Chapter 73

February, 2017

As it turned out, being a person meant suddenly having a whole lot of free time and endless options for what to do with it. For a few days Maggie mostly hung around the facility catching up on sleep, exploring the forest and lake, sending messages to Bucky, and watching a lot of Netflix. Peter kept dropping around the facility for suit updates and sometimes to give reports (he'd also enthusiastically congratulated her on the outcome of the trial, and informed her that everyone at his school thought it was "awesome" except "Flash, but he's always wrong". Maggie decided not to feel too cut up about a kid who went by the name Flash). Maggie ended up giving Peter a few more training sessions. The kid was a quick learner.

Then her boredom hit critical levels, and she headed to the workshop. Tony had been in there the last few days working on one of his own projects, so when she strolled in in pajamas and her hair up in a scrunchie, he merely nodded then went back to his screen. Maggie rolled up to a workbench, patted Dum-E, and got to work.

She started with B.A.R.F., the overpriced and difficult-to-use technology Tony had developed to revisit traumatic memories and formulate better endings for them. The tech from Wakanda worked along similar but far more advanced lines, and Maggie wasn't above doing some creative borrowing. So she read up extensively on neurology and therapy, and tinkered with the B.A.R.F. programming and blueprints; her goal was to reduce the expense, combine it with Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing Therapy, and make it easier to produce.

When Vision came in on day three and asked what she was doing, she explained that she aimed to make a tool that could become normal in the therapist's office, just like doctors' offices had thermometers and blood pressure measurement machines. She collaborated with Mai, who understood enough of the theory to help her out with the complicated brain stuff, and who put her in touch with notable neurologists and therapists. The experts were fascinated by the redesign, simultaneously ecstatic that technology could be used to better their field, and surprised that it was coming from Maggie Stark of all people.

Getting involved in neurology freaked Maggie out a bit, as occasionally she found herself flashing back to a time when it was her own mind that was being pulled apart like a machine. But she used that fear to program hundreds of safeguards into B.A.R.F. so it could never be used to harm, only to heal. And she kept up twice weekly appointments with Mai to get her own head back in order.

While working on B.A.R.F. and moving it through the Stark Industries R&D (under Tony's sarcastic guidance and Pepper's more useful guidance), she had an idea about how the augmented reality technology could be expanded to other areas, and ended up creating a flight simulator for the Air Force with Rhodey's help. It was the next level in flight simulation, integrating with the pilot's mind and honing reflexes and skill.

Maggie quickly found that there were certain boundaries in tech development she couldn't bring herself to cross. Some of the Stark Industries old guard approached her about developing weapons, but she took one look at them and their ideas and flat out refused. She did develop some non-lethal weapons alongside Tony, but that was just for the Avengers. She particularly had fun with the wrist-mounted energy blasters.

She and Tony also worked on sustainable energy, bouncing off of the progress he'd made since Stark Tower first went up, and looking to the future. On any given day, Maggie's mind was flipping from complex neurological integration theories, to augmented reality development, to power relays, to high-powered solar farms. Rhodey once asked how she could stand to have all that in her head at once, but she just shrugged and said "I figure I've got the room for it. Why not use it?"

She sent Bucky long letters about what she was working on, and he would reply I only understand a small percentage of what you just wrote, doll, but what I do understand is that you're changing the world. I'm proud of you. She worried that she was boring him with her long letters about the applicability of her designs and the minutia of power relays and circuitry production, but Bucky said he didn't mind. He had spent two years with her raving about this stuff, he said – receiving it through the Kimoyo bead was kind of nice.

Maggie also had to adjust to suddenly being rich. Even without the significant portion she'd donated to the HERACLES Survivor Support Fund, she found herself the owner of half of her parents' stuff, adjusted for inflation, and legally entitled to half of Stark Industries. Naturally, once her criminal charges were cleared the SI board freaked out a little over what she might plan to do, but she waved them off. She settled for the same percentage of shares that Tony had: a controlling share, but not a dominating one. She also ended up on the payroll for R&D, since she was technically one of SI's major developers now. The patent display room at the Avengers Facility started to fill up.

