Chapter 70

Maggie paced down the aisle of the courtroom towards the defense desk, counting each wooden pew she passed. There were seven pews on each side, but she already knew that. She just needed to remind herself of the fact to keep herself from grinding to a halt and breaking out in a scream. She wondered why courtrooms seemed so much like churches.

She passed the seventh pew and headed for the defense desk, then abruptly stopped.

"Maggie?" Diego murmured from beside her.

She turned slowly and shuffled a few paces toward Tony, who was about to slide onto the first pew. He didn't say a word, just straightened and let her wrap her arms around him once more, his own hands coming up to press against her back. She was sure she left bruises on his shoulders, but neither of them said anything. He held her so tight that she felt her heart pounding against her ribs.

She felt hands brush her shoulders and the back of her head – Pepper, Rhodey, Vision.

"Maggie," Andrea called in a soft voice. She pulled away and without looking at Tony's face took her seat at the defense desk.

"We made a good case," Andrea said in her ear. "Even if this doesn't go the way we hope, today isn't the end – there's an appeals process for a reason, and Diego and I will fight to the end for you."

Maggie nodded wordlessly, her eyes for some reason fixed on the carpet – it had such a strange design of circles and stars, how had she never noticed it before?

"All rise," called the bailiff.

Maggie wobbled to her feet, and Diego squeezed her hand in his. "Se fuerte [Stay strong], Maggie," he murmured. "No estás sola." ["You are not alone".]

She took a deep breath and lifted her chin just as Judge Moore strode into the courtroom. Keep swinging, Maggie.

Judge Moore took his seat and they all sat down again. Maggie looked down, realized her fingers were shaking, and clasped her hands together. She was so focused on keeping her panic from showing on her face that she didn't realize the jury had walked in until Judge Moore said:

"Will the jury foreperson please stand?" Judge Moore's face was as calm as ever.

An African American woman in the front row of the jury got to her feet and wiped her palms on her trousers.

Judge Moore looked over. "Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?"

"Yes, your honor."

No one said anything, but a crackle of energy sparked through the courtroom.

Judge Moore nodded to the court clerk, who walked to the jury box and took the sealed verdict from the forewoman. As the clerk brought the form over to Judge Moore, Maggie knew that every eye in the courtroom was fixated on that slip of paper.

Judge Moore took the paper, opened it, and read the form silently for what felt like hours, with the stone-wall expression that they were all used to by now. Maggie stared at his forehead. Someone coughed at the back of the courtroom and it sounded like a gunshot.

Finally, Judge Moore folded the paper and handed it back to the clerk, who took his seat. "Counsel rise," Moore said.

Diego and Andrea got to their feet, as did Mallory on the other side of the courtroom, and Maggie took one last look at Tony over her shoulder. His jaw was clenched tight and there was something like panic in his eyes as he looked back at her. Pepper's hand lay over his. Maggie's gaze flicked across her family – Tony, Pepper biting her lip, Rhodey with his hands fisted by his sides, Vision with his artificial eyes that expressed so much.

"Ms Stark," Judge Moore called. "Would you please stand and face the jury."

She had to place her palms on the defense table to push herself to her feet, because she didn't know if she had the strength to stand by herself. Her heartbeat pounded loud in her ears. She turned to the jury, her hands falling loose by her sides and her heart climbing into her throat, and made herself meet their eyes. They looked back and she was numb, too numb to read their faces. All she knew was that there were eyes on her and the most sickening sense of butterflies in her stomach.

"Mr Cowan?" prompted Judge Moore and all eyes turned to the clerk, his desk moored in the empty space between defense, prosecution, and judge. The clerk cleared his throat and looked down at the verdict form. Sweat glistened on his upper lip. The jury stared at Maggie.

When Mr Cowan spoke they all heard the nerves in his voice. "United States District Court for the Southern District of New York, in the matter of the United States of America versus Margaret Abigail Stark, case number 17-cr-536 (BM)."

He cleared his throat again. "On Count 1, the first degree murder of Ursula Winslow, we the jury find the defendant Margaret Abigail Stark–"

– Maggie felt the world stop for a half breath and an eternity, her palms were sweating and her heart pounded against her chest and there wasn't a single thought in her head –

"– not guilty."

She heard nothing but breath and she realized that the courtroom had let out a collective gasp, or maybe a sigh, and all the air had left her lungs. Paper rustled.

"On Count 2, the first degree murder of William Poole, we the jury find the defendant Margaret Abigail Stark not guilty."

