by Lisa Lace
He sat in a machine holding a wheel in his hands. Around him, glass and metal flew through the air as the machine spun around again. A woman sat next to him. She had black hair and equally dark eyes, and she would have been beautiful if she weren’t screaming and flinging her arms in the air. The machine stopped with a dull thud, landing upright. Fury felt a stabbing pain in his torso. He looked to the woman in the seat next to him, but she was still. Blood dripped down the side of her face, and her eyes stared blankly in front of her. She was dead.
“Are you still there? Come back to me, Fury.”
Blinking, the cyborg found that he was still in the laboratory with Natasha. She leaned forward and put one hand on each of his shoulders as he clutched his belly. Her hair tickled his cheek, and her shirt had gaped open on top, but he was too distracted to pursue anything. Gingerly, Fury pulled his hand back from his stomach, waiting for a gush of blood to rush out. But his palms were clean. There was no trace of the blood he had seen only moments ago. Fury looked up at Natasha and automatically wiped a bloodless hand on his pants.
“It’s okay,” she said in a high voice, a purr of vibrations that always seemed to flow right into him. “It’s just a memory from a long time ago. Nothing will hurt you now.”
The cyborg stared into Natasha’s eyes. She looked sincere. Whenever he saw Natasha, he usually wanted to do things to that sweet mouth, but not this time. When she brought him back from the broken place in his mind, he wanted only to look at her beauty and use it as an anchor.
Chapter Seventeen
The mornings were always the hardest.
Once Natasha was ready for work, there was little time left to dash down to the basement and see Fury. Usually, she only had a chance to glance at him in his cell before she left for the day. It wasn’t worth it to activate him so she could say goodbye, then be forced to turn him off again. It wouldn’t be fair.
This day was different.
Natasha had set her alarm an hour early to make sure she had enough time, even though she knew it would be a struggle to go to work. She rushed through the shower, omitting the deep conditioner and forgetting to shave one leg in a hurry to get dressed. Her hair was still dripping wet when she entered the kitchen to scramble several eggs and put four slices of bread into the toaster.
She had agreed to let Fury stay outside of his cell for the entire day. He had been spending longer and longer periods of time disconnected and with Natasha when she was home in the evenings. Rehabilitation required him to learn how to live like a regular human. Sleeping in a box like a vampire all day was not normal. The two of them had explored the entire house, with Fury asking more questions than she could answer.
“How does a microwave work?” Fury asked one day after Natasha heated up some burritos.
“I have no idea. It just does what I need. Kind of like you.” The cyborg scowled at her, but Natasha wasn’t going to learn the inner workings of every appliance just to satisfy his curiosity. She did, however, make a mental note to look it up later.
After that came the dishwasher, the oven, the coffee pot, the alarm clock, and her phone. Fury looked at each of them closely and carefully with a look in his eyes that suggested he was analyzing them.
This morning, she called down the stairs, “Breakfast is ready!”
It always sounded like a herd of elephants had entered the house when Fury came up the wooden steps from the basement. He was an enormous man wearing military boots, and he planted each foot firmly as he moved through the house. Natasha was going to have to replace the stairs soon.
Fury threw open the basement door and stood uncertainly at the top of the steps. He had always ascended with Natasha before, and it threw him off to climb by himself even though that was part of the plan. The cyborg crossed the room awkwardly and sat down in a dining chair.
Natasha set a plate of eggs and toast in front of him then retreated into the kitchen to fetch a steaming mug of coffee. At some point, she would have to make him get it on his own. Natasha told herself that she didn’t want to make things too difficult for him. After all, he was already eating in a different part of the house and using a fork.
She was aware of cyborg eyes watching her as she gently stabbed a bit of egg and put it into her mouth. Fury hesitantly copied her, holding the fork awkwardly in a meaty fist and scowling at the plate. The redhead peeked through her eyelashes to see his reaction.
Fury chewed the egg for a moment before sitting up in his chair. He stared down at the plate in awe and then quickly jabbed at the eggs again. His fork clanked loudly against the plate and sent some of the food flying off onto the placemat. The cyborg didn’t care about making a mess. He enthusiastically started to shovel food into his mouth.
“Those are called eggs,” Natasha explained, feeling her heart rise in her chest to see Fury enjoying breakfast. “They’re scrambled with a little bit of milk and cooked on the stove. You should try the toast, too.”
The soldier nodded and stabbed a fork into the crusty bread. Fury managed to pick it up, but before he could take a bite, the toast tumbled back down onto the plate.
“You can pick it up with your hands,” the nurse clarified. “Like this. See?” She grabbed her piece of toast and took a bite, watching as Fury mimicked her actions. “Do you think everything will be okay if you’re by yourself? I know you’ve probably been feeling trapped down in the basement, but it’s going to be very different from what you’re used to.”
Fury shook his head and swallowed. “Different is good.”
“Do you remember what I said about going outside?”