It wasn't all work, though. Maggie had become a public figure, and that took some getting used to. She was pretty good at avoiding paparazzi, thanks to her practice avoiding HYDRA and the Avengers and pretty much everyone on the planet for two years, but sometimes pictures of her made their way into magazines: walking into convenience stores, getting out of the car outside Stark Mansion, walking down the street. People recognized her on the street as well – mostly she got stares, or fevered whispering once she'd walked past, but sometimes strangers wanted to chat or take a photo. They were mostly pretty nice, save for a few who gave her dirty looks (and that one old lady who screamed at her outside a bodega).

Still, Maggie was able to move freely and be a person in the world, which was endlessly fascinating. When she wasn't inventing she explored New York City. Vision had more or less got the hang of his "human" disguise (a tall, pale, blonde-haired man who still dressed like a professor) so he was her usual exploring partner – they visited all the tourist traps, tried out Starbucks and baseball games and the subway. Vision liked people watching and historical landmarks, Maggie liked sight-seeing and trying every new food she came across (Ethiopian cuisine ended up being a highlight). They chatted about their respective fugitive loved ones, asking after their health and bonding over the difficulties of maintaining long-distance relationships.

Vision wasn't the only one she explored the city with, however. When Pepper had free time they went to MoMA to further Maggie's fine arts education, and visited other museums and art galleries that Pepper recommended. Pepper introduced Maggie to brunch, and they ended up having a weekly debrief over mimosas at their favorite brunch spot in Manhattan.

Rhodey didn't really like walking amongst the masses of people in NYC with his exosuit, so they tended to hang out back at the facility or in smaller towns throughout the state.

Maggie and Tony usually spent time together in the workshop, though sometimes they went on road trips around the facility in Tony's criminally underused sports cars. Roaring down the highway in a sleek red Porsche wasn't exactly flying, but it felt close enough to it that Maggie noticed Tony go pale every time she got behind the wheel of one of his cars. Once or twice he took her to a party, and once to a casino, but Maggie didn't like being surrounded and stared at by strangers, and Tony didn't exactly look like he was enjoying himself. So they avoided the crowds.

The long hours in the workshop felt as natural as breathing for the two of them, and they navigated around each other as if they'd been doing it their whole lives. When Pepper was busy they reminded each other to eat, drink, and sleep. Tony had a bad habit of falling asleep in the workshop, and sometimes he woke up gasping and covered in cold sweat from a nightmare. Maggie knew what he dreamed about: weapons and hard faces in the shadows of a cave, the vast black emptiness of space swallowing him whole, their mother's dying gasps. She suspected he'd been having these nightmares a long time. She helped him through them as best as she could, and though she never made the mistake of falling asleep in the workshop Tony was there whenever she had a particularly vivid flashback or got caught up in a self-effacing loop of guilt and horror.

One weekend, Maggie went to Brooklyn. She'd been avoiding the area, but Shirley had offered to show her around and… Bucky had said it would be good to hear her impression of the area. Maybe you can let me know how much it's changed.

She couldn't quite bring herself to go to Coney Island without him, but Shirley walked her around the neighborhood and pointed out the school Steve and Bucky had gone to, their favorite haunts, the shop where Shirley had met her husband. They walked to the building where Steve used to live, where a plaque had been erected. Maggie ran her fingers over the metal until she reached the line: Steve Rogers' best friend James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes lived just a few blocks away.

Maggie looked up with questioning eyes, but Shirley just smiled sadly at her. "That building got knocked down years ago, sweetheart. It's a nightclub now. I'm sorry."

Maggie shook her head. "I didn't expect everything to be the same. Bucky certainly didn't." She turned back to the plaque. It felt so strange, seeing Bucky's name engraved in metal like that. Like he was an historical artifact. "Is it weird?" she asked, then gestured at the plaque. "All this stuff."

Shirley sighed. "Yes. Life is different when your brother is a famous war hero. And then it's very different when he's a resurrected war prisoner who did terrible things under HYDRA's influence. But I think most people my age find it strange to see the things we grew up with become history." She smiled and patted Maggie's shoulder. "One day you'll be in history books."

Maggie blanched. "Oh god."

"For what it's worth," Shirley laughed, "I think you're leaving a damn good legacy." She turned and paced away from the plaque and Steve's old apartment building, giving Maggie space.

Maggie kept staring at the plaque, but she didn't really see it. Legacy. She was pretty sure this wasn't what her dad had been talking about when he spoke about the Stark legacy that she and Tony needed to uphold.

She recalled Zola's words: You are the greatest weapon Howard Stark ever created, Wyvern. And you will turn his legacy to dust.