Maggie closed her eyes. Someone took her hand, sweaty and too-warm, she could feel eyes on her and heard people whispering and someone crying, but she kept her eyes closed.

The clerk read on, his voice still wobbly as he read charge after charge until the end of the form.

"Not guilty."

"Not guilty."

Not guilty.

"Not guilty!" cried a spokesperson with a phone pressed to their ear in Times Square. The crowd burst into cheers.

The neighbors of the Montreal safehouse were probably going to file a noise complaint.

"… Ladies and gentlemen of the jury is this your verdict so say you one, so say you all?"

As one, the jurors replied: "Yes."

Something exploded in Maggie's chest and flooded through her limbs – something warm that sang through her veins and nearly knocked off her feet. It made her open her eyes. She finally turned toward Tony and saw he was crying, tears running down his cheeks and collecting in his beard. Her heart stuttered. Then he caught her eye and smiled. The smile crept up from the corners of his mouth until he was grinning at her, eyes shining, because she was his sister and she was not guilty not guilty not guilty.

Maggie's breath hitched and her eyes flickered – first to Pepper, who was – okay, Pepper was sobbing, which Maggie had never seen before – then to Rhodey, a grin on his face matching Tony's in its brightness, and Vision, whose eyes were closed as if he were meditating, or praying.

The warmth surging through Maggie swirled in her chest and glowed, and she didn't know what to do because this was how she felt when she was flying.

"Order in the court!" Judge Moore called. Maggie blinked and finally looked around at the rest of the courtroom – everyone was talking, staring mostly at her. Sound flooded back in and she suddenly registered just how loud it was. Her eyes widened and her heart pounded when a few people smiled at her with tears in their eyes. She turned, taking in the furiously whispering gallery and then the prosecution table, where Mallory stood grim-faced and staring straight ahead. She turned back to Judge Moore just as he regained order over the courtroom.

"Counsel, Ms Stark, please be seated."

Maggie fell back into her seat with Diego and Andrea by her side and realized that she was gripping Diego's hand probably far harder than was comfortable, and Andrea was grinning at her, wider than she'd ever seen.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," said Judge Moore, "we thank you today for your service in this trial, for your fortitude in withstanding the burdens of a case of this scale, and for the respect you have given the defendant and the law. You have discharged your duties with admirable dignity and diligence. With the thanks of this court, you are excused."

Then Judge Moore turned to her. "Ms Stark, the jury has found you not guilty on all charges." His unreadable eyes turned warm. "You are free to go home."

When Judge Moore adjourned the court and left the room Maggie shot to her feet, hurdled the wooden barrier between the defense desk and the first row of the gallery then threw herself at her family. They caught her in a tangle of arms and tear-stained faces, laughing and patting her back, and someone pressed their lips to the crown of her head. Maggie shivered as she let their joy seep over her and through her, and for the first time a tentative smile broke out across her face.

When she finally extricated herself she turned to the beaming Diego and Andrea and pulled them in for a hug as well. She wrapped her arms around them and whispered "thank you."

"The work is easy when your client is innocent," Diego murmured as they pulled apart.

Maggie laughed breathlessly. "You call that easy?"

"I call it the right result," Andrea interjected, still smiling wider than Maggie had ever seen. "The rest of your life belongs to you, Maggie."

The warmth surged within Maggie's chest and overflowed in a smile.

Tony held his sister as she basically lay on him, Pepper, Rhodey, and Vision, shaking like a leaf and her heartbeat pounding under his hand. Her face was buried in his shoulder but he was still dazzled at the way she'd looked when she turned around after everything was said and done: her eyes wide and her face utterly stunned, as if she'd expected anything but not guilty.

The courtroom was a roar of noise around them. Tony closed his eyes, still crying and unable to do anything to stop it, and held Maggie. He'd hoped for this with every fiber of his being, hoped like he had hoped to be free of that cave in Afghanistan, hoped like he had hoped for Maggie to come in from the cold and be his family again. He'd never really been one for hoping, but he supposed he had to thank the universe for this one coming true.

Not guilty.

Free.

Pepper ran her hand along his face and he turned to her, vision swimming, to see her looking tearstained and stunned and impossibly happy. He kissed her and then kissed the top of Maggie's head, and felt Rhodey's hand on his shoulder and Vision's steady presence over his other shoulder. He looked up at Kemp and Martinez, who smiled down at the scene.

"Thank you," Tony croaked, already devising ways he could pay them extra for what they'd done here. They just smiled, and then turned away to give the hopelessly crying bunch a moment.

Maggie's fingers curled around Tony's sleeve.

