I really did not anticipate how devastated you guys would be about the cactus - many apologies and hopefully this chapter makes up for it ;)

Also BethyPie1988 pointed out to me that it has now been a year since I started updating this story! 59 chapters in 52 weeks, not too bad. Thanks for coming on the ride with me x

Now that the facility had gone back to normal, Maggie and Bucky received a reel of visitors in their observation room. The whole Avengers team came through at some point or another, with congratulations or well wishes or gentle ribbing. Sam cast Bucky a strange look when he visited, and Bucky scowled back.

Maggie was glad for the constant, if quiet, presence of Bucky with her. He'd been both a distraction and a comfort during that awful wait for a cure, and it felt… easier, somehow, to be in here with him. They'd both changed out of their squeaky yellow hazmat suits, leaving them in the plain underclothes, so it felt more like a strange sleepover than the set of Contagion.

Maggie had to tell Tony to leave after a while because he was nervy and fidgety after his frantic bout of chemical engineering, and didn't seem to know what to do with himself in the observation room. He'd broken a monitor and asked Maggie how she was feeling about thirty times. He was also planning all the different ways they could track Rumlow down and tear him a new one. Maggie loved her brother, but he was terrible at waiting. So he went off to go be useful decontaminating her workshop. She'd thank him properly later.

As the afternoon dwindled into evening, Bucky and Maggie were left more or less to their own devices. They'd had clothes, food, and a few books delivered, but Maggie was still too wired to focus on anything restful.

"I was in your workshop because I haven't seen you in a while."

She blinked and looked over from where she'd been tightening a loose bolt on one of the quarantine beds to see Bucky sitting on the bed he'd claimed, looking down at his hands. "What?"

Bucky didn't look up. "Your brother asked me why I was in there."

"Oh, Tony, he was just-"

"I know," he said, looking over. "But also… that's why I was there. I hadn't seen you in a while, and I wanted to… say hello, I guess."

Maggie swivelled, cross legged. She cleared her still-aggravated throat. "You're right. It's been nearly a month and I've barely seen you. I guess I've been so busy with setting up the facility, and building shit, and… I've actually had a strangely normal sleep schedule recently."

He nodded, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Same, sort of. It's strange, this new place. Feels like my life might be different here."

"Well," Maggie said. "You're always welcome in my workshop." She hesitated. "Once it's not full of deadly chemicals."

Several hours later, when the observation room lights had been turned off and their own lights were dim, Bucky and Maggie sat cross legged on the cool ground, playing with a beaten-up set of cards that had somehow travelled over from the Tower. Bucky knew a lot more card games than Maggie ("Guess they didn't have video games in the Depression, huh?") so he was teaching her how to play Canasta while F.R.I.D.A.Y. played her usual workshop playlist.

"So anyway, for my Masters I started off in engineering, but I really wanted to focus in on biological and mechanical cybernetics, particularly on artificial neural networks, which wasn't that popular at MIT at the time but I'd done enough work in their preferred areas by then that they were going to let me pursue what I wanted," Maggie was mid-ramble, discarding a card. Bucky looked just as attentive as he had been three minutes ago when he asked her about her college career, though he certainly couldn't understand everything she said. He only interrupted her occasionally to remind her of a rule in the game. "But by that point I was also working at SI, and that's when I… well, weapons engineering and my life got a bit too much for me, so I quit my job, dropped out of college and got on the first flight out of LA." She hesitated, made a move, then looked up at Bucky. "First college dropout in the family, me."

"I never even made it to college," he said, reaching for a card, but then he frowned and looked up again. "Was that because of… because of me? That you left?"

Maggie waved a hand. "I mean, kind of. But really, it was mostly about me. I looked at my life, and… I didn't like who I was. What I'd achieved. And instead of doing a Tony and standing up for what I thought we should change, I just… ran." She let out a breath. "I can't say I regret it though, those years on the run. I became the Wyvern, I saved lives, and eventually I became an Avenger. And later down the line, thanks to those years on the run, I found you. Who knows where we'd be otherwise."

"Maybe not in a quarantine bay," he suggested with a hint of humor, though she could see him still absorbing her words. A new song with a low bass beat came over the speakers. He picked up two cards, and then winced and looked up.

"What is it?" Maggie asked, following his gaze to the roof. She glanced back at his face. "Is it the song? Don't like it?"

