Howard had long since stopped expecting anything of his son. Anthony was currently wrestling with an awful hangover, and hadn’t yet emerged from his room. Howard was also pretty sure he had had a girl in there- the second one this week.
He didn’t understand it. He’d tried to take only perfection from the boy, sent him to the top schools, given him everything money could buy. He should be grateful. He should be making his father proud. Yet here he was, drunk stupid and having done nothing productive the entire week, Howard thought irritably as he drove to Stark Industries Headquarters on an autumn morning.
Howard made it as far as the car park before everything went wrong. As he got out of his car, the world around him seemed to bend and warp. His first thought was that he was dreaming, as the scenery around him swelled and swirled. Then he reflected that it felt far to real, and that perhaps he had taken hallucinogens, or some sort of poison. How? Perhaps someone had slipped it into his breakfast-
Howard’s twisted, shimmery surroundings seemed to burst like a bubble, and everything changed too fast for his mind to comprehend, everything including the car he was leaning against. Collapsing to the ground as the door he had been leaning on disappeared, he blinked in shock for a minute because how the fuck was that possible and then, as his body began to catch up with what had happened and point out that ouch, that hurt he sat up and took in his surroundings. He was in an alley, he thought, apparently alone. Something about it seemed weird, as though he was looking through a camera filter or through an alcohol induced haze, but he was too dazed to think about it.
There was blood in Howard’s mouth; perhaps he’d bitten his tongue. He felt woozy, and the air was filled with odd smells; pollution, oil, and a million others he didn’t recognize. He stood with effort, dusting himself off and noting that he was wearing clothes he had never seen before in his life, resembling a suit and tie but not a kind he recognized. After another minute to collect himself he walked out into the street.
And stared in utter shock.
None of the buildings Howard recognized. Nothing he recognized. He stood there for a minute, slack jawed in amazement, until a person bumped into him as they walked, startling him. They were wearing odd clothes, and just generally looked odd. Apparently not recognizing him, they mumbled an apology and kept walking, gaze trained on a small rectangular screen that vaguely resembled a compressed phone. A small, stunned part of him wondered if he was in the future. He dismissed it as impossible, but a car disappearing out from under him was also impossible, right?
With nothing else to do, he turned and started walking down the road -which was several lanes wider than anything he’d ever seen, and buzzing with futuristic looking cars he didn’t recognize- until he he realized that one of the buildings ahead -which was incredibly high, the winds at the top must be phenomenal, how had it not fallen over- has a massive Stark Industries plastered across it.
Gravitating towards anything familiar, and honestly a little afraid that he was in some sort of dream state,
The interior wasn’t something he recognized, the decorations being far too sparse and monochrome for him. Looking up, the receptionist frowned for a minute in confusion, apparently recognizing him, then smiled politely. “Hello, is there something you need?”
“Uh…”
“What’s your name?”
“Howard.”
“Like Howard Stark? You look sort of like him, by the way.”
Howard latched onto that. “Uh, yeah. Can I see him? It’s important.”
This time the receptionist looked at him as though he was mad. “Howard Stark is dead. He’s been dead for ages.”
Howard recoiled, his mind working as fast as it could. He was dead? Was that even possible? How was this still Stark Industries then?
“What year is it?” He finally settled on, because him being dead ruled out any possibility of it being right now, unless he was in sort of alternate universe, though as far as science knew, those didn’t exist...
“2020.”
Howard must have looked horrified, because the receptionist asked if he was okay.
He wasn’t.
That was 29 years. 29. The paper this morning had clearly said 1991. As much as it went against everything possible, it did explain the place he didn’t recognize, how everything seemed different, how he was apparently dead. Because that, too, was a thing. Howard stumbled back and collapsed onto an off-white couch, trying to make the information process in his brain.
After half a minute of Howard going through every emotion humanly possible and a mildly alarmed receptionist, a man strode into the room.
Howard didn’t recognize him at first.
The man ground to a halt, at least a dozen emotions flitting across his face.
“Howard?” He asked, and then Howard recognized him.
That wasn’t possible. For one, Anthony actually looked presentable. His hair was styled and he’d grown some sort of goatee, which, surprisingly, looked alright on him. He had the expression of an adult who’d seen far too much, and his eyes seemed tired.
