Originally intended to be two chapters, after finishing writing it I realized that no matter how I divided it, it would either be a bit padded or the plot would be disjointed.
I might as well release it all at once; it's a 6500-word chapter.
Hope you enjoy watching!
The finishing touches on Seoul outskirts of Seoul continued until evening.
It took Hill's logistics team four hours to clear away the wreckage, and dozens of trucks made several trips to collect all the debris scattered on the battlefield.
Steve was present the entire time, ensuring that every part that might contain Ultron data was registered and sealed. Tony, on the other hand, had slipped back to the Quinjet early on, claiming he was going to check the armor damage, but everyone knew he just wanted to find a quiet place to talk to JARVIS a bit more.
The cabin on the return flight was much livelier than on the way there. Wanda sat by the window, while Pietro slept soundly in the seat next to her, a trace of dried drool still hanging from the corner of his mouth.
He had run too wildly on the battlefield, and after the adrenaline subsided, he completely lost his senses. Even when Wanda pushed his head off her shoulder several times, he didn't wake up.
Banner and Clint were discussing something in hushed tones, occasionally Clint's muffled complaints escaping his lips. "Next time there's work like this, you tell Lynn for me that I did almost nothing, I'd rather have stayed home and taken care of the kids." Banner just smiled and shook his head, not replying.
What truly captured everyone's attention was JARVIS.
To be precise, it was JARVIS with a physical body. The Vibranium body sat quietly in the seat next to Tony, his back ramrod straight, his hands neatly placed on his knees. Tony tilted his head and scrutinized him for a long time, the curve of his lips somewhere between admiration and disdain.
"Do you know you have cervical spondylosis now?" Tony asked.
"I understand, sir."
"Then you can turn your neck a little, you don't have to keep staring straight ahead."
Relax, you're a person now. Uh, almost a person.
JARVIS remained silent for a moment, as if he were truly thinking.
Tony looked at JARVIS in front of him, and his lips twitched slightly.
"... Never mind, just leave it as it is for now. We'll get used to it gradually when we get back."
"Yes, sir."
Tony closed his eyes. Natasha, sitting behind Tony, couldn't help but chuckle softly.
Back in New York, JARVIS quickly moved into Stark Tower. Tony initially thought everything would return to normal— JARVIS helped him manage the lab, optimize his armor parameters, and remind him to go to sleep when he stayed up late. But he soon discovered that JARVIS was no longer just a voice that could respond.
When Tony was working until 3 a. m., instead of just verbally reminding him, he would walk directly into the lab and place a glass of hot milk on the workbench. Tony was stunned for a moment when he first saw the milk, then looked up at JARVIS. JARVIS simply said calmly, "You've already had four cups of coffee tonight. Milk helps you sleep."
Tony picked up his glass and took a sip. The taste was just right, with a touch of honey. He put the glass down and continued revising the drawings, but his finger paused on the screen. "When did you learn how to heat milk?"
This afternoon, I consulted Miss Pepper's kitchen notes.
Tony didn't answer, he just finished his milk. JARVIS stood behind him, neither urging him to sleep nor saying anything more. He just quietly stayed with him.
On another occasion, Tony was repeatedly disassembling and reassembling the shoulder armor of Mark 45 in the lab, muttering, "No, still no." JARVIS stood behind him for a long time before finally speaking up, "Sir, may I try?"
Tony turned to look at him. JARVIS raised his hand—fingers woven from Vibranium, each one precise to the micrometer level—"My torque control is calibrated. It won't crush your screws."
Tony looked at him for a moment, then handed him the screwdriver. "Be gentle."
JARVIS took the screwdriver and, with light and steady movements, tightened the screw to the depth Tony wanted. He finished, placed the screwdriver back on the workbench, stepped back, and looked at Tony.
"... It's alright." Tony stared at the screw for a while, then suddenly spoke up, "Back when you were working on the server, didn't you ever want to help me tighten screws?"
JARVIS was silent for a moment. "Yes, sir."
Why didn't you say so before?
I didn't have hands back then.