Bucky's brow furrowed as the strains of Jet's She's a Genius pounded through the speakers. "I guess it's just very… shouty."

"Well I suppose that's rock 'n roll for you."

He looked wary. "I read about that."

Maggie smacked down her cards. "You've read about rock? Bucky, how much of this century have you only read about?"

"I'm hardly going to concerts, Meg," he protested, casting another glance at the ceiling as the singer sang: they say 'hey there girl, tell me what do you do', she said 'nothing but I'm damn sure it's more than you'.

"But the shoutiness is the joy of rock!" Maggie said. Bucky still gripped his cards, exasperatedly. "Haven't you ever wanted to just shout? This way you can shout and it sounds good." She coughed, her throat aching in her excitement, and then lifted her head. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., play… oh, I don't know, something shouty. Anything from my rock playlists!"

"Will this do, Ms Stark?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, followed by the strains of a familiar song, and Maggie grinned.

"Yes, thats perfect!" She turned back to face Bucky, her fingers splayed. "Okay, so, this song came out last year, and the band was getting big while I was at college, perfect for angsty teenagers to scream along to. And I recognise that you're not a teenager, not by a long shot-" she broke off into a laugh at the offended look on his face. "Oh, just - and just one mistake, is all it would take, we'll go down in history!" She flung her head back, fists clenched as she sang along, and Bucky's expression broke into bemusement. "Remember me for centuries!"

Bucky slowly lowered his cards as Maggie sang along, still sitting on the floor but putting her all into it, and when she kicked out on one of the lines and sent cards skidding along the floor, he didn't even complain. Maggie laughed between lines and coughed when she over-exerted herself, but she felt, for the first time in a while, like she was having fun. Bucky gave a begrudging look as the song went on, even deigning to nod his head a little. And when she pointed at him for the last line, he rolled his eyes and said, not sang: we'll go down in history, remember me for centuries.

"They sure do repeat a lot of words in songs these days," was all he said when the song faded.

Maggie rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, shut up, you loved it."

"You know what?" he said, one brow lifting. "I did learn something."

"And what's that?"

His face broke open in a grin, and it reminded her how little he smiled. But she forgot about that a second later when he said:

"That you're the biggest dork on the planet."

Bucky had not expected singing from Meg, but apparently she enjoyed it. A lot. For another half hour, even. She told him between songs about the places she'd heard the songs, and the people she'd sung them or heard them with: on the radio in the car as Mr Jarvis drove her to school. In Tony's workshop, watching him nod his head along and look faintly annoyed as she sang, at her first high school dance, drunk out of her mind in college, across the world in strange bars and venues on missions. She by no means had a performing singing voice, but she sang without self consciousness or apparent volume limit, the words all apparently memorized. I usually sing when I'm working alone, she confided. Her hair was all snagged into a knot at the back of her head, and strands of it kept sticking to her sweaty forehead.

It reminded Bucky, strangely, of the man he'd been back in Brooklyn a lifetime ago, soaking up music and dance and laughter at dance halls with barely two dollars to rub together in his pocket. He wasn't that person any more, but… the strange music through the speakers in the dark quarantine bay made him feel closer than ever before to that slick-haired, half-cocked boy who'd put on a uniform and never come back.

Soon enough the time came for them to sleep, after Bucky made F.R.I.D.A.Y. promise to incapacitate him if he showed any sign of regression in his sleep. They each climbed into their strange quarantine beds, said an awkward good night, and the lights went out.

Bucky woke several times through the night, as per usual, and each time he glanced over in the very low light to see Meg in the bed opposite his, a lump in her sheets. Her chest rose and fell. He'd never seen her sleep before.

Later in the night when he checked again she had rolled over, so he could see the dark outline of her closed eyes, her open mouth. Her hair was a dark spill over the single pillow on her bed. He looked away.

In the morning, they faced yet another 10 hours of quarantine. Wanda kindly brought them their breakfast and two thermoses of coffee, and as they ate Meg applied the salve from Cho to her injured skin, and took her anti-inflammatory meds. Bucky did another vitals reading, which showed he'd definitely escaped the effects of Rumlow's chemical weapon.

"I should take breaks more often," Meg said as she flexed her hand, watching the salve glisten. "I've had so many new ideas for Avengers tech."

Bucky looked up from his food. "This ain't a break, Meg, it's a quarantine."