He had a blank look on his face. Natasha guessed that he remembered a time when they had looked through every window in the house. Fury had been interested in each one and eagerly moved to each window to see how the view changed. He was loading the information into his internal maps, figuring out his location and trying to relate it to Cyborg Sector. He had put a hand on the front door and was about to go outside before she had stopped him.
“I remember you said don’t do it.” He filled his mouth with a bit of egg.
“That’s right. You’ll have to stay indoors. I know it looks exciting, but if someone finds out about you, we will both be in big trouble.” In her head, Natasha scolded herself for sounding like a parent talking to a child. Fury was going to remember what it was like to be human soon enough, and he might already detect her condescending tone.
Finishing up breakfast and putting the plates in the sink, Natasha picked up her purse and keys. “I’ve made you a few sandwiches; they’re in the refrigerator. Help yourself to anything else you want to eat. Do you remember how to use the phone if you need to call me?” She had shown him how to use the old landline her dad had insisted on keeping around and programmed her phone number on speed dial. She refused to leave him here without a way to reach her if something went wrong.
The soldier nodded as he polished off his meal and swallowed a final gulp of coffee.
“I’ll come home right after work, I promise.” Her chest felt like it was made out of lead. The closer she got to the door, the harder it was to breathe. It was going to be a long day.
The commute to work, an early morning meeting, and the first few appointments for the day dragged by interminably. Natasha wanted to go home and check on Fury. She felt compelled to make sure he hadn’t burned down the house or gone hungry. Natasha had already taken several days off. The administrators would put her on probation if she turned around and asked for vacation days on top of her bereavement leave. Her only choice was to muddle through her day and wait. She kept checking her phone to make sure she hadn’t missed a call.
While she was staring off into space in the lunch room, imagining Fury ripping all of her kitchen cabinets off the walls, the clunk of a full soda can landing on the table next to her brought her back to reality. Blinking, Natasha realized that John had come to sit next to her.
“Oh, hey,” she said weakly. Someone who had helped her out so
much deserved a warmer greeting, but she was too tired to give it.
“How are things going?” It was a simple question, but it was loaded with more than an eavesdropper might guess.
“Quite well, actually.” The nurse smiled for the first time since she had arrived at work. “You’d be surprised.”
John nodded and began pulling his lunch out of a small cooler. “Good. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you here. I know you probably don’t want to be seen with me.”
“Don’t say that, John. It’s not true.”
He shrugged. “I know that rumors are going around. I don’t want to cause you any trouble. I just wanted to make sure you were okay after that go-round with your husband a few nights ago. He’s a real piece of work.”
Natasha realized she had been an ass. John had stood up for her and even taken a punch. She had barely spoken to him since then. Rehabilitating a cyborg in her spare time was taking a lot out of her. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t come here for apologies,” the tech insisted. “You know that I’m here for you, right? If that means being a person to talk to or a shoulder to cry on, as friends, I’m glad to do it. If you ever decide I’m worth something more, I’m ready for that, too. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”
John certainly knew how to make her feel bad. “I’m not in a place for that right now. You’re a wonderful guy, but I just don’t think it’s going to work.”
Surprisingly, he smiled at her. “That’s okay. I would still love to take you out for a drink tonight. No offense, but you look like you could use it.”
Natasha laughed. It was only a small laugh, but it was huge compared to how she was feeling that day. He was right. She needed a drink. “Yes, I think I could. Why don’t you come to my place tonight? I have something I’d like to show you.” It probably sounded like an innuendo to anyone else in the break room, but she didn’t care what other people thought.
“I’d love to.”
Chapter Eighteen
Knowing that John was coming over to share in the victory put Natasha in a distinctly better mood. Even if Fury had had a rough day while she was gone, it was still a huge step toward bringing him back to humanity. The process was similar to assisting a person who had gone through a traumatic accident and had to learn to live again...and had their emotions and memories removed, replaced with a biochip.
She rushed home as soon as her last patient left the exam room. She didn’t bother to say anything to the other employees in her department. Natasha was in her car and on the freeway before most of the other workers left the building.
Natasha shoved her key in the lock eagerly but opened the door slowly. She didn’t want to scare Fury if he was in the living room. A quick peek showed that she didn’t have to worry. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The remote control looked tiny in his hands. The overhead lights were off, but the glow of the screen illuminated his face.
Fury slowly realized Natasha was standing next to him. “Look. I know this.”
She wanted to jump up and down and scream for joy. The cyborg didn’t realize that he was experiencing a great victory by calmly remembering the past.
He glanced at her briefly before turning back to the television. It was an old sitcom about a blended family. Fury didn’t laugh at the funny parts. He continued to watch with concentration.
Natasha remembered watching the show as a child, but she couldn’t imagine what it meant for Fury to have it in his life now. His biochip had completely blocked everything from his human life, and though the update allowed him access to old memories, they were mostly a jumbled mess. This show was something that represented a forgotten part of him.
“Did you watch this as a child?” she whispered, not wanting to interrupt but intensely curious. What was Fury thinking?