He'd had his heart broken so many times over the tragedy that was Maggie's life. First when he'd heard news of her 'death' with his parents, then when he realized that she was alive and her life had been so much worse than death. And so many times after that.

Now, for the first time he allowed himself to hope that she had a future that was happy, and healthy, and free.

That afternoon Maggie walked out of the courthouse to a wall of noise. Shouting, applause, endless voices overlapping each other. An enormous sea of people filled the steps and the street beyond, colorful and loud.

Maggie looked out at New York City and realized that she was free; free to go anywhere she wanted.

The thought gave her a headrush. She closed her eyes and savored the warm sunshine on her face.

"C'mon, Margarita," Tony murmured, and they got moving.

Happy had a car parked just beyond the police blockade a few hundred feet away, but Maggie didn't get two steps before the media swarmed them. Diego and Andrea stepped up, as they always did, but then someone called "Maggie, how do you feel?" and she took an unconscious step forward.

"You sure?" Andrea muttered.

She nodded and looked at the mass of journalists, TV cameras, and cellphones in front of her. Hush fell.

"You know what I realized just now, standing at the top of these stairs?" she said, as the people around her watched silently. She shook her head, almost in disbelief, and reached up to touch the pearl pendant resting between her collarbones. "I realized that for the first time in my life I'm a free woman. That's… honestly it's indescribable, that feeling. I want to thank the jury, the judge and the other members of the court, and the United States justice system. I promise I won't put the trust they placed in me to waste."

"Ms Stark, what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to help people," she said immediately, then glanced at the people by her sides and behind her. She met Tony's eye and smiled at the look of undisguised pride on his face. She turned back. "And I'm going to be with my family."

With that, Diego and Andrea started hustling her down the steps again. They got stopped dozens of times along the way, and everyone in her entourage ended up giving mini-interviews to the press, but Maggie didn't hear much of it. She was still stuck on Andrea's words: the rest of your life belongs to you.

(Though she did hear Tony remark to one reporter: "Honestly, I think she's a lot better at this whole trial thing, given my track record I'd have to say she's by far the most dignified member of the family.")

As they drove off, Happy turned in his seat to say "I'm so happy, Maggie, I've been hoping they'd do the right thing and they sure did."

She had to yell at him to look at the road, because he almost hit a bike messenger, but once the bike messenger was safe she leaned forward to put a hand on his shoulder and said "thanks, Happy. That means a lot."

From: Shirley Kemp

Crying and cheering from my living room. Alarming my grandchildren. I'm so proud of you, Maggie.

To: Shirley Kemp

Thank you for all your support, Shirley x

Andrea says that this sets a legal precedent of innocence for criminal acts committed by anyone subjected to the Memory Suppression Machine.

From: Shirley Kemp

*heart emoticon* I don't have words. Just know that you're very special to me.

Bucky's lucky to have you.

From: Shirley Kemp

Link: 10 HRS OF WHALE SOUNDS FOR DEEP SLEEP & RELAXATION

For when you need some sleep after a crazy day.

To: Shirley Kemp

People listen to whale sounds to get to sleep?

That night at the facility the Avengers, Andrea, Diego, Maggie, and Pepper gathered in the common room to celebrate. Pepper had just managed to convince Tony not to throw an enormous party, which Maggie (who was overwrought, emotional, and constantly seconds away from laughing or crying) was very grateful for. It ended up being a calmer affair than Tony had planned for – after weeks of pain, stress, and anticipation, that night felt like a breath of relief rather than a riotous celebration.

Maggie was aware that what had happened today was monumental and world-changing, but she was too tired to consider the implications. So she gave out so many hugs that Tony started calling her Magnet, and buried herself in feeling thankful that she could spend tonight and the rest of her life with her family.

Outside the Avengers Facility, the world had only one name on its tongue.

January 18th, 2017

The next morning, Maggie woke up at dawn. For a long moment she just stared up at the ceiling of the cell that had become her room. Then she rolled out of bed, put on workout clothes, and left the room.

Maggie had explored the facility before, but only with other people. She'd spent so long as a prisoner that the concept of freedom seemed… like an illusion. Too good to be true.

She started to run.

After an hour of sprinting around the Facility, Maggie burst out from the tree line and came to a crunching halt on the gravel bank of the lake, her chest heaving and sweat dripping down her temples. Morning light glinted off the calm surface of the lake, and frost dusted the pebbles under her feet.

Maggie dropped her hands to her knees and just breathed, her eyes on the lake and her chest rising and falling.

"I'm free," she told the lake. In response a faint breeze drifted across the water and blew against her flushed skin, cooling her sweat and making her shiver. "I'm free," she said again.