Maggie sighed. Some days it seemed like all the things her dad worked so hard for had failed. Howard Stark had fought with the SSR to end HYDRA – but they'd returned and infected the very organisation he had founded. He had also been the most famous weapons contractor in the world – and now Stark Industries no longer produced weapons. His two children had not exactly ended up as the successful CEOs and inventors he'd intended – one of them had given up control of the company and become a superhero, the other had murdered dozens of people and was only just now clawing her life back.

Maggie took a deep breath in through her nose, and out through her mouth. She was proud of her dad, but... Shirley had called it her legacy. She had to be responsible for it, not her father – she had to work at it every day, fighting to better the world around her. The Stark legacy wasn't about weapons any more, or about S.H.I.E.L.D. It was about defending the world.

So maybe she had turned Howard's legacy to dust. Tony, too: they'd both had a part in burning it to the ground.

But they were both pretty good at rising from the ashes.

Throughout her adventures and inventions, Maggie kept up the slow back-and-forth Kimoyo communication with Bucky. They'd negotiated a strange sort of long distance relationship, based on glowing letters that faded into the ether once read.

Maggie missed Bucky so much, missed the physicality of him; sometimes she found herself going half-mad thinking about this grey-blue eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and about the warmth of him beside her and his long hair and his laugh. Thanks to the Kimoyo bead she had his soul, though, and she would have to be happy with that for now. Still, that didn't stop her fingers from itching whenever she read his words, wishing she could reach out and touch him.

Bucky didn't like to make himself too aware of the world outside of Wakanda – I need a damn break, is how he put it – but he did keep up with the news about Maggie. He talked about the articles he read, usually with offers to fight the writer for her, or a teasing remark, or adoring praise. He told her about the things he'd learned living off the land, and Maggie often found herself looking out the window at the futuristic Avengers facility and wishing she could run away to a mud hut by a lake, where she could live with Bucky and tend to goats and be happy and safe.

Bucky was also keeping up with his twenty-first century education, so he and Maggie traded popular media recommendations and discussed books and movies. Since the brb incident Princess Shuri had apparently taken it upon herself to teach Bucky about all things internet, so Maggie found herself learning about modern digital culture via Kimoyo bead, from a World War II veteran. Peter, at least, was very impressed when she shared her new knowledge.

Maggie marveled one evening that they had almost formed a normal, modern relationship: they traded memes (in text form) and used stupid internet references. She wrote one night: Who would've thought it, Bucky? A ninety nine year old and a thirty year old, neither of whom knew anything about internet culture until three years ago. Look at us go!

He wrote back: You need to stop pointing out our ages like that, it's really weird. I'm probably only thirty! But you're right, we're not doing too bad.

Maggie grinned at his response, then wrote: brb, about to go hang out with your eighty five year old sister who treats me like a grandchild.

Two weeks later, Bucky turned one hundred. On the day Maggie had lunch with Shirley and they wrote a Kimoyo message to Bucky.

It was nice, but it still hurt to be so far away from him on his birthday. Looking back, Maggie realized that she and Bucky had celebrated his last three birthdays together: his ninety seventh in Peru, just two months after they broke away from HYDRA, then his ninety eighth in Australia just after they'd actually become a couple, and then his ninety ninth in Europe, a few months before their world fell apart. And now they were connected through strange Wakandan beads, on other sides of the world.

Still, she got to tease him about being a hundred years old. And that made her feel a little better.

One afternoon Maggie came back to the mansion to find Tony waiting for her. "Hey, what's up?"

He opened his mouth, but when she approached his nose scrunched up and he backed away. "You stink, Maggie, what is that?"

She shrugged. "I made friends with one of the horses down at Central Park."

"You can't… what… there aren't just wild horses in Central Park–"

"Oh, it was a police horse."

He stared hard at her. "And where was the police officer?"

"She was there."

"And she just let you pat her horse?"

"Yeah." Maggie shrugged again. She liked animals, sue her. That was part of the reason she liked Central Park so much, she got to pat everyone's dogs.

Tony started muttering about needing to get her a pet, but Maggie cut him off. "So did you want something?"

"Always, you should know this by now." He waved a hand. "But this time… there's something I want to show you."

It turned out what Tony wanted to show her was not an awesome new invention or a plane, which was what Maggie had been guessing.

