Three more days had passed, and Sam and Steve still weren't back. They'd been gone way longer than anyone had expected. Mo continuously pestered Tony, asking if he'd heard from them, but he'd denied it, stating that he would only hear from them when they were on their way back in, whatever that meant. He seemed to know more about the mission than she and Bucky did, but he refused to reveal anything. It had gotten so bad that whenever he saw her, before she could say a word, he'd say, "Nope, still haven't heard from them."
He'd gotten to work on her leg, and as a result was locked up in his playroom, as she called it, for a majority of the day. He'd restricted their access to the floor they shared, to the gym and saunas, and to the relaxation rooms, but other than that they weren't allowed to go much anywhere else, as Tony had said he didn't particularly want "Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde" as he called Bucky, ending up anywhere he shouldn't be.
To pass the time and keep their minds off things, they spent a lot of time in Tony's gym, which was an incredible thing to see. Machines everywhere, a boxing ring, punching bags, gymnastics equipment, even a pool and a track. Anything they could have wanted was there. Mo spent a lot of time just walking or hitting a punching bag, while Bucky consistently destroyed those punching bags, lifted things, and practiced killing invisible opponents.
By the time four days had gone by, Mo was incredibly tense and just sat watching Bucky, who was punching and kicking and was unlike anything she'd ever seen. While she'd been trained in hand-to-hand combat, it was nothing like this. He'd told her it was a fighting style, which he'd been trained to be able to kill anyone with anything he could use to do it. Anything could be a weapon. He was wearing only the black sweats, his hair coming lose from it's bun, and he was actually shirtless, the entirety of his arm exposed. She watched him, fascinated as he swiped his knife, jabbed it, tossed it and caught it before tossing it at a target shaped like a man and hit the target in the chest.
She whistled and, panting and sweating, he turned to face her. He shook his head and gave her a look, pushing the loose bits of hair out of his face as he walked, barefoot, to retrieve the knife. She was closer to the target, so she reached it before he did, turning it over in her hands curiously. She held it, balanced it, felt the weight, then looked up at him. She needed a distraction.
"Could you teach me?"
"What?" He gave her a look. He was still panting slightly as he took the knife back, sweat dripping from the end of his nose. "Why?"
"Well, because it's cool, for one," she said, crossing her arms, "and I'm bored, but I also feel like it's something that might come in handy."
He shrugged, motioning her to follow him, and led her to the boxing ring. From there he taught her a few basic swipes, jabs, and slices, and when he insisted that he show her the tricks it quickly became apparent that she didn't have the intensity to master them without stabbing either herself or him, so she backed off, settling for watching him do them instead. She suspected he was showing off a little.
Soon they were sparring lightly, not too seriously because she knew she'd have been on the floor in seconds. They took it slow, considering that while he was basically in good shape, she still was sore and hadn't recovered. Bouncing slightly, arms drawn, she made a jab for his ribs, which he blocked lazily with a smirk. She went to land a kick with her good leg, trusting the other to balance briefly, but he caught her leg, twisted her around, and sent her to the floor. She yelped, and a second before she hit the mat he'd caught hold of her shirt and held her suspended there for a moment, her nose an inch from the mat, before he whipped her back up, catching her.
"Show off," she gasped, pushing her hair out of her face.
"Only a little," he said, and they went on. He corrected her technique here and there, gave her pointers, and her military background definitely helped and she picked it up quickly. She attacked him at one point, and he was laughing as he deflected her punches, until she swiped at his legs and made contact. He looked annoyed and went on the offensive then, and after only a few moments she yelped and cowered, yelling, "Okay, okay!"
She glared at him once he backed off, and she waited until he let his guard down before she attacked again. He hadn't seemed to break a sweat, which was sad, considering her body was shaking from exertion. With a huff of breath she threw a punch, which he caught, then twisted her arm, spun her around, and forced her to the ground. She grunted and struggled to roll over, but he was on top of her, her arm still twisted behind her back, and he was chuckling, which infuriated her.
