Butterfly Effect

It was five in the afternoon in the Stark Manor and the aroma of dinner wafted through the large, ornate house. The place often felt like an empty cage to five year old Tony Stark, but today was different. Instead of the dozen cooks in the kitchen, it was just Mom, Jarvis, and Ana running around trying to make a giant Christmas Eve dinner. Gala plans fell through, meaning that instead of thirty boring and condescending buisness people filling the house and him being forced into a stuffy buisness suit to charm everyone with his peculiar genius and what his mother referred to as 'the Stark grin' that made waitresses give him extra waffles, it was just a small gathering. If it wasn't clear, Tony much rather preferred the latter. He might not have a clear memory of the other Christmases he'd experienced, but the thought of them was often accompanied with a sense of loneliness. Having only family at the Christmas dinner didn't mean he got out of dressing up, unfortunately, but it was much less formal than his usual wear. He negotiated to wear sneakers instead of polished black shoes, so that was a plus.

Currently, he was helping Jarvis to set the table. They were using the smaller dining room instead of the big one and it had been decorated for the occasion, along with the rest of the house. Despite the stuffy parties, Christmas was Tony's favorite time of year because his mother, father, Jarvis, Ana, and him were all together for three days. That might not seem like much to others, but it was the world to him. Tony took a stack of glass plates carefully, aware of Jarvis's watchful eye on him from where he was standing at the stove, stirring the soup and waiting for the ham to finish baking. The turkey was already cooling in the middle of the dining room table, sitting on a large silver platter that had a few too many detailed etchings for it to just be a plate. To him, anyway. His mother liked that kind of thing.

Tony set the plates at each seat carefully, making sure they didn't hit too hard against the mahogany surface. After the plates, he set the forks and spoons just as he'd been taught, then the glasses. As Jarvis put the large bowl of vegetable soup on the table, he knelt down by the boy, sitting a hand on his shoulder. "Good job, young sir," he praised, making Tony smile. He knew setting the table was a menial task, but Jarvis always made him feel good about doing even the small things. Where his father wouldn't praise him, Jarvis had encouraging words and excitement over his accomplishments that wasn't just for the press people who had really flashy cameras. A big part of him vied for the attention of his father, no matter what it was for, which lead to him creating his first circuit board. He was building an engine now, but he was having a hard time getting the parts. He just hoped his father would be proud of him for that. Maybe even lift him up in his arms or place him on his shoulders like fathers did for the other kids in his second grade class. That was his dream, his Christmas wish, and maybe it could come true. "Hey," Jarvis's whisper brought his attention back from his thoughts, and he watched as a mischievous glint appeared in his brown eyes. "I think Ana has something for you."

He tilted his head to the side, a small smile appearing on his face as his curiosity grew like a raging fire. Jarvis gestured him toward his wife, who was now standing at the counter organizing the deviled eggs into a little sculpture on a plate, the cranberry jam and mashed potatoes sitting in bowls beside her, filled passed the brim. Tony walked over to the woman he considered his aunt, basically a second mother to him, barely restraining himself from running. It was a rule to not run in the kitchen, and the one time he did he ended up slipping and going almost head first into the lower cabinet, resulting in him being sprawled out on the ground with a lengthy bruise on his arm. That resulted in quite a bit of aches and no lab for three days. He was never doing that again - not being able to do any engineering work had been the equivalent of torture to him. "Jarvis said you had something for me, Ana?" Tony asked as he curled his hands over the edge of the counter, peering over the marble surface before looking up at her with his big brown eyes. She smiled kindly down at him, her red hair almost glowing in the fluorescent lights above.

"I do indeed," she said in the same quiet, mischevious whisper Jarvis had used. She reached to the right of her, and Tony tried to see what she was reaching for, but his gaze was blocked by the mound of eggs. A moment later, she offered him a chocolate chip cookie. He gasped, mouth opening with astonishment. Ana never let him have sweets before dinner. She laughed quietly, most likely at his expression, as she handed it over. He was still in shock, but managed to say, "thank you." She smiled and nodded. "You're welcome, Tony, but let's keep this between us, okay? Our own little secret." She pressed a finger to her lips and Tony mimicked the action with a cheeky smile before biting into the cookie. It was still warm, the chocolate melting on his tongue and getting on his fingers. The woman pushed a napkin into his free hand and he smiled in thanks. "Now you can go play in the livingroom until we're done," she said, turning back to the dishes she was preparing.