“Anthony?” Howard asked, and the man stiffened noticeably. Anthony glanced at the receptionist, who had sat up straighter when he walked in and now seemed to have given up trying to find a logical explanation.
“So nice of you to come! Let’s get started.” Howard blinked in confusion, but Anthony had already grabbed his arm and was forcibly leading him out the door.
He was dragged down a hallway and into an empty room, where Anthony swung the door shut, let him go and stumbled back as thought the contact had burned. “All right, what’s going on?”
“You tell me,” Howard countered. “My car disappeared underneath me and I was just told it’s 2020.”
Anthony was still staring at him. “So you are actually Howard?” He didn’t seem particularly pleased by this, instead opting to stare at Howard as though he was a monster. He didn’t seem to have written off Howard appearing out of the blue as impossible either, which was odd, considering Howard was apparently dead. He was trying not to think about that.
“You… believe me? Even though this is impossible?”
To his surprise, Anthony just gave a slight shake of his head. “I’ve seen weirder.”
“Really? Weirder than your father appearing, even though he’s supposed to be dead?” Howard was still dazed, and didn’t notice Anthony flinch at the word father.
“Yes. Weirder. You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve seen.” Anthony said, still looking only mildly perplexed. “It comes with being a superhero.”
“You’ve- what?” He hesitated. “You’re a superhero?” You?” He knew then Anthony, or this person who seemed to be some strange alternate version of Anthony, was having him on- those words didn’t belong in the same sentence. Maybe-Anthony stared at him, his face devoid of emotion.
“I’ll show you. I’ll show you, if you don’t believe me.” The man’s voice was hard, maybe annoyed, and still a little disbelieving. He turned and opened the door before Howard could speak. “Come on.”
The way to and up the elevator was awkward and silent. Howard didn’t attempt at conversation, instead choosing to think about what Anthony had just said. Aliens? A city out of the sky? A god? Captain America? No, he had to be making at least some of this up. Although Howard definitely did want to see Steve if he was alive- which didn’t seem possible. Maybe he meant a different Captain. Maybe the serum had been recreated.
A small part of him didn’t believe this was his son- after all, his son was a dunk who took home a different girl every night. He wasn’t a superhero. He doubted Anthony had it in him to care that much about someone, let alone the entire world. Weren’t superheroes meant to have powers, anyway?
The door finally opened onto floor 92, and Howard stepped out gingerly. This tower was far higher than anything from 1991. A small, irrational part of him worried it might fall or something in the wind. He quashed it; Stark men were made of iron, and they certainly weren’t afraid of the wind.
The floor was definitely a lab, but the technology was far more futuristic than Howard knew how to use. He itched to tinker round with it, but Anthony grabbed him and led him out of the elevator.
“So… The superhero thing? Aren’t you meant to have a superpower, or a weapon or something-”
Anthony held up a hand and looked him dead in the eye.
A second later, a red and gold blur flew out of the depths of the workshop and landed on his hand, and it took Howard a moment to realize it was a gauntlet.
Another piece, this one wrapping around his arm.
Several more pieces, encasing his other arm and legs.
A chestplate.
Several more pieces, even a helmet, until only Anthony’s face was exposed.
A second later, a faceplate.
Howard stared in shock. “Did you build that?”
“Of course,” replied a mildly offended voice from under the helmet.
“And it makes you a superhero?”
“Yes. F.R.I.D.A.Y, open the hatch.”
Howard started a little and looked around as a yes, sir echoed around the room.
“Oh, that’s just my AI,” said the suited-up man flippantly, as though it was perfectly normal. One of the nearby floor-to-ceiling windows slid open, a function Howard didn’t know it had, and before he could say anything, the suit headed to the window.
And jumped out.
Howard ran after the suit, only to skid to a stop as it rocketed past the window. It could fly, he realized dumbly as it cartwheeled through the sky, a red and gold comet trailing white.
The suit slowed to a hover close to the window, and looked at him. Howard didn’t know a metal mask could hold such disdain.
It then turned, lifted a hand and fired a bolt of white-hot energy into the sky. Howard had to marvel at the technology.
The suit continued its aerobatic, impressive performance for a few more minutes before dropping down on the windowsill and striding into the lab. As he walked, the suit detached itself from Anthony and flew back into the depths of the building.
