"Buck, could you hand me those glasses?" Steve said absently as he fetched one of Clint's root beer bottles from the kitchen fridge. When he'd woken up in the future, so many people had tried to introduce him to the 'big' changes like smartphones or modern movies. But he'd found that it was the smaller things that really threw him off balance. And the taste of soda was one of those that he had the privilege to introduce his oldest friend to.
Bucky, who was having a pretty good day, took one glass in each hand and brought them over. Steve turned to face him just as the metal plates all along his left arm appeared to ripple - from top to bottom they lifted and shifted. Bucky cursed and tried to grab for the second glass with his already full right hand, but too late; the glass slipped out of his metal hand and crashed to the floor, shattering into about ten different pieces.
"Shit," Bucky grumbled, setting the unharmed glass down by Steve before leaning down to pick up shards with the now-normal metal hand.
"What was that?" Steve questioned as he headed for the dustpan.
"Just… damn arm," Bucky replied unhelpfully, straightening with all but the smallest pieces of glass in his hand.
"Did you mean to do that?"
"Yes, Steve, I meant to chuck that glass on the floor."
"I wouldn't judge," Steve said wryly as he swept up the rest of the glass fragments. When he straightened, he cocked his head at Bucky. "Seriously, though."
Bucky sighed and shrugged as he went to get a new glass from the cupboard. This one, he handled with his right hand. "It's been a bit faulty lately - that was an emergency recalibration, it's been happening more often."
"The arm is broken?"
Bucky shrugged again. "They never really told me how it worked. But it's not normally like this."
"Does it hurt?"
"No," Bucky said, but there was just enough of a hesitation in his voice to tell Steve that he was probably lying.
Steve absentmindedly poured the root beer as he considered this. He had seen inside the arm, briefly, when he'd been reactivating it using Maggie's instructions. He supposed that Maggie wouldn't exactly have been gentle when she removed the tracking tech and deactivated the arm, and he was hardly a qualified metal-arm-repairman. No wonder the arm wasn't functioning properly.
"We should get your arm looked at," he said finally.
Bucky snorted. "Pretty sure the HYDRA techs aren't going to return your phone calls."
"That's not what I mean. I'll… I'll ask around the Tower, see if anyone's willing to take a look."
"Don't worry about it," he said quickly. "Come on, show me this root beer you've been raving about." He reached for his glass (again with the right hand).
"It's your arm, Buck. You could hurt yourself."
"It's really fine," Bucky pressed, and took a sip. His eyebrows rose. "It is different."
"I'm not letting this go," Steve said.
Bucky sighed. "I know. It's your worst trait."
Steve found Maggie and Tony downstairs in the Stark Industries R&D wing, overseeing the SI engineers for the day. Several of the younger engineers looked at the siblings in awe as they strode along the workbays full of machines under construction. Tony high-fived three engineers.
Steve waited outside the wing, his hands in his pockets as he considered how best to ask this favour.
It turned out that even the politest wording had no luck.
"I'm not doing it," Tony said instantly.
"Nor me," Maggie added quickly.
Steve could hardly blame them. But still, they were the Avengers' engineering and mechanical experts. He considered asking if he could hire one of the SI engineers to take a look at Bucky's arm, but it would be best if it was someone Bucky already knew, and who wouldn't have to be slammed with a stack of NDAs three feet high. He could see from the look on Maggie's face that she was just about to suggest it, but he waved a hand.
"Don't worry about it, I'll figure something out," he reassured them, then turned to go.
Bruce's eyebrows shot up his forehead when Steve asked him for his help.
"But I'm not an engineer," he said, holding his mug of tea to his chest like a shield.
"You're more of an engineer than I am," Steve countered. "And Bucky knows you - I think he trusts you even, which is a lot from him. Even if you can't fix it, I'd really appreciate it if you could take a look."
"Okay," Bruce sighed. He tilted his head back. "J.A.R.V.I.S., please ask Sergeant Barnes to meet me in the common room tomorrow - whatever time works best for him."
"Certainly, Doctor Banner."
Steve grinned. "Thank you, Bruce. That means a lot."
"Just don't get your hopes up. I'm a biochemist."
The next day, Maggie hummed along to a Pink Floyd album, working on a black uniform mounted on a mannequin in the middle of her workshop. She leaned back a little, considering the base structure of the uniform, then leaned in again to continue affixing an electrical underlay up the arms.
Natasha had been fighting in her old SHIELD uniform since the Triskelion fell, and she was in dire need of an upgrade. So far Maggie had built sturdier armoring into the sleek black uniform, designed a utility belt, and was now working on powering up the Widow's Bites Nat wore on her wrists. She'd figured that if she could build the Bites into her suit a little more, the electrical charge would pack more of a punch. When activated, narrow strips winding their way up Nat's arms and across her chest would glow an electric blue.
Tony was working on Clint's uniform at the moment in his own workshop.
Maggie glanced over her shoulder to the bench where her old, busted-up uniform lay. It had been repaired so many times now that it was no longer possible to hide the stitching and soldering seams. Her wings were displayed on pride of place on the worktable behind the uniform. Thankfully, her workshop felt more like her comfort space again, after she and Mai had worked on her returning to the space in small increments.
Maggie leaned over to her work trolley to select another electrical wire. Today she wore a loose shirt, jeans, and slippers, because Pepper had forbidden them from accessing the workshops without footwear.
"Ms Stark," came J.A.R.V.I.S.'s cool voice, "I am patching through a voice call request from Dr Banner."
"Go ahead." Maggie selected her precision tool and began soldering the wire into the cracked-open Widow's Bite.
"Hello?" Bruce sounded hesitant.
"You got me, what's up?" she called.
"Um. Steve asked me to have a look at Sergeant Barnes's arm, because he said there'd been some problems with it."
Maggie froze. She did not speak.
"And I'm examining it now, but… look, I'm really not an engineer, and I think I know what the problem is, but would you please come down to my lab and take a look for me? I don't want to make anything worse."
Maggie put down her precision tool and rubbed her knuckles into her forehead.
"Are you there?"
"Yeah," she said. "Fine. I'll be down in a second."