Instead, he took her to their parents' graves.

"Oh," she said, when Happy pulled up to the Woodlawn Cemetery. It looked like a nice place, if a little bleak in winter – the bare tree branches arched over the snow-laden ground, marked by slate grey headstones. Maggie turned to Tony. "Why…?"

He climbed out of the car, and she followed him out. Once they stood in the cold air, their breaths coming out in puffs of condensation, Tony turned to her. "I… do you remember the other week when you were talking about dad?"

Maggie remembered. It had been after her 'legacy' revelation in Brooklyn. She'd wanted to get some of her thoughts off her chest, and Tony had been a ready listener. She nodded.

"Well I guess I realized that I've had this place to myself for twenty six years – not that I visited all that much, sorry – but you… you've never been." He shrugged, and then crossed his arms across his chest uncomfortably. He wore his sunglasses, so Maggie couldn't see his eyes. "Thought you might want to visit."

Maggie let out another puff of breath. This felt like a gesture, or a symbol of some kind. She wasn't sure what it meant exactly, but it felt a little like forgiveness for something. "Thank you, Tony."

He shrugged. "Whatever."

He led her through the quiet paths until they came to three surprisingly simple headstones under an ash tree. Maggie didn't know what she'd been expecting, but the sight of the stones just standing there in the ground, dusted with snow and looking as if they belonged there… it pushed the air out of her lungs.

Tony dropped back and let her stand in front of the graves. She focused on the larger two first:

Howard Anthony Walter Stark

Maria Collins Carbonell Stark

Other than their names and dates of birth and death, there was no inscription. She was kind of glad about that – she didn't want to know what people would have put on their graves.

Maggie stood there for a long time. She wasn't really sure what she thought about – she wasn't particularly spiritual, and the idea that her parents' bodies were just a few feet underground made her skin crawl. She hadn't thought about their graves before now, not really – ever since she'd remembered their existence she'd known they were gone, never to be seen again. But seeing their graves, seeing some reminder that they had been a physical part of this world… it was nice. It reminded her to remember.

At first her memories were of blood and fire, those last violent moments of her parents lives. She remembered being in that car, injured and afraid, and she remembered watching those moments a second time in a frozen bunker in Siberia. A chill swept over her. But then her memories turned further back, to what little childhood she'd had before HYDRA took her. She thought of warm hands stroking her hair; looking up at her father and thinking that he was invincible, that he was larger than the world; curling into her mother's side as she played the piano.

After a few long moments of savoring what few memories of her parents she had, Maggie took a few steps to the third grave. It was smaller than the others.

Margaret Abigail Stark

June 2nd 1986 – December 16th 1991.

A lie. They still didn't know the name of the girl who had lain in this grave until only a few years ago. A Jane Doe who lived a short, painful life until she found herself in the wrong grave. Maggie had looked into her cold, blank eyes.

She took a deep breath. "This is weird."

Tony pushed off a nearby tree and walked over to stand next to her. His footsteps crunched in the snow. "Yeah," he said, looking down at Maggie's grave. "Cap thought the same when he saw his own memorial."

Maggie looked up, blinking. Tony didn't usually talk about Steve. She thought about it, and then realized that there was probably another empty grave in Brooklyn with Bucky's name on it. Shirley hadn't taken her there – probably not the kind of memory the woman wanted to revisit.

Maggie looked back to her own grave. Such a strange thing for she and Bucky to have in common.

Tony cleared his throat. "Pepper brought up the idea of maybe… maybe taking it down. Since, y'know, there's no one in it any more and…"

"And I'm not actually dead?"

"Yeah, that."

Maggie sighed. "I don't know. I don't think I ever expected to be responsible for making decisions about my own grave. Is it… does anyone visit it?"

"Mr Jarvis used to," Tony murmured, and Maggie's heart ached. "Rhodey, sometimes. I came once with Pepper. But it's up to you, Maggie."

"I… I really don't know. Maybe leave it? Hey, if we leave it then one day we can just stick me in and…" she trailed off, gesturing with her hands.

Tony gave her an incredulous look. "Are you miming scratching off the date of death and writing on a new one?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Maybe? It's cost-effective."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure, when you die I'll bury you here and write your new date of death in with a sharpie. Happy?"