“Did you build that?” Howard asked incredulously. He was still struggling with flying cars.
“Yes,” replied Anthony, giving him a mildly affronted look. “Of course.”
“Huh.” Mumbled Howard dumbly.
“Tony!” a voice said as the elevator doors slid open and a woman walked into the lab. She was pretty- tall, slender, bright eyes and bright red hair. “Were you-”
“I thought you didn’t let your girls into the lab,” interjected Howard. Anthony had many one-night stands, but the lab was always out of bounds. He expected Anthony to order the girl out or shout at her; instead he gave Howard a look that could level mountains.
Howard took in the woman’s professional clothes and confident demeanor and the way Anthony smiled when he saw her- like he’d seen a beautiful sunrise, and began to realize he’d made a mistake.
“This,” Anthony said pointedly to the woman, “is Howard. As in my father. I don’t know much more than you do. “It was 1991 for him this morning.”
The woman looked Howard up and down for a minute, digesting the news. “You were showing off the suit,” she guessed to Anthony, who glared at Howard once again.
“Yeah. He didn’t believe I was a superhero. Or that I’ve changed at all in the past 30 years, apparently.”
“He’s in for a surprise,” the mystery woman commented.
Howard was amazed at the interaction happening before him. Not only were they talking like he wasn’t there, -something he should punish Anthony for- Anthony was talking to the woman like they were equals. He wondered what she was- an assistant? A friend? Although the idea of Anthony having a relationship with a woman that didn’t involve a one-night-stand was alien, the idea of him investing in any sort of romantic relationship was even more so.
“Anyway,” the woman was continuing, “I need you to sign these forms.” Howard suddenly realized she had several pieces of paper in her hand.
“You run the company,” pointed out Anthony jokingly, and Howard did a double take. This woman what? Anthony had given the company -everything Howard had worked so hard for- to a woman? He still didn’t entirely believe she wasn’t one of his one-night stands that he’d just happened to keep around.
“Excuse me?” Howard broke in, and both of them looked over at him -the woman’s expression guarded, and Anthony’s unmasked dislike-. Howard noticed that his son had wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist. “You- what? Everything I -we’ve- worked towards and you gave it away?” He was addressing Anthony now, because this was such a stupid move, what had the boy been thinking, what-
“Howard,” Anthony snapped, far harsher than Howard had ever heard from him before. “It’s been 30 years. Things are different now. Pepper-” So that was the woman’s name, Howard noted- “is the most capable person I know, even more so than me. Far more so than me. If you shit-talk her I am going to throw you out the window, mark my words.”
He took the papers and signed them, then handed them back to Pepper. She smiled, murmured something to him and promptly left, probably glad to have an excuse to be gone.
Howard glared at his son, who, to his surprise, met his eyes. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again, you hear me?” He growled, because how dare Anthony disrespect him.
“No, you listen to me. You fucked up my life, and you fucked up my life badly. All I ever wanted was for you to love me, but did you? No. You taught me I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t worthy of you, that emotions were nothing but distractions. It took me twenty years and being tortured in Afghanistan for three months before I finally got my shit together. It took even longer for me to learn that mistakes were okay.”
Howard stared. “You were what in Afghanistan?”
“I invented an entirely new field of science in a cave.” Anthony spat. “Are you proud of me now?” His voice was bitter, vicious, though why was beyond Howard. He’d strived for perfection with everything he did, and his son was included in that. And if half of what he’d said was true, and he had really built that suit- it had worked.
“Anthony-”
“Don’t call me that! My name is Tony.” Anthony said fiercely. He’d always contested the name Anthony and had recently taken to being called Tony. Howard thought it was a ridiculous phase that would pass, but here he was supposedly 29 years later- still demanding to be called that stupid nickname.
“And your friend, your buddy, your trusty Captain America, the son you always wanted when you were stuck with me instead, you know him, yeah, he tried to kill me.” Anthony continued, eyes glinting.
Howard tried to process that. “Steve is alive?” Anthony had mentioned it before, but Howard had written it off as a lie, or a different person with a half-assed serum, but the way he described it now it seemed he meant Steve. But he had to be dead, because Howard had searched so hard and so far and never found him, and all this about him trying to kill Anthony? Steve would never.
