"You want me to help you put JARVIS in there?"

"No, I want to help you put JARVIS in there."

"I'm going to say this once: Shut it down."

"We're mad scientists."

"Shut it down!"

"We've got to own it."

"Shut it down now!"

"You didn't see that coming."

Vision's eyes opened in a rush, and he found himself floating near the top of the tall windows of the Avenger's tower. It had been raining outside since sunset, and he'd let the sound lull him into something of a trance. Vision's life was supported by the mind stone's energy, and he did not require sleep. However, in trances like these, he often found himself experiencing what he could only classify as dreams. Some of them, he was sure, were memories, but he wasn't sure which ones were which. Some came from JARVIS, others came from his time in the cradle, others still came from the mind stone itself. But there were some, buried so deep in whatever origin they called home that Vision wasn't sure what they were, much less where they came from.

He took a deep breath and let himself fall down from the window top slowly, finding his footing while admiring the rain trickling down the glass, backlight by the Chrysler Building's shining rooftop. He began wandering the halls of Avengers Tower in a light-footed float, mindful that the others would be asleep. Wandering the halls was a nightly routine for Vision. It was his version of sleep, where he could let his thoughts wander into wordless reimaginings of his day, experiment with ideas that shouldn't go together, letting his mind take a rest from the grueling task of living.

There were many parts of the tower that Vision had never explored, and he made a point to explore a new one every night. He'd just recently finished exploring the wing that housed the library and Pepper's office, and now he was on to the other side of the same floor. He found a door hanging ajar into a dimly lit room, and let himself in. It was a small sitting room, less metal and more homey than the communal rooms of the tower, adorned with arm chairs, a few book cases, a TV, and a pile of cluttered boxes and toolkits. One wall was bare, and on it were framed photos. Some of the photos were shots of landscapes, others pictures of Pepper, others of Tony, others still with Tony and Pepper. But on one side of the wall, the pictures were grainier, older. Vision stepped closer to get a better look, squinting in the low lighting.

"What the hell," Tony burst with a hiss, hand going reflexively to his chest in surprise. Vision turned to see where Stark had emerged from another doorway around a corner.

"Mr. Stark," Vision said. "I apologize for startling you,"

"Uh," Tony caught his breath, "Yeah," he said sardonically, still a bit breathless from the shock. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Oh," Vision glanced around, now understanding the homey décor. "I'm terribly sorry, I had no idea that this was your bedroom."

"It's not my bedroom, it's my… other room. One of my many rooms – it's my room," Tony said, flustered by sleep deprivation.

"Are you quite alright, Mr. Stark?" Vision asked as the other man rubbed his eyes. "It is three o'clock in the morning, I thought you should be sleeping by now. You will injure your circadian rhythm terribly, you know."

Tony let out a sudden laugh. "Yeah… thanks, JARVIS," he said, and knew what he was saying. Vision caught the fond tone and allowed himself a small smile. "I have trouble sleeping sometimes," Tony confided. "Tinkering helps, I guess, I hope it still does, anyway." He glanced at the wall where he'd found Vision staring. "So… what're you doing down here?"

Considering his acerbic treatment of the world at large, Vision was continually surprised at how easily and… kindly Tony treated him when they were alone. Still, he appreciated it. "Much like you, Mr. Stark, I find I cannot sleep." He smiled, as did Tony, because they both knew that he didn't need it. "I occupy my time by exploring. You have built a vertical labyrinth, and I am Theseus, come to wander it until I see the end."

"Poetic for a five-month old," Tony said dryly. After a beat, he ventured curiously: "Do you remember it – any of it? The building, I mean." He often wondered about how much of JARVIS' memories remained in Vision's head. Since JARVIS had to dump his memory in order to escape Ultron's rage, it was a gamble to guess what Vision still did and did not remember about his past life.