The words didn't ring true. The jury had found her innocent, sure, and Judge Moore had said you're free to go home. But things weren't that simple. Ross and the Accords Committee had approached her yesterday (indirectly – Ross was still yet to visit the facility in person) and basically forced her to sign the Accords. There had been a large part of her that wanted to stubbornly refuse, but she was too afraid of what might happen to her – or to Tony – if she didn't. As she signed, every part of her prickled with the sense that this wasn't right. She understood regulating people with immense destructive capacity, and understood signing in order to keep some control over the situation, but this… this felt like signing her freedom away.

So now she was constrained to a long list of legal stipulations about the use of her "enhancements", had a detailed file in the Accords Committee registry of enhanced people, and had the Committee watching her every move.

And that wasn't all – she was still chained by the trigger words. She could hardly forget – even now, alone on the lakefront, Maggie wore the four Manacles on various points across her body. She wanted them there, but the knowledge that her own mind kept her captive still hurt.

Maggie sighed and straightened, eyes still on the wide, flat lake. Blurry reflections of trees on the other side of the lake stretched across the water, their naked branches dusted with snow.

"What now," she whispered. She'd felt so confident when she answered that same question on the courthouse steps yesterday, but now she felt… cut loose. Adrift.

The trial was finished. HERACLES was still going strong, but Maggie's well of knowledge was starting to dry up. She'd told the world all of her dark secrets, and everything she knew was publicly available aside from some national security secrets, and some secrets pertaining to Bucky. Some people were still looking into remaining mysteries, but Maggie had put them in touch with professional investigators and offered all the help she could.

HYDRA was no longer an open wound. It was history.

So she was left with just one more thing to do to combat HYDRA's deadly influence. Maggie tapped a button on the Manacle on her right wrist.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"Yes, Ms Stark?" F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice emanated from the bracelet, sounding oddly tinny amongst the vast natural space.

"Did Pepper arrange that meeting for me today?"

"She did, for 10AM. Everything's in place as you requested, all that's left is for you to sign the documents and then the emails will go out."

"Great." Maggie sighed again. "I don't know what to do once this is over, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

"I think you've earned a break, Ms Stark," the A.I. replied. Maggie closed her eyes and felt the chilling breeze on her face. "Maybe you ought to take up a hobby."

Maggie laughed. "What, like… knitting? Scrapbooking?"

"Both are enriching pastimes beneficial for enhancing dexterity, memory improvement, and relaxation."

"I don't know if I know how to relax. I've gotta be doing something."

"A family trait, I believe."

Maggie laughed again. "Not the worst trait I inherited, but not the best. Alright, I'd better get dressed. Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y."

"You're very welcome."

Tony was in the kitchen when she got back, so after he poked fun at her sweaty, flushed appearance they ate breakfast together. It felt so strange to just sit back and enjoy a meal with her brother, without the fear of being sent away hanging over her. Their mood was lighter, and Tony made several prison-themed jokes until she tossed a muffin at him.

He offered to come to her meeting in the city, but she kissed him on the cheek and told him she'd be alright. Vision was going with her for "security purposes" anyway.

As she climbed into the backseat of Happy's car in a suit and waved goodbye to Tony, Maggie wondered if this was what the rest of her life would look like.

Save for the absence of a certain long-haired former assassin and the fugitive members of Tony's team, she found she didn't mind it.

Email from: HERACLESsurvivorsupport@gmail.com

Subject: The HERACLES Survivor Support Fund

To Whom It May Concern,

You have received this email because you have applied for investigation, remuneration, or support due to HYDRA's impact on your life. In other words, you are a survivor of HYDRA. Whether HYDRA took away your loved one, or your livelihood, or impacted you in some other way, you are eligible for the HERACLES Survivor Support Fund.

My name is Maggie Stark. I understand if you don't want to hear from me. But you may be aware of my work with HERACLES; spreading awareness and information about HYDRA's crimes. I feel I have one more task left to end HYDRA's influence, however.

When I returned to my family, I realized I was legally entitled to an inheritance I'd long forgotten about: half of my father Howard Stark's wealth. I want to use that resource to do good, and I can think of no better way to do good than to support the others who have been hurt by HYDRA and lost loved ones because of them.

If you do not wish to accept this money I understand, and I apologize for the inconvenience. I also apologize for the lateness of this offer – while on trial I couldn't legally offer monetary support to those who may have been witnesses. But I am offering now, as was my plan no matter the verdict. You may use this grant however you like: to rebuild your life in HYDRA's wake, to honor your loved ones, or to support children; it's up to you. I don't ask for anything in return for this money – not your forgiveness, or thanks, or to assuage my own guilt. The money is yours as reparation for the things you have suffered. I only wish there was more I could do.