Finally, with her face smashed to the mat, he released her. The smug look on his face drove her mad, and when he turned his back on her, laughing a good-natured laugh, she swung her legs up and took him out at the knees. It had only worked because it was a cheap shot and he'd thought she was done, but it worked and he fell to the mat beside her. He was still laughing as she got up and stood above him.
"I win," she smirked, and he shook his head, reaching up. She took his hand and tugged him to his feet, which was completely unnecessary, but she did it anyway. "Whatever," she grumbled as he rubbed her shoulders. "Wait till I get my new leg. You'll see."
He took a couple of steps away and grabbed his towel from the ropes, and tossed her hers. He toweled off his face and neck and left it draped over one shoulder.
"Don't beat yourself up," he said. "You're pretty good for—for someone who hasn't been shot full of super soldier serum." He winked at her. "Besides, I've had decades of training. Even with your leg, you'll never beat me."
"So modest," he muttered.
"Just realistic," he said. "But I'd he happy to show you more."
And that was how their training had been established. By the time a full week had passed in the tower, they'd taken to training to pass the time. Bucky was a good teacher—patient, good-humored without being condescending or going too easy on her because of her leg, which she appreciated. On the seventh day, after some less-than-gentle sparring in the ring, she'd collapsed to the mat on her back, stretching her arms out, panting. He sat beside her, knees drawn up. He still hadn't broken a sweat against her.
"What if," she breathed, licking her lips and looking at him intently. "What if they don't come back?"
Bucky's eyes darkened. "They will."
On their tenth day in the tower, there was still no news. It had been nearly two weeks since they'd left, and Mo was going crazy with tension. She and Bucky had tried sleeping alone after that first night, but consistently woke each other with nightmares and discovered that it was easier if they just shared the bed and knew that they weren't alone. They always slept back-to-back.
On day twelve, Tony called her down to his lab. Bucky came with her, as he had told her that the prototype had been finished and he wanted her to try it out.
"It's just the prototype," he reminded her as she stared at the shape under the sheet. Bucky was just behind her. She stepped closer, heart pounding, and looked at Tony, who looked excited. He tugged the sheet away with a flourish and she stared at the piece of work in front of her and she gasped.
It was smooth, polished steel, shining, reflective, flawless like a mirror. It was shaped like a leg and reminded her vaguely of Bucky's arm, except that it lacked the plated look and was entirely smooth. It was nearly an entire leg, with a smooth thigh, a knee joint that was a small slit that allowed it to bend, and another at the ankle. The foot was shaped like a foot, like her foot, but there were no toes; it was fused, like a doll's foot.
"It's beautiful," she breathed. She wanted to touch it, but she was afraid of leaving fingerprints on the smooth surface. Bucky stepped up beside her and nodded approvingly.
"It's strong," Tony said, "and lightweight, but it can take a hint. The joints move like real joints, and it's a replica of your real leg, just matched for the other side. I used his arm as a base for the idea, but I tried to make it more feminine, sleek and—well, sexy."
She tore her eyes away from it and looked up at him. "Can I—can I try it on?"
"I thought you'd never ask," he said gleefully. "I'm pretty proud of this. I think you're going to love it. Pants off."
She glanced up at Tony and Bucky, then shrugged. It was nothing they hadn't seen before. She stripped her pants off and hopped up on the table beside the leg when he told her to, then went about unstrapping her current prosthetic from around her waist. She slid it off, feeling only mildly self-conscious as Tony lifted the new one gently.
"You're going to put your stump in here," he said coolly, and she noticed that the leg did indeed go up high, and that it was hollow up to a point with room for her to slide into it. He helped her get it on and she was surprised when it started making whirring noises, and it was only then, upon closer inspection, and the realized there were tiny fusions in the metal near the top, allowing it to shift it's shape. It cupped around he leg, conforming to her body, sealing itself snugly around her stump so that her entire leg seemed to be made of steel. It was tight, but not too tight; it felt secure.
"That's it?" she asked, "No straps?"