Tony didn't say anything more. He reattached the armor components, his fingers moving much more gently than before.
A few days later, Tony fell asleep on the lab bench after working for more than ten hours straight. When he woke up, there was a blanket on his shoulder. JARVIS was sitting in the chair next to him, holding a tablet and going through the SSC's logistical reports line by line. He used to do this for Tony when he was in the server—but now he sat there like a real person.
"What time is it?" Tony asked in a hoarse voice.
"It's 6:12 AM. You slept for four hours. I've finished compiling the logistics report; the summary is on the first page."
Tony rubbed his eyes, looking at JARVIS sitting there—back straight, tablet on his knees, blue light reflecting off his calm profile. He suddenly remembered Ultron's last roar before being swallowed, remembered those crimson eyes, and looking at the person in front of him, he felt that he wasn't so bad after all.
He stood up, folded the blanket, and placed it on the sofa. " JARVIS."
"Yes, sir."
"It's good to have you here."
JARVIS paused slightly. He looked at Tony, a hint of something difficult to define as "programming" flickering in his blue eyes. Then he nodded gently. "Thank you, sir."
Meanwhile, Lynn and Natasha's trip continued. They ate skewers in an alley in Chengdu at 2 a. m.
The shop is hidden deep in an old street that even navigation apps can't find. The shop is so small that it can only fit five low tables. There's a pot of boiling red oil at the entrance, and the spicy aroma can be smelled from half a street away.
The proprietress, a loud-voiced Chongqing auntie, greeted them in her fluent dialect and invited them to sit down, tossing them a laminated menu.
Natasha said "mildly spicy" in Chinese, and her pronunciation was quite standard. Lynn gave her a thumbs up. The proprietress grinned, turned around, and went into the kitchen. Then she brought out a pot of dark red broth, with a thick layer of dried chili peppers and Sichuan peppercorns floating on top.
Natasha stared at the pot of soup for a moment, then looked up at Lynn. "Did she misunderstand?"
"No."
Lynn had already started putting skewers into the pot, her movements practiced. "The mild spiciness in Chongqing, translated, means 'it'll show you what it means to be so spicy you'll jump for joy but won't die.'"
Natasha picked up a skewer of beef with some skepticism, blew on it twice, and put it in her mouth. Three seconds later, her eyes reddened.
There was no emotion, just a purely physiological reaction. I gulped down half a glass of ice water, but instead of suppressing the spiciness... it brought out the numbing sensation, and my lips were trembling slightly.
Lynn laughed so hard he was practically sprawled on the table, his shoulders shaking. Natasha stomped on his foot under the table, and he hissed, but still couldn't stop laughing. He handed her his skewer of beef that he'd cooled down, saying, "You eat mine first. I rinsed it in ice water, so it's not as spicy."
Natasha took it and took a bite; the spiciness had indeed decreased considerably, but seeing the gloating smile on Lynn's face, she added another kick.
They stayed in Chengdu for three days, and then went to Dali.
The wind by Erhai Lake carries the scent of damp grass, and a thin layer of snow still covers the distant Cangshan.
Lynn rented two bicycles and rode slowly along the coastal road. Natasha suddenly stopped halfway, put one foot on the ground, and stared blankly in the direction of Cangshan in the distance.
Lynn rode back in a circle and stopped beside her, simply keeping her company quietly.
After a long pause, she finally spoke. "These things didn't exist in my life before."
Her voice was soft, as if she were talking to herself, "No beautiful scenery, no delicious food, no midnight snacks at two in the morning. Only briefings, tasks, and goals."
Lynn didn't answer. He reached out and gently put his arm around her shoulder, letting her head rest comfortably on his shoulder, and looked towards the intersection ahead.
"There's a grilled rice cake stall up ahead, the kind with rose jam. It's sweet and not spicy."
Natasha turned to look at him, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Don't you dislike sweets?"
"Making an exception once in a while is fine."
On their last night in Kunming, they took a stroll through the Dounan Flower Market.