To apply for your support grant please respond to this email, or alternatively visit www.heraclessurvivorsupport.co

If you know of anyone who may be eligible for the support fund who may not have received this email, please make them aware of the website.

With well-wishes for your health, happiness and future,

Maggie Stark.

'Victims of HYDRA Support Group' message board post: You guys. YOU GUYS! (link)

"In breaking news this morning it appears that though Margaret Stark has been silent in the press she hasn't forgotten HYDRA's victims…"

"Ms Stark didn't put out a press release or attempt to use the fund to gain favor in the midst of worldwise discussion about the outcome of her trial…"

"– anonymous email recipient shared the text of the email with our station, and–"

"The website makes it clear that, naturally, there will be a 1 week processing period for applicants to ensure that only genuine survivors of HYDRA receive money–"

"– appears Ms Stark intended for this to be quiet, as if anything she does now will go down quietly."

That afternoon Maggie sat with a steaming mug of hot chocolate on a chair in the courtyard of the Stark Mansion in Manhattan. The courtyard was actually located in the center of the house, a walled-off sanctuary open to the sky and filled with plants and creeping vines, centered around a bird feeder fountain. Maggie had loved this place when she was a little girl because it felt like a secret kept from the outside city, and because whenever she sat there she felt quiet and at peace. That same feeling fell over her now, even though winter made the courtyard cold and grey.

She tipped her head back and looked up at the white sky, streaked with clouds and shivering with the promise of snow. A flock of birds flashed overhead.

She was finished. Well, she'd never be finished with HERACLES, but it had taken on a life of its own now. It had staff, investigators, managers who ran it without needing her guidance. She didn't know where that left her.

As she watched the cold sky with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug, Maggie suddenly wished that she could get out and explore the world she'd never gotten to be a part of. Her heart pounded with the possibilities, but a second later she remembered that it was too dangerous.

She closed her eyes. She knew Vision was somewhere in the mansion, and if she hit a hidden button on any of her Manacles he would be out in an instant to knock her out or protect her. She knew she needed the security, but she hated it. She felt like a time bomb. Who knew how long it would be until someone attempted to use her words against her?

Suddenly, F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice emanated from her right Manacle: "Ms Stark, I have detected foreign technology in the sky above. I recommend alerting Vision and initiating defensive tactics–"

Maggie's eyes snapped open. For a split second she thought: bird, but then she realized that no bird had such a linear silhouette, and no bird glinted in the sunlight. Her eyes narrowed. The thing – drone – lowered and she made out red-plated wings, miniature glowing engines and the glassy eye of a camera. Her fingers tightened around her mug of hot chocolate and she gauged distances, angles–

"Ms Stark?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, her voice urgent.

"I…" something flashed red in Maggie's vision, and her eyes flicked to the courtyard pavement. Numbers and letters projected in red laser glowed on the ground at her feet: 1500. 40.7829° N, 73.9654° W.

A second later another laser projection joined the first: :-)

"Ms Stark–" F.R.I.D.A.Y said, and Maggie blinked.

"Ignore it, F.R.I.D.A.Y," she murmured. "False alarm."

The laser projection vanished, and she looked up just in time to see the drone fly away.

"Are you sure?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked.

Maggie checked the time on her Manacle's digital display. 2:28PM. The corner of her lips quirked up. "I'm positive."

It wasn't too difficult to sneak out of the mansion. First she disguised herself: makeup to change the angles of her face, hair stuffed into a beanie, and a hoodie, winter coat and scarf to hide in. Then she slipped out a back window of the mansion, scaled the wall of a nearby building and jumped rooftops until she was far enough from the mansion that she wouldn't be ambushed by the press. Tony or someone could probably track her using the Manacle if they got worried, but she'd set up a hidden backdoor to alert her if someone traced her.

As she leaped from one rooftop to another, the wind cold on her face and feeling lighter than air, Maggie considered that this could be a trap. But as she landed, she shrugged to herself and jumped onto a nearby fire escape. Even if it was a trap she could handle herself, and if she couldn't then the Manacles would prevent her from doing anything as the Wyvern, and would alert Vision to her presence if someone attacked her.

She slipped into the crowds on the pavement and headed for the coordinates.