"None," he said proudly. "Now, give it a second…" she waited and he nodded to himself, then said, "Do me a favor and cross your legs."
She hesitated. It seemed like a simple task, but with her old leg the process had always required the use of her hands to lift the prosthetic and set it on top of her flesh leg.
"Any day now," he urged, and she reached down. "Ah, ah," he said, "no hands. Cross your legs."
Her heart pounded. She swallowed and shifted her weight and made to cross her legs, and she let out a breath and nearly started crying when she crossed her legs.
"Oh my god," she gasped as the leg folded smoothly over her real leg. "How—"
"Science," he said triumphantly, looking very pleased with himself. "See, the part that's hugging the top of your actual leg has little sensors and it—" he stopped as if reminding himself to dumb it down. "Basically, it picks up on what your brain is telling it to do. Like a real leg."
"Oh my god," she said again, her hands shaking. Carefully, slowly, she extended the leg and it flowed naturally. It was such an odd, confusing sensation, to know that this wasn't a real part of her, and yet it responded to what she wanted it to do. It seemed too easy. She flexed the ankle, watching, fascinated, as it bent up and down, the foot rotating.
Bucky looked impressed as she tore her eyes away from it to look at him. "Nice," he said, and Mo looked at Tony. He grabbed her hand and dragged her off the table so that she was standing barefoot on the floor.
"Oh, and check this out," Tony said. "Look at the bottom of the foot." She lifted it and looked at the bottom of the foot; there were little clear gel-like pads on the ball of the foot and on the heel. "Anti-slip-grip," he said proudly. "Walk around."
It was difficult, in a strange way, to suddenly get used to this new leg. She couldn't feel it; she could feel the pressure of the ground when she walked, but she couldn't feel like she could with her real leg. Not that she was complaining. She would have been overwhelmed.
"Hop up and down for me," he said, and she did; the knee and ankle flexed along with her other leg, perfect, fluid motion. There was the slightl clink of metal hitting the hard floor, but it was silent and strong. "I was tempted to include super strength," he said, "and weapons. Lasers." He smirked. "But I figured you'd prefer something more simple."
"This is perfect," she said, rotating in a circle, more daring with the leg. "This is amazing."
"It has a steel bone structure," he said, "all sorts of fun bits and pieces inside to act as bones and muscles and tendons. It's as lifelike as possible. Now, if you want anything changed—"
"It's perfect," she said again, meeting his eyes, and oh he looked so proud of himself. She jogged in place, bounced up and down, the leg flexed like it was a part of her, seamless. She looked in the full length mirror, turning, inspecting. It really did look like her entire leg was steel; it ended just beneath her butt, the skin giving way to the polished steel.
"I look—"
"Badass," Tony suggested, and she wiped at her eyes and smiled.
"It's unbelievable," she murmured, still twisting and turning.
"It'll take some getting used to, of course. And like I said, this is the prototype. I'm working on the final version, so let me know if there's anything I need to change."
"Thank you," she said, and he circled her, asking her to perform a few more tasks; balance on the leg, squat, lunge, kick, and while these weren't without some complications, mostly due to her not being used to having a leg like this one, she was still amazed.
"Alright, alright," he said as she scribbled down notes, scratching his head. "Go play with it. I need to make adjustments."
She couldn't imagine what adjustments he needed to make, but she looked at Bucky, a huge smile on her face, and he grinned at her.
"We're practically twins," he said sarcastically, and she shook her head with a little smile. While Tony had modeled her leg after his arm, it was entirely different. He was right; it was definitely more feminine. While Bucky's arm screamed danger and strength, hers was smooth and pretty, and sexy in a way that shiny, polished, reflective things were sexy.
"Come on," she said, "let's go test it out."
AN: So I'm thinking, we still need to get to the dancing, Mo's gonna play with the leg a little. Sam and Steve will come back, we'll deal with that, and then we'll wrap this story up. Hope you liked this one! The next chapter will consist of Mo getting more use out of the leg.