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.