Part 2 of Walls of the Day/Prelude to Wayfaring Stranger
CHAPTER 2 You're Wondering Who I Am, Machine or Mannequin
I'm not a robot without emotions, I'm not what you see.
I've come to help you with your problems so we can be free.
-Mr. Roboto, the Styx
"Sir," Jarvis intoned, "are you all right?"
No matter how many times Steve had been told JARVIS was merely an intelligent computer, Steve couldn't help but get the creeps when its British, slightly mechanical voice addressed him.
Initially, Steve tried to think of it (him?) as a ghost, but that was worse.
At Steve's silence, JARVIS went on to say, "You have only been sleeping, on average, 1.5 hours total per night in the last week."
"I don't..." Steve cleared his throat. "I don't need a lot of sleep."
"Yes, sir. I am well acquainted with the effects of the serum in your body. However, my data shows that you still require an average of four hours of sleep."
Steve put down his notebook and pen, where he'd idly been sketching his friends from memory. An unfinished Dum Dum grinned back at him, bowler hat askew and a beer raised in cheers.
JARVIS remained silent, patiently awaiting a response.
"I've slept enough," Steve finally said.
"Sir, you have only slept-"
"I spent seventy years sleeping. I have slept ienough."/i
"With all due respect, Captain Rogers, several scientific studies have proven that one's body cannot 'harbor' sleep, as it were. I have several lovely natural sound recordings that are quite soothing."
The rhythmic sound of ocean waves spontaneously filled the room. It reminded Steve of when he was very young, back when his parents still had money. They'd taken him to Cape May, where he'd spent the weekend combing the sand for "diamonds." He'd stored them in a box on his shelf, along with other boyhood treasures. The shell of a cicada. A rock smoothed by a river. A shark's tooth. He wondered where that box was now.
"JARVIS, do you have any Glenn Miller?"
"Yes, sir." The beach sounds were replaced by Moonlight Serenade. The lights dimmed, and memories of a smokey bar came back unbidden. All his friends were there, and Bucky had coaxed a girl out onto the floor, where they were swaying in time.
Steve set his sketchbook aside, allowing himself to fall into his memories. He was lured back to sleep by Billie Holiday's God Bless the Child, and woke a few hours later feeling well rested. The morning sun was just stretching across the horizon.
Steve found himself alone in the destroyed Stark Tower more often than not. After the first day, he asked JARVIS where the tools were so he could start putting things back together.
When Steve got lost in the tower (which happened more often than he'd like to admit), JARVIS would quietly guide him in the right direction.
When Steve grew bored, JARVIS recommended new films to watch.
Annette Hanshaw, The Andrews Sisters, Ella Fitzgerald, and all the songs he remembered and loved followed him as he tore down walls and rebuilt cabinets. JARVIS had all the blueprints and could source the materials, and it was just a matter of putting things back together. Eventually, several strange robots began helping him. There was a stunted robot that proved to be quite industrious. It didn't seem to talk, and Steve felt odd just calling it "robot". He took to calling it Wells. The robot responded well enough to its name, and soon followed him nearly anywhere in the tower, a silent, oddly shaped, obedient puppy-robot.
One evening, when Steve jolted up from a nightmare (it was Bucky-it was always Bucky-or Peggy, her smooth, husky voice coming in over the radio), JARVIS brought up the lights as Steve flailed, his fingers grasping around his pencils and sketch pad. In his drawings, he hoped to rectify the looks of fear and accusation that so commonly filled his sleeping hours.
Soon, JARVIS became something of a critic, recommending slight adjustments to his pictures, techniques to bring them to life or give them depth. And when Steve plowed through his first sketchbook, he found a whole stack delivered to the front door the next day.
"Sir, would you care to become acquainted with technology?" JARVIS asked one afternoon. Steve looked up from the cabinet door he was carefully sliding onto the wet bar.
"Not really, JARVIS."
"It may prove to be quite a boon to you, sir. Unfortunately, it will not be going away."
"No," Steve sighed as he stood up. He put the screwdriver on the granite counter. "I don't suppose it will."