"Same difference," she said with a wave of her hand. She stretched, then got to her feet and paced over to the quarantine bay window. "Ugh, I want to go for a walk. Or run. Or fly. Move."

"We could spar." The moment he said it, Bucky couldn't believe the words had come out of his mouth.

But then Meg looked over at him with a spark in her eyes.

They'd agreed on ground rules, of course. No winners, no first blood, no all-out fighting. Just training. Softened blows and tapping out to surrender.

So that was how Maggie found herself barefoot on the quarantine bay tiles, she and Bucky circling each other in defensive poses, all the beds pushed to one side of the room to give them space. Rock music was playing through the speakers again, concealing Maggie and Bucky's slow, steady breaths. Maggie ignored the loose strands of her hair in her vision, concentrating on Bucky's hands, feet, eyes. He was soundless as he slowly circled her, his own eyes fixed on her. He was focused, but there wasn't much of the Winter Soldier in him today.

She struck first. Bucky caught her fist and tried to tug her inward but she spun out of his grip, and deflected his next blow. The metal was warm as it glanced off her forearm, and Bucky let out a huff of breath when she ducked low and drove her elbow into his side - not hard, but enough that he felt it.

Maggie hadn't had a proper hand to hand fight in a while - the Avengers missions had been more about ranged fighting, and against Ultron it had felt more like disassembling than sparring. But like that first time she had fought Bucky, within seconds it felt more than natural - it felt fun. She forgot about the quarantine bay and her scratchy throat; she was absorbed in the fight, the throw and catch and slide of attack and defence. She tried to read Bucky's impossible-to-read fighting style, looking for the slightest shift in his gaze, the slightest give in his raised arm, the slide of his feet on the floor. This fight was nowhere near as violent as their last one, but Maggie felt the tight knot in her chest ease all the same.

She ducked another blow and kicked out, managing to clip Bucky on the inside of the leg. He wobbled, then lowered his shoulders and charged her - trapped by the close quarters of the quarantine bay she had no way to dodge, and he charged her straight into the back wall. He grabbed for her legs, trying to immobilise her. Pinned between the wall and his shoulder, which was pressed into her ribcage, Maggie wrestled against his strength for a moment, kicking free of his arms. She pounded on his back a few times before she realized that was about as good as hitting the wall.

Sweaty and pinned, Maggie jerked her knee up into Bucky's sternum - as gently as possible - using the moment of freedom to slide up out of his grip and over, rolling off his back and onto the ground.

Bucky put a hand on the wall to push himself upright, turning to face her. His eyes were bright behind his messy hair. "You're quick on your feet."

"Gymnastics," she said. She jumped back from him as he kicked out, then blocked a left hook and struck him in his armpit below the metal arm.

"Really?" Bucky asked as he pulled a face.

"Yep, had a coach since I was a kid," she tried to grapple his arm, cursing when he shook her off. "Trampolining was my favorite."

Bucky tried to sweep her legs out from under her. "Makes sense. You're pretty agile in the air, too."

"Have to be, if I don't want to end up as flat as a pancake." Bucky caught her right arm as she punched for his hip and this time she went with it as he jerked her inward - she twisted into his pull and leaped, ending up on his back with one leg slung over his shoulder. He didn't let go of her arm even as he twisted his head trying to spot her. A surprised breath left his chest. She cinched her other arm around his neck and jerked his head back but he still didn't let go.

So they ended up stuck there, Bucky standing slightly off balance with Maggie's right arm in his firm grip, with Maggie pretty much sitting on his shoulder with her heel digging into his chest and her chin poking the top of his skull as she held him in a strangle hold. Bucky tried to shake her off, then backed up into the wall to try to knock her off, but Maggie clung tight. His shirt twisted under her awkward seat on his shoulder, making him wince. He jerked at her arm, but that only increased her pressure on his throat. Her hair was in his eyes.

Maggie realized she was grinning again, breathless and her muscles burning as she held her unconventional grapple, amused by Bucky's attempts to throw her off. She remembered everything Nat had ever taught her about aerial grapples and latched her leg around Bucky's free arm to restrict his movement. A moment later as Bucky let out a half-laugh, she realized that their breathing was in sync.

It was at that moment that Steve walked into the observation room.

"Oh god," he said when he saw Bucky red-faced and sweaty, staggering with Maggie on his shoulder, gripping him tight.

"Just a moment, Steve," Maggie called. "I've almost got him."

