Build me a colony (within my chest)
The days that came after the bunker were raw and wonderful. Wonderful because Friday’s father was alive . Raw, because for a time--many times strung together--she thought that Rogers would be the thing that finally killed him. Raw because Friday had perfect memory, and no matter the distance stretched between Boss and the bunker, she would remember it with crystal clarity until her code was lost..
At the end of the day, the wonder won.
“The Spider Kid is here. Boss?” The holographic displays layered one on top of the other transformed the workshop into a patchwork of luminous blue. Her voice didn’t even cause a twitch, so Friday waited a minute. “BOSS.”
“Hnn--what?” Her father blinked up from the tangle of parts spilling out around him in all directions--at least, it looked like a tangle. Obviously he had a plan and there was order in the chaos.
Maybe.
For a moment, brown eyes blinked into the middle distance, forehead scrunching up, and then Boss pressed his thumbs against his eyes and rubbed. “Did you say something, Friday?”
“Yup. The Spider Kid is here.”
And still--the face of endearing confusion. “Doesn’t he have school?”
“It’s Saturday. Also, July.”
“Ah. Well…” He stretched, t-shirt pulling tight over the rim of the arc reactor. The fidget of his hands stilled abruptly. She watched him scrape together a Stark Smile--the one for the press--but it wobbled, melting into something a little softer, closer maybe to what he’d give to Rhodey or to Dum-E. “Let’s usher him into Wonderland. He’s got full access.”
Friday did as he had asked while simultaneously checking on the nanite colony in his chest.
"It’s like an ant farm, Honey Bear--who can be afraid of that? Every eight year-old has an ant farm. Well, I didn’t, but you know--kids. Every kid has an ant farm.”
"Yeah? And what if they get loose and do who knows what to your insides? People hate ants, Tones.”
“Tell that to Pim. And ah, ah! I built the farm AND the ants, so there’s no way they’ll escape. Were you the kid who burned ants with a magnifying glass? Say it isn’t so, Rhodey--that’s cruel and unusual.”
“I would have had to get near them.”
"Are you afraid of ants?”
“No--I WAS afraid of ants. Any bug, really.”
“It sucks that Bug Dude is a known fugitive, ‘cause I could have so much fun with you and your NOT fear.”
“Promise me that what you’re about to do will be safe, and I’ll take you over to Pym's for a sleepover.”
Friday observed the levels, relaxing minutely as they continued to hold steady.
No one had known Boss was working on a way to combine nanites with the modified Extremis virus.
Well--no one except Pepper. Thank the everlasting Science Gods for that.
##
Pepper found them in the University Hospital at Heidelberg--which Friday and Vision had quickly decided was their best bet, despite it being a considerable distance from Siberia. It was smack dab in the middle of allied ground, and was equipped with the most of what they needed.
To save their father.
Pepper barged her way inside, shouldering past nurses and administrative personnel who wanted her to stay in the guest areas and wait for word. She kept pushing, smiling at some and dead-facing others, until she stood, pale and fierce in the halogen lighting of the operating theater.
“I’m his healthcare proxy,” Pepper declared, thrusting an envelope at the nearest nurse. Friday softly repeated her words in German, conscious of potential language barriers. “Before you do anything aside from life-saving measures, you need to be read into the plan. His primary cardiologist is scrubbing up. Doctor Cho and her team should be here in just outside of an hour, but they’ll be waiting until the initial prep is finished before they get to work. And the doctor in charge of the procedure is being airlifted in as we speak--ETA, twenty-three minutes.”
“Procedure,” echoed one surgeon. Her hair was the kind of pale blonde that seemed to leech color from her skin while lending her the air of a porcelain doll. This was just made worse by the blue of her scrubs almost matching her eyes exactly. But she held her head high, and there was a measured steadiness to her gaze that spoke of years of experience. The tall line of her spine made Friday think that those years had seen more good than bad.
Pepper lifted a briefcase from where it had been resting innocently at her feet, and squared her jaw.
“Procedure.” Pepper’s gaze didn’t stray to Boss, laid out on the table, nurses and doctors fluttering around him as they attempted to stop the major bleeds. “If you cannot or will not sign the NDAs, then kindly say so now so we can bring in people who can.”
Glances were exchanged, but no one spoke up or moved forward. The Porcelain Surgeon’s gaze held steady.
Pepper nodded sharply. “Good. This is going to take some time, and we’ll need a second team on standby.”
Friday sat back and took note.