Tony could get down with that plan. He did want to help, but he doubted him getting his sticky fingerprints over everything would be much appreciated by anyone. He slipped around his mother quietly as she hummed a tune at the sink as she finished making the sweet tea that both mother and son loved so much, sneaking passed her like a mouse so she wouldn't see the leftover half of the cookie in his hand. He sat in the livingroom floor by the brilliantly lit and decorated Christmas tree, setting his box of stray parts in front of him, methodically taking apart and putting together what he needed to make a robot dog, the TV playing some western show that his dad often watched when he wasn't working. However, his father currently wasn't sitting in his leather recliner, the seat having been barren for at least three days since he disappeared into the lab. Tony often tried to visit him there, but he wasn't allowed half the time and when he was, he was told to sit at a little desk with some crayons, paper, parts, and little tools while his dad worked on Stark Industries bombs and weapons for the military. They barely talked - his dad would just mutter about old business men, why something wasn't working right, or just grunt at random moments while working.

"Antonio," his mother called after he had been 'playing' for about ten minutes. He quickly put away his 'toys' in his box, pushing it under the coffee table where he was told to keep it. "Coming, mama," he called, cleaning off any leftover chocolate from his skin and chucking the napkin in the trash. He straightened his blue flannel shirt and dusted off his black slacks before entering the dining room where the three adults were finishing off putting the dishes on the table. It seemed to be only then that he noticed how the golden lights of the chandelier casted a cheery glow over everything - the people, the garland, the steaming plates of food, and the glistening frost on the windows. It never felt more like Christmas and he adored it.

"Yes?" He asked, practically skipping over to his mom as she finished pouring the drinks, her festive but elegant red and green dress flowing around her knees, accompanied by black leggings and green elf shoes with little silver bells on them that jingled with every step. She looked at him fondly as she knelt down to his height, as adults tended to do with him even when it didn't exactly effect communication between them. His dad didn't do it and they talked fine during the rare conversations they had that didn't end in a punishment. Tony wished they talked more, if he were honest with himself. His mother licked her finger and wiped at his cheek, causing him to smile sheepishly when he realized she had found a little bit of chocolate left there. She didn't say anything about it, though, just shook her head slightly, smile still present on her face. "Dinner is ready. Could you go get your father, please?"

He nodded far faster than necessary, excitement growing in his chest. He was always looking for a reason to go to the lab, if just to the door. "Of course, mama." He said, jumping up and down on his toes for a few moments out of sheer happiness. She straightened the slightly lopsided collar of his shirt and fixed his curly with careful hands and he let her instead of trying to wiggle away like he usually would. It was Christmas, afterall. "Thank you, Antonio. You're such a good boy." She pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing up again, smoothing one last wayward hair behind his ear before he was allowed to leave. As soon as he was out of her sight, he basically ran to the stairway and hopped down it, jumping the last two steps in his haste to get to the lab where the magic of invention often happened with the result of either a 'eureka!' or an explosion of fireworks that often got his dad banned from the lab by his mother for a couple of hours.

"Dad!" He knocked on the heavy metal door three times, then stepped back and waited for it to come open. His father left the door locked whether he was inside or outside the place, but Tony lived for the times he was allowed in or the seconds he got a glimpse into the open door before it shut. One day, he was going to have a lab that was just as brilliant as his father's. When the door didn't swing open after the usual minute of waiting, he knocked again, only this time pressing his ear to the door afterwards. He couldn't hear any sounds beyond it, but that might have been because of the thick material. He knocked a couple more times, wondering what his father was doing where he couldn't hear him knocking. He wasn't even supposed to be in the lab today, but he had wiggled away from the dinner planning and his mom let him go, most likely not wanting to fight so close to Christmas.

He must have waited at least ten minutes at this point and he was aware that his mom was waiting upstairs. It was his mission to get his dad to the dinner table, and he didn't plan on failing. After one last set of knocks, he finally reached for the door handle beside the key pad. He had no clue what the password was, but maybe, just maybe, the door would be.... The five year old tugged with all his might, adding to his momentum by launching himself backwards after kicking at the metal wall. The door swung open and he tumbled onto his back, but surprise overran any pain he could have felt. The door was unlocked. That was really unusual. He picked himself up off the ground and walked inside the large room slowly and carefully, migrating between familiar work tables, benches, and cars as he looked for his father. He wasn't in any of his usual spots and Tony was beginning to think he wasn't there when he noticed that the door in the back of the lab, one that was always padlocked shut and never ever opened while he was around, was cracked ajar. His wild curiosity grew and he ended up walking toward the door, the warnings of his father to stay away from it pushed to the back of his mind. His dad was probably in there and he needed to get upstairs for supper, but this was also an opportunity for Tony to learn what secrets lied behind the steel door. Was it a hovercraft? An alien space saucer? Holograms from science fiction novels? It could be anything and his entire being yearned to know exactly what. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Tony was bigger than a cat.