And so, between remodeling and sketching projects, JARVIS slowly brought Steve up to speed on all things modern. He started with military technology. Steve developed an immediate and intense appreciation for night vision goggles. He thought IR technology was a thing that belonged in the science fiction books, and never could have expected it to be real. He got into occasional ethics debates with JARVIS over the use of drones in war zones.
One evening, as Steve was rearranging the wet bar liquors, JARVIS spoke up.
"Sir, Mr. Stark is arriving."
Steve grinned.
When Tony barged into the room, Steve was lounging on the couch he and JARVIS had ordered to replace the torn, debris-ridden couch Tony had first invited him to sit on. He held up a whiskey on the rocks. Tony stopped abruptly, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline and Steve took quiet pleasure in seeing the seemingly unflappable man disturbed.
"Care for a drink?"
Emotions warred on Tony's face. He seemed to settle on disgruntled. Well, no surprise there.
"I said you could live here, not...I mean. What's going on here?"
"JARVIS pulled up your blueprints. I've just been fixing some of the minor things. Ms. Potts said you wanted to make some pretty big renovations, so we just worked on the smaller stuff."
"We?" Tony echoed.
"JARVIS and I," Steve clarified. "And Wells."
"Who?"
"You know, that little robot."
"Huh." Tony crossed the room and took the drink. He settled in beside Steve, looking around the room. The bar was completely fixed, the giant holes in the wall repaired, and there was no longer a gaping hole in the ceiling. Tony took it in silently and then regarded Steve evenly.
"Not bad."
Which, Steve figured, was as close to "thank you" as he'd ever get from Tony Stark.
A/n
Lyrics are from the Styx's "Mr. Roboto." (Who else!)
As far as I can figure, Tony never named that little robot of his, and even if he did, he probably didn't share it with Steve. I figured Steve would name if after a science fiction author he was probably familiar with.
Cape May, New Jersey is famous for these little crystals that are found on the beaches there. They call them diamonds.
IR means infared.
Please review! I'd like not to be a review whore, but the fact of the matter is, no one will come to read if nobody else cares to say if they like it. And if you hate it/have criticism, well hell, go ahead and post that, or send me a PM. I have literally spent months of my life on this project. And if only ten people like it, well, that's good enough for me. But if you're one of those ten, please let me know!
I'm not a robot without emotions, I'm not what you see.
I've come to help you with your problems so we can be free.
-Mr. Roboto, the Styx
"Sir," Jarvis intoned, "are you all right?"
No matter how many times Steve had been told JARVIS was merely an intelligent computer, Steve couldn't help but get the creeps when its British, slightly mechanical voice addressed him.
Initially, Steve tried to think of it (him?) as a ghost, but that was worse.
At Steve's silence, JARVIS went on to say, "You have only been sleeping, on average, 1.5 hours total per night in the last week."
"I don't..." Steve cleared his throat. "I don't need a lot of sleep."
"Yes, sir. I am well acquainted with the effects of the serum in your body. However, my data shows that you still require an average of four hours of sleep."
Steve put down his notebook and pen, where he'd idly been sketching his friends from memory. An unfinished Dum Dum grinned back at him, bowler hat askew and a beer raised in cheers.
JARVIS remained silent, patiently awaiting a response.
"I've slept enough," Steve finally said.
"Sir, you have only slept-"
"I spent seventy years sleeping. I have slept ienough."/i
"With all due respect, Captain Rogers, several scientific studies have proven that one's body cannot 'harbor' sleep, as it were. I have several lovely natural sound recordings that are quite soothing."
The rhythmic sound of ocean waves spontaneously filled the room. It reminded Steve of when he was very young, back when his parents still had money. They'd taken him to Cape May, where he'd spent the weekend combing the sand for "diamonds." He'd stored them in a box on his shelf, along with other boyhood treasures. The shell of a cicada. A rock smoothed by a river. A shark's tooth. He wondered where that box was now.
"JARVIS, do you have any Glenn Miller?"
"Yes, sir." The beach sounds were replaced by Moonlight Serenade. The lights dimmed, and memories of a smokey bar came back unbidden. All his friends were there, and Bucky had coaxed a girl out onto the floor, where they were swaying in time.
