001 . | ❛ anna karenina . ❜
The women of the world, Katia often mused, fell into two distinct categories. There was everyone else, those who possessed ordinary human feelings and lived ordinary lives. And then there was herself. She alone lacked weakness, existing on a plane above humanity. This thought process had become a constant refrain during her S.H.I.E.L.D. training—a rigorous program designed to forge agents capable of protecting a world teeming with threats. Her degree in literature seemed a distant memory now, a quaint relic of a former life. The initial stages were brutal; her fragile physique was ill-suited to the demands of combat. But with each hit taken, each blow endured, she adapted, growing stronger, pushing through eight hours of relentless training each day. A year later, she emerged certified, a fully-fledged Agent.
Now, on her first mission, she found herself hurtling towards Wakanda aboard a private jet. The request had come directly from King T’Challa, and the file contained little beyond that. She’d met him once, five years prior, and had been captivated by his quiet dignity, the way he carried himself. Yet, she’d been a fleeting acquaintance, a forgotten face in a sea of faces. Katia, herself, was eminently forgettable. They’d exchanged only a handful of words, a brief conversation lost to the currents of time.
As the plane touched down, she was greeted by Wakandan officials who escorted her to the palace. She chuckled softly, observing the changes wrought by five years. The city had blossomed, its skyline transformed.
Before the building she taught at last time, she was guided to the same room that she used last. Katia let her fingers roam the empty tables and view outside the enormous glass window that could view the entire city.
“It seems you enjoy the familiarity,” a voice observed, drawing her attention. She wasn't angry at the interruption, but she was surprised by the man who interrupted it. She turned with a smile, a warmth blooming in her chest as she saw him again.
“King T’Challa,” she greeted, extending a hand. “It’s good to see you.”
He returned the gesture, their palms meeting in a firm clasp. “I can say the same, Ms.—” He hesitated, then chuckled, “Katia.”
“You remembered.” She chuckled as he lead them through the rest of the building. Though every hallway, she idolized every hallway and took in the grandness and elegance of the place.
“How could I forget someone who despises being addressed by her last name?” He smiled at her as she curved her lips into a smile.
“It’s not that I dislike my last name,” she clarified. “It just makes me feel…old. Americans, generally, don’t appreciate feeling old.”
They continued their journey, exchanging pleasantries, noticing the subtle changes in Katia's appearance. Her hair was now cropped short, tipped with streaks of silver highlights. She was no longer a professor, but a soldier. The shift seemed to baffle T’Challa, who remembered her passion for literature, her vibrant discussions about the power of words.
“You surprise me, Katia,” he admitted, pausing before a vast glass window overlooking a manicured garden. “I truly can’t reconcile the woman who spoke so eloquently about literature with the agent I see before me.”
She stepped forward, her hands resting on the cool railing, admiring the view. The breeze stirred her hair, sending wisps across her face. It had taken her a long time to find her footing, to understand why she had abandoned academia for a life of danger. But if she could prevent even one person from suffering, if she could shield even one soul from harm, she reasoned, wasn't that a life worth living?
“I wanted to help,” she explained, her voice soft. “Teaching is a noble profession, certainly. But there were days when I looked around and wondered what *I* could do. I heard about the events in Lagos and I'm deeply sorry."
A shadow crossed T’Challa’s face, and Katia’s heart ached. He quickly masked it with a smile. “Thank you.”
“I was there less than a year ago, and I was helpless. The Avengers tearing themselves apart, then rebuilding. Perhaps it wasn’t my place, but if I could prevent even one person—or a million—from enduring the same fate, shouldn’t I? That’s what heroes are built on, isn’t it?”
He nodded, his gaze steady. “I admire your courage, Katia. I shouldn’t conceal the real reason you’re here.”
“Yes, with all due respect. I was certainly surprised that you had specifically asked for me. I’m pretty sure that there are other agents out there that are far better and been in this business longer than I have. Like Natasha or Clint.”
T’Challa stopped before a door, turning to face Katia. “Those agents are skilled, yes, but you are uniquely suited for what I’m about to ask.”
Katia raised an eyebrow, her confusion evident. T’Challa pushed the door open, revealing a library that stretched as far as the eye could see—a cathedral of books, its shelves crammed with volumes of every size and binding.
She walked around in circles at the thousands, if not, millions of books that lined up the shelves.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said, a playful tone creeping into her voice. “Am I to be a librarian?”
T’Challa chuckled softly. “Not in the slightest.”
“This mission is fairly simple, in a way. Are you aware of James Buchanan Barnes?”
She nodded. She’d heard stories about Bucky from Steve Rogers, tales of loyalty and sacrifice.
“I promised Captain Rogers I’d keep him safe here in Wakanda,” T’Challa explained. “He’s in cryogenic stasis, while our team searches for a cure to his conditioning. They’ve developed a treatment to keep him tethered to this world. With Captain Rogers’ permission, they believe you’re the best suited to administer it.”
“The task?” Katia asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
“To simply read to him.”
“You want me to *read* to him?” Katia asked as if in disbelief, thinking that she must've heard him wrong. That SHIELD wouldn't have sent her to another continent to read to Bucky.
“Reading stimulates the brain, exposing patients to different stimuli that could help unlock those uncommon pathways.”
Katia sighed, knowing T’Challa was granting her a change from her routine. And that what he was asking of her seemed to let down her hopes in helping the world.
“I would start with *The Great Gatsby*,” she said, a smile playing on her lips. “It’s a book laced with such detail and conflict that you’d transcribe it rather beautifully.”