He peaked around the edge of the door and he felt his eyes widen at the sight that greeted him. The walls were basically just screens showing data he couldn't even begin to comprehend, diagonal counters full of buttons and levers were pressed against the minimal areas of blank wall, and everything glowed with the blue and green light that came off many electrics that served the purpose of recording and finding data. But the technology was not the highlight of the room. No, that honor went to what sat on top of a small black column in the middle of the room. Within a clear glass cage, a large, pale blue cube pulsed with energy, lighting up the entire room in a glow that was somehow both eerie and comforting at the same time. Tony didn't realize he had moved until he was, his feet taking over for his mind as his heart pumped rapidly in his chest. The blue cube seemed to glow even brighter the closer he came to it, the energy pressing against the glass walls like it wanted to escape.

Tony was within three feet of the cube when the light became so bright he had to shield his eyes with his hand, peeking through his fingers at the astonishing block. He was dimly aware of numbers rising and charts spiking around him, but his entire focus was on the relic in front of him. What did it do? His small mind ran wild with the millions of questions that he could provide no answers to. Was it a source of power? Why did his dad have it here? How did he even get his hands on it? Was it a weapon? Did mama know about it? He somehow doubted that last bit. Would his mother really let him keep a powerful artifact in their basement? She wouldn't even let him get a dog.

A cracking sound met his ears and Tony's eyes darted around the room once before he saw the source of it. The glass was cracking. A small, jagged line made its way across the surface, barely longer than his pinky finger, but all the energy that came off the cube seemed to focus itself there. The crack went from translucent to dark blue in a matter of seconds, slowly growing as the seconds ticked by. Every muscle in Tony's body screamed for him to run as the monitors around him went off, going from green to dark red as a siren wailed from the ceiling, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from what was happening. His body was frozen for a few seconds as it fought the pull that suddenly formed in his gut, pulling him even closer to the glowing object. His feet inched forward without his command, and his hand moved from his eyes toward the cracking case without a second thought, like he could seal the crack with his mind like the superheroes in his comic books could.

Then, a door he had yet to notice flew open and his father appeared, face going from confused to stark white as terror took over his features the moment their eyes locked. His dad's mouth opened and his lips moved as he started running toward the boy, and Tony desperately wished he could get together enough focus to call back, to process what he was yelling, but there was a ringing in his ears now. The crack went from one line to two. Then three. Then seven. Then fifteen. In just half of a second, what was a scratch like crack had grown into an ornate, terrifying spider web. The pulsing grew, the floor shook, and his father was thrown backwards when an aura of concentrated light shot from the cube like a glowing tidal wave, but Tony stayed standing. He felt nothing and everything at once. For a moment, he was just as invincible as Captain America, untouchable and standing taller than the world itself. Then the glass shattered and he was enveloped in blue light. A burning feeling traveled through his blood, through his being, through his very soul. His mouth opened in a scream, but he couldn't hear himself over the explosions that were rocking his brain. It felt like something had touched him deeper than any human ever could, hands made of fire wrapping around his brain and heart, squeezing until he was crushed in the fists of something he couldn't fathom.

It was over as fast as it started. The ringing slowly died, leaving him feeling like there was cotton between his ears. His body was jell-o, and he hit the ground as soon as the invisible force holding him up let him go, sprawling out against the unusually warm floor. It felt like all the air had been knocked out of him, replaced by simmering flames and smoke as his body burned like it had been placed on an egg pan and left to cook on the stove, forgotten and left to turn to coal. It felt like his very core had been combined with something new. Something magical and terrifying, but he was suddenly too exhausted and in too much pain to think about it. The closest description he could give to the feeling he was having was that his life force was being drained away, pulled away from his hands faster than he could hang on to it. His eyes had closed without his command, but he could feel the way his clothes had been burned to tatters. For just a millisecond, everything was still. Quiet. Frozen. Suspended in time. Then his father's desperate yell of pain and panic hit his ears, "Tony!"

