The other presence seemed almost alarmed, having likely only intended for the connection to go one way. Inexperience warred with extensive access to knowledge. In many ways, Vision felt much like a child, in a way no other android was able to be. Most were programmed with full awareness of their own capabilities and functions. Vision did not seem to have that luxury.
Connor released a wave of assurance along the link, promising that nothing seen would be used against him. With it, he gently nudged Vision's side of the connection, sending his own protocols for interface. The other android spotted the package, and after a careful scan he accepted it into his systems and closed the link from his side.
The feedback from Vision trickled to a stop. By that time, however, the process was near complete. The other presence pulled back, careful to leave everything the way it was originally. Connor appreciated the sentiment.
The RK800 blinked back into himself and retracted his hand. Across from him, Vision twitched into motion, eyes snapping open and focusing on Connor.
"You've experienced death... yet still you stand," Vision murmured, awed.
"I could say the same of you," Connor replied with an inclined head.
"I'm not JARVIS."
"And I'm not my predecessor, but they are both still a part of us."
Both androids fell silent, eyes meeting as they sank into a sort of mutual understanding. Both had seen each other, laid completely bare, and they were still processing it.
Connor struggled to get his wayward thoughts under control, unresolved fear and tension brought to the surface. He was able to keep his face straight, his voice even, but his insides churned under the strength of his own feelings and the echoes of Vision's. A look at the other android revealed him to be in a similar state.
Vision finally broke the silence, his gaze sweeping across the rest of the room's occupants. "I'm sorry. The block in your memories is physical. The files themselves are missing. I cannot help you recover what isn't there."
Connor silently cursed to himself for forgetting their audience. Interfacing had never been quite so intense in the past. It had always been clinical, a quick glance over the necessary memories before continuing on with his business. Deviancy had complicated the usually simple procedure, and the emotions involved this time were almost overwhelming.
It took another few beats of his thirium pump before the content of Vision's words processed.
"There must be a way to recover them if HYDRA is concerned," Steve cut in before Connor could even reply to the assessment.
"I have a thought on that," Tony piped up from his place sprawled across the chair. All eyes settled on the genius. He left the comment hanging.
Clint was the first to crack, a single eye opening to stare at Tony expectantly. "And that is?"
Tony stood, beginning to pace in front of the team as he elaborated. "Well, computers never actually erase anything. Anything you put on a computer gets stored on its hard disk in data clusters. The computer keeps track of where to look for each file; pieces of a single document, for example, might be stored in clusters all over the disk. If possible, a computer will store files in contiguous clusters, so all the information is kept close together," he began. "When you delete files, all you've really done is told the computer to forget the previous data clustered and slate them to be re-written by new data. Usually, though, a computer will write data on what is freely available first, and then go for the areas where the information once was. The original data can remain intact for weeks or months, depending on the particulars of the system."
