"Welcome to my home once again, children," T'Challa greeted your trio readily, an extended hand out to Brooklyn as she stepped from the Stark jet doorway. She seemed hesitant, but when she realized that her actions could be misconstrued as disrespectful to the king, she took his offer with a smile. "Don't be intimidated by protocol, Brooklyn," he offered. "Your mother never took much consideration of it and she's always welcome here. In fact, she's helped me to make many changes in how we do things now, under my leadership. She has become my family, my dear, as have you."

"Yeah, B, don't you remember staying here when we were little?" Anthony chuckled, hopping down onto the ground behind her. "When Mom and Dad were split up?  The first time?" he snickered sarcastically.

"No?"

"You were quite young," T'Challa offered, "so it's not a surprise that you might not recall that time." As he stood to watch the three gather their suitcases and waited for you, Steve and Bucky to emerge, a wide grin curled at his lips and into a boisterous laugh at a treasured memory. "You three used to call me Chalala because you couldn't yet pronounce my name properly. I loved that so."

"We did not!" Grant gasped, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Very much."

"Oh, that's so embarrassing."

T'Challa's smile only grew in seeing what was happening, and his playful side decided to wake, "do you recall setting Mr. Fluffagus ablaze in the middle of the night? Being woken to a downpour in my room certainly made for a long night. I've watched the security footage of that event several times over the years when I am in need of lifting my mood."

"Okay, I was wrong," Grant groaned, his face flushing red, "that's embarrassing. I'm just gonna..." he faded out, pointing towards the mansion and hurrying towards it before anyone could stop him. Before there was a chance for any other indiscretions to be brought forward, Brooklyn and Anthony fell in line behind him quickly and the three were out of sight.

As the kids made their way, Steve took your hand and helped you from the plane, releasing you to hurry to your friend for the hug that you had been waiting for over the long flight in. T'Challa never disappointed, readily wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you to him, spinning you around as he welcomed you with a laugh. "There's my beautiful one," he smiled widely, "I've missed you, my dear."

"I've missed you too," you replied just as eagerly, steadying yourself with a grip of his arms when he set you down carefully. Steve and Bucky moved behind you and stood quietly, each of them shaking T'Challa's hand in their own welcomes, but you kept your eyes on your friend until he returned his attention back to you. "Thank you for this. I wasn't sure what else to do, and I really don't have much for options. Dad's tried everything that he has to get this programming out of me, and Nick's no help because it turns out that the people who put this crap in here were on the wrong side of SHIELD at the time-"

"(Y/N), we will not stop until we find a way," he interrupted readily. "However, I do find it distressing that you would think that you had to ask, and that you have to thank me. There's no question here as to what I would do to help you. You should know that very well by now."

"Right," you sighed, mustering a small smile, "I do. Of course. I would do the same for you."

The two of you stood steady, looking at each other as if you were continuing to speak, but it was silent around you. Steve and Bucky watched, confused as to whether or not they were welcome to be witnessing your interaction and starting to feel a bit uncomfortable by it. When the two of you moved in for another hug, Steve finally broke the moment, clearing his throat suggestively to separate you.

"So, Chalala, huh? Why haven't I heard that one before?"

"Sounds like a sneeze," Bucky snickered.

"Hmm," T'Challa groaned, taking your hand to slide over his arm, "that's why. Come, darling, let's get you settled in." He shot the two men a warning glance over his shoulder as he led you towards the house in front of them, shaking his head in amusement when he heard them grumbling to each other as they followed. "I do not know how you have done so well with those two over the years, (Y/N). They seem rather mischievous and troublesome from the times that I have seen them together."

"Eh, they're not so bad," you smiled, "it's all in the training."

"Training? What kind of training?"

"When you're married someday, you'll understand." You gave his arm a gentle squeeze, pulling yourself closer to him as you continued on, leaning against him slightly, much to his contentment. "Actually, I think that I'm ready to get started right away. Can we just go to your lab?"

"Don't you think it's best to prepare with rest first? You've had a lengthy trip to get here."

"T'Challa, I'm ready," you answered sternly, bringing a subtle pause in his step.

"Yes, of course," he answered apologetically, "it's your decision. I'll have someone bring your belongings to your room." As the two of you entered the building and turned towards the lab that you would work in, Steve hurried up to meet T'Challa and fall into step alongside him with a nudge of his shoulder and a low whisper in the hopes that you wouldn't hear him.