Bruce's laboratory was a floor below Maggie and Tony's workshops, and boasted a beautiful view of the common room. The walls were all glass, so Tony had affectionately nicknamed the lab the Goldfish Bowl, though it was technically one of the most secure rooms in the Tower thanks to all the safety mechanisms they'd installed for its regular occupant. The surfaces were all white and gleaming, with integrated holographic displays and top-of-the-line chemistry and physics machinery. Bruce had a whole workspace dedicated to his microscope, mass spectrometer, and the trays of samples he'd been analyzing.
Maggie marched in through the sliding doors of the lab without sparing a glance for the man sitting on a swivel chair beside the main worktable. Bruce stood beside the man, and looked up with a smile when Maggie entered. He wore casual clothes, just dark trousers and a blue shirt, instead of the lab coat he usually preferred.
But Maggie paused when she noticed the calming music resonating from the lab speakers, and when she sniffed she realized that Bruce had lit some kind of herbal candle. The space felt more like a spa than a lab.
She must have looked confused, because Bruce smiled again and explained: "We figured a calming environment was best. It's not easy, being worked on."
Her eyes did flicker to Barnes's face then. He certainly seemed pretty damn tense, his muscles bunched as he sat on the very edge of the chair, keeping perfectly still. His eyes darted, but never met hers. He had scruff on his jaw, and his shoulder-length hair was tied back to keep it out of the way.
Maggie tried to look less furious. She took a breath, nodded, and then strode over toward Bruce, keeping the worktable between herself and Barnes. He sat with his back to the workbench, in a short sleeved shirt that was pushed up to his left shoulder, just revealing angry scarring where the metal arm met flesh. Maggie hadn't seen that before, and the sight of the red, ropey scars jarred her.
The metal arm itself was laid out on the bench, which was littered with tools. The arm was in repair mode, with all the plates flared up like the flaps on an airplane wing, revealing the interior circuitry. The red star was broken open. Glimpsing the forest of wires and jointry inside the arm reminded Maggie of just how complicated the device was.
Bruce cleared his throat, glancing from Maggie, who stood a few feet back with her arms crossed, to Barnes, who was now looking down at his lap.
"So," he began. "From what I can tell the issue is sourced in the upper arm here - excuse me, Bucky," he added as he gestured to the open plates where the red star normally lay. Maggie leaned in a little, following Bruce's pointing finger. "But the issue is causing a communications error that travels down the circuitry system to the hand. So when the malfunction occurs there's either a small operations delay, or the failsafe programming detects the malfunction and executes an emergency recalibration. But, I can't tell exactly where the issue actually is. As best I can guess everything is where it needs to be, but…"
Maggie found herself absorbed by the technology laid out before her and Bruce's voice as he talked through his observations. The metal limb was a perfectly cybernetic construction, designed to respond to communications from the biological nerve endings and translate them into instant, life-like movement. It was reminiscent of what she'd done with her own leg, or with her wings. Except the design of the arm was beautiful in the way a gun was beautiful: it was not designed for the user's comfort. Maggie had to catch herself to keep from wincing when she saw the brutality of how the arm had been tethered to Barnes's shoulder.
As Bruce pointed to where he thought the issue was originating from, Maggie peered in through the metal plates until, without really thinking about it, she reached out to touch-
"Ask," Barnes said, his voice strained.
Maggie nearly flinched at the sound of his voice and she snatched her hand back, glancing up to his face. He was completely rigid in his seat, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his eyes fixed on her hand.
A second later, his eyes flicked up to hers. "Please."
And Maggie understood.
She took a step back, keeping her hands by her sides. Bruce glanced between them. "I'd like to fix the wiring myself, if that's alright with you," Maggie said, injecting calm into her voice. "I'm pretty sure I saw some fraying in the circuitry from where the tracker and killswitch were removed, which will have worn down the wires over time. I've got steady hands, and from what I can see it shouldn't be more than a five minute fix. I'll just need to graft in some replacement wiring and then do some touch-up soldering to make sure everything's in working order." She took a deep breath and forced herself to keep holding his gaze. "May I touch your arm?"
The tension bled out of Barnes as she spoke, and after a beat he nodded, just once.
Maggie nodded back, then reached behind her for a stool and rolled it up to the workbench. She took a moment to select a handful of tools and a circuitry box from Bruce's supplies, and then readied herself at Bruce's work station. She sat opposite Barnes, his arm between them on the worktable as he was half-tilted toward her. Bruce stood over her shoulder with his glasses pushed up his nose.
Maggie reached out, glancing once at Barnes's face, but he didn't seem like he was about to lose it. He just watched as her fingers brushed one of the thicker metal plates on his lower shoulder and manipulated it back, exposing the wiring further. Maggie cleared her throat and focused on the work.
As the spa music drifted in the air, Maggie began the fine work of clipping and reattaching wires in the opened-up arm. The metal plates were cool to the touch, and moved soundlessly on intricate hinges. Maggie's tools made soft metallic noises as she clipped and clamped and filed, her fingers nimble. Bruce watched, more of an observer than an engineer now.
After half a minute of awkward silence, Bruce opened his mouth. "You know, this isn't the first time I've tried to repair something I had no idea how to fix," he began. "When I was on the run, after the accident that created the - the other guy, I bought this wrist-mounted heart monitor to keep track of my heartbeat, so I could avoid any incidents."
Bruce continued his story in a conversational tone, telling Maggie and Barnes about the day his heart monitor had died on him. Bruce's voice was mellow, with a hint of humor as he described breaking into a garage to find tools to fix his monitor. Maggie let his voice wash over her as she worked, simultaneously learning about the complex interconnectivity of Barnes's arm as she fixed it. She carefully removed the frayed wires, keeping a mental catalogue of their placement. Her face was just a few inches away from the open plates now.
When Bruce finished his story, almost unconsciously Maggie smiled. "Reminds me of when I first built my wings," she said as she powered on her precision tool. "I found a rent-a-space workshop in Brazil, but I was surrounded by nosy engineering students so I had to be careful about it. I'd first got the idea to build them after I went paragliding, and from watching bats in the rainforest. I built the wings, but then the whole next year, whenever they needed repairs I would get a job at a small town mechanic shop, and fixed the wings when everyone else was out."
Bruce chuckled under his breath, which made Maggie smile until she caught Barnes's eye. Her smile dropped and she turned her whole attention back to the metal arm, grafting in wires barely thicker than a strand of hair.