“Yes, all the time.” The cyborg’s body bobbed up and down as he nodded. “With my family.”
The word echoed in the living room and her heart. Fury used to have a family somewhere. Maybe he still did. Where were they? Did they know that he was still alive, or had they accepted that he was dead to them when he donated his body to Cyborg Sector? Was there a wife out there looking for him, who would be enraged to find out about Natasha?
Natasha didn’t ask any of those questions. What she asked was, “Did you get enough to eat?”
He nodded again without breaking the trance the television held over him. “A sandwich and fish sticks. I remember tartar sauce.”
“You weren’t supposed to open the freezer.” Natasha rushed into the kitchen, expecting to see a disaster area. She hadn’t thought he would take initiative and open every compartment in the refrigerator. She found a baking pan on top of the stove, covered in tiny brown crumbs from the frozen fish sticks. Fury had even turned off the oven and returned the bottle of tartar sauce.
“How did you do that?” Natasha demanded as she came back into the living room. “You barely knew how to use a fork in the morning!”
Fury’s mouth raised in the corner, a look that was becoming familiar to her by now. “Directions on the...” He wildly gestured as he tried to come up with the right word. “My head hurts.”
Mildly relieved but still shocked, Natasha retrieved some ibuprofen from the bathroom. “Swallow these. We have company coming over. Do you remember John? He’s been down in the laboratory with us before.”
The cyborg nodded and swallowed the pills, making a face as he swallowed.
A knock came from the door, and Natasha let John in. “Check this out,” she said eagerly. “He’s been out of the basement all day. Fury’s been watching TV, and he even made some fish sticks! I’ve only been home a few minutes myself, so I don’t know what else he’s done, but isn’t it exciting?” She knew she was gushing, but she couldn’t help it.
John stood in the living room watching Fury, who glanced at the newcomer for a moment before returning to his show. “That was fast. I’ve heard that it can take weeks for them to start acting like this. A lot of them spend some time going a little nutty.”
Natasha explained that she had been forced to drug the cyborg when he started tearing apart the basement. Once Fury was under control, she had him convert the laboratory into makeshift sleeping quarters. There were bedrooms upstairs, but she hadn’t wanted to make the transition too quickly. “After the way he’s been today, I think it’s safe to say that he’s about ready to sleep up here.”
John rubbed his chin, where stubble was starting to come in. “How about we step into the kitchen and get that drink?” He shared his private thoughts when a celebratory shot of whiskey was in his hands, and he was out of Fury’s hearing. “I’m not sure about your idea. I know this is what you thought you wanted to happen. But even if we think a cyborg killing machine won’t kill anymore, will we be able to convince anyone? You can’t turn him out into society. He has no paperwork that he can use to live.”
Natasha was too excited to let any worries bring her down. “We can deal with that when we get there.”
“But how long will that be?” John pressed. “What happens when he’s no longer content to eat fish sticks and watch TV? If he’s doing that on the first day he’s been allowed to be on his own, what will happen tomorrow or the next day?”
Peeking into the living room at the project, Natasha smiled as she thought about the things Fury still needed to understand. It would take weeks at the least, but possibly months or a year. “Everything will work out fine,” she insisted.
Chapter Nineteen
A few weeks before, Natasha would have thought it impossible to fall into a nightly routine with a cyborg, but apparently anything could happen. Their dinners usually consisted of something frozen that could be heated up in the oven. The convenience helped alleviate Natasha’s exhaustion from working as well as Fury’s strange desire to cook. Although he couldn’t exactly make gourmet cuisine, he enjoyed putting food on the table for her. Other than fish stick
s, he had now made frozen pizza, a small lasagna, and Chinese dishes in little boxes that looked like takeout. He had even begun enhancing the foods before putting them in the oven, taking steps like adding extra cheese to a pizza or a dash of sauce to a rice dish.
Natasha wondered if he had often cooked in his previous life. Perhaps he felt he was paying her back for the meals she had brought to him, or maybe he got a sense of accomplishment. Either way, she didn’t want to ask and ruin it. It was nice to have hot food waiting when she kicked off her sneakers and collapsed into a dining chair.
After they ate and threw their plates in the dishwasher (a small task that Natasha was glad to take on since he always did the cooking), they moved to the living room and relaxed. Natasha had never cared much for television, so she usually settled in on the loveseat with a good book or played on her phone. She propped her feet up on the opposite arm of the small couch and ignored the crime shows Fury had been hooked on. She didn’t care to add any more drama to her life, especially when it dealt with husbands who murdered their wives or other television episodes that felt far too familiar to her.
When Fury first discovered the shows, he watched them from the couch. After a few episodes, he couldn’t sit through them. Mostly, Fury stood up for the duration of the show. When standing was unsatisfactory, he began to pace back and forth.
This night was a pacing night, and it was starting to worry Natasha. He stared at the screen like he could burn a hole through it with eyes, and he pressed his hand against his lips. “Is everything ok?” she asked, putting her phone away for the moment.