This is Asia's largest flower market, and it's really bustling after 10 p. m.
Bundles of roses, lilies, and lisianthus were piled up on both sides of the aisle, filling the air with a rich floral fragrance, and the shouts of vendors rose and fell.
Natasha stopped in front of a stall selling baby's breath, picked up a small bunch of pale blue ones, and brought them close to her nose to smell them.
"This can be dried into flowers. It can be preserved for a long time."
Natasha didn't answer, she just shook her head, put the baby's breath back on the stall, and turned to walk away.
Lynn assumed she didn't like it and didn't ask further. But after walking a few steps, she turned back and glanced at the bouquet of baby's breath.
Lynn didn't say anything, but on the way back to the hotel, she made an excuse to go buy water and told her to go upstairs first.
He went back to the flower market, bought the bunch of baby's breath, and also picked out a small bunch of lavender.
The next morning, when Natasha saw the two bouquets of flowers on her suitcase, she said nothing, but carefully tucked the baby's breath into her side pocket.
She left the lavender under her pillow at the hotel; she didn't take it with her.
She told Lynn, "This is for the next person who stays in this room."
Lynn looked at her and thought that this was probably the gentlest thing Natasha Romanoff had ever said.
The last stop was Chongqing. Natasha stood on the viewing platform of Hongya Cave, watching the lights on both sides of the Jialing River spread out in the night. The river breeze, carrying moisture, brushed against her hair, and she suddenly spoke.
Let's come visit sometime when we have time.
Lynn leaned against the railing, turning his head to look at her. "You can settle down if you want. We have a teleportation portal anyway, so you can do whatever you want."
Natasha smiled but didn't reply, instead turning her gaze back to the dazzling lights.
After returning to New York, Lynn took Natasha home.
He found Steve Rogers at SSC headquarters.
Steve was the only person in the office. He was sitting behind his desk, flipping through a logistics report. When he saw Lynn come in, he closed the file and looked up at him. Lynn closed the door, didn't beat around the bush, and went straight to the chair opposite him, sitting down in a very calm tone.
"Captain, there's something I think you should know. Bucky... when he was controlled by Hydra, he carried out many missions. One of those missions targeted Howard Stark and his wife."
Steve's gaze shifted from the table to Lynn's face. He didn't speak, but his clasped fingers tightened slightly.
"After Ultron's problem was resolved, I contacted Hill."
Lynn leaned back in her chair. "When she was tracing Ultron's movements, she discovered a period of time where Ultron's specific actions were impossible to trace. Someone was helping Ultron cover his tracks. There aren't many forces in this world with that kind of capability."
They're still here!
Lynn looked him in the eyes. "Since they're still around, they must still have the complete file from when Bucky was brainwashed. If they tell Tony that Bucky is the murderer, what do you think Tony will think?"
Steve's lips moved, but he ultimately said nothing.
" Tony is foul-mouthed, arrogant, and obsessed with saving face. When he's angry, he can leave you speechless."
"But he doesn't hold grudges. He's not the kind of person who would go to extremes. You should know how complicated his feelings for Howard are. If he learned the truth from Hydra instead of from you..."
"You should know the result without me saying the rest."
"We are a team."
Lynn stood up, walked over to Steve, and gently patted him on the shoulder. "And you're Captain America. It's your job to take care of everyone's feelings. Don't let him feel betrayed or abandoned. Okay?"
The elevator doors opened, Lynn stepped inside, pressing the button for the lobby. As the doors closed, he whispered, "I've done what I needed to do. The rest is up to you."
When Lynn returned to the penthouse, Natasha had already showered and changed into her pajamas. She was nestled on the upholstered sofa in the living room, flipping through a notebook she had brought back from Dali. The notebook was bought at a small handmade shop in the old town. The cover was made of hand-dyed blue and white fabric. She had spent a long time looking through the notebook in the shop, but Lynn had helped her choose this one in the end.
"You're back?" She didn't look up, her finger holding the pen paused on a certain page, as if recalling what she had eaten that day.