Bruce went back to telling stories.
Finally, when the last wire was in place and Maggie could see how the entire meshing network would function, she set down her tools and rolled back. She wanted to bolt upright and walk out of the lab, feeling shivery from the proximity, but she forced herself to take two deep breaths and then meet Barnes's eyes. "How's that?"
Barnes flexed his hand and Maggie saw the circuitry beneath the plates move, like muscles and veins. Then Barnes reached up to the mechanism which closed the plates of his arm. They slid shut, and rippled once in a recalibration. Maggie watched the flow of the interconnecting plates with grudging admiration. The plates were designed so they could lie flat and impenetrable, or flare out for access to the inner circuitry, or more interestingly, move to lie layered over each other like scales or lamellar armor, allowing the limb to move with a fluid dexterity or to offer more power to a punch.
When it finished recalibrating Barnes flexed the arm in a few different directions, opening and closing his fist.
"Fine," he eventually said, and Maggie would normally be offended at someone calling her work just fine but she suspected that was the extent his vocabulary would allow him to reach. But then he looked up and met her eyes. "Thank you."
Maggie realized that she had reached her own speaking limit. She nodded stiffly, stood, and then walked for the doors.
As she headed down the corridor she heard Bruce say: "See? I told you she wouldn't-" just before the doors slid shut.
Maggie strode back to her workshop, and when she was safe inside it with the doors locked she sat down, leaned her forehead against a workbench, and just let herself breathe for a few minutes.
But the panic she had expected did not come. Her skin wasn't crawling, and she didn't feel disgusted with herself. She'd just fixed something. She'd helped a man with a malfunctioning arm. And even the knowledge that it was that arm that had killed her parents didn't make her regret helping him.
Some time later, when she had put the finishing touches on Natasha's new uniform, Maggie dusted metal shavings off her palms and then strode to the workbench with her own uniform. She picked it up, considering the dark grey and burgundy flight suit.
This was the uniform of a Wyvern who had been so absorbed with one mission that she almost let her life go by. The uniform of a Wyvern who couldn't tell the truth to her friends and family, let alone herself. Maggie ran her hands over the familiar seams and armored parts with affection, then folded the uniform carefully and set it aside.
She tilted her head back, eyes closed. She needed to make herself into a new Wyvern. A Wyvern who embraced honesty, however painful, and whose mission was to be a whole and happy person. Maggie herself might not be there yet, but she needed to make herself a symbol so she would never forget it.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., give me a fresh canvas." She opened her eyes to see a holographic design portal glowing before her. "And start collecting me some design templates for articulated armor. You know, like proper medieval shit."
"Armor, Ms Stark?" he questioned. "Might you be working on an Iron Man design?"
"No," she replied, her mind already bursting. "Something better."
After the encounter in Bruce's lab, Maggie began to see Barnes around the Tower more and more. She caught glimpses of him at the other ends of corridors, or leaving a room as she entered it, walking silently around the Tower. She caught him in the library twice - he always seemed to be reading, now she thought of it: fiction and nonfiction and everything in between. Once or twice she saw him in the common room with a holoscreen up, talking to J.A.R.V.I.S. The Manacles were a constant presence on his wrists.
She had no idea how to react to his presence now. She wasn't afraid of him, but she also had no idea what tone to take with him. She settled for leaving whatever room she found him in.
The Avengers went out on missions about once every two weeks now, either in combat or in intelligence gathering, and Maggie supported them from the operations room with the analysts. She felt herself more and more focused each time, able to think quickly and come up with creative solutions. When her fear could not be ignored, she used it to her advantage.
After another successful mission in Mauritania, Maggie ran upstairs to the common room to grab some beers for the analysts before the Avengers got back. She spotted Barnes on one of the upper levels by the bookcase, looking down at her. She ignored him, grabbed the beers, and then left again.
Bucky watched Ms Stark leave the common room, desperate to ask her if Steve had made it through the latest mission okay. But he figured she wouldn't be grabbing beers if Steve was bleeding out somewhere, so he swallowed the questions and let her leave in silence.
Things had been different since she'd fixed his arm. She had surprised him: he'd thought there was no way she would actually agree to come take a look, and then she had been patient with his desperate plea for her to ask before touching his arm. It had been hard, sitting patiently in the chair with Banner poking at his arm, and it had gotten even worse when his hackles had risen when Ms Stark had entered. He had been convinced that she despised him, and especially after she'd almost killed him, he had an instinct to defend himself whenever she entered the room.
But she'd fixed his arm. She hadn't said much, but he'd seen her smile, and share a story with her friend. She clearly hadn't intended him to be a part of that moment, but ever since then he'd seen her less as the grim, sharp-eyed woman who he rarely saw but who had the final say over his imprisonment. He'd seen a glimpse of… Margaret Stark.
He did his best to stay out of her way, as a courtesy. If he felt a defensive reaction toward her, he couldn't imagine what it was like for her. And he still didn't understand why she hadn't killed him, but it was clear that even if she didn't want him dead, she didn't want him around her.
Thor, Steve, and Banner tolerated his presence, but with the others he did his best to stay out of sight, and out of mind. He had glimpsed the archer, Barton, a few times, and Barton had looked consideringly back at him before leaving. He had yet to run into the Widow, but Steve talked about her enough for Bucky to know she was currently living in the Tower. Tony Stark made no effort to avoid Bucky, but ignored his presence.
The freedom to rove the levels of the Tower he had access to was more than enough to keep him occupied. He read up on the years he had missed, with J.A.R.V.I.S.'s assistance through the glowing holoscreens that popped up around the Tower. He used his many notebooks to write down his memories, putting them in order and fighting through the fog of lightning and confusion. He tried new foods, with Steve's guidance, though he were limited by what J.A.R.V.I.S. could order in in the weekly grocery delivery. He worked on new strategies and goals with Raynor, who seemed pleased by his progress. He still lost control occasionally, either as the Soldier slipped over his mind during a nightmare, or when a flashback or wave of panic got particularly bad and reduced him to a curled-up huddle on the ground. J.A.R.V.I.S. had had to activate the Manacles once when Bucky, as the Soldier, had tried to punch through his bedroom window. He hadn't even made a dent, and he'd woken groggy and dry-mouthed after an hour of heavy sedation.