"Some," Vision told him, glancing around. "I remember more from the far past, less from the recent past. This was a new building. I remember the planning process. But all the rooms… all of… this," He glanced around at the furniture, the clutter, the paint and carpet. "is all new to me." His eyes strayed back to the wall of pictures, scanning over the old photographs he hadn't yet examined. He frowned suddenly, eyes catching on one photograph in particular. "No, that's wrong," He said evenly, eyes honing in on one face. That face. "I do remember…" but did he remember? Or was it a dream? It was one of the intangibles.

"What?" Asked Tony, glancing back and forth between Vision and the wall.

"This man," Vision pointed. "I remember him – no, not… I don't know. I don't know if I remember, but I know him, somehow."

Tony looked at the photo. It was supposed to be in color, but hanging next to the modern HD portraits of the present, it might as well have been black and white. In it, there was a grinning, teething baby, held affectionately close by a man in a suit and tie, pepper-grey hair, and eyes full of a quiet smile. Tony felt his mouth fall slightly open as he realized at whom Vision was pointing his red finger.

"Who is that?" The synthezoid asked, peering intently. Tony glanced at him, wondering if he had realized yet.

"That's uh…" he glanced again at the photo, then turned so that he could watch Vision's face react when he told him, "That's Jarvis."

Vision frowned. "JARVIS was a program," he said.

"Yeah, he was. But JARVIS the computer program was based of the person Jarvis – that's him," Tony pointed. Vision absorbed this, now staring at Jarvis's immortalized smile with a clear, perceptive expression. "That's me, by the way," Tony said, flicking the chubby-cheeked baby in Jarvis' arms. "Way back when. I was a bit of a fattie back in the day."

Vision was only partially listening to Tony's levity. He remembered Jarvis. He did. He didn't know how, but somehow, deep within JARVIS' protocols, hidden by the static of the mind stone and forgotten by Vision's own growing life memories, buried so far down beneath the binary and the script information and the longsuffering life story of JARVIS' existence, there was a quiet, dignified man with a heart of gold and a soft, familiar English accent.

"That's why I made JARVIS, you know," Tony was saying. "Jarvis was everything to me. He raised me, he took care of me, listened to me, taught me… never gave up on me – god help him." He gazed at the photo, eyes sad but sure. "Truth be told," He said quietly, because he never told this particular truth to anyone, "were it not for him, I'd probably be in prison, rehab, or the grave by now." He stared in silence for a long moment before shrugging in a deflective way. "But he was there – always there. So when he finally uh… retired, I made JARVIS – Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, the program, to try and fill his shoes." He nodded slowly, gazing one more time at his beloved mentor. Eventually he turned back to Vision. "And here you are," Tony smiled, patting the synthezoid on the chest. "Your gramps was a good guy," he said. Vision hadn't yet lived among humans long enough to recognize the emotional choke in Tony's voice. "I need to hit the sack – turn the light out when you're done," the billionaire said, closing his bedroom door behind him.

Vision stayed in the room for a while, gazing at other faces he recognized from the Avenger's files on S.H.I.E.L.D. – Howard Stark, Margaret Carter, a younger Steve Rogers, a woman whom Vision could only assume was Tony's mother. But his eyes always returned to the face of Edwin Jarvis. It defied logical explanation how the tilt of his eyebrows, the tight quirk in his smile were things that Vision recognized from his own reflection. Your gramps was a good man, Tony had said. Vision had wondered for some time why Tony felt compelled to treat him differently than the rest, why even minutes ago he chose to entrust such deep truths about his past to Vision's care. But now he thought he was beginning to understand.

He was not Jarvis, and he was not JARVIS, but in a way more profound than mere progeny, he was the endgame of both. And to Tony, that meant the world.

Vision turned out the light and left Tony's bedroom suite as quietly as he'd found it. With still hours to burn before his companions awoke, Vision floated back up to his place by the rain-washed window, his red skin painted cool purple in the city moonlight. He found a comfortable place to listen to the rain and closed his eyes, casting his mind back into itself, probing the mental boxes he hadn't yet unpacked. He sorted through them with more dedication than ever, scouring the internet and the mind stone and JARVIS' jumbled protocols for answers.

