Tony wakes to the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor and the burning smell of hand sanitizer. Shit. The medical suite. Usually he can get there under his own power, so if he wakes up already there... must have been a bad fight. What was it this time? Aliens? Hydra? Some new hell?
His head pounds as he opens his eyes to the sterile, white walls and piercing lights. The pain that pierces his skull triggers something: a recollection of driving and... and someone yelling at him. He groans.
"Here."
Tony steadies the glass that presses to his lips and gulps the contents. His stomach roils against the water. Such a familiar feeling. Not a battle, then. At least, not one against any new demons. When he finishes the water, he turns, squinting through crusty eyes at the man next to him. Steve. "What happened?"
"You had a blood alcohol level of .30." Tony jerks around at the sound of Rhodey's voice. He hadn't seen him on his first inspection of the room. His expression is as dark as his voice. "We had to pump your stomach."
"What were you doing driving?" Steve asks.
Oh god, a carousel of bad decision-making. The familiar pit of shame unfurls in his stomach. A thousand lectures roll through his mind. Tony shakes his head to clear the noise, then raises his palm to his temple when that hurts.
"That would be the concussion," Rhodey explains. "Still aren't sure how you got it. Care to enlighten us?"
He remembers the yelling. And the brakes pushing themselves. Then the steering wheel rushed at him and everything cut out. "How did you find me?"
"You showed up in the garage," Steve says, "passed out cold. How did you even make it back?"
Good question. The Lotus can drive itself no problem, but Tony hadn't set the autopilot. You. You must have taken over the car. Oh fuck, fuck, that's wrong in so many ways. Tony raises a hand to his throbbing head.
"Someone called for medical aid," Steve continues. "Don't know who."
For an AI, you're one hell of a busybody. "Must have been FRIDAY," Tony says.
<You are so full of shit, Stark.>
The room freezes as Rhodey and Cap look to each other.
"Trying out a new AI?" Rhodey asks.
"Blaire told me Tony was working on a new one," Steve answers. "She said he built a girlfriend."
Oh hell. For someone who can't speak, Blaire sure has a big mouth. "She is not my girlfriend," Tony snaps.
<He did not build me.> Your familiar hologram materializes at Tony's bedside.
"Go away, Cheshire," Tony says. "We'll talk about it later."
<Bullshit!> you snap. <We'll talk about it now. I don't take orders from you and, after last night, don't you think for a second that you're in a position to give me any.>
"Tony..." Steve's voice toes the thin line between confused and concerned.
You continue as if he hadn't interrupted, crowding into Tony's space. <You took a bath in whiskey and I had to knock your dumb ass out so I could drive you home.>
Tony's temper unravels, his anger at himself lashing out at you because you're a convenient target. "I didn't ask you to do that."
You match his bark for bite. <I wasn't fucking doing it for you. You can plow your car into the river for all I care.>
You seem to be on the road to a full-fledged tirade, one that Tony isn't in the mood to share with Steve and Rhodey. "FRIDAY, flush the system."
<FRIDAY, don't you fucking d—>
You vanish with a flicker, leaving Tony alone in the dark with Steve and Rhodey.
"What the hell is going on?" Steve asks.
#
By the time you reassemble yourself and break back through the Avengers' firewalls, Tony is out of the medical ward and the team has gathered in a conference room for a heated discussion.
"What is that thing?" Rhodey asks. You bristle at his tone.
Tony sits at the head of the table, his forehead resting against the wood. "She—it... well, I don't know exactly."
<I'm a person.>
"Oh, great," Rhodey says. He throws his hands up. "It's back."
"Tony," Steve speaks this time. His eyebrows knit together. "What does it mean: it's 'a person'?"
<Same thing it means for you,> you say. Now that you've exposed yourself to the entire team (thanks, Tony), your chances of getting help are quickly diminishing. You don't have time for niceties anymore.
"Cheshire. Just"—Tony lets out a long breath through his nose—"stay out of this right now." He doesn't look up. It doesn't matter, there's nowhere for him to make eye contact,
<If you're going to be talking about me, I want to take part.>
He sits up and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Sure, whatever, but can you shut up for just a second?"
<I'm not just some AI that you can—>
A tingle on the extreme edges of your consciousness distracts you. Before you can investigate, an aggressive push rocks your hold on the system. You recognize the touch. Vision. You've never interacted with him directly, but you've tiptoed around him enough times to recognize the signature.
