Well, I don’t know how to put this, so I’ll start at the beginning. We got a prompt asking for a sequel to the Siren story discussing her interaction with the team and how she works through her programming, and I tried to claim it, but then I accidentally posted it, so then I had to delete the post, and then I didn’t have the prompt anymore. Long story short, I am SO SO sorry, Anon, but here’s your Imagine, I hope you all like it!
The Avengers adjusted easily to having Siren in the tower, if only because they almost never saw her.
She was a ghost, silent on her feet. Only Natasha seemed to be able to find her, usually curled up in a high, damp place. She vanished on a regular basis, sometimes for several days, and would return hungry and cold and frightened.
Unless one of the team specifically asked for a worded response, which was rare, Siren never once opened her mouth.
At first, they’d hardly noticed, which was worst of all. The Avengers had gotten used to Tony’s ‘I eat every seventy-two-hours’ lifestyle, and had barely noticed Siren until she’d collapsed during her training.
She apologized immediately when she woke up, but still mentioned no discomfort. The Avengers were gathered in med, all staring at Siren, who kept her eyes low in deference.
There was silence for a moment, before Bruce spoke, shifting towards her. “Siren, look at me.”
Siren’s eyes snapped to Bruce, fear lining her face, but she made no sound.
There was a pause as Siren considered the question.
It was obvious that she was: Her cheeks were hollow and the Avengers could easily count her ribs, jutting out from her chest. But she shook her head bravely.
“Use your words, please, Siren.”
“No, sir,” Siren said in a soft, musical voice.
Bruce sighed heavily. “Siren, if you’re hungry, you should say so. We can’t know what’s going on in your head. All we want to do is help you get better, but we can’t do that if you don’t trust us.”
Natasha, who had been missing, walked in with a bowl of broth and a spoon, eyeing Siren with a cold gaze, clearly disapproving of her charge’s self-neglect. “Eat,” she ordered, handing her the bowl. “Slowly, or you’ll choke.”
Siren ate slowly, as ordered, and Natasha took the bowl when she was finished.
“Thank you,” Siren said quietly, looking down at her hands.
“You’re welcome,” Natasha answered.
“Siren,” Bruce prompted. “Have any of us ever hurt you?”
“Do you think any of us will ever hurt you?”
A moment’s contemplation, then: “I don’t know, sir.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Tony asked. “None of us are going to hurt you, kiddo! We want to get you better, not worse!”
Siren flinched away from Tony’s exuberant voice, and Bruce sighed heavily. “Look,” he said. “If this keeps up, we’re going to have to keep you in a bed with a feeding tube. Do you really want to go through that?”
“Then, you have to tell us when you need something. If you need to eat, you say so. If you need water, you say so. If you need sleep, you don’t even have to ask, you just go to sleep. Does that sound good to you, Siren?”
Siren blinked a few times in confusion, then nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll do better. I’m sorry for disappointing you. Thank you for giving me a chance to correct myself.”
“This isn’t about doing better or correcting a mistake,” Steve said, taking a step forwards to sit on the edge of Siren’s bed. Usually, Bruce was the only person who could get so close to her: she was terrified of Steve, Clint was always battle-tense and it made her nervous and silent, and Tony’s wild gesticulations would usually send her off into a panic attack. Steve was glad that she didn’t flinch, only eyed him warily.
“I don’t understand, sir,” Siren said softly. “I didn’t accomplish what was expected of me. That is a failure. It has to be corrected.”
The Avengers smiled in pride: that was Siren’s newest step forward, learning to ask for clarification on orders or words that she didn’t fully understand, instead of cowering in fear of a mistake.
“Thank you for telling me you don’t understand,” Steve said proudly. “I mean that you didn’t fail. You just didn’t know. We aren’t going to hurt you because you need something, Siren. If you need anything, and I mean anything at all – a band-aid, a shower, some food or water – you only have to tell one of us, or even JARVIS, and we’ll make sure you get it. Nobody should ever be denied the things they need.”
Siren blinked. “But I didn’t need it,” she said, then froze, a hand rising to cover her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head, chewing nervously at her lip. “I’m sorry, sir,” she begged. “Assets don’t argue.”
“But people do,” Steve said. “Look at me, Siren. Nobody’s going to punish you for asking questions or making statements. You aren’t an asset, you are a person.”
Siren looked up, eyes shining with tears of fear that she never let fall.
“You said you didn’t need food. Why do you say that?”
“I was physically capable of continuing acceptable operation levels without further nourishment,” Siren droned, her voice as hypnotic and gentle as ever.