"In your dreams," Bucky grunted, trying to raise his pinned arm to try to get a better hold on her.

Steve approached the glass with his hands out, glancing around as if looking for help. "Is, er…"

Maggie shifted, and managed to get her right heel against Bucky's lower back. He frowned at the pressure.

"That's your liver there, I'm pretty sure," she said, her chin still jabbing into his skull. "Heelspur to the liver, I'd say that's a victory?"

He winced, but his grip on her arm only tightened. "Super serum would give me a few minutes to even the playing field."

"Christ," she muttered. She maneuvered again, shifting over his shoulder even as her muscles began to shake, and with a wince managed to lift her right heel to press against the side of his shoulder blade. She was contorted at an almost impossible angle, and would have tipped off him if it weren't for his grip on her arm. "How about that, super soldier?"

Feeling her metal heel so near to his heart, Bucky nodded. "Yeah, fair enough."

Maggie let out a pleased huff, and Bucky carefully eased his grip on her arm.

"Here." He crouched down and held out his hand so she could jump down easily. When her hand left his they both straightened up, tugging at their rumpled clothes, and Bucky rubbed his neck. They both looked over at Steve.

Maggie couldn't hold back her grin. She and Bucky both knew she wouldn't have held up nearly as well against the Winter Soldier in such confined conditions, and especially not with an injury, but against Bucky… well, he was fallible.

Steve looked less worried now they'd stopped attacking each other, but he couldn't wipe the alarm off his face. "Is everything…" he glanced between them.

"She viciously attacked me," Bucky said, deadpan, and Maggie nodded.

Steve took another moment. "Okay." He shook his head. He was in his 'boss' outfit: not the Captain America uniform but slacks and a button-up shirt, like some kind of millennial CEO. "Anyway, Maggie, Tony wanted to ask if it's okay if he handles cataloguing the rest of the wreckage from the Rumlow mission. In controlled circumstances, of course, but since it was initially your analysis job he wanted to ask. And since I was bringing these over…" he held up another two thermoses of coffee.

"Yes, it's okay," Maggie nodded, then hesitated. "Has he slept?"

"He has, Ms Stark," F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed.

"Great. Then yes, he can."

Steve nodded, cast them both another wary glance, then put the thermoses in the isolation tank and left.

"Can you do a handstand?" Maggie asked an hour later, as she flipped through the crime thriller Tony had dropped off for her.

"What's that?"

Maggie looked up and stared at Bucky where he sat on his bed, doing a crossword.

"A - a handstand." She blinked, and Bucky stared blankly. When the hell were handstands invented? "I - it's where you-"

His blank expression broke into a grin. "I'm joking, I know what a handstand is."

She scowled.

"Sorry," he said, though he was still grinning. "So many times people assume I'm an alien who knows nothing, sometimes I like to lean into it."

She rolled her eyes. "So?"

He shrugged. "Never tried a handstand since I was a kid." He glanced down and frowned. "14 down, four letters, George Michael band?"

"Wham," she replied, and his frown cleared as he scribbled in the answer. "You'll have to listen to them too." She cleared her throat. "So, go on then."

He looked up. "What?"

"A handstand! Give it a go."

He let out a put-upon sigh, put down his crossword and stood up, dusting off his hands. He glanced around as if worried the air-tight quarantine bay might have an uneven surface, then… simply put his hands down, kicked up his legs, and did a handstand.

Of course he could do a perfect handstand. The ends of his hair brushed the floor and upside down, he looked at her and raised his eyebrows. She shook her head at him.

"Let's see you do it, then," he challenged, still holding the handstand.

Maggie stood up, put her back to him, tucked her shirt in, then rolled forward into a handstand. She'd been training since she was a kid, at least she had a reason her handstand was perfect. She met his eyes, upside down as well. "Your form is sloppy," she said. She adjusted for the slightly different weight of her prosthetic leg.

Slowly, holding her gaze, Bucky lowered into a hand-stand pushup. He hardly wavered.

"I'm going to kick you in the face."

"Okay, so, Wham. We need to continue your musical education."

With F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s help, Maggie took Bucky on a journey through 1980s rock. She'd been recommending him songs for nearly a year now, but she realized he needed someone to actually tell him the stories behind the music: how George Michael had come out in the 90s, which brought her on to Queen and Freddie Mercury, and then she ended up in a rabbit hole of discussing the women rockers of the 80s and 90s, and the Riot Grrl movement, as they listened to Pat Benatar and Stevie Nicks and Bikini Kill and Paramore. This eventually brought her on to R&B and rap.