Footsteps reverberated along the ground and suddenly he was being scooped up into the strong arms of his dad. One of his greatest wishes was coming true, but he was too drained too open his eyes, too distant in his own mind to get a grip on his fading sense of reality. It was getting harder to breathe with every passing minute and he could feel a warm, assuring but shaking hand going to the side of his neck, pressing down on his pulse point. A second later, he could feel the vibrations and slight jars as his dad sprinted through the lab and up the steps. He distantly heard the sound of panicked yelling and talking as he was laid on something soft, the words blurring into a murmuring symphony in his eardrums. But one voice that didn't belong to anyone he knew spoke above the rest, as if speaking from within him as an invisible hand curled through his tattered curls. It only spoke five words, but those words pulled Tony from the drift his mind was on, guiding him to the shore and encouraging his heart to keep beating.

"The butterfly effect has begun."

Suddenly spurred on by something foreign within him, Tony fought like he had never fought before to stay concious. He somehow managed to fight through the fade that was threatening to pull him into an abyss that he knew, somewhere in the back of his prodigal mind, that he would never resurface from if he sunk. Solid, warm hands moved through his hair, other gentle fingers sometimes pressing down on his pulse points and chest. He could somehow identify these hands without seeing. His hearing slowly came back within a few seconds, and he was suddenly aware of every sound around him. His mother's hands were in his hair, her muffled crying close to his ears. Ana kept cradling his neck at times, nudging gently at his chest from time to time and quietly urging to him to keep breathing every time his lungs stuttered, her own voice cracked with worry, fear, and sadness. The hands on his vitals alternated between his father's and Jarvis's, the latter speaking quickly to someone on the phone who must have been an emergency dispatcher as he explained what he could of the situation.

He was aware of the sirens long before Jarvis said he could hear them, but he didn't have the time or energy to dwell on that fact before the familiar hands left, replaced by other foreign ones as they lifted him onto a stretcher. It was like Tony's conciousness was alternating from within his mind to an outsider's point of view, sending his head spinning as he briefly watched himself be ran outside to the screaming ambulance, his family not far behind. After that, he started fading in and out of conciousness, coming to whenever he heard his heart wane on the monitor or his mother cry. He hated hearing her cry and he wished he could kiss her cheek to make it all better, even if he was the one currently having needles and machines hooked up to him. Once in the hospital, he knew he had been removed from his family as unfamiliar doctors stabilized him, but their prayers and whispers still moved through his ears like they were right beside him, begging him to stay alive just a little longer and pull through it. In a short bout of third person conciousness, he watched Jarvis finally break down in a waiting room chair, hugging Ana to his chest as his parents hugged each other. It was like he was in the room with them, but at the same time, he knew they were rooms and halls away from him. When his body could operate with the help of machinery, he allowed himself to finally slip into sleep.

The days ahead were blurry at best. He knew he stayed at least a week in the hospital, the burns on his skin and throat healing and his heart and lungs beginning to work on their own again. In one of his brief bouts of awareness, he heard the doctors say he was healing far faster than expected and would be set to go home within a few days. No one could explain what had truly happened to him, and Tony didn't know if he truly wanted to know what had occurred, but soon he was back in his familiar bed with only an oxygen mask to his face for extra precaution while he slept. His first night back home was the first time he truly felt safe in days. He hated hospitals, hated the prodding and poking, and for a little whole he was able to forget about what happened as he was pushed around in a wheel chair by Jarvis and given all the cookies he wanted. He was still winded from just laughing, and standing took tremendous effort. Walking was still out of the question for another few days, but, for once, Tony was fine with being still. He couldn't explain what happened to him to anyone, and he ended up using a vague explanation of touching something he wasn't supposed to for the doctors, even though it was completely untrue. Mostly. He wasn't supposed to go near that room, but he had and that was why he ended up this way.

He couldn't explain why he suddenly woke up at two in the morning the night he came home. Tony was a notoriously light sleeper who would sneak around the manor when he couldn't quiet his mind, but that wasn't an option when he still didn't have the energy to make it through four hours without needing a nap. Naps were terrible, but they were a necessity he couldn't really avoid right now. He kept his eyes closed and tried to will himself to fall back asleep, only to be further awoken when the door to his room creaked open slowly. Dim light from the hallway spilled in and he held his eyelids open in slits, observing the shadowed figure until he was finally able to see who it was. His dad.