Steve slumped, realizing the problem. He looked helplessly at Bruce, who sighed and took Steve’s place on the bed. “Siren, food and water are needs for survival, but you aren’t here to survive. You’re here to live. And that means, if you’re hungry – hungry at all, not about to die if you don’t eat – I want you to tell one of us. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Siren frowned, but nodded slowly. “I think so, sir.” Another step forwards – using words other than yes or no to define her reactions.
“All right then, give me an example,” Bruce prompted.
“I was given soup,” she said carefully, jaw trembling under the strain. “But I’m not full. So I should ask for… more?” She bit down hard on her lip, drawing blood, and Bruce was quick to call her attention back to him and smiling as warmly as he could.
“I’m very proud of you, Siren,” Bruce said. “That’s exactly what I mean. Natasha, are you angry that she wants more?”
“No,” Natasha said dutifully, smiling faintly as well. “I’m proud that she’s communicating her needs to us.”
Bruce nodded and turned his smile back to Siren. “See? Nobody’s going to hurt you for saying things like that. Are you hungry?”
A faint smile played at the corners of Siren’s lips – just the smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth, but it was a massive victory. “Yes, sir,” she said, voice trembling with emotion. “I’m hungry.”
Tony let out a loud whoop, grabbing Clint’s shoulder. “Hear that, Legolas? If the kid’s hungry, let’s get food! JARVIS, gimme a list of the best childrens’ food caterers in New York!”
Siren’s eyes were closed, waiting for a blow to go with the loud voices, but instead, she got a shock of being bodily snatched out of the bed by an overenthusiastic Tony, swung around and – he was doing that strangling-around-the-stomach thing that he called a ‘hug’ – and a sound kiss on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, kiddo!”
Siren wriggled out of Tony’s grasp, landing catlike on the floor and taking a step back. “Please, stop,” she said clearly.
Silence fell instantly as the team all stared at her in shock.
“Siren, did you just tell Tony to stop hugging you?” Bruce asked.
Siren fell to her knees instantly, hands clasped behind her head and eyes closed, waiting for a blow, a shout – there was nothing.
“Use your words, please,” Bruce added.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I was out of line. I am ready for my punishment.”
Bruce took a deep breath. “Siren, I’m very proud of you for telling Tony to stop. Do you want to try to guess why?”
Siren’s eyes cracked open. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“When Tony was hugging you, how did you feel?”
Another hard lesson. Expressing feelings was something Siren had worked hard on. She thought for a moment, then settled on: “I felt threatened, sir.”
“And how did you react to that?”
“I asked him to stop doing it, sir?”
“Exactly. Do you know what that is?”
Siren blinked. “I was disrespectful and insolent,” she said confusedly, wondering why she was being congratulated.
“No, you weren’t,” Bruce corrected. “You were very respectful. You politely asked Tony to stop. You communicated your need for personal space. I’m very proud of you for taking that step on your own, Siren. You’ve been doing such great work.”
“Sorry about the hugging,” Tony said, uncharacteristically quiet. Siren’s head snapped towards Tony in surprise. “I just got really excited. I’ll try not to do it again.”
Siren frowned, then looked towards Natasha. “Permission to ask Sir a question, Ma’am?” she asked.
“You don’t need to ask my permission for that,” Natasha answered. “Go ahead and ask whatever you want.”
“Why do you do it?” Siren asked Tony.
“It’s supposed to be nice,” Tony explained. “It shows that you care about someone, that you’re proud of them and want to keep them safe. I didn’t know it made you so uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”
Siren frowned again from her place on the floor. “It means you’re proud?”
“It means I’m very proud.”
She looked hesitantly at Bruce, then looked back at Tony, jaw clenched as she prepared for another step. “Can you…” She stopped, looking down. “My apologies, sir. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn.”
“No, tell me the rest,” Tony insisted. “Come on, kid, you were doing so well!”
She looked up again. “Can you… do it again?”
Tony blinked. “What, hug you?”
“Sure,” Tony answered uncertainly, stepping forwards and crouching next to Siren’s sitting form, wrapping his arms carefully around her, slowly enough that she could track his movements. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, and suppressed the urge to whoop in joy as she slowly relaxed and leaned her head on his shoulder.
She disentangled herself a moment later, looking away again.
“I’m really proud of you,” Tony said, keeping his voice quiet.
“Hey, Siren,” Bruce said, voice choked with pride and emotion. “Can you give me a hug?”
She frowned, then nodded once and stood, making her way over to Bruce and wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling herself close to him.
“I’m so proud,” Bruce said quietly, his arms around her shoulders. “You’ve done so well, Siren. I’m so proud of you.”
She was frightened, robotic, too deadly, too quiet. She could barely quantify her emotions, she couldn’t discern other people’s emotions at all.
But she was learning to speak for herself, to say yes and no on her own terms.
Slowly, Siren was becoming human.
It was the most beautiful thing the Avengers had ever seen.