Central Park, Manhattan

Maggie strolled down one of Central Park's main thoroughfares, her hands shoved into her pockets and her head ducked into her scarf to hide the lower half of her face. The light dusting of overnight snow had melted away, but a bitter cold still gripped the park. There wasn't much traffic, mostly shivering dog walkers or determined tourists.

She scanned the people around her for fifteen minutes until her eyes locked on a lone man sitting on one of the park benches, one foot kicked up on his other knee and an arm slung across the back of the chair. He wore jeans, a black leather jacket, a cap and sunglasses and was ostensibly scrolling through his phone, but Maggie could see from the tense line of his shoulders and the way his eyes were just a little too focused that he was concentrating on more than the phone. She broke out in a grin.

When she slipped up and dropped onto the bench beside him, Sam flinched and fumbled his phone.

"Hey, stranger," Maggie grinned.

Sam's eyes widened and darted over her, taking in her subtle disguise and glinting eyes, and then he grinned and pulled her in for a hug. He smelled like leather and cold, and Maggie squeezed him a little tighter than necessary.

When they pulled apart, Sam held her at arms length and smiled at her. "I see you got Redwing's message. It's good to see you out and free, Maggie."

She ducked her head. "Likewise." She looked up at him. "But Sam… please tell me why you're here. I know this isn't just a catch up."

Sam nodded, but his smile didn't fade. "Oh, I'm not going to beat around the bush. Maggie, they did it." His eyes shone behind his sunglasses and Maggie's heart skipped a beat.

She swallowed thickly. "They did it?"

"They did it," he grinned. "They found a way to get rid of your trigger words once and for all."

Wind on her face. Breath in her lungs. Her heart pounding and her stomach swooping, soaring. Maggie slapped a hand across her mouth, doubled over and burst into tears.

Sam wasn't startled by her crying this time. He shuffled in closer to her, pressing his knee to hers, and put an arm around her shoulders. Maggie knew they were meant to be incognito but she couldn't help it because she'd been hoping and to have the words she hoped for come out of his mouth was almost too much to handle.

She sat up just far enough to look him in the eyes. "You mean it?" she gasped, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "You really mean it?"

He took off his sunglasses at met her eyes. "Yeah I do, Maggie," he said softly. "You're free."

Maggie sobbed and buried her face in her hands again. Sam rubbed her shoulder and uttered soothing nonsense words like it's gonna be okay and let it out.

As she sobbed on a cold bench in Central Park with a fugitive comforting her, Maggie's entire body thrummed with the knowledge of what this meant. For the past few months she'd been on edge, but this went back further – her trigger words had been with her for twenty five years. She barely remembered a time when they weren't hanging over her head and the thought of them gone was… it seemed impossible.

Maggie took in a deep breath and lifted her face out of her hands, just in time to see a passing tourist shoot them an alarmed glance. The tourist glanced between them – Maggie crying and Sam awkwardly patting her shoulder, then shot Maggie a commiserating glance and hurried on.

Maggie laughed wetly. "She thinks you just broke up with me."

Sam chuckled. "It's not you, it's me." He cocked his head. "One of these days I'm going to have a conversation with you where I don't make you cry."

She leaned back, letting out a long breath and wiping her face. "This seems too good to be true."

Sam squeezed her shoulder once more. "I think you deserve a little of that right now."

"So you caught the end of my trial then," she said wryly.

"Don't think there's a person in the world who could've missed it, to be honest," he replied with a smile. "I've been in New York for an hour and a half and I've already overheard seven separate conversations about it."

"Sorry," she muttered.

"Don't be, they were all glad you're free."

Maggie sniffed, and then turned so she was facing him properly. "Okay, so… trigger words. How?"

His eyes glinted. "Right." He rummaged in his jacket pocket and pulled out another metal bead, like the one he'd given her all those weeks ago but with a different symbol on it. "So this has all the information you need. Basically you need to build a machine. I don't know the science behind it, obviously, all I know is that the machine kinda looks like a cyborg helmet? Anyway, the person who made this is confident you'll be able to replicate it." Maggie took the bead from Sam and he showed her how to access the files on it – the bead was coded to her genetic imprint, so when she touched the symbol it glowed blue and projected a crystal-clear holographic image, kind of like the ones in Tony's workshop.

She eyed the plans for the machine. It kind of reminded her of B.A.R.F., Tony's therapeutic augmented reality device, but B.A.R.F. looked like dial-up internet compared to this. She could see genius in every line of it. Her heart simultaneously swelled and sunk as she perused the plans, and she sighed.

"Something wrong?" asked Sam.