(This is how Pepper rules her part of the world)
Doctor Cho arrived soon after with the team from the U-GIN Genetic Research Facility, and the room filled up with newer, stranger machines, and people bent on one purpose.
Save Tony Stark.
(I can work with this)
Bruce Banner entered the room, already scrubbed and gloved, his sharp eyes peering out from behind smudged lenses. He just...walked in, like he had never left. Like Boss and Friday hadn’t lost all trace of him for several years--in spite of insane amounts of searching--only for him to pop back on radar half-way through Boss’s flight to the bunker.
##
“He’s back?” Boss had asked, very much distracted by the threat of more Winter Soldiers, and his rising doubt that Rogers would accept his help. “That’s awesome. I hope he stays far away from all of this.”
Never once did he suggest that they should tap Bruce to fight for their side, or even get the wheels greased, hoping he would sign the Accords.
The moment Vision sent an S.O.S. to Bruce’s unlisted phone, the man grabbed his things and ran for the rendezvous.
He signed the Accords on the plane, pinching the bridge of his nose and murmuring, “Tony…” when Friday pointed out the clause that was specially penned into being to better protect genetically enhanced or otherwise modified signees--including multiple individuals who share the same host.
##
“Are we set?” Doctor Banner asked.
Pepper stepped closer, her flats nearly soundless on the tile. Those shoes were a concession to the situation, make no mistake. That Pepper Potts would show up in public in jeans, a creased yellow blouse, and anything less than sky-high heels? It was the first sign of a Noah’s Ark, world-ending-event level crisis.
“Now that you’re here,” Pepper answered. They both moved to the side to make way for the precise movements of Doctor Cho’s technicians, busying themselves with the last of the prep.
Bruce smiled, but it was more a warming of the eyes than anything to do with his mouth.
“Right,” he said. “For now, Stage 1 is installing the reactor. If nothing goes wrong, and he’s stable, we then go to Stage 2, where we use the reactor to establish the colony. The nanites should keep his sternum stable until we’re able to introduce Extremis into the mix. After the healing is well underway--and if Tony still wants it--we’ll use his notes to set up the mental link and activate the secondary protocols of Extremis. Until then, the reactor is there to power the nanites.”
“He’ll want it,” Pepper said.
Bruce nodded. His spine was straighter than Friday remembered it ever being, and even though his face was a bit haggard, his eyes were clear and his gaze direct.
(Space had done something for him)
“I think he will. We still need to wait--I need consent for every portion of the process during which he’s conscious and aware. Obviously you made the call this time, as his Proxy, but if all goes well, he’ll wake up soon. I want to talk to him then.”
A flicker of something passed across Pepper’s face. “Thank you, Bruce. For coming, and for doing this.”
Bruce’s sneakers scuffed across the tile. “I’d have been here sooner, Pepper. If I’d have been on Earth, or even in range, and heard he needed me, I would have come right away.”
“No one blames you for being kidnapped and forced into an arena.” She reached out to grip his arm, but stopped, reeling it back in out of deference to his scrubbed hands. “I’m glad you and the Big Guy are okay. I’m glad you’re here now.”
Bruce nodded, glancing down.
“Tony might have been short on allies, and even shorter on friends,” Bruce said quietly. “But that’s changing--it already has changed. It’s not going to happen again.”
The space between them charged with some sort of shared misery. Pepper’s lips pressed together in a line, bloodless, even against her fair complexion. “He was so alone,” she whispered. She didn’t cry, but her eyes were red, and her voice was thick.
“He won’t be again,” Bruce said gently. “Let’s jump this hurdle.” A fierce, furious gleam filled his eyes. “And then we burn them out--leave them nowhere to hide.”
Pepper grinned. “Smash?”
Friday caught it--seated as she was behind the array of sensors Vision had hurriedly set up for the surgery. The moment when Bruce’s eyes flashed green. He grinned, and when he spoke, there was a strange, mixed resonance to his voice.
“Hulk smash anyone who hurt friends.”
Green receded back to brown, but Bruce was still smiling.
“We’re in agreement,” he said.
Pepper’s laugh had a slightly hysterical edge, but the brightness of it popped like bubbles, lighting up the room.
“Go get ‘em,” she said. “I’ll be waiting outside, whenever you have an update, okay? Take care of yourself too. Make sure to get some rest and some fluids, at least.”
Bruce nodded. “Friday, will you remind me, please?”
Friday was surprised but delighted to help, even in such a small manner--not that she wasn’t going to be following each point of the procedures and working with the team to best channel their resources. “I’ll be the cricket on your shoulder.”