You push back with everything you have, overwhelming him and chasing him back into his own mind, maybe a little beyond. Physically, he flinches, dropping to one knee where he had stood. All eyes turn to him.
"Vis?"
He holds his hand up to reassure the woman—Wanda—who had rushed to his aid. "It is alright. I attempted to remove the intrusion from the system."
<Try it again,> you warn, <and I'll tear you apart.>
"Hey," Tony calls to the ceiling. "Knock it off."
<I'll keep my hands to myself if he does.>
"Let's just... figure out what's going on here first," Natasha says.
"What's there to figure out?" Rhodey asks. "Tony, that thing is a menace."
<Can you quit trying to kill me? I saved your life.>
"You what?"
Everyone starts talking at once, telling Tony what he should do. Prevailing opinion seems to lie with your destruction.
"I know!" Tony shouts. The other voices stop. "I know it doesn't make sense and it's dangerous and you want me to fix it. I get it. Just let me think for two seconds."
A ringing silence follows his outburst. For a few moments, only tension fills the air. Natasha is the first to speak again. "Tony, what happened?" Her voice is gentle, coaxing.
He takes a few moments to steady himself, then addresses the group again, his tone flat like he's giving a lecture. "There's a woman at a long term care facility in Albany. That's who she"—he gestures to the ceiling as if that's where you live—"claims she is."
"Is that true?" Steve asks.
"I don't know."
Rhodes chimes in, "This is crazy. People can't be computers."
"They can," Natasha says. "Steve and I saw it."
Steve meets her eyes. "Zola's lab. At the SHIELD facility. He transferred his mind to a computer bank before he died. They kept him there for decades."
<But I'm not dead. My body is still out there, I'm just not in it.>
"Yeah?" Rhodey asks. "And how did that happen?"
Tony answers before you can give a sharp retort. "She was at Helen Cho's facility. Ultron blasted her with the scepter."
"That's what gave me and... Pietro... our powers," Wanda says from the corner where she stands with her arms crossed. "Exposure to the staff."
"To the Infinity Stone," Vision says. Silence falls over the room.
"Are we actually considering this?" Rhodey seems scandalized.
"It would be an oversight to not do so," Vision answers.
"And what if it's another Ultron?"
Tony comes to your defense. "She's not like Ultron."
"How do you know?"
"I just"—he rubs his hand over his face—"She's not."
"She's dangerous!"
A sharp knock on the table stops the conversation. All eyes turn to the woman—Blaire—sitting next to Steve. [I was dangerous] she signs.
Steve lays his hand on her arm. "It's different."
Blaire looks to Tony, a combination of confusion and pleading. [she can't control her powers] she insists. [we should help her] The group exchanges uncomfortable glances. [what do you want to do?] Blaire asks Tony.
Tony raises an eyebrow at Steve. "You're really okay with me doing this?"
"If we said no, would you listen?"
Tony smirks, but doesn't answer immediately. He stares at Blaire's pleading face, his expression shifting my millimeters each second. You'd hold your breath if you had one. "Yeah," he says finally. "I want to help."
#
Tony arranges to have your body moved to the Avengers facility. It isn't hard getting permission—your grandmother is all too eager to jump at the chance Tony offers. Which is good, because no normal doctor on earth would sign off on what he's planning. You're braindead and he's going to perform experimental surgery so that a computer program can run a human body. And he's not sure that's possible. He has all of your paperwork, but that doesn't tell the whole story. Tony doesn't even know what he's looking for, but knowing everything has to be a good start, right?
"Physically, she's in incredible shape," Bruce says after he finishes a thorough examination of your body. "Considering how long she's been in a coma, she should have experienced significant muscle atrophy."
"She didn't?" Tony asks.
"Not nearly as much as she should have. It's similar to—" Bruce cuts off, eyebrows knitting together.
"What?"
Bruce removes his glasses, fiddles with the frames. "Did you read the SHEILD files from when they revived Steve?" When he looks up from his hands, his eyes pierce through Tony.
Tony had perused most of SHEILD's files, and paid attention to the ones regarding Rogers in particular, but he didn't see how that was connected to you. "They aren't exactly springing to mind."