"Not wrong, it's just… this would have taken me years to develop on my own, and I might never have gotten the idea in the first place. I'm just realizing how screwed I would have been without you guys."

He nudged her with an elbow. "You're a genius, Maggie. But there's nothing wrong with accepting a little help."

She smiled, then her eyes caught on something in the 'materials' section of the file. "What's this? 'Kimoyo Vibranium Uplink'?"

"Oh, right. That means the bead. When the machine's finished you should just be able to put the bead in the housing part on the forehead, and then the bead uploads the program that teaches the machine how to get rid of the trigger words. I'm pretty sure that's how they explained it."

She arched an eyebrow. "So this is a Kimoyo bead, then. And it's made of Vibranium."

His eyes narrowed. "Yes, but you already knew that."

She shrugged, then turned back to the projection above the Kimoyo bead. "This also says I'll need another person to monitor the Kimoyo upload."

"Yeah… is that going to be a problem?"

Maggie bit her lip. "I don't think so." She tapped the bead's symbol once more and pocketed it. "I don't know how to thank you, Sam."

He grinned at her. "No thanks needed. I'm just glad we can help you get rid of those words for good." His grin flickered. "We heard about what happened at the facility on the weekend."

Her face twisted and she hunched her shoulders. She had another question, but she was almost too afraid to ask it. She took a breath, then said: "Have they cured Bucky's trigger words yet?"

Sam smiled as if he'd been waiting for her to ask. "They were just prepping him when I left to come here," he said. "We wanted to get these to you right away."

Maggie's heart skipped a beat. "He's not going to be very happy with me." Sam laughed and she glared at him. "Look after him, okay?"

"If I have to." At Maggie's sudden glare, Sam held up both hands. "I mean, yes, of course we will. Guy deserves a break too."

"Oh, wait a sec," Maggie rummaged in her pocket, then pulled out three slips of paper. "When you see Bucky, give him these?"

She handed over the papers, and Sam eyed them for a long moment. They were copies of the only images Maggie had to remember Bucky by: the photobooth strips, and the portrait Bucky had drawn of her. Sam's eyes flicked over the photographs, taking in Maggie and Bucky's beaming faces, the enormous orange teddy bear, and the image that showed only glimpses of their faces since they were too wrapped up in each other to notice the camera. Then he eyed the portrait of Maggie deep in concentration, with scratched safety goggles over her eyes.

"Huh," Sam eventually said. "I'd figured you two were a thing, but… at the time, I didn't know how to ask."

"I might've punched you if you did," she replied.

He waved the photos at her. "You sure you don't want to keep these?"

"Those're copies," she replied. "I've been carrying them around for a while."

Sam watched her face, eyes shrewd. "Must be hard without him," he eventually said.

Maggie sighed. "Well... I mean. Yes." She ran a hand over her face. "I really miss him. And I can't really talk about it with anyone other than Vision because…" She trailed off, and Sam's eyes softened.

"Right," he murmured, the word echoing with all the unspoken complications of the situation they found themselves in. "I can't imagine what that's like."

Maggie clenched her jaw, determined not to cry, and took a deep breath. "You'll make sure he gets the photos?"

"I'll make sure of it." His phone buzzed and he glanced down at it. "Now I've got to head off, I've already been here too long."

"That's okay," Maggie said with a sad smile. "I really appreciate you coming, though. Thank you."

He cocked his head at her. "You seem like you're doing okay here." He gestured at her bundled in her winter gear, leaning back against the park bench with the backdrop of Manhattan behind her.

She smiled. "Yeah, I… I never thought I could live like this, out in the open. But it's nice."

"If you ever need our help, just ask."

She cocked an eyebrow. "How?"

"Oh crap I almost forgot to tell you – that Kimoyo bead isn't just for the trigger word cure. If you touch the symbol and then twist, it'll come up with a communication function. It's text-based only, and messages might take a few hours to be transmitted for the purpose of secrecy, but it's a direct line to us." He paused. "There's someone on the other end who'll probably want to yell at you for willingly signing up for a trial."

Maggie rolled her eyes. No doubt Steve has been wanting to tell me in person how much stress I caused him. "Thanks again, Sam. Stay safe out there in the world." She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Back at you, Stark," he said with a grin. "We'll pass on any info about A.I.M. if we find it, and in the meantime… good luck with making the machine." He got to his feet and adjusted his sunglasses. "See you around."

"If you're lucky," she shot back, and waved as he strolled down the way she'd come. Once he was out of sight, Maggie leaned back against the park bench and exhaled a cloud of vapor. She pulled the Kimoyo bead out of her pocket and grinned at it, feeling the strange metal slide against the pads of her fingers.