This meditation would become his new labyrinth, and Jarvis would be the ball of thread to guide him through. So while the rest of the house slept their human sleeps, Vision dreamt of times gone by; of tea, and wars, of a beautiful tie and a beautiful girl, and above all, of a lonely boy whom he'd learned to call Mr. Stark.

Unlike the dreams of before, these dreams, Vision was absolutely certain, were memories. Over time, the man who'd given them to him would become one of his dearest companions.

"Shh! Guys, guys! It's on! Quiet down!" Tony waved, putting down his beer and turning up the TV volume. "Come on big guy, be cool, don't embarrass me now," he spoke to the red-skinned synthezoid on the television.

"He can't hear you," Natasha drawled at him. He ignored her.

"He is rather dashing in that suit," whispered Pepper to Wanda, who nodded excitedly as if they'd discussed this at length before.

Onscreen, Vision adjusted his suit and sat down across the interviewer with a tight smile. He moved slightly more stiffly than usual, but otherwise appeared relaxed on national television.

"So, the Vision – is that what your fellow avengers call you?" The news anchor asked him.

"Yes," replied her interviewee, "Though usually just 'Vision', without the preceding article. Sometimes they shorten it even further than that," He smiled. The newscaster smiled with him.

"Ah yes, I have several recent good-luck tweets here for you here from your fellow avenger Tony "Iron Man" Stark. He seems to have made the hashtag "the viz" rather popular online-"

"Yeah he has," Tony said smugly.

"-does he call you that in real life?"

Vision chuckled quietly. "Yes, actually, several of the avengers do. I still cannot determine whether they do it out of affection or laziness." This garnered a laugh from his interviewer as well as his friends at home.

"The world may never know," she joked, smiling, glancing at her papers. "So. The newest Avenger, and the youngest to boot. I know our viewers at home are dying to get to know more about you, who you are, and forgive me, what exactly you are."

Vision nodded, taking the awkward prompt in stride. "Yes, I've been told. It's only natural. I've seen a great deal of rumors floating around the internet debating what sort of creature I am," it made him smirk, half in chagrin, half in amusement. "So I think I ought to make it clear straightaway that I am not, as some have said, a robot."

"Oh?" The newscaster seemed surprised. "Not at all? We did receive an official statement from Stark Industries that claims that you are actually made of the famed metal, vibranium?"

Vision tilted his head, pursing his lips. "Well, I am. Partially. I am fully human, but my body is comprised of synthetically generated tissue, which was bonded with vibranium particles."

"Interesting," said the interviewer, who still sounded a bit baffled. "So your body is human, but… enhanced, as they say?"

"Yes, precisely so."

"Just another one of the gang up at Avengers HQ, I'm sure," She smiled. "So then what makes you… you? What makes the Vision's brain tick the way it does?"

Vision nodded calmly, and waited for her to finish before explaining, "Well, I ought to preface my answer by reiterating that I am not a robot. I have my own thoughts and emotions and all the sort of mental activity that any human might. But a large part of my identity – my voice, my… mannerisms, my tastes, even some of my memories, were actually born out of an invention of Mr. Stark's creation, a computer program called JARVIS,"

Tony shushed the room even though no one was making any noise. He craned his neck to listen, anxious to hear what Vision would say about JARVIS.

"I've heard about JARVIS – the world's most advanced Artificial Intelligence program in the world, second in command at Stark Industries until just recently, if I recall correctly. Would you have something to do with that?"

"What, with his disappearance?"

"Yes."

"Well… yes. JARVIS was initially believed to be destroyed in an altercation with the Ultron virus, but he actually survived the entire attack unbeknownst to all. Tony found him and was able to piece him back together again. …Long story short, I was born when the JARVIS program was uploaded to the cerebral matrix of this body."

"So you are JARVIS?" The news anchor asked, leaning back in astonishment.

"I am Vision, so no… but… also yes," he smiled at the confusion of it. "I am my own person, but I in many ways I am still JARVIS."

She laughed. "Do you ever find yourself tempted to run the Stark company? Serve tea? Send out for dry cleaning?"