"Hmm." Lynn changed his coat, sat down next to her, and glanced at the page she was writing on. There was a picture of Chongqing hotpot pasted on it, with a handwritten English note next to it that roughly said, "Mild spicy, don't believe it."
He chuckled, reached for the steaming cup of tea on the coffee table, and noticed a note stuck to it with neat handwriting. "Sir, the tea is freshly brewed, be careful, it's hot."
"... He even leaves me notes." Lynn tore off a note, glanced at it, shook his head, picked up his teacup, and blew on it twice.
"I was also startled when I came back. He said this would reduce unnecessary verbal interference."
Natasha closed her notebook and curled up her legs to make more room for him. "This afternoon he asked me if there was anything he could help me tidy up. I said no, and he stood at the door in silence for three seconds. He seemed disappointed and just said, 'Okay, please call me if you need anything,' and then turned and left. He walked without making a sound, which startled me."
" Vibranium soles, with built-in shock absorption."
Lynn took a sip of tea. "He's still learning how to be a person with a body. You have to give him some time."
I didn't mean it that way.
Natasha smiled. "I think he's kind of cute, and kind of pitiful. It's that feeling... you know he's not human, but you just can't help wanting to be nice to him."
Lynn tilted her head to look at her, a slight smile playing on her lips. "You're like this with everyone."
"No."
Natasha placed the notebook on the coffee table, leaned on Lynn's shoulder, her gaze fixed on the concealed light strip on the ceiling, and said softly, "It wasn't like that before. I used to keep my distance from everyone. You spoiled me."
Lynn didn't reply. He put down his teacup, reached out and hugged her, letting her lean more comfortably on his shoulder.
Outside the window, the New York night unfolded quietly, the lights of the barges on the Hudson River moved slowly, and the only sound in the living room was the faint hum of the air conditioner. Natasha closed her eyes and leaned back for a while, then suddenly spoke.
Let's go to the supermarket tomorrow.
"Um?"
"There's not much in the Fridge. We've been out for the past few days, JARVIS hasn't been restocking the vegetables. I'm thinking of cooking a meal for ourselves. Just the two of us, we'll start by buying groceries together."
What can you do?
" Italy. And salad. I learned some basic cooking when I was in the Red Room. Not all missions can be solved with a gun. Sometimes you need to play the role of an ordinary person who can cook."
"So, the skills you learned in the Red Room are now being used to make Italy for me?"
"Yes." Natasha opened her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Don't you feel honored?"
"It is an honor."
Lynn leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Let's go together tomorrow. We can buy some fruit while we're at it. You said you wanted peaches last time; there should be some good ones this season."
Natasha gave a soft "hmm" and closed her eyes again. After a while, her breathing became even and long, and she fell asleep leaning against his shoulder. Lynn didn't move, but simply reached out and pulled the thin blanket next to the sofa over her gently.
The next morning, they went to a large supermarket not far from Stark Tower. Natasha pushed the shopping cart, Lynn walked beside her. The two of them picked out peaches in the fresh produce section. Natasha picked one up, gently squeezed it with her fingers, put it down, then picked up another one and brought it close to her nose to smell it.
"You know how to pick peaches?" Lynn leaned against the shopping cart, looking at her serious expression, and found it amusing.
"No," Natasha said calmly, putting the peach she had smelled into her bag. "But anything that smells good shouldn't taste too bad. A fruit stand owner told me that when I was on a mission in Morocco."
"The oranges he sold were delicious. Sweeter than any I've had since."
Lynn pushed her cart and followed, the image of Natasha, dressed casually and carrying a bag of oranges, walking confidently past her target in the Morocco sun flashing through her mind. Back then, she probably never imagined that many years later she would be in a New York supermarket, picking out peaches for a man, and reminiscing about that bag of very sweet oranges from years ago.
Back home, Natasha carried the groceries into the kitchen, tied on an apron, and began washing the vegetables. Lynn leaned against the wall watching her and noticed that her chopping movements were extremely swift and precise, each cut accurate and even, the garlic slices so thin they were translucent. He couldn't help but chuckle.