"Very." She scratched the back of her neck. Margaret Abigail Stark. December 16th 1991. And here she stood, twenty five years later. "We should leave. This is weird, and I can think of a lot of really bad jokes and I want to go before I can't stop myself from saying them."

Tony cocked his head. "Bad jokes?"

"I've got one foot in the grave. Someone just walked over my grave. Coming here was a grave mistake. I'm dying to get out of here–"

His hands flew up. "Okay, Jesus, stop. Let's go."

They didn't talk as they walked out of the cemetery. Maggie found herself caught up in complicated thoughts – maybe taking the grave out was the right thing to do, but it felt as if it belonged beside her parents. Maybe there was a part of herself that belonged in that grave, a part that would never come back. Maggie blinked at the thought, then realized that it didn't make her feel sad. It just felt right.

Tony's arm brushed against hers and broke her out of complicated thoughts. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Want to go get cheeseburgers?"

Maggie blinked, then smiled. "Sure."

As Maggie learned more and more about the world she was now a part of, she kept coming up against one particular issue in her research. It was hotly debated around the world, and very close to many peoples' lives. And also close to hers, apparently.

So one afternoon in the workshop with Tony, she set down her tools and turned to face him. He looked up from his holographic equations and raised an eyebrow at her.

"You've got a look on your face," he said warily.

"Yes," she replied, and then crossed her arms. "Look, I don't know a lot about… some things, but I've been doing some research and it seems like there's a lot of importance placed on this particular thing, especially when it comes to telling families–"

"What, Maggot."

She cut herself off, then took a breath. "I'm, um. Bisexual."

Tony blinked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He swiped away his hologram, then got to his feet and considered her. "Okay. Okay, cool." He walked across the workshop to her, then put a hand on her shoulder and awkwardly patted her. Maggie could see from his face that he was trying to work out what he was supposed to say. "Uh… thank you for telling me."

She shrugged. "Seemed like something people tell their family."

"I guess." He thought about it, still patting her shoulder. "You can't have Pepper."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Okay. Awesome. Do you need… advice? Or… educational materials?" He winced, eyeing her reaction.

She grinned. "I've got it covered. I've known for a while, just wanted to let you know."

"Well… thanks."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You're welcome. Now stop patting me."

"Gladly." He pulled his hand away with an awkward sigh, then hurried back to his workbench and his project. Maggie smiled at him, then turned back to her work with a lighter heart.

When she told the others they seemed equally grateful that she'd told them, though significantly less awkward. And then they all went about their day, because nothing had really changed.

It turned out philanthropy ran in the family, because Maggie fell naturally into supporting causes wherever she found them. It started with a spot of art philanthropy, courtesy of Pepper, and then on one of her walks through the city she ended up in a march with an anti-human trafficking group and by the end of the day had become a major donor and was on the group's board. It sort of snowballed from there – she got involved with music and culture, but her heart was focused on human rights. She became one of New York's biggest donation names pretty much overnight, and took a more active position in the organisations that were happy to have her.

Maggie had said she wanted to keep away from the world-saving business for a while, but it seemed it wasn't something she could just turn off. As well as her donation and campaigning work she also naturally became an ear for the Avengers to turn to when they needed advice, help, or just needed someone to vent to about their ongoing missions. She never officially participated – the Accords Committee were still suspicious of her – but she ended up pretty aware of what the Avengers were up to. Her work with HERACLES and other groups ended up putting her in touch with major global players and agencies.

Sort of by accident, Maggie found herself forming a network. The network included law enforcement, intelligence, mercenary, legal and corporate organisations, and advocacy and human rights groups the world over. It turned out she was good at forming relationships with people, and that mixed with her expertise in many areas from espionage to mechanical engineering meant that she brought a lot to the table. She wasn't quite sure what to do with her newfound network, since she hadn't really set out to have one in the first place. But on a couple of occasions when the Avengers ran up against political blockades or had issues getting help from local groups in countries they ran missions in, Maggie found herself able to help out. Whenever she did the Avengers gave her that look, as if she was a constant surprise.

The public was of course aware of some of what she was up to. The response was surprisingly positive. Most people seemed surprised – they'd expected her to do press rounds, maybe write a book, but instead she'd branched out to issues beyond her trial. Some accused her of attempting to overthrow the Avengers and the United States from within, but they were in the minority.