But after so many weeks and months of what felt like two steps forward, three steps back, Bucky realized that more and more, he was forging himself into his own person.
Now, as he sat on a swivel chair by the common room bookcase, Bucky looked from the door Ms Stark had walked through and down to his hand. He flexed it once and it responded effortlessly.
Whatever she thought of him, Ms Stark had completely fixed his arm. The strange numbing ache that had plagued him for almost three weeks was finally gone.
June, 2014
In the private Avengers elevator in the Tower, Maggie sighed and leaned her head back against the glass wall, ignoring the view of New York behind her. She'd just spent a long morning with Rhodey and his bosses, trying to negotiate the coordinated response to HYDRA. Normally Tony would've gone to that kind of thing, but the current US Air Force Chief of Staff despised Tony. Partly because he'd stopped making weapons for the Air Force, partly because the Chief of Staff wasn't much of a fan of the Avengers in general, and partly because Tony had had a two-day fling with his ex wife many years ago. And Steve was busy in South America trying to find the HYDRA weapons cache they'd been tracking, so it had fallen to Maggie. Tony had been worried about putting too much pressure on her, but Maggie had waved him off.
Groaning, Maggie pulled off her blazer. It had been a frustrating day. The Air Force wanted the Avengers to take point on chasing HYDRA, but didn't want to admit that they didn't have the resources to do it themselves. Maggie was not a politician, and had found it all very irritating.
"Common room floor," J.A.R.V.I.S. announced coolly.
Maggie cracked her eyes open. She hadn't wanted to go to this floor, she'd wanted her private level.
The elevator doors slid open just as she was opening her mouth to question J.A.R.V.I.S., but when she saw who stood on the other side her jaw snapped closed.
Natasha and Barnes stood facing each other a few feet away from the doors, their hands clasped in a handshake. They held each other's gazes, looking serious, and Maggie had the abrupt sense that she was intruding on the tail end of a heavy conversation.
After one firm shake, Natasha let go of Barnes's flesh hand and they both looked toward the open doors of the elevator - and Maggie standing frozen beyond them. Barnes tensed, but Natasha's expression did not shift. She simply strode through the open elevator doors to stand beside Maggie, said:
"My level please, J.A.R.V.I.S.," and then turned to face the open doors.
"See you later," she said to Barnes as the elevator doors slid shut. But Barnes's eyes were on Maggie.
The doors shut, obscuring his deer-in-headlights look, and the elevator began to climb.
Maggie and Nat stood in silence beside each other for a few seconds, Natasha calm as anything in her workout gear. Finally, Maggie turned to raise her eyebrows at her friend.
"Really?"
Natasha returned her gaze evenly. "My pain is not your pain. Barnes tried to kill me twice, and that's all there was between us. In my line of work that's easily forgiven."
They went up another two floors in silence.
But Maggie wasn't happy with that. "You can really just let it go?" she pressed.
Natasha shrugged. "I'm not an angry person. I don't hold grudges." Seeing the growing thunderclouds on Maggie's face, she held up a hand. "I understand your grudge and your anger, Maggie. I really do. But maybe it's worth considering who you're angry at."
"Romanov, Barton, and Odinson residential level," J.A.R.V.I.S. announced, and the doors slid open once more.
Natasha walked smoothly out, leaving Maggie standing dumbstruck until the elevator doors closed once more, and J.A.R.V.I.S. finally brought her to her residential level.
One morning, as winter began to creep through the New York air, Maggie woke up with a burning desire to flee.
Several years ago, she would have booked it to an airport and bought the first ticket out of the country before thinking twice. But she had strategies now. She called Mai to talk through what she felt, and her options, and then called Tony.
"What?" he answered, and from the blunt tone Maggie assumed he was in his workshop.
"It's me. I'm going on holiday."
"Uh… okay. Don't think there's a clause for that in the Avengers contract," he joked. "When are you going?"
Maggie checked her watch. "Like, now. I'm going to drive my bike to the airport." She was getting better with cars, but she wasn't ready for a taxi right now.
There was a brief silence. "Now?"
"I know it's sudden, I just think I need some time away from the Tower. And Mai thinks it's a good idea."
"I… okay. I'll come see you out?"
"Okay," Maggie nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "I'm not really feeling up for a lot of goodbyes at the moment, so will you tell the others once I'm gone?"
She couldn't help the spike of guilt she felt. She had work to do, both Avengers work and otherwise, but she'd been bouncing around this Tower for months. She needed some time alone with herself.
"Can do. See you in the garage in ten?"
"Sure."
She was about to hang up when Tony added: "And hey - thanks for letting me know."
"I do my best."
Maggie returned, as she had promised, one week later to the day.
"Welcome back, Ms Stark," J.A.R.V.I.S. welcomed the moment she stepped into the public access elevator.
"Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S.," Maggie smiled as she looked up at the camera. She had her rucksack slung over the shoulder of her beat-up travel jacket, her skin a few shades darker and fewer lines about her face. She'd missed being out on her own, travelling the world. "Tell you what, they were out of juice on the plane and I have a strange craving, where can I find some?"
"I believe Mr Barton keeps a supply of orange juice in the common room bar for when he makes Screwdrivers."
"Perfect. His liver will thank me." She watched the number readout on the elevator as it climbed upward. The very top level for this elevator was the common room, though not many people had clearance to access that floor. "Tony and Pepper home?"
"Sir is currently out at a clean energy conference, but I have notified him of your arrival and he will return within the hour. Ms Potts is in her private residence, and has invited you to come up."
"Great. Juice, then Pepper."
The elevator doors slid open a minute later and Maggie rushed out into the corridor and then into the common room, looking around brightly at the familiar space and glad to be back. Afternoon sun shone through the large window. She made a beeline for the bar on the other side of the room, until she spotted a flicker of movement to her left.
"Oh," Steve said as he spotted Maggie with her rucksack and her travelling clothes. He sat on one of the low couches on the side of the room furthest from the window, beneath Bruce's lab. Normally Maggie would have been very happy to see him, but he sat right next to a dark haired man with a metal arm, each of them holding beer bottles glistening with condensation. Steve raised a hand with a hesitant smile. "Welcome back!"