What are you laughing at?
"I just think your garlic-chopping technique is quite professional."
Chopping garlic won't kill you.
Natasha didn't even turn her head, pushing the sliced garlic aside and starting to prepare the tomatoes, "But if they're not cut properly, it will affect the taste."
Lynn walked behind her, put his arm around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Do you need any help?"
Natasha turned her head and gently slapped away Lynn's mischievous hand. "I don't need your help, but don't cause trouble either."
"Receive."
He released her hand, took two steps back, and sat on the high stool opposite the island counter, quietly watching her busy in the kitchen. Natasha's movements were fluid: frying garlic, adding tomatoes, seasoning, cooking noodles. Every step was clean and efficient. When she sprinkled salt into the pot, she pinched a small pinch with her fingers. He noticed that Natasha mostly seasoned by feel. Lynn thought that this was probably one of the few things she did that didn't require precise calculation.
When the Italy was served, it looked much better than Lynn had expected. He twirled a piece with his fork, put it in his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and raised an eyebrow.
"How was it?" Natasha sat opposite her, her hands clasped together, supporting her chin.
"It's delicious. Really."
You're not lying to me?
When have I ever lied to you?
"That skewer from last time."
"... That's a matter of regional understanding, what does it have to do with me?"
Natasha chuckled, picked up her fork, and began to eat her portion. The two sat facing each other, enjoying a simple lunch. Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a pale golden halo around the water glasses on the table.
Lynn dinner, Lynn volunteered to do the dishes. Natasha leaned back on the sofa and scrolled through her phone for a while, then suddenly said, " JARVIS asked if we wanted to watch a movie together tonight. He said he could provide the movie and we could join him."
Lynn poked her head out of the kitchen, her hands still covered in dish soap foam. "He asked me that himself?"
"Hmm. It was sent to my phone about five minutes ago. The wording was very formal: 'Miss Natasha, if you and Mr. Lynn are free tonight, I would like to invite you both to watch a movie. I have shortlisted a few recently released ones, and the highest-rated one is...' Then he actually listed the names, and attached a comparison of the Douban and IMDb ratings for each one."
"... He compares movie ratings when he watches movies?"
"He even noted down one of the films with nine minutes of violence, saying, 'It might cause mild discomfort, but the overall narrative structure is excellent.' He also gave us a content rating in advance..."
Lynn wiped her hands and came out, picking up her phone from the coffee table and scrolling through the messages JARVIS had sent. She couldn't suppress a smile. "Let's watch that one with a good narrative structure. Tell him to come over at seven."
At seven o'clock in the evening, JARVIS appeared at the apartment door on time. He had changed into casual clothes, a simple dark gray long-sleeved shirt and black trousers, which Tony had probably picked out for him. He was carrying a tablet in his hand. As he walked into the living room, he nodded slightly to Lynn and Natasha, then sat down on an armchair on the side of the sofa, his back straight and his hands on his knees.
"I've already cast the video to the living room screen. The volume is adjusted to the optimal range. Should I dim the lights?"
"Adjust it to your liking." Lynn leaned back on the sofa, her arm draped over the back of Natasha's arm.
The lights dimmed slowly, and the screen lit up. JARVIS sat in the armchair, motionless from beginning to end, but during a crucial plot twist, Lynn noticed his blue eyes flicker slightly. He probably didn't know how to express surprise with his face, so this was the only way he could do it.
After the movie ended, JARVIS paused for a moment, then said, "I deduced the probability distribution of the ending twist twelve minutes in advance. But that doesn't diminish my appreciation for the overall narrative structure."
JARVIS, not everything needs to be calculated in advance.
Lynn stood up and stretched. "Sometimes being fooled by the plot is a kind of fun."
"I was fooled by the plot..."
JARVIS repeated the remaining half of the sentence, "I will try to reduce the accuracy of my predictions to retain more room for interpretation."
Natasha leaned back on the sofa, watching the conversation between the two, a faint smile always on her lips. Outside the window, the New York night was quiet and gentle.