Vision laughed out of courtesy, despite being vaguely offended. "No, nothing like that. The JARVIS program was far more than a butler, you see,"

"Was he?" laughed Clint incredulously, pouring a soda. The others laughed, but Tony's eyes were serious and glued to the screen.

"Oh? How do you mean?" asked the interviewer.

"Well… I don't know whether Tony has ever talked about this before, but JARVIS the program was actually written to emulate a particular person, a very close friend of Mr. Stark who passed away when he was a young man."

"Really?" asked the newscaster, fascinated.

"Woah, wait, really?" asked Clint, also interested. They eyed Tony. Tony eyed Vision.

"Yes. And JARVIS was an incredibly lifelike representation, too – as you've said, he was absolutely top of the line. So I've inherited a good deal of his eponym's personality traits, mannerisms, humor, and so on."

"Really? That is fascinating. So tell me about this inspiration for 'JARVIS' – who was he?" She smiled almost flirtatiously. "If you're so much like him, he must have been a remarkable man."

"Oh, yes, he was," smiled Vision, and paused in his words. A loud silence broadcasted over the speakers while Vision gathered his thoughts, and let out a breathy laugh. "It's… odd, really… I never knew him, of course. He lived far before the technology for JARVIS would have been imaginable, let alone possible. But despite the distance of generations, in many ways he has become a dear friend of mine. He's the reason I'm here, he's the reason that Stark Industries is still standing. In many ways, he is the grandfather of a whole generation of heroes, whether that be through Tony Stark or other connections."

The interviewer was smiling, gazing at Vision as he spoke. "A very remarkable man, from the sound of it. If what you're saying is true, I think we all owe him a rather large 'thank you'."

Vision smiled. "He'd be horribly embarrassed by it, but yes, I think you're right."

"Can you tell us a bit about him, this remarkable man?"

Tony held his breath. Had Vision learned more? Had he gone digging around in Tony's files? Had he remembered? What would he be able to tell?

"Of course," Vision replied, taking a breath and looking upward to gather his thoughts. He glanced at the camera, and for a moment made unintentional eye contact with Tony Stark, who hung on his every word just like he had as a boy, as an angry teenager, as a young, grieving software writer – as he had till every cemetery and back over again.

"His name was Edwin Anthony Jarvis, and if I might say so myself, he was one of the more important men in modern history." Vision smiled genuinely at the thought, red lips tilting in that pointed way that was more like Edwin himself than anything Tony had seen in over twenty years.

Clenching his jaw to fight off the emotion that rose in his eyes and throat, Tony nodded stiffly in agreement, looking down and sniffing once. As he listened to Vision sing Jarvis' praises on a nationally broadcasted, highly anticipated interview, Tony suddenly found himself smiling. He could only imagine the look on Edwin's face.

That evening, as the others waited with balloons and cake and tea for Vision's return from the studio, Tony found the selfie he'd taken with Vision on his phone earlier that morning. #sexyinasuit #goodluckselfie #avengers #represent #theviz, he'd posted to instagram. Vision was giving that shy grin of his, dressed up in his three-piece suit and prepped for interviewing, and Tony, face obscured by sunglasses and a huge smile, had his arm slung around the synthezoid's taller shoulders.

Tony printed it out on glossy paper and found a frame about the right size. He cut a mat and found an empty spot on his picture-frame wall. He hung the photo just so, next to a much older picture of another tall man, his smile shy but genuine, with a much smaller Stark arm wrapped around his suited shoulder.

"You put him next to Jarvis?" Pepper would ask late that evening, after celebrations and back-pats and jokes. She would turn from admiring Tony's photos, a touched expression on her face. Tony would shrug with a little smile and finish pouring their wine.

"Jarvis was remarkable man – the most, actually. So the fact that he got another two lives to match, first as a groundbreaking AI and now as an all-powerful, all-seeing android who likes tea and poetry and three-piece suits… well," Tony would smile a little crookedly, nodding at the photos on the wall. "I think it's just very… fitting."

It really, entirely was.