Bucky was a fast learner, Maggie realized. He kept making comparisons to the music he was familiar with, and she found herself nodding along in surprise as he compared how controversial jazz had been in his day to her description of modern rap scandals. He was more than willing to listen to new forms of music, now he had an enthusiastic guide. He liked music, it had been a big part of his life before the war, she realized, but the prospect of catching up on eighty years worth of it had been overwhelming to him.

And that was how neither of them noticed when they reached the end of their 24 hour quarantine period. Because Maggie was wearing a yellow hazmat suit ("Every performer needs her costume, Bucky"), straddling two quarantine beds as she yell-rapped the end of Nicki Minaj's Monster verse. Bucky was doubled over with laughter, clutching the end of one of the other beds, just as she finished with a scream and "I'm a motherfucking monster!" and leaped to the ground, the baggy yellow suit billowing around her.

As if she'd been politely waiting for them to finish, F.R.I.D.A.Y. ended the song and spoke over the speakers: "Ms Stark, Sergeant Barnes, you are now cleared to leave the quarantine bay. Please make your way back through the decontamination bay and exit via the door you came through. Congratulations on your good health."

Breathless, Maggie pushed up her hazmat suit sleeves and looked across at Bucky. "Right." She checked the digital clock in the observation room. They'd been able to leave 5 minutes ago.

"Sir is waiting for you outside, Ms Stark," F.R.I.D.A.Y. added.

"Right." Maggie let out a long breath, her chest a bit sore from laughter, then looked at Bucky. He had straightened, his laughter fading too. "So, I guess… we did it!"

"We sure did," he nodded. "How are you feeling?"

She nodded. "Good. Well, much better, anyway." She put her hands on her hips and looked around. They'd made a mess of the quarantine bay, beds askew and sheets strewn everywhere, a spare hazmat suit crumpled up in the corner and books stacked beside their beds. She looked back up at Bucky. "Hey. This was fun."

He smiled at the strangeness of it all. "Me too. Let's not do it again, though."

She shot him a mock-salute. "No more touching chemical weapons, got it." She cocked her head. "Though… like I said yesterday. You've got an open invite to my workshop. Promise it doesn't always end up like this."

His eyes crinkled at the edges. "Understood. You did say you still had to show me Macklemore."

"You're in for a treat." She hesitated, then jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I should…"

"Yeah, yes, go," he nodded. "I'll be right after you."

"Okay." She hesitated again. "Bye, Bucky." She turned and hurried back through the quarantine bay, out to freedom.

Tony enveloped Maggie in a hug the second she stepped out of the quarantine area.

"Gross," he said after a few moments. "Why are you sweaty?"

"Why do you stink like a coffee grinder?" she replied as she stepped back. There were still shadows under Tony's eyes, and he seemed reluctant to let go of her. She could tell he was looking at the shiny pink skin around her nose. "Hey." His eyes flicked up to hers. "Thanks for saving my life."

His face twisted, before he settled on an unbothered shrug. "Ah, well. You'd have done it faster."

"Yeah, I would have." His casual expression turned into a scowl. Maggie grinned and leaned in to hug him again. "Now I need you to save my life again. Get me out of this facility and buy me a pizza."

"Now that I can do."

As they made their way out of the building, Tony seemed to recall something. "How were things in there with Barnes, by the way? Sorry you got stuck in there with the Great Depression."

"Don't be sorry," she said distractedly. Tony shot her a curious look, but said no more.

Late June, 2015

"Take your next right, Sergeant Wilson," F.R.I.D.A.Y. instructed.

Sam obeyed, his shoes squeaking slightly on the shiny facility corridor, and immediately spotted Maggie's workshop: it had glass walls facing out to the corridor, and an assortment of incomprehensible machines and devices arrayed across the glossy black floor and workspaces. There was no sign that this room had been the site of a biochemical attack only a few weeks ago. He couldn't see the Chief of Research and Development herself, though.

The glass doors slid open and Sam strode through, adjusting the backpack he carried. "Hey Maggie, I - gah!" he broke off with a flinch as a loud bang resounded across the workshop. One arm raised, he looked over to spot Maggie in the far end of the workshop, wearing safety goggles and wielding a three-foot long metal mallet. A sheet of metal was clamped to the workbench in front of her, now sporting a shallow dent.