She also ended up with a network of HYDRA survivors. That had started when she'd met Hayley Mitchell to ask for some advice about HERACLES, and ended with a group of people who were kind of her friends, kind of business associates, and kind of advisers. It was a weird relationship, but they made it work.

A side effect of her growing influence was that the Accords Committee kept an ever-closer eye on her. Sometimes one member or another would stop by for a 'random' chat whenever they were at the facility, and she definitely noticed people following her from time to time. But she wasn't using her enhancements, so she wasn't breaking the Accords. Let them watch.

March, 2017

Even as her life grew in new and surprising ways, Maggie was still fixated on her past. Or rather, a very specific part of her past: her wings.

For a long time, her broken wings had been left untouched on the bench at the back of the workshop. When she needed to calm herself down she still went to the haphazard metal statue of wings in her room, but she was beginning to realize that she couldn't leave her wings behind. Throughout the trial it felt like she should forget about them – to so many people, her wings were a symbol of oncoming death; an omen. And it wasn't like she needed wings any more, without the constant need to be ready to flee or defend herself.

And yet, her thoughts kept straying. She sought out the thrill of flying in everything she did, from driving Tony's sports cars to feeling the breeze on her face at the top of the Empire State Building. She woke up from dreams of the wind in her wings, and burst into tears. Sometimes she felt a phantom ache where her wings should be – she could almost feel them itching to unfurl.

And she found herself drawn more and more often to the back of the workshop. Sometimes she just stared at the tarp-covered bench, sometimes she peeled it back and winced at the sight of her mangled wing. Sometimes she dared to touch her wings, folding and unfolding the joints, peering at the twisted wiring. She'd fixed up some of the superficial dents and rips a few months ago, but she no longer felt that instinctive urge to fix the damage.

She wanted to fly again, but the idea of repairing her wings felt… wrong. Uncomfortable and unnatural. Maybe it was all the latent memories that the trial had brought up, but these no longer felt like hers.

She was staring at her wings, contemplating the conundrum she found herself in, when on the other side of the workshop Tony rolled away from his holographic plans with a grunt and got to his feet. Maggie blinked and looked over. He'd been working on some project involving his armor for a few weeks, and she knew he was getting pretty deep into it – he muttered about theories when he wasn't in the workshop and doodled designs on every free surface. Pepper was getting fed up with it.

Maggie cocked her head at him. He paced around his workspace, running a hand through his hair and muttering to himself. Dum-E rolled over and Tony swatted his claw away. "You're no help," Tony grumbled at the robot, and Dum-E chirped cheerily.

Maggie walked over. "C'mon, Tony, spill. I know you said you didn't need help, but you're obviously stuck."

He glanced up from his pacing and looked at her, hair askew. "Who says I'm stuck?"

She raised her eyebrows. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"He's stuck," the A.I. confirmed.

Tony scowled. He glared at Maggie for a few more moments until he sighed, and the frustration drained out of his face. "Okay. Mags, I've got this idea."

Maggie sat on the edge of the workbench as Tony told her about his idea: a new generation of technology, billions of smart machine particles that intuited human thought and generated all matter of technology, including the Iron Man armor. Maggie listened like a kid hearing a bed time story.

"I'm gonna call it nanotech," Tony explained, bringing up his initial designs. "Got the idea from bad sci-fi – and kind of from Vision's matter manipulation – and figured out how to make it work. Well, kind of. I can't figure out any kind of base alloy to synthesize it, and since T'Challa's not exactly handing out Vibranium gift baskets I'm sort of… yeah, stuck."

Maggie wordlessly pulled the holographic array towards her and looked through his plans.

She'd known for a long time that her brother was a world-changing genius, but it was easy to forget when he did things like get in arguments with his completely non-verbal robots, or when he fell asleep in the Avengers common room even though he knew that Rhodey would always take that opportunity to draw on his face.

But this was a wake-up call. Maggie's mind lit up as she looked through Tony's new plans, stunned at the brilliance of it and excited at the possibilities. She saw the bones of what Tony wanted to achieve, and she also saw the empty spaces, the areas where Tony just didn't have the resources to achieve what he wanted. He'd once discovered a whole new element to overcome a similar problem, but it seemed he hadn't been able to this time around.

Maggie cocked her head. Vibranium would work as a base point for these designs, sure. But so would something else.

She looked up from the designs and met Tony's eye. "I can do it."

Maggie had gone sixteen years without another soul on earth knowing that she knew how to create Adamantium. She didn't think twice about telling Tony.