She might not be free now. But she was about to be.

When Maggie burst into the mansion sitting room, Vision looked up from his book and blinked at the sight of her flushed cheeks and winter gear.

"Vision, got any plans?" she asked.

"No, why?"

She grinned at him. "You do now."

Once she'd explained, they went straight back to the Avengers facility and got to work. They occupied the workshop for the next few days, and when Tony tried to come in they had F.R.I.D.A.Y. turn him away. Maggie wished she could involve him, but it was best if he didn't know that Wakanda was helping her with this. She made sure he knew that she wasn't avoiding him though, and she stopped for mealtimes so he (and Pepper) wouldn't get worried.

The machine gave Maggie hope and a sense of purpose that soothed the aimlessness left after the trial. She and Vision chatted idly as they worked, marveling over the advanced designs, discussing their friends, and occasionally talking about Wanda. Vision was cagey about how often and where he met Wanda, but he didn't mind revealing that he'd seen her a few times during the trial. He related some of his confusions and wonders about being in a relationship ("Wanda is very soft" set her laughing so hard that she had to put down her tools), and fondly recounted stories and hopes Wanda had shared with him. And just like breathing, Maggie found herself telling Vision stories about Bucky.

She'd hardly dared think about him during the trial, too busy dreading her own future and scared that for the rest of her life Bucky would be locked in a frozen box. But he was going to wake up soon, or maybe he was already awake, and the thought sent a thrill down to her toes. So she told Vision funny stories from she and Bucky's two years together, the silly things they'd fought about, the time he he'd taken her to a university, the little girl who had called them elders, and even described the world-shifting moment that she had realized that Bucky Barnes was attractive.

As the machine began to take shape beneath their hands, Maggie couldn't help but look at it and associate it with love.

After three days of hard work they finally finished.

It does look like a cyborg helmet, Maggie reflected. The curved metal base plate was intended to fit over the back of her head, and from that plate arced dozens of tiny, rigid wires that connected to points on the front half of her skull. A single strip of metal would smooth over the top of her head and come to rest on her forehead, with a circular hub for the Kimoyo bead. Lines of dormant circuitry adorned the base plate in a strangely beautiful pattern.

It looked weird, but it exactly matched the designs hidden in the Kimoyo bead.

Vision stood beside Maggie, looking down at the finished machine. "Does it have a name?"

"Didn't come with one," she replied. "I'm going to call it 'The Best Hat Ever'."

He laughed, but cut himself off when she lifted the machine, settled it over her head, and then sat cross-legged on the lab floor. "Maggie, I… are you sure? Don't you want to wait a moment?"

Maggie took a breath, getting used to the sensation of metal encasing her head. It didn't really feel like the Memory Suppression Chair, which she was grateful for. "I've had twenty five years of moments, Vis. Fire this bad boy up." She offered him the Kimoyo bead.

Looking disapproving in a way that reminded her strangely of Mr Jarvis, Vision knelt next to Maggie and gently pressed the bead into the housing on her forehead. Maggie tapped the bead, giving her genetic key, and Vision began programming the data upload.

"Try to relax," he said, and she took a deep breath. "It's not going to hurt, the designs were very clear about that."

"I know," she whispered as his fingers flickered just above her eye level. "I'm not scared of pain."

"What are you scared of?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm scared that without these words I… I might not…" his fingers fell still. "I might not be fixed."

Vision's free hand cradled the side of her head, resting over the machine's metal plates. "Humans do not get fixed or broken," he told her. "They just are. And you, Maggie Stark, are a singularly exceptional human. You deserve to be free of these words." He smiled down at her and the stone in his forehead glowed. "Are you ready?"

Maggie's hand drifted up to her head and she gripped Vision's hand. It's the mission, came a soft, low voice from the back of her mind, glowing with the memory of grey-blue eyes. She swallowed, took a deep breath, then on the exhale said: "Yes."

Vision's fingers flickered once more and then with a faint whir, the machine came to life. It felt like… humming, maybe, or like the fuzzy state between sleep and wakefulness. The machine didn't feel foreign, it just felt like an extension of her mind. Purple light illuminated Vision's face and his eyes widened.

"'S it working?" Maggie mumbled. One of Vision's hand was warm in hers and the other supported her head as she sagged backwards and… oh. She was really sleepy. Vision said something that she didn't hear, and she felt herself get lowered to a smooth, comfortable floor. Her mind glowed.

Maggie's eyes drifted shut and she reflected that for the first time in a while she felt comfortable. And at peace.

(images)