Maggie looked over. "Hi Sam, what's up?"

He lowered his arm and took a breath. Now that the bang had stopped echoing, he realized music was playing through the workshop speakers. "Okay. So I called Tony about this deployment issue with my wings-"

"Well that's your first mistake," she snorted, leaning down to inspect the dent she'd made in the sheet of metal.

"Well, that's pretty much what Tony said," Sam added as he took a step further into the workshop. His eyes snagged on a glass box by the window, inside of which was… a cactus? A sticker on the corner of the box read atmosphere filtration system. He shook his head and turned back to Maggie. "He said that you'd be better at wings and that you'd have more fun doing it. And he also said that he was sick of fixing the Air Force's mistakes, which I'm pretty sure was some kind of reference to Colonel Rhodes-"

"Probably was," she nodded as she set her hammer down. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., we're going to need to adjust the titanium blend in this before we start construction. Could you contact R&D to requisition the materials?"

"Noted, Ms Stark," said the AI in its soft accent.

"So," Sam continued. "Would you be able to-" he paused as he recognized the song playing in the workshop. "Are you listening to Rihanna?"

"Yes," said Bucky.

Sam flinched again and skittered away from the voice behind him, whirling. He hadn't even noticed Bucky sitting in the far corner of the workshop until he'd spoken.

"Jesus," Sam muttered. Bucky was just sitting in an armchair with a book in one hand, not even looking at Sam. He had a thermos of coffee balanced beside his elbow. "The hell are you doing here?"

Bucky finally looked up, scorn in his eyes. "The hell are you doing here?"

"I'm…" Sam gave up and turned back to Maggie, who was watching with a glint in her eyes. "Would you be willing to take a look at the wings?"

A grin spread across her face. "Are you kidding me? I've been waiting for this day for so long." Her eyes zeroed in on the bag in his arms. "Is that them? Bring them over."

A few minutes later, when Sam's wings were spread out across a spare workbench and Maggie had brought out a frankly frightening array of tools, she leaned across the wings and whispered to Sam:

"He's just worried you're going to steal his best friend." She jerked her head over her shoulder, in the direction of the ex-assassin reading Ender's Game in the corner.

"Heard that," Bucky called without looking up.

"And what're you going to do about it?" Maggie challenged, looking over with arched eyebrows.

Bucky glared back at her, before finally looking back down at his book.

Sam stared. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

Maggie just smiled as she turned to peer at his wings.

They hadn't really discussed it, but Bucky had become almost a part of the furniture in Maggie's workshop. He showed up a few times a week with a book, or his tablet, and usually some coffee for the both of them, and stayed in his corner as she worked on her projects. Each time he'd ask her what she was working on, and she'd talk uninterrupted about Quinjet couplings and uniform specifications and defense networks, neither of them really minding if he understood her completely or not. Then she'd settle into her work, and they would listen to music: either decade by decade, or as the whim took them. Bucky began asking to see the music videos accompanying the songs, and Maggie laughed at the expressions he made as he watched them.

Early July, 2015
Upstate New York

"Here's your coffee, sir - er…"

"Thank you," Vision said politely, accepting the steaming cup from the round-eyed diner waitress. He set it down on the table with a smile, and the waitress retreated.

Maggie watched with amusement, sipping her own coffee. She and Vision had gone flying this morning, inspired by clear skies and warm weather and Maggie itching to use her wings again after a few quiet weeks. They hadn't raced - because Vision could certainly win - but it had been a gorgeous flight of a couple hours, soaring over the ocean and then back inland. Vision was such a strange and graceful flier, appearing almost weightless.

But now they'd stopped at a random diner on a highway upstate. The owner was staring at them both from the small window through to the kitchen: Vision, strange and maroon, and Maggie in her metal plated uniform. Maggie could still feel the cold on her cheeks, and the smell of the sky clung to her hair.

Vision had ordered a coffee, to be polite, but Maggie could already see it going cold in front of him. She shoveled her food into her mouth between sips of coffee. Flying made her hungry.

"You'll have to teach me that corkscrew maneuver you did on the way back," she said. VIsion had all sorts of cool flying tricks that he'd absorbed from the internet.