He was surprised, but ultimately his fascination about the alloy overcame it. Then his fascination gave way to excitement about the breakthrough, and they quickly devolved into science. They talked over one another and dove fingers-first into the holographic designs, twisting and shaping and creating. It wasn't that they needed to make the tech out of Adamantium, but the alloy was a key jumping point at a molecular level to formulate the nanotech and bring it to life. The end result would be particles stronger than Adamantium alone, maybe even stronger than Vibranium.

In the end the pure science took them three days. They didn't leave the lab until Pepper came down and yelled at them to shower and sleep, and by that point they'd already developed the nanotech completely in theory. When they no longer smelled so bad, and were a little better rested, they started synthesizing it.

Two days later, Maggie and Tony hunched over the workbench before a tiny block of unassuming metal. Tony, who had electrodes plastered across his skull and a feverish glint of excitement in his eyes, glanced up at her.

"You ready?"

Maggie, who wore a maroon shirt with no less than three coffee stains in it, met his eyes. "Are you? You're the one driving."

He grinned. "I'm ready."

They both looked back down at the dice-sized cube. For a few seconds nothing happened. And then it shivered and moved.

Maggie gasped. It was as if the metal had simply come to life. It expanded before her eyes, lines of metal creeping out like feathers, or frost patterns on a window. The particles formed into wires, metal plates, hinges, and supports. She tore her eyes away for a moment to glance up at Tony's face – his dark eyes were intensely focused on the unfolding particles, his jaw clenched. As she watched, a drop of sweat rolled down his temple.

Maggie looked back down at the nanotech just as it began to settle into place. She grinned at the shape Tony had chosen – an Iron Man face plate. Before her eyes, a sheen of gold particles swept across it.

"Holy shit," she breathed, and reached out to touch it. The face plate was firm under her fingers, sleek and strong. "So the color manipulation works too, that's good to know."

Tony let out a shuddering breath and finally looked up. The second he did, the mask dissolved under Maggie's fingers and collapsed into a mass of strangely liquid-seeming nanoparticles.

Tony leaned back and wiped sweat from his forehead.

"Hard workout?" she asked with a grin.

He rolled his eyes at her. "You try manipulating an advanced smart technology into complex machinery with just your mind."

"Alright. Hand it over."

He raised an eyebrow at her but peeled off the electrodes. When Maggie had her turn she created an energy blaster that wasn't quite functional – he was right, this was difficult. It required a level of focus and multitasking ability that she'd never needed before. It was like formulating blueprints for a machine in her mind all at once. She and Tony agreed that it would be worth pre-programming the nanotech with certain designs, so the user wouldn't have to put quite so much thought into very specific wiring and mechanisms.

They traded control of the nanotech back and forth for the rest of the day, creating larger and more complex machinery as they got the hang of it. It was fun, and exhilarating, because they both knew that this was something the world had never seen, something that they themselves could hardly believe they'd created.

At the end of the day, as Tony started designing an arc reactor integrated with the nanotech, Maggie cocked her head at him. "You're going to make nanotech armor, aren't you?"

He paused. "Uh, yeah. I mean, I'm going to look into other avenues as well, but the armor's the main goal. Was that not clear?"

"No, I got that. I'm glad, you'll be safer than ever in armor made of this stuff. But I think you should talk to Pepper about it." She raised her eyebrows at him. She didn't usually get involved in Tony and Pepper's discussions about Tony's crimefighting, but she didn't want to be an accomplice to Tony going behind Pepper's back.

He looked up. "I already did."

"Oh. How did that go?"

He grimaced. "She, uh… she's worried. Doing this is kind of saying I'm in it for the long haul, which… yeah, I am. This" – he gestured to his initial designs for a new nanotech chest-mounted arc reactor – "is a statement about what I want my future to look like. Our future. I'm doing this to protect us."

Maggie eyed her brother, the lines on his face and his restlessly tapping fingers. His future with Pepper had always seemed guaranteed to her, but she knew how complicated relationships could be. She also knew they'd had issues with Tony's commitment to Iron Man versus his commitment to Pepper before. And when he said protect us, she had a feeling he didn't mean just him and Pepper, or just him and his close family. He meant the world. "How did she take it?"

He leaned back. "She knows who I am. She says she's…" he glanced away. "She says she's proud of me."