Maggie got a glimpse of Barnes's face - cautious, but not nearly as tense as the last time they'd seen each other - then drew in a strained breath through her nose and kept heading for the bar.
"Where'd you go?" Steve asked as Maggie slipped behind the bar and ducked down to the fridge, finding a mostly-empty carton of orange juice.
Maggie avoided looking in his direction as she unscrewed the carton. "Vietnam."
Steve blinked. "Oh. Business?" he asked, as Maggie tilted her head back to drain the carton, not bothering with a cup. The taste made her close her eyes, but it wasn't nearly as sweet after all the hours of craving it, thanks to her audience.
Clearly Tony hadn't told them much about her impromptu holiday.
Maggie looked over at Steve, very pointedly looking at only him. "No," she said shortly. She tossed the orange juice carton in the trash can, hoisted her rucksack higher on her shoulder, and then headed for the nearest exit. Steve didn't call after her again.
She felt bad for being so short with Steve, when she normally would have told him all about her long plane trip and the museums and the turquoise bay with the limestone towers across it and the bustling marketplaces. But she just couldn't bring herself to share like that in front of Barnes, no matter how quiet he was being. She ground her teeth as she walked away, almost wishing she could go back in and have a do-over. If Barnes would just stop acting like she was going to murder him every time he saw her.
When she arrived up in Tony and Pepper's suite to greet an enthusiastic Pepper, the glow of her trip had faded. But she allowed Pepper to fuss and ask questions, and allowed herself to forget about the problem Barnes posed. For now.
Back in the common room, Steve sighed and relaxed back onto the couch once Maggie had left. He glanced over at Bucky, who had gone silent and still as a statue when Maggie had burst in on them. "Tony did say she used to do that," he explained. "Leave. I guess she wanted some space." He shot Bucky an apologetic glance.
Bucky's stillness loosened. "What do you mean she used to leave?"
Steve tilted his head and took a sip of his beer. "They way they tell it, she…" the corner of his mouth ticked up. "They call it her quarter life crisis. One day, years ago, she quit her job, dropped out of school and went travelling. For two years. That's when she became… the Wyvern. This was all long before Tony became Iron Man."
Bucky looked down at his hands, frowning. "Why?"
Steve's amusement faded at the look on Bucky's face. "I don't know."
Bucky's frown deepened. "I think it might have been the same reason she left this time," he said softly. "I've ruined everything."
Steve hovered a hand over Bucky's shoulder, waiting for Bucky to give him a quick nod before he actually made contact. He squeezed gently. "Bucky, I know her. I know she loves her life, and she's proud of herself. You did not ruin-"
"Steve, don't."
"I'm just saying-"
"Please," Bucky sighed. "Don't." His mouth twisted. "You and Stark - that Stark, I mean - you're… friends, right?"
Steve nodded. This was the most they had ever talked about Maggie together. Bucky had always avoided the topic.
"Then get her out of the Tower," Bucky said, "when you can. She shouldn't have to be trapped in here with me."
After Tony returned to the Tower and swept Maggie up in a hug, they took a couple of drinks out to Tony's private balcony, narrowing their eyes against the gusts of wind that buffeted the very top of the Tower.
Settled in a striped lawn chair with her boots propped on the top of the glass barrier at the edge of the balcony, Maggie looked over at her brother. "We need an outlet."
He frowned at her, pushing down his sunglasses to look at her better.
She waved her hands. "For all of this… anger, and grief, and whatnot. It's stuck inside us, but we need to do something to get it out. And I've been thinking - we could either make a really big fucking bomb and blow shit up" - Tony's eyes gleamed with the possibility - "or we could make something."
"Make something?"
"I think we're better at that. Better than blowing shit up, I mean."
Tony made a face. "Some might disagree with you."
"I don't care about them. I care about you and me, being okay."
He nodded slowly, considering, before taking a sip of his drink and asking: "What do you want to make?"
"Something… something that'll add something to the world. Make it better."
He cocked his head. "Well we still need to finish off the team uniforms. But that's small time." He shot her a glance. "Banner and I have been… collaborating on some stuff."
"Such as…?"
'A few bits and pieces. Something to try to stop the Hulk. Also… we've been thinking about updating the Avengers."
"Updating?"
"Thor gave me the idea; an Iron Legion."
Her eyes narrowed. "Like on the Norco?"
"Yes, but this time they'd be as a backup force for the Avengers - a legion of Iron Men to protect civilians on the ground, so we can focus on the bad guys."
"But you'd have to command them-"
"See that's the beauty of it, with a few upgrades I think J.A.R.V.I.S. would be fine to control the Legion. It wouldn't require much combat, more a set of automated programs like creating evacuation perimeters, or shielding civilians from blasts, or-"
"Or removing blockages from exit routes," Maggie said, beginning to nod. "That's what always gets Thor tied up in the middle of battle." She hadn't realized how much until she became an Operations Analyst and got an objective view of the Avengers' missions.
"Exactly! And Bruce and I have also talked about creating a true A.I. One that could control the Legion, as well as foresee and combat the threats that we one day might not be able to face."
Her eyebrows flew up. "You want to automate… peacekeeping."
He spread his hands. "Eventually. Wouldn't it be better, Mags? So we don't have to keep fighting and dying to keep the world safe? Because let's be real, Earth got lucky with Thor. We both know there's worse out there that could one day decide to bust down the door. And I don't know about you, but I intend to retire one day."
Maggie chewed her lip. "You're right. But… this is bigger than Iron Man, Tony. Bigger than the Avengers. We need to make sure that this doesn't turn out like… like what HYDRA was trying to do with Project INSIGHT." She held up a quelling hand at his offended look. "I know, you don't want to target human threats. But INSIGHT was created out of the fear of unseen future threats. And look how that ended up."
Tony waved a hand. "We don't even know if we can do it, Maggot, let's not get ahead of ourselves. And you know me, I might have done some impulsive things in our time, but you remember we ran at least a hundred simulations with J.A.R.V.I.S. before he went live? I'm careful where it counts."
Still chewing her lip, Maggie sighed. "It does sound fun," she admitted.
Maggie sat on the long metal counter in the common area kitchen, one elbow propped on her knee and her free arm steadying the giant bottle of electrolyte-rich drink she was drinking from.