"That's the training, right there, big guy. Next, you get fitted for your collar."

~~~

The first day at T'Challa's home was spent in the lab, his staff running you through test after test of your physical ability, your mental state, running bloodwork and asking questions that would divulge information that even Steve didn't know about you. Simulations and charts coloring computer screens from every direction brightened the room around you, some of them holding information that you could understand, others feeling completely foreign. Every so often, T'Challa would walk through the vast room, his hands clasped behind his back and his posture full of authority, asking his people questions in regards to what they had found and what they were planning to do with you; when something didn't sit well with him, he stopped them abruptly and demanded that they begin again, leaving no chance that anything they would do could cause you harm.

Bucky wasn't needed until it was time to test you, but he insisted on being at your side as they ran their tests and formulated their plans, his brain soaking in every shred of detail that they would allow him to know. When they finally felt ready to do their first run of treatment to try to de-program your training, he stayed close; they advised him to not touch you for his own safety, but in true Barnes fashion, he disregarded them and held your hand until it was done.

"How do you feel?" he asked eagerly, sighing in relief when your eyes opened again. "You still with us?"

"Yeah, I'm good, I think..."

"Are you prepared to test it?" T'Challa approached quickly, but when Bucky stood to meet him he stopped, seeing your friend turning protective and challenging him to take another step closer.

"Don't push her," Bucky snapped. "I'm not exactly eager to do this either."

"Of course," T'Challa responded, his hands up in deference, "I didn't mean for it to come across that way, my apologies."

Bucky turned to you once again, moving to position himself between you and T'Challa so that you had nowhere else to look but at him; he wanted your undivided attention, but he also wanted to see that he was getting an honest answer from you, and no one else. "(Y/N), I'll follow your lead, you know that. If you're not ready-"

"I am."

"Are you sure?" he continued. "Are we sure that we're gonna be able to pull you out of it if this didn't work?"

"Anthony said he could do it. As long as you can restrain me so that I don't hurt him. I need you to promise me that you won't let him near me until you're sure that it's safe, Buck."

"You know that I won't." He turned back to face T'Challa again, and despite the growing nerves that he could feel building in his stomach, he took a deep breath to steel them and nodded, watching as your friend left to find Steve and your son so that he could begin. His mind kept replaying the last time that he had used his other persona against you, and it gave him chills at the memory of your eyes as they bored through him. He wasn't eager to see that again, but it had to be done; he didn't want to lose you as his teammate, certainly, but more than that, he just wanted you to be only you and not the weapon that reminded him so much of himself.

~~~

T'Challa quickly found Steve in the gym, which came to no surprise to the king; it was how Steve worked through his own stress and anxieties, and even as he had stepped only one foot through the door, he could feel the heaviness emanating from the man. He didn't have to make his presence known, standing steady when Steve almost immediately stopped and began to unwrap his hands without so much as looking in his direction.

"Is she ready?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he sighed, his posture dropping and his shoulders hunched, "how about Buck?"

"He appears to be ready to do whatever she chooses. She's sent me to retrieve Anthony as well."

"Right, let's go then." Steve tossed his wraps aside on a nearby bench and joined T'Challa at the door, holding his hand out for him to lead the way. There was an unspoken moment between the two as they simply nodded to each other in understanding, realizing that neither of them were ready for this, and it was likely that no one was despite their insistence that they were. "None of the kids have seen her fight," Steve offered quietly as they walked, "so I'm a little concerned with Ant being a part of this."

"Is there no other way?"

"He's able to pull her back. The only other way is...physically aggressive."

"I see."

"He's a tough kid," Steve relented, more to reassure himself than his cohort, "and if he says that he can do it..." he stopped, gasping aloud at the unexpected sight before him when they had turned the corner to enter the living room. "Uh, Ant?"

"Dad!" the boy yelped and jumped up from the couch, releasing his embrace around a girl who Steve had never seen before, and apparently one who T'Challa recognized very clearly. "Dad, I can explain!"

"Oh, I'm sure you can," he answered quietly, clearly in shock and staring blankly at his son, who was trying desperately to wipe the girl's lipstick from his own mouth.

"You, go," T'Challa barked loudly at the young lady, pointing angrily toward the door with a fire building in his eyes. "We will discuss this later."

"Uncle T'Challa, I'm sorry...I didn't mean..." Anthony panted out, trying to catch his breath out of his pure fear. "Please, don't punish her...it was me..."

"It certainly looked as if she were a willing participant," T'Challa argued back, "so no, I will not honor that request."

Steve's emotions were shifting so quickly that he was almost getting lightheaded from the spin, finding himself completely unprepared for something that he should have known was going to happen sooner than later. He cursed himself for being so naïve, trying to shake away the anger brewing so that he could get back to focusing on why they were there in the first place, but the image of his son wrapped around this girl that he had never met kept flashing through his mind.

"Ant, we've barely been here a full day," Steve began uncertainly, "not that it matters...but...slow down." He groaned at his own ineptitude and poor choice of words, but he was feeling completely lost, finally looking to T'Challa to save him.

"We need to go," T'Challa readily took over, "your mother awaits and you have a responsibility to uphold, young man." He stood firm at the door and held it open, watching each step that Anthony took towards them, glaring down at the boy as he passed by. Steve stepped through the door next, but now T'Challa's expression softened into an amused grin, feeling pity for the man with a gentle slap on his shoulder. "Slow down? That's the best that you could do?"

"Shut up," Steve grumbled, "this is new for me to deal with, okay?"

"Are you sure? He looked fairly skilled."

"Oh my god, please stop."

"All that I can advise to help you, Steve, is that you work on your authority. With three children facing the struggle of hormonal urges, you have battles ahead that you have never faced before."

"Thanks, man," Steve answered, his tone covering the wave of anxious nausea filling his throat, "but that's not actually helping."