The corner of Maggie's mouth crept up. "She's not the only one."

Tony rolled his eyes and leaned forward, apparently over the moment. "Eugh, Maggot. Why'd you bring this up anyway, if you were going to be a big dork about it–"

"Talking about your feelings is important, and healthy!"

"Whatever, Dr Phil," he said, waving her off.

"But I didn't just want to talk about the armor!" she protested, and walked into the middle of his arc reactor designs. They dissolved around her in a starburst of blue light. Tony frowned at her.

"What, you want to ask how my PTSD is going, too? Because it's great, thanks for asking–"

"I wasn't going to talk about that, but the fact that you brought it up is very telling–"

He waved her off again. "Stop psychoanalysing me, Freud, what did you want to talk about?"

She took a breath, and held up two fingers. "Okay. First – what's up with you giving me psychologist nicknames now?" He scowled and she moved on before he could answer. "Secondly…" she bit her lip. "About the nanotech. I have an… idea."

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "Another one?"

"Yes. I would like to… use it."

His other eyebrow rose. "You gotta give me more than that, Margarine."

She gritted her teeth, then took a deep breath and finally spit it out: "I want to use the nanotech to make new wings."

Tony's eyebrows dropped into a frown, but not a disapproving one. He just looked… cautious. "Maggie…" he began, then reached up to rub a hand across his jaw. He stared at her as if she were a machine he hadn't figured out yet. He opened his mouth again. "Maggie, you know the Accords Committee–"

"I'm not going to use the wings!" she interrupted, then hesitated. "Well I am going to use them, but not in any way that breaks the Accords. I asked Andrea and Diego to take a look at the legal papers, and they said the Accords forbid me from taking part in any police, military, or espionage action, or using my enhancements to break the law. And just by flying around I wouldn't be doing that! I'm already on their stupid registry and under all their tracking requirements."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's a real slippery slope. Plus, using this new tech to make brand new wings? The Accords Committee is going to think you're up to something."

"They already think I'm up to something, but I'm sticking to the rules. They can't do anything to me."

He gave her a pained look. "Maggie, c'mon. You gotta know that if they really wanted you in the Raft you'd be there already."

She swallowed. Tony was right – the Accords Committee might function under the premise of sticking to prearranged laws and protecting civilians, but she'd dealt with them long enough to know that they decided what should happen to enhanced people, then created rules to fit that decision. She'd skated just out of their reach with her murder acquittal, high public visibility, and the protection of the Avengers.

She straightened her shoulders. "I know, Tony. But I need to do this."

"Why?"

She wrapped her arms around herself. She knew he'd ask this, and she still hadn't really thought of an answer. She frowned. "I can't really explain it. It's… everyone's been talking about me like there are two halves: the Wyvern, and Maggie. But it's not that simple. I am Maggie Stark, but I'm also still the Wyvern. The Wyvern used to be under HYDRA's control, but now she's not. She's still in me, all…" Maggie made a twisting gesture with her hands. "All tangled up inside me. I am Maggie Stark," she said, suddenly firm, "and I'm the Wyvern."

Tony eyed her, his attention focused on her. "And, what, you need the wings for this… identity crisis?"

She sighed frustratedly. "It's not a crisis, Tony. I know who I am, more or less, and I still can't really explain it but I need my wings. They're a part of me." She met his eyes beseechingly, her palms open in front of her and her chest tight.

He eyed her for another few long seconds. Eventually, he sighed. "I don't understand. Not really, but maybe a little – I don't think I could give up Iron Man." He dropped back in his chair and ran a hand over his head. "Alright, fine. You can use the nanotech to make wings."

"Yes!" Maggie flung two fists in the air, then dropped them when he shot her a despairing look. "Thank you Tony, you won't regret it."

"I think I just might," he grumbled. "Why'd you want to make new ones anyway? What's wrong with fixing those?" He jerked his head at the tarp-covered bench at the back of the workshop.

Maggie chewed her lip. "I haven't really upgraded those wings in nearly eight years. Sometimes HYDRA techs noticed the wings were malfunctioning, or they needed a new function for some mission, and they'd order me to do it. And then when I was on the run I was just… repairing. Over and over." She took a deep breath as she finally understood the unnatural feeling that had prickled over her whenever she contemplated repairing the wings. "I'm done patching up dents," she said. "It's time to start over."