Anthony had an expression filled with emotion Howard didn’t understand. “Yes. He smashed my suit-” Howard thought back to the brilliant thing that the man had been flying around in earlier- “and left me to die in Siberia.”
Howard needed a minute to find his words.
“Why?” He finally asked.
Anthony hesitated, then hesitated again.
“His friend.” He finally said, which really didn’t help at all. “Barnes.” He added after a moment.
“But Barnes is dead, isn’t he?”
“Only sort of.”
“That makes no sense-”
“Things stopped making sense ten years ago, Howard.”
“Don’t be so cryptic.” Howard replied, not sure what that meant and even less sure he wanted to find out.
“I mean that people back from the dead is not the worst, weirdest, or most difficult thing I’ve seen.” He paused. “That’s probably a bad sign, to be honest.”
“What could be worse?”
“How about fighting an army of robots on a city that’s falling out of the sky as a giant meteor about to destroy the earth?”
“Excuse me-”
“Or fighting an army of aliens -yes, aliens- in New York because your god friend’s brother tried to steal a rock, and then the government decides to blow up the city in a nuclear explosion and flying a nuclear bomb through a portal into the opposite side of the galaxy in a suit that’s running out of power and you nearly die in space?”
Howard was silent; there was nothing to say, even if Anthony was telling the truth, which he probably wasn’t. Nothing he’d just said was possible.
The long silence was broken by the elevator doors hissing open and a great energetic cry of “Tony!”
Howard stood in mildly stunned silence as Anthony’s gaze landed on the teenaged boy running towards him and his entire face lit up like a christmas tree.
The boy saw Howard and skidded to a bewildered stop next to the other man. “Tony, uh-”
“This is Howard,” Anthony said, his hand almost distractedly running through the boy’s hair. “Yes, my father. I’m not entirely sure why or how. I’ll tell you about it later.” His tone wasn’t unkind towards the kid, though he did send a hostile glance at Howard.
“Huh,” the boy said. “Then, uh, what do you want me to do?”
Anthony frowned. “Go to the lab two floors down,” he said after a moment. “I moved our project down there. I’ll come join you as soon as I can, I promise. When I get there we can go through the nanotech blueprints and run some early trials.” He ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately -again-, and though the kid still seemed a confused and a bit disappointed, he grinned and bounced towards the elevator and presumably two floors down, where he would work on whatever Anthony had just told him to.
“What’s your project?” Howard asked with honest curiosity.
Anthony gave him a suspicious look, but answered. “We’re updating his AI.”
“Huh. He seems bright; intelligence is definitely genetic.”
Anthony nodded, then seemed to process what had just been said. “Oh, wait, no, I’m not, we’re not, there’s nothing-” he stopped to collect himself, “-he’s just an intern.” He finished weakly.
Howard frowned. “Could’ve fooled me.” He was honestly, surprised; whatever Anthony said, he did clearly have a great deal of affection, and though they looked little alike, nor did the boy resemble Pepper in any way, but they had a sort of comfort in each other.
Anthony seemed to blush slightly, embarrassed.
“What day is it for you?” He asked after an incredibly long silence.
“December 15,” Howard answered offhandedly, still looking around the lab and drinking in the technology. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Anthony freeze. “Is it the same time here?”
“It’s the February here,” Anthony replied. It was such a strange thought to Howard that yesterday was so long ago to Anthony, and yet to Howard, it was just yesterday.
Another silence.
“So…” Anthony offered cautiously, “What do you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think of me?”
Howard hesitated; he’d been avoiding that thought the entire time. A small part of him still thought this was some sort of dream or hallucination, even though everything he’d seen and touched and felt so far had been very real. “To be totally honest,” he said quietly, “I’m not even totally sure you’re real. I’m not sure what to think.”
Anthony looked away. “I suppose I should have expected that. If I sat down and told you everything I’ve done, you’d probably send me to a mental institute.”
Silence.
“I just wanted you to be proud of me.” Anthony’s voice quavered hesitantly. “I just wanted you to be a father to me. I wished that you saw me as more than some sort of machine. Stark men are made of iron.” He added bitterly, then looked up and met Howard’s gaze. “But they’re not. I’m not.”
For once, Howard had nothing to say. He was out of ideas.
“Well, you turned out pretty good, judging from today,” he replied, grasping for some response- any response