chair to a workstation and with her empty hand tapped out commands on the keyboard.

The screen doled out a flurry of information about her patient as she scanned it quickly with expert eyes. "My dear man… let's increase your iron and manganese. I think some more fluids would help as well." Keys clicked and made it so.

Rising from the chair, she chewed her food, staring contemplatively once again through the glass at him asleep.

Okoye, examining one of her knives, teased her gently of having a crush. "I think you like this colonizer."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm not being so. You stare at him like a love-sick puppy. Even your brother doesn't look at Nakia like that!" Okoye laughed re-sheathing the blade.

Setting her jaw, Shuri marched over to Okoye leaning casually on a lab table, arms folded over her chest, and grabbed her wrist. The Dora Milaje was surprised by the forwardness of the princess but allowed herself to be led to the Bucky's side.

"I am … I am drawn to his suffering. His pain. Look at him. He is like a great tragedy even in cryosleep!" Shuri explained vehemently.

Okoye peered through the frigid glass for the first time at the sleeping amputee. His face was not at peace or rest, like one with a normal heart. There was a tension, a terror pinched in his closed eyes and set in his jaw. Suddenly, she felt a keen compassion towards the fellow soldier and regretted teasing Shuri.

"Highness, I am sorry. You are correct. He wears his soul on his face." Okoye apologized.

"Yes, he does." she looked at the man on the table, voice softening but firm, "And I will fix him."

The memory faded away as Shuri spooned another mouthful and turned her eyes away from Bucky towards a stack of notebooks on the table. Steve had left them with the Wakandans in case there was a source of healing or information for them to use. The books were worn with the turning of pages countless times. Gazing at the stack, she could feel the melancholy pouring off them even without reading a word.

She set her bowl down and reached for the first one, a notebook with a photoshopped picture of Steve Rogers on it.

"I remember taking that from a kid." Barnes told her before he went under, after escaping Siberia and Tony Stark.

"You did? Why?"

"I was still in New York and… well, I just felt like I needed to write some stuff down."

"So, you stole it." She smiled at him mischievously not knowing the depth of his hurt.

Barnes blushed and looked away self-consciously, rubbing a hand through the scruff of his beard.

Shuri sensed his embarrassment, "I'm sorry. I have no right to ask."

"No. It's ok. I was not… I'm still not in my right mind." Barnes replied, looking at the notebook in her hands, "Those are all the Steve memories I have. Mostly of our childhood."

Shuri glanced down at the tattered cover.

"The one with the octopus is all my bad memories. I doubt you'd want to read those." Barnes continued, his voice dropping.

She glanced at the other books on the table. "I think it is important to gather all the data available to help you."

Bucky looked up at her like a man cursed, "Then do yourself a favor. Don't read them alone."

Shuri didn't take his advice.

A/N- I reference my own story, "The Notebook" which was written pre-CA:CW but pretty close in cannon to the movie. I'll do my best to stay within cannon of the MCU. 8belles