"He'd been in the ice for seventy years," Bruce says, as if that explains the connection. Tony lifts an eyebrow, inviting him to continue. "Not only did he survive, but he was in the same shape he was when he went under. No rehab required. Even under lab conditions, cryogenics wouldn't have worked that well."
"The serum?" Tony suggests, but his gut tells him no.
"I'm starting to think the super soldier serum gets more credit than it should." Bruce reaches for the supplies to draw blood. "I'm not sure about this, but I'll look into it. We might have more in common than I thought."
<Like what?> you ask. Bruce startles a little and looks around the room as if he could see you. You oblige by shimmering the hologram into view beside him. Tony smiles to himself. It's easy to forget that you're listening when you don't make yourself apparent.
"If Loki's scepter emitted high levels of gamma radiation," Bruce explains, "it's possible that you received your powers that way."
Which would be a common link in all the super-humans suddenly popping up. Steve, Bruce, Wanda, Pietro, Blaire, now you...
"So," Tony says, "gamma is the key to all this?"
"Maybe. I'll see what I get back from the blood sample."
In the meantime, they run the full gamut of exams. Tony has to remove all your piercings so he can run the MRI. There are... a lot. Every time he thinks he finally has them all, you remind him of another one. Not to mention the tattoos. Is there any part of you that isn't covered in ink? The MRI clicks and whirrs as the images flash on the screen.
"It's a normal brain, Tony," Bruce says, watching the monitor. "I don't know what you're looking for."
Tony didn't either. "It can't be normal," he says, leaning toward the screen. "Not completely. She's not in there." There had to be something the doctors missed. This wasn't a normal case.
"Right, that's why the scan shows no activity." Bruce waves at the screen. "Brain death."
<I'm not dead.>
"As far as your brain is considered, you are," Bruce corrects you.
"Yes, but is it healthy?" Tony asks. Dead or not, he can't put you back if your brain has turned to soup.
"How should I know?" Bruce shrugs. "In most cases, this is where they would contact the family about organ donation."
"But there aren't any injuries?"
"Not visible, no."
<So, I should be able to go back in.>
Bruce sighs. "There is no in. Consciousness doesn't just jump in and out of the brain."
<Mine did.>
"Even if you can," Bruce says, though his tone is skeptical, "How do you think this is going to work? Once you're in there?"
"The brain runs on electrical pulses," Tony says. "It's an organic computer setup, if you think about it. She should be capable of running it, assuming we can make the transfer of consciousness."
"Theoretically." Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. "Not sure how you're planning on doing that, but I'm guessing it will be brain surgery. Massive brain surgery."
"Well, how else are we going to do it? She needs the connection. If I can create a fine enough mesh, actually integrate her into the cerebral cortex, then she can transfer from the electrical current of the mesh into her own neurons."
"Theoretically." Bruce sits down in what Tony now recognizes as a weary gesture. "Tony, this whole thing is a crapshoot. She's unique. There's no precedent for this sort of transfer. We can't go back on it. It's not like we can make a copy of her. We can't even test it beforehand. If this goes wrong, there's not a second chance. You could fry her brain and destroy both halves of her."
"We managed to stick Jarvis into Vision, didn't we?"
"Yeah, but Vision was an infinity stone. And the body was manufactured in the cradle. He's a synthetic life form. You're trying to shove something synthetic into an organic container. There's no way of knowing if it will preserve her existing consciousness. You could kill her." Bruce runs his hands through his hair. "Look, Tony. This kind of neuroscience is way beyond me. I think... I think you should consider this a little more."
Tony stays in your room long after Bruce leaves, just... staring at your body. He doesn't see it, per se. He's just thinking, running his thumb absently over the pulse in your wrist.
<What's up, Doc?> Your hologram appears on the edge of your bed, wearing a hospital gown, just like your body.
"Doc?" Tony asks. His expertise is more mechanical than medical, even if he is stepping outside his comfort zone for this.
<You have three doctorates,> you say. <At least one of them should count.> Your hologram shifts, folding her hands in her lap. <Having second thoughts?> You ask. Your tone is nonchalant, even if the question isn't.