She wore dark leggings and a tank top, both of which were drenched with sweat and stuck uncomfortably against her skin. Her chest still rose and fell harshly, and she closed her eyes as she tried to rapidly rehydrate.
Maggie wasn't confident about returning to the field just yet, but in preparation Steve had assigned her various training sessions to gauge her fitness: drills to get her heartrate up, followed by a puzzle task that required quick thinking, followed by something acrobatic and painful. It sucked, and she was exhausted, but she could feel her confidence in herself slowly returning. Maria Hill had been observing her today, and had thrown in some verbal scenarios while Maggie was doing burpees on a platform thirty feet in the air. Clint is down and unresponsive, and there's a group of ten civilians trapped in a burning building. What do you do? Or: Mr Stark is being held hostage, gun to his head, and the hostage takers are demanding you give them the Quinjet as an escape vehicle. What do you do?
Maggie thought she might slightly hate Hill, but she had to admit she respected the hell out of the other woman.
The kitchen door slid open, and at the sound Maggie cracked her eye open - then froze when she found herself looking right into Barnes's deer-in-the-headlights expression.
For a second they stared at each other - Barnes with one foot in the kitchen and his metal hand gripping a mug, Maggie sitting on the kitchen counter with a drink bottle to her mouth.
Barnes took one look at Maggie, hesitated, and then turned to leave.
"For god's sake, I'm not going to try to murder you," she said loudly, shocking even herself. A moment later she added: "... again."
Barnes paused mid-step and looked back, radiating surprise. She hadn't spoken to him since the arm incident, and before that, back when she'd interrogated him in Cell A. For so long, these interactions had been unspoken.
He slowly angled toward her and his eyes - a blue-grey color - flicked up to her face. "I… it's pretty clear you don't want me around," he murmured. His voice was slightly raspy, as if he didn't speak much. "Which is fine."
It was the most he'd said to her in quite some time. Maggie set her drink bottle down harder than she'd intended. "You don't have to flee every time you see me-"
Something flickered in Barnes's eyes and he turned to face her fully. "I was just taking my lead from you-"
"Why are you such an asshole?" she spat.
His face darkened.
Maggie's fingers curled around the edge of the countertop. "I don't know what the right answer is here, okay? I have to be here, and you definitely have to be here, and I don't have to be happy about it but I am sick of feeling like your prison guard!" He straightened and, seeing words forming on his tongue, she jumped down from the countertop and threw up a hand. "Shut up!" she snapped, because she somehow knew what he was going to say. "I don't… I don't want to be like this!" She knew she wasn't making much sense, but she forged on anyway.
"Just… live your life," she said in a lower tone. "I don't care. Just stop it with the creeping around and the big sad eyes. If you're mad at me, get mad!" she finished in a frustrated half-yell.
Barnes stared at her sweaty, snarling face. "I don't know what you want from me."
"Neither do I!" she snapped back, and then stormed toward him. Barnes tensed and drew back from her but Maggie just surged past him, through the doorway and out of the kitchen.
Maggie stormed blindly a few yards down the corridor outside before she heard a voice behind her.
"Well that was not very dignified."
She looked over her shoulder and spotted Tony, standing with his hands in his pockets further down the corridor.
"You heard that?"
He strode toward her. "I was just outside. Didn't really feel like going in, for some reason."
Maggie unclenched her fists, tipped her head back and sighed. "I don't know how to act around him."
"Me neither," Tony said. "I don't want to murder him in his sleep anymore, though. He's such a sad sack half the time it's pretty clear he's no hardboiled assassin."
"He still is that assassin, though," she said. "The mindset might not be there, but the skills are. You haven't seen him fight." She remembered ducking and whirling on that rooftop in Peru with fireworks exploding above them. The dead ice in his eyes.
Tony sighed. "I'm starting to think that the mindset is the important part."
Maggie put her head in her hands and let out a frustrated growl. "I just don't know what to do."
"Well, everyone has that one roommate from hell-" Tony broke off with a yelp when Maggie smacked him. He retreated a step as he said: "I am serious though, you could just treat him like a roommate. Don't have to be friends, don't have to be enemies. Just existing." He exhaled through his nose. "I think I might actually tell him that I don't want to murder him anymore. That might make him a bit less skittish."
Maggie eyed her brother. "How are you being more mature about this?"
He grinned. "I'm older than you."
She rolled her eyes.
Maggie spent the afternoon in her residential suite, listening to loud music. When her stomach began to grumble, she knew it was time to give up on hiding and go find some food. But when she swung open her door and made to walk out, she almost stepped on a plate covered in clingfilm.
Maggie dodged, stumbling a little on her prosthetic foot, then frowned down at the plate. Under the clingfilm lay a dinner of steak, baked potatoes and green beans, which still looked warm from the steam on the inside of the clingfilm. A knife and fork rested on the plate. A post-it-note lay on top of the clingfilm, on which was written in black pen:
I'M SORRY
She stared down at the plate for a full minute. The post-it wasn't signed, but there was only one person it could be from. He'd written in all caps, in neat handwriting.
Maggie opened her mouth, thinking to speak to J.A.R.V.I.S., but she had no idea what to ask. So after another minute of staring she crouched down, picked up the plate, and brought it inside.
Downstairs, Bucky and Steve finished off the rest of the steak dinner they'd made, and Bucky felt quietly relieved that Steve hadn't asked any questions about the extra plate he'd taken upstairs earlier. Steve had probably thought Bucky was hoarding food in his room or something, an assumption that Bucky did not care to correct right now.
He didn't understand what had happened in the kitchen earlier. But it had felt like a long time coming. And he'd snapped at her, when he had only ever intended to leave her in peace. But she'd changed the unspoken rules on him. He didn't understand, but he felt guilty for it all the same, so he'd done his best with an apology. A post-it note alone had felt too impersonal, so he'd given her one of the few things he could.
"How are things going with Raynor?" Steve asked, and Bucky absently wondered if that might have been the five hundredth time Steve had asked that question.
"Fine," he said. "Been trying to remember more about the programming. Haven't had much luck."
"We've been interviewing every HYDRA agent we capture about it, but-"
At that moment, the kitchen door slid open and they both looked over.
Bucky wasn't sure who was more surprised out of him and Steve when Tony Stark leaned in through the door, wearing an unbuttoned business shirt with a tie hanging loose around his neck.