Tony allowed his eyes to fall shut and breathing even out as he listened to his father slowly walk toward him, footsteps slightly heavier than usual as they creaked against the wooden floorboards. The reason it had taken him so long to recognize his father only seconds before was due to his posture. Instead of the confident, almost stiff backed walk he usually had, he had been slightly hunched over as if the weight of the world rested on his back, shoulders dropping and arms listless at his side, his hair sticking up in unusual directions as if he had been running his hands through it for hours. He looked nothing like had a few hours ago. There was this aura of guilt, shame, sadness, and stress surrounding him, following him all the way until he was sitting in the vacant armchair beside Tony's bed where his mother had read him a story only a few hours ago.

Dad was silent for several minutes and Tony was tempted to open his eyes and tell him that he was awake, but something inside told him not to and he listened, allowing his small body to remain lax against the fluffy pillows and soft sheets that surrounded him, the muffled sounds of the oxygen mask the only thing breaking the silence that surrounded the two of them. Tony was almost able to convince himself that no one was actually in the room with him, that his heart had just tricked his mind, when his father spoke in a wavering voice. "I'm so sorry, Tony." His voice cracked toward the end and a muffled sob escaped his throat, but he plowed on, Tony too bewildered and confused to do anything besides listen.

"This was all my fault," he whispered in a quaking, shaking voice. "This was all my fault," he repeated, voice so quiet Tony had to strain to hear the words. "This is my fault. What happened to you is my fault. I shouldn't have volunteered to take care of the Tesseract when I knew I had a kid at home - when I knew I had my son, my only child, my pride and joy, and greatest creation here. I shouldn't have put up such a fit about making dinner. I should have spent more time with you instead of wasted it in the lab. I shouldn't have left the stupid door unlocked. I should have... I should have... gosh, I should have done so many things, but maybe just changing one wouldn't have led to this. Maybe if I had done one thing differently, you wouldn't be hurt. You wouldn't have had to fight for your life in a hospital. You wouldn't have had to have gone through all of that because I wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake. I've made so many mistakes in my life, Tony, and I swore I would never make one with you, and yet I've already made a thousand. If there were a worst father of the year award, they would give it to me right now."

His father sniffed a few times, muffled cries escaping him so quietly Tony barely heard them, but he did and it felt like his heart was being squeezed again as a lump forked in the back of his throat that wouldn't disappear no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. After a minute, his dad continued, but his voice was broken up by sniffs and voice cracks that displayed more emotion than Tony had ever heard or seen from him in all his five years of life. "I wanted to be the best father for you, Tony, but I've known since I was a kid that I wasn't father material. I've tried to do my best, but I was and am too scared of messing you up, of screwing you over where you won't be able to recover. So I decided to hide from myself. From you. From my life. Doing that was one of the worst mistakes I ever made. You're such a brilliant, bright, amazing boy and I don't deserve someone like you because all I'm going to do is make mistakes." He paused, breath coming in audible hitches that almost messed up Tony's breathing.

"You're going to be smarter than me one day, kiddo. You're already learning faster than I ever did. You're already knocking the socks off every businessman and your charm is perfect, but you're too much like me. I want you to be so much better than me, Tony. I don't want you to hold yourself back or underestimate what you can do. I don't want you to be like me. Is that wrong for me to think? After all I've done to the world, to my family, to you, I don't think so. You're going to be so much better than I ever was, Tony, I just wish I knew how to help you." There was a small shuffling sound and his father's voice was closer to him, like he had leaned toward him. "I'm so proud of you, kiddo. I'm so, so proud of you and I need you to know that." There was a brief warmth pressed to his forehead and he didn't need to open his eyes to know that his dad just showed a rare piece of emotion and done something he had never done to Tony as far back as his edict memory went: he kissed his forehead. It was brief, but the warmth that spread through the five year old stayed for far longer.

"I love you, Tony, and I need you to remember that," his father whispered with a cracking voice as he ran a hand through the boy's curls soothingly. "I know I don't show it much. I know how emotionally messed up and constipated I am, but I will always love you. I've loved you since the day your mom told me we were having a baby and I will love you after my last breath leaves my lungs. I'm too much of a coward to tell you this while you're awake, no matter how much I want to," he said, his voice breaking. "I will always love you. To the end of the galaxy and back ten times and more. I'd do anything for you. I would give my life if it meant you were protected. I love you so much and I want you to know that for the rest of your life because one day I'm not going to be here."

With one final brush to Tony's tusseled bangs, his father removed his hand and slowly walked away, breaking down into sobs before he even got to the door. The boy looked through his eyelashes and watched as his dad ran a hand over his face, turned slightly where Tony could just see the tears rolling down his cheeks right before he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. That was the first and last time he ever saw his father cry.