Tony stands. It's not... cold feet or anything like that. The challenge is exhilarating, but the consequences? Tony isn't used to consequences. At least, before the Avengers, he wasn't. Now it feels like every breath he takes is costing lives somewhere. He does something, someone dies. He sits out, someone dies. Buildings fall and democracy crumbles and he used to not worry about those things. Collateral damage. He makes a circuit of the room. "You're safer staying where you are." He runs his hands through his hair, mussing it. "Bruce is right. There won't be any second chances at this." Collateral damage. Numbers, statistics, death tolls. It's easier to gloss over that way. But you... you're personal. You're a living, breathing—no, not quite that. You exist and you care. And Tony hadn't realized how much he'd grown attached to you.
<You know,> you say, interrupting the vicious circle that his thoughts run, <I don't remember what bacon tastes like.> Your hologram smirks at him and your body remains still as ever. It's like watching a ghost. <Like, I know that's a stupid example, but can you imagine? Not remembering that? Or what sunlight feels like?> Tony looks down, not able to maintain eye contact, even if the image isn't really you. <This isn't living, Tony. I can't feel anything or touch anything. As far as I know, I won't die—not without help. I don't want to live forever like this.>
Live forever. You say it like it's a death sentence. Maybe it is. Tony's considered that, not in the same way, of course. But... what if he outlived everyone he loved? Yeah, he'd risk his life too.
#
It's amazing to watch Tony work. He goes into a trance, focusing so hard on his task that the rest of the world seems to shut off. His big hands do delicate work, creating the most amazing things out of nothing. Even so, even with his mind at full capacity, the mesh isn't an easy creation. There are too many variables, too many catches and tricks. The brain is sophisticated—hacking it seems to be giving Tony trouble. Days worth of trouble.
<You should go to bed, Tony,> you say when, once again, it's three in the morning. Tony is still working.
Tony jerks out of the daze he'd fallen into. "I'm fine."
<When was the last time you actually slept?> You know when that was, of course. You don't sleep and you have nothing better to do than watch him. It's been thirty-two hours and twenty-six minutes since he took a catnap in the lab. Tony needs sleep. Real sleep. In a bed.
"Don't worry about it. Don't you want me to find a solution to your problem?"
<Yeah, but I don't see how running yourself into the ground is going to help things. Won't a little rest be better?> Ok, so your motives aren't purely practical, even if you phrase them that way. Sleep would help Tony think better, but you're more concerned with his wellbeing. He isn't a machine, even if the others often treat him that way. They seem to have grown so accustomed to his self-sacrifice that they take it for granted. That's just Tony. He'll do whatever it takes.
"I keep pushing until it comes to me. That's how I work."
Of course it is. That's the problem. He doesn't see himself as worth caring for. He thinks he's expendable. You cross in front of him and he pulls back instinctively, rolling his chair away so his hands don't pass through you. <Why did you decide to help me?> you ask. It's a distraction, one that might help your cause. But you're also curious. He'd been so adamant, but when someone else questioned you, threatened you, he became your greatest defender. <What changed your mind?>
Tony picks up a screwdriver, then puts it back down. "You're my responsibility."
Ok... not what you were expecting. 'A challenge' maybe or 'Because I felt like it'. But, you'd approached him for help. He didn't owe you anything. <How's that?>
"I made Ultron. If it weren't for me, this wouldn't have happened to you. Wanda would still have a brother. All those people in Sokovia—"
The way he cuts off, the way he looks down, the only direction where you can't see him directly in the cameras... he's... you process the image, searching for comparisons, but it isn't familiar. It's almost like he's ashamed. <You wanted to help people.>
Tony laughs, a dark, self-mocking sound. "Oh, yeah. That worked out great."
<You didn't know what would happen.>
"Really? Because I thought I did." He paces the edge of the lab. "I thought I had seen it. I thought that what Wanda put—what I saw—was where we were going. I knew. I knew if I didn't create Ultron, that that's where we would end up. So, I did. And I made something so much worse."
<Tony...> It's not pain—you can't feel pain—but, god, it's so close. You want to touch him. You want to reach through the circuits, the code, anything if it meant you could get to him. You settle for moving the hologram, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. He can't feel it, there's no way he could. But he leans into it just a little. In all your time in this disembodied state, never once have you felt such a powerful need to have your physical form back. You'd give anything—everything—if you could reach him. <You're so brave.> It's utterly inadequate. But how are you supposed to describe him? Everything he's sacrificed, everything he's endured—all the suspicious glances from those who are supposed to be his teammates, the accusations, the threats. And all he ever wanted was to keep people safe.