[oom] conversations with dead people

 The thing is, by the time she's tired enough to go back to sleep, she knows she needs longer than she's got back in Wakanda. It's probably close to when Bucky will start stirring, honestly, so if she wants a good night's sleep, she should probably just stay here. Fortunately, she knows Bucky has a room here. And she knows he asked Bar to give her a key if she ever needed it, so a few minutes later she's climbed the stairs into the dormitories, looking around until she finds the room that goes with the key and lets herself inside.

It's neat and a little spartan, not unlike the hut by the lake. She looks around a little, seeing small signs of Bucky everywhere. It makes her smile, right up until she turns and comes face to face with a pin-up recruitment poster featuring one Zinda Blake in the same tiny skirt and black uniform Sharon recalls seeing her wear downstairs.

"'To Bucky'," she reads aloud, her eyes narrowing and her voice grim. "'Let's go dancing, kisses, Zinda.' That's perfect."

She reaches to lift the poster off the wall and sets it facedown on top of the dresser instead, eyes flashing.

A few moments later, once she's convinced herself there's no other hint of Lady Blackhawk in the room, she turns off the lights and climbs into Bucky's bed, which smells very faintly like him but mostly like clean sheets.

And she sleeps.

And she dreams.

* * * * * * *

The room she finds herself in is familiar, somehow: an office with wide plate glass windows and a large desk covered in papers. Sharon goes around it to sift through the items, then looks at the framed photos which sit in pride of place. There's one of her, as a little girl. Her parents. 

And one of Steve Rogers before he took the serum.

"Wait," she gasps, and looks up. "I'm – "