"I shall." He looked around, and the gem in his forehead glinted. "It's a shame Colonel Rhodes and Sam could not join us." Sam had joined the 'first name basis' crew with Vision.

"I don't know, it's nice to hang out with just the two of us." She cocked her head at him. "I worry about you, y'know." His brow furrowed. "Do you… have everything you need? Are you supported? Is there anything you have questions about? How is your… well, I suppose you don't sleep, do you?"

"No," he acknowledged. "But I do find it useful to meditate during the night hours whilst others are asleep." He met her eyes with a hint of a smile. "I am well, Maggie. Your concern is… appreciated, though. How are you, after your time in quarantine?"

"Still have the cough, but I'm on the mend. Cho says the cell damage should be repaired within the month."

"And Bucky?"

That made her look up from her scrambled eggs. The others never really asked her how Bucky was, after it all. As if he'd just been a spectator to the attack. "He's… good. Hasn't been scared off from the workshop." He'd been back more than ever, content to sit in the corner and read books and do his research while she blasted music and worked. Sometimes she let him pick the music.

"He gives me hope," Vision said.

Maggie blinked. "What?"

"Bucky," he said, his eyes serious. "For all he has suffered, for all those who have warped and tortured his mind… he heals. He learns, and trusts. He gives me hope for humanity. And for myself." Vision looked down.

Maggie didn't know what to say. "I suppose… I feel the same way," she murmured. She looked down into her coffee cup. "You know, he taught me something important, early on. Before I was even friends with him."

Vision looked at her.

"I never suffered like Bucky did." She frowned as she recalled that scarlet-tinged nightmare she'd had thanks to Wanda. "I grew up under my own control - Tony gave me the freedom to make my own choices, which I am endlessly thankful for. But it wasn't until I met Bucky that I learned it's okay to ask for help." She smiled at Vision. "No matter how perfect you are."

Vision smiled too. "Your desire to help me is irrepressible."

"Yes," she agreed. "Vision, the world is… so big. And you've seen so much of it and yet so little. Please, let me… what can I help you with?"

He let out a soft sigh, considering it. Maggie glanced over at the kitchen to see the owner and the waitress still staring at them. Vision inclined his head. "I am… still learning the intersocial context of conversation-making," he admitted. "There are very many helpful resources for how to navigate this, but perhaps… perhaps you could observe me in some conversations over the coming weeks, to judge my performance and suggest improvements. I have observed that you are a very personable speaker, and often endear your audience to you in only a few words."

Maggie had to swallow down her instinctive reaction to make a joke like oh, stop flirting, since given what he'd just asked her she didn't think that would be appropriate. So she just said: "Well, thank you. And I'd be honored to. Do you have any particular focus? When to speak, when to listen, active listening, use of anecdotes, humor…?"

"All of the above," he said with an air of relief.

"Sure," she nodded. "And hey, before we start… I think it's important to note that conversation isn't something you can win. Whoever you're talking to, if they're worthy, they'll want to talk to you because you're you."

Vision nodded. "Yes. But I suspect I may not always speak with worthy people in my lifetime."

"Touche," she nodded. "And hey, before we start - I recommend the book How to Win Friends and Influence People. I read it before I started elementary school and it helped a lot."

CNN Article, July 13 2015

SENATE HEARINGS ON RELIEF EFFORTS FOR SOKOVIA: MARGARET AND TONY STARK TESTIFY.

Mid July, Stark Industries launched a scholarship program for kids from urban schools across the country, part of which involved a selected group of high-school age interns arriving at the Facility. Maggie got used to teenagers staring at her whenever she emerged from the private wings of the facility.

WHIH Newsfront News Alert, July 16 2015

Tony Stark says that public concerns about Dr Bruce Banner are "baseless" and "irresponsible" after the South Africa incident involving the Hulk.

Columbia University Department of Astronomy Website update, July 20 2015

Tickets are still available for tomorrow's lecture by renowned astrophysicist, astronomer, and Nobel prize candidate Jane Foster, creator of the Foster Theory: 'Interspace and Dimensional Travel'.

Reviews

Eennio: Thank you!

DBZFAN45: Thanks for the welcome back! Glad you liked the emotional tension last chapter. We're not quite at the Civil War yet, but it approaches on the horizon...

Shorttrooper: Don't worry, the next few chapters are almost exclusively Maggie and Bucky fluff and conversations ;) And feelings ;) Hope you had a lovely week!