"Oh good, there you are," Stark said when his eyes fell on Bucky. Bucky's eyebrows rose. "Listen Terminator, consider this my formal notification that I no longer have a repressed urge to beat the shit out of you. You're welcome in all levels of the Tower you currently have clearance for, and feel free to ask if you need anything." Then he ducked out of the room again, too fast for Bucky to even think about formulating a reply.
Several seconds of silence passed.
Steve looked from the doorway then back to Bucky. "Well… that's a good thing, sounds like?"
Bucky shook his head. "I don't understand them at all."
"Join the club."
Maggie woke at dawn the next morning and frowned up at the ceiling. She hadn't been able to sleep much last night, her mind too caught up on Tony's words from yesterday, and the dinner plate with the post-it note. A little after midnight, she had identified some of the cause for her discomfort: she wasn't certain that Barnes actually owed her an apology.
Clearly, something needed to be done about it. Maggie considered her options as she watch pale light glow across her ceiling.
Half an hour later, after much overthinking, she got dressed and left the Tower. She waved absentmindedly to the concierge team at the desk in the public foyer, noticed one couple whispering furiously to each other when they recognized her walking past, and then she was out in the city.
She took in a deep breath of the many dubious smells of Manhattan as she strode down the block toward the nearest Starbucks. Once she'd made it she dithered on the pavement for a good few minutes, then let out an explosive sigh and marched inside.
Maggie didn't make a sound as she set down the cardboard drinks caddy on the floor outside Barnes's quarters. She put the drinks against the wall facing his door, so he didn't risk stepping on it as she almost had on her dinner. She'd realized at the till in Starbucks that she had no idea what kind of coffee Barnes liked, so she'd gone for a Pike Roast, her preferred black coffee order, and a soy latte for a sweeter option.
Steve didn't like Starbucks since he was more of a do-it-yourself-at-home guy, and Maggie doubted Barnes had any other opportunities to get coffee that wasn't from the machine in the kitchen.
The barista had scrawled Maggie's name on the cups, so below that she'd also written: Sorry too. She had thought about writing I don't hate you or I'm not angry at you, but she hadn't been able to.
So she set the cups down and then hurried back the way she'd come. On the stairs, she said:
"J.A.R.V.I.S., will you let Barnes know about the coffee once I'm clear? It'll go cold otherwise."
"Certainly, Ms Stark."
Maggie spent the next few days busy in the workshops with Tony and Bruce. They showed her the mad plans they had been drawing up, and she threw herself into them with enthusiasm.
They had already pretty much finished designing Veronica, the orbital tracking platform from which they could launch the Mark XLIV Iron Man armor, an enormous hulking thing which required no less than eleven arc reactors to keep it running. Maggie ran her eye over the designs, and the constructed parts which were being held in a storage space downstairs, but Tony and Bruce had done a hell of a job on it: they had no way to test whether the armor would hold up against the Hulk without potentially putting a lot of people in danger, but Maggie couldn't fault their work.
"She's ready to launch," Maggie declared, when she'd finished poring over the software. Tony let out a whoop and held up his hand to Bruce, who after a few moments begrudgingly gave him a high-five.
They moved on to Tony's Iron Legion, planning upgrades to J.A.R.V.I.S.'s control systems. Maggie and Tony had designed a holographic recreation of J.A.R.V.I.S.'s digital form, an orb of interfaces and pathways and nexus points all clustered around a central processing unit, all etched in glowing orange light. This allowed them to examine his capabilities in a more physical format, which suited Maggie and Tony's engineering minds excellently. Maggie quite liked watching J.A.R.V.I.S.'s shape glow and move as he operated, present all over the Tower at once.
They started work on an assembly bay for the Iron Legion, right below Bruce's lab. Maggie thought the idea to build the access portal for the Legion right into the A on the side of the tower was ostentatious, but Tony would not be overruled. They needed the Legion to be as automated as possible: ten Iron Legionnaires that could be built, housed, deployed, controlled, and repaired all from their assembly bay in the Tower, under J.A.R.V.I.S.'s command. The design process was difficult, not because the designs were complex, but because Tony, Maggie, and Bruce couldn't agree on what the Legionnaires should look like. They eventually settled on a standard Iron Man suit, though unwearable, mostly white but with accents of blue and red, and the Avengers logo on the breast. Tony would not budge on giving them gold faceplates, however.
"They're ugly," Maggie confided in Bruce one afternoon, when Tony had stepped out to fetch them smoothies. The holographic design of a Legionnaire hovered in the air between them.
"I don't disagree," Bruce said with a small smile. "But they'll get the job done."
Maggie set her hands on her hips. "Now we've just got to get building."
It was nice working with Tony and Bruce, despite their many disagreements. Between their various fields of expertise plans came together very quickly, and Bruce seemed to ease into Tony and Maggie's brand of constant teasing as they worked, even making a few jokes of his own here and there. They only worked long hours when they were close to a breakthrough, since all three of them knew their own limits and knew to look after themselves. They rotated between workshops, but tended to end up in Bruce's Goldfish Bowl out of habit. Others flitted in and out of their work sessions from time to time. Pepper, to discuss the upcoming construction plans to the Tower that the Iron Legion necessitated. Steve, to plan how the Iron Legion could be used to support the Avengers, and to discuss weapons and uniforms for the team. Clint and Nat visited to tell them that the Quinjet had been having some hardware issues, so Maggie and Tony set about planning some upgrades.
What Maggie liked most about the hours they spent designing and constructing and talking in Bruce's lab, was that there were no limits to their imagination. Bruce and Tony were both futurists, able to look past the limits of what had been done before. In amongst their other projects they discussed Tony's idea for a peacekeeping AI. They called it Ultron. With J.A.R.V.I.S.'s help they threw around ideas for theoretical models. Maggie had the idea to map MRIs of the human brain in an attempt to recreate the processing power, and Bruce explored the areas of 'intelligence' that computers were unable to replicate, like perception, social intelligence, and behavioural learning.
Tony began a series of experiments with J.A.R.V.I.S. about moral and ethical decision-making. J.A.R.V.I.S. was a wonderful UI, and Maggie was more emotionally attached to him than she cared to say, but he simply did not have the processing or software capability to make those decisions - he defaulted to his pre-programmed settings, which were merely a reflection of Tony and Maggie's programming.