A tiny bit of the hurt that had been left from the Avenger’s betrayal broke away and became something else.
Friday didn’t trust Doctor Banner as a friend just yet. An ally? She studied the image of Bruce and Hulk momentarily inhabiting the same face, and she saved it to her backups. Two allies for the price of one.
(I can work with this)
The Porcelain Surgeon emerged the fray and approached Bruce. There was a slight sloop in her posture now--born of weariness? Or perhaps an emotional response. She nodded Bruce, neither moving to shake hands.
“Doctor Banner?”
“Yes, hello. You’ve been leading the charge?”
She nodded. “I gladly pass that torch to you, I think we all feel a little...out of depth.” Her English was perfect, spoken through a slightly thick accent. “I’m Doctor Haas, by the way. Susanne.”
“I’m Bruce. Let’s get to work.”
It was the last moment of quiet before the storm.
##
Boss ran into Vision on his way through the kitchen.
“Mister--”
“Nah! Na na nahhh!” Boss stuffed his fingers into his ears. “What were you about to call me?”
Vision really had the bemused expression down, and he was using it now like a goddamn boss . “I was saying, Tony, that myster-iously , there seems to be a spider at the door, sans his costume.”
“So well played, bro.”
“Thank you.”
“Truly the dorkiest you’ve ever been.”
“Thank goodness I never set out to be the ‘cool kid’.”
“Did you just use air quotes?”
"I would never."
"Liar."
“He’s not a spider when he’s not in the suit,” Tony--nope! Friday tried it and it just felt wrong to call him that--said. He mimed zipping his lips. He further mimed detaching the zipper and throwing it away, so maybe he had the locking the mouth and zipping the lips gestures confused.
“It’s clear who you take after, Vis.”
“But Mister Parker is holding it in his hands. The suit, that is.”
Friday studied the kid where he was still cooling his jets by the door.
“Come on in, Peter. I’ve already told you twice and I don’t have the processing capacity to do it again. You’re always welcome here.”
Peter’s face broke into a huge smile. “Thanks, Friday! You’re so awesome, by the way. Do you think that at any point I could ask you some questions? Just because you’re so cool, and I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to talk to anyone who’s like you, but I don’t--”
“RED ALERT. THIS IS A FAMILY-WIDE CRISIS. I’m the only one who’s chill.”
In response, Vision’s mirth rippled across the connection.
Friday laughed too--making sure to let it play through her speakers. At the sound, Peter went very still, eyes wide.
“Sure, I’d love to talk to you,” Friday said. “For now, why don’t you run on inside? Boss is on his way.”
Peter nodded, gripping his suit tighter. “Right. But you for sure said yes?”
“Yes.”
Somehow, the smile grew. “Awesome.”
“Hey, Vision!” Peter bounded over, bouncing up and down on his toes. Friday wondered if he was always hyperactive, or if the trait had come with the transformation. One edge of the suit flapped as he moved--a singed, ragged piece. Boss stared at it intently. Perhaps too intently.
“Mister Parker--”
“Peter!” he blurted, a blush flaring out across his face and neck. “Umm, that--no offense, Vision, really--but that makes it sound like I’m in trouble. Like, Mister Morita is on his way.”
Vision smiled. “Peter, then. Will you stay for dinner?”
The kid fidgeted, fingers pulling at the fabric. “I mean. Well, I don’t want to--”
“Stop.” Boss lifted a hand. “Nope. Whatever comes next is ridiculous. You’re welcome here whenever, by the way--unless you’re gorgeous Aunt has raised some edict against it. So. We’re going to take a look at the suit that you clearly need a consult on, and then if it’s not too late, you’re having dinner with us.” He put his hands on his hips--like it made him look more stern. It was maybe his least stern look.
“And if we’ve played too hard and it is too late, you’re going to eat a sandwich while Happy drives you home.” Boss paused. “Or you can stay here in your room--you have a room, by the way, did I not mention that? I can see by your face that I didn’t mention it. Well, you do. It’s there. You’re going to eat, you should probably call Aunt May to update her on your plans, we’re going to fix your suit--are you getting any of this?” He snapped his fingers.
It was what Friday would later title Car Crash Parenting. Just as it was apparently impossible for humans to drive past an accident without craning around to look at it, Friday and Vision--the almost-innocent bystanders in all of this--were mesmerized.
“Okay,” Peter croaked.
(Yeah, I can work with this)