Steve set his sketchbook aside, allowing himself to fall into his memories. He was lured back to sleep by Billie Holiday's God Bless the Child, and woke a few hours later feeling well rested. The morning sun was just stretching across the horizon.
Steve found himself alone in the destroyed Stark Tower more often than not. After the first day, he asked JARVIS where the tools were so he could start putting things back together.
When Steve got lost in the tower (which happened more often than he'd like to admit), JARVIS would quietly guide him in the right direction.
When Steve grew bored, JARVIS recommended new films to watch.
Annette Hanshaw, The Andrews Sisters, Ella Fitzgerald, and all the songs he remembered and loved followed him as he tore down walls and rebuilt cabinets. JARVIS had all the blueprints and could source the materials, and it was just a matter of putting things back together. Eventually, several strange robots began helping him. There was a stunted robot that proved to be quite industrious. It didn't seem to talk, and Steve felt odd just calling it "robot". He took to calling it Wells. The robot responded well enough to its name, and soon followed him nearly anywhere in the tower, a silent, oddly shaped, obedient puppy-robot.
One evening, when Steve jolted up from a nightmare (it was Bucky-it was always Bucky-or Peggy, her smooth, husky voice coming in over the radio), JARVIS brought up the lights as Steve flailed, his fingers grasping around his pencils and sketch pad. In his drawings, he hoped to rectify the looks of fear and accusation that so commonly filled his sleeping hours.
Soon, JARVIS became something of a critic, recommending slight adjustments to his pictures, techniques to bring them to life or give them depth. And when Steve plowed through his first sketchbook, he found a whole stack delivered to the front door the next day.
"Sir, would you care to become acquainted with technology?" JARVIS asked one afternoon. Steve looked up from the cabinet door he was carefully sliding onto the wet bar.
"Not really, JARVIS."
"It may prove to be quite a boon to you, sir. Unfortunately, it will not be going away."
"No," Steve sighed as he stood up. He put the screwdriver on the granite counter. "I don't suppose it will."
And so, between remodeling and sketching projects, JARVIS slowly brought Steve up to speed on all things modern. He started with military technology. Steve developed an immediate and intense appreciation for night vision goggles. He thought IR technology was a thing that belonged in the science fiction books, and never could have expected it to be real. He got into occasional ethics debates with JARVIS over the use of drones in war zones.
One evening, as Steve was rearranging the wet bar liquors, JARVIS spoke up.
"Sir, Mr. Stark is arriving."
Steve grinned.
When Tony barged into the room, Steve was lounging on the couch he and JARVIS had ordered to replace the torn, debris-ridden couch Tony had first invited him to sit on. He held up a whiskey on the rocks. Tony stopped abruptly, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline and Steve took quiet pleasure in seeing the seemingly unflappable man disturbed.
"Care for a drink?"
Emotions warred on Tony's face. He seemed to settle on disgruntled. Well, no surprise there.
"I said you could live here, not...I mean. What's going on here?"
"JARVIS pulled up your blueprints. I've just been fixing some of the minor things. Ms. Potts said you wanted to make some pretty big renovations, so we just worked on the smaller stuff."
"We?" Tony echoed.
"JARVIS and I," Steve clarified. "And Wells."
"Who?"
"You know, that little robot."
"Huh." Tony crossed the room and took the drink. He settled in beside Steve, looking around the room. The bar was completely fixed, the giant holes in the wall repaired, and there was no longer a gaping hole in the ceiling. Tony took it in silently and then regarded Steve evenly.
"Not bad."
Which, Steve figured, was as close to "thank you" as he'd ever get from Tony Stark.
A/n
Lyrics are from the Styx's "Mr. Roboto." (Who else!)
As far as I can figure, Tony never named that little robot of his, and even if he did, he probably didn't share it with Steve. I figured Steve would name if after a science fiction author he was probably familiar with.
Cape May, New Jersey is famous for these little crystals that are found on the beaches there. They call them diamonds.
IR means infared.
Please review! I'd like not to be a review whore, but the fact of the matter is, no one will come to read if nobody else cares to say if they like it. And if you hate it/have criticism, well hell, go ahead and post that, or send me a PM. I have literally spent months of my life on this project. And if only ten people like it, well, that's good enough for me. But if you're one of those ten, please let me know!