They made leaps and bounds in computational science, in programming, and computer design. But despite all their interesting discoveries, it never quite seemed to come together.
"I guess we're butting heads against the problem that humans have been dealing with since we first formed consciousness," Bruce said one evening as they sat in their favourite chairs in the lab, sipping drinks after a long day. He'd fallen into a strangely philosophical mood after having half a beer - apparently the most alcohol he was willing to imbibe. "What makes us human, and what makes a machine? Perhaps it's a good thing we can't reduce a living being to code on a screen."
"If you're accusing me of playing God," Tony said, "you won't be the first."
"Or the last, I bet," Maggie smiled.
"I'm just saying… we've been playing around with the idea of creating life," Bruce murmured. "And maybe we're failing for a reason."
Maggie sighed. "It would be cool, though."
"I'm having flashbacks to my engineering ethics module at MIT," Tony said, kicking his feet up on one of the worktables. "You had that class too, right Maggot?"
She nodded. "They talked a lot about Stark Industries in it, which got awkward fast."
Tony glanced over at Bruce, who was still looking pensive. "Oh, c'mon Banner. We are taking it seriously. Besides, this is all fantasy still, since we're clearly not making a breakthrough anytime soon."
"I know. But just… as an excellent example of how scientific experimentation can go too far," Bruce said significantly, "let's think before we leap."
The first time Maggie saw Barnes after she'd yelled at him in the kitchen, she was taken unawares.
Her mind was caught on assembly line construction and diagnostics scanning when she strode out onto one of the upper levels of the common room, only to pull up short to avoid bumping into the person clearly on their way out.
Barnes went still at the sight of her. He wore a moss-green shirt that covered most of his metal arm, jeans, and grey socks. Maggie's attention snagged on the socks for a long moment - she supposed he didn't have much call for shoes these days.
"Oh," she said, not ready for the sight of him. She shifted slightly so she wasn't blocking the exit, and forced herself to say: "Hello."
His grey-blue eyes met hers. "Ms Stark," he said with a polite nod.
"Don't call me that," she said, without really thinking about the words. She almost closed her eyes to mentally kick herself, but she kept her gaze fixed on his. She didn't know what it was, but hearing him address her like… like they were business partners or something felt strange. J.A.R.V.I.S. was the only one in the upper levels of the Tower who called her Ms Stark.
Barnes blinked. He kept his hands in his pockets, as if trying to hide the metal hand. "What should I call you?"
Maggie hesitated. She didn't know where to go from here, or what she wanted. She supposed he had better call her something, if they were going to exist in each other's proximity like Tony had suggested. Ms Stark should have been fine. But he'd made her dinner, and she'd bought him coffee, and it just felt wrong.
The thought of giving him the nickname her parents had given her felt like too much, though.
Barnes watched her face with perceptive eyes, seeing her struggle. "... Margaret?" he prompted.
She swallowed thickly and shook her head. No one had called her that in years.
They looked at each other for several long moments. Maggie had lost the will to speak.
"You've got a nickname, then," Barnes surmised. She nodded, and he guessed: "Marge?"
The horrified expression on her face made his lips twitch up in a smile, which shocked the disgust off her face.
He cocked his head. "Not Peggy, surely?"
She shook her head again. She didn't know what she was doing. She had a moment of disbelief that Steve had never mentioned her nickname in front of his friend, but then supposed that was an awfully self-centered thought. She should just give him her name-
"Meg?" Barnes guessed.
Maggie schooled her reaction, and just looked back at Barnes evenly. He looked into her eyes, and whatever he saw there must have decided him.
He nodded. "Meg. Alright."
Maggie let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair. Meg it is.
"If… if you want…" he began, then fell silent.
Maggie looked up again, catching the conflicted look on his face. "What?"
"You can call me… Bucky."
She gave him an assessing glance. The only one who called him that was Steve, and sometimes Bruce, and Steve hadn't asked before calling him that. Raynor called him James, and J.A.R.V.I.S. called him Sergeant Barnes. She wondered if this was the first time Barnes - Bucky - had given someone his nickname. Whatever her feelings about him, she recognized that was a big step.
She set her shoulders. "Bucky," she echoed.
His face didn't move, but the glint of a smile lit up his eyes.
Another moment later, Maggie turned and left silently. She felt Barnes's - Bucky's - gaze on her back the whole time. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was: that she wished she had thanked him for the post-it note.
Reviews
Guest: Interesting ship! They would make a power couple for sure haha.
DBZFAN45: I'm really glad you enjoyed all Maggie's progress in the last chapter! And that everyone picked up on the Fuck You HYDRA & learning to be a person stuff :) Hope you liked this chapter!
Guest: I'm glad you like the parallels in this story to the original Wyvern story :) Maggie's journey is always about finding honesty, and openness, and self-care, no matter whether she grew up with HYDRA or with Tony. As for Maggie finding out about the HYDRA Wyvern program… we shall have to wait and see ;)
Eenio: As you can see, much more Bucky content! Hope you enjoyed :)
Guest: I think Thor 1 was very much about Thor coming into adulthood and confronting his own ego & mentality, so I wanted to include a little nod to that here. Thor recognises valuable growth when he sees it! And thank you so much :)
Nina: Thank you for another lovely review! I'm glad you like the Wyvern references :)
Shorttrooper: I'm so glad you liked Maggie's big epiphany! I've had a version of that realisation for myself and I'm glad it resonated with you too! Good for you, getting your brain right! Maggie learning to be a person is going to be more subtle here, but fun all the same :) Hope work is going okay!
Aqua: I'm sorry you're not feeling well, hopefully you're a little better now?
Steve is going to get steamrolled by another strong woman next chapter ;) That made it seem sexual which it's really not but you'll enjoy it haha. I'm glad you liked the big epiphany last chapter, and now Maggie and Bucky have more space to grow and get to know each other - as you can see!
And I'm glad you caught that Maggie's realization is partly linked to Bucky and his journey - it felt weird to have Maggie learning to be a person without at least some link to Bucky, so that's what we ended up with. So now it's therapy and healing time! Excited to show you more of Maggie's progress :)
I've had an alright week thank you, I'm moving so that's been quite stressful! But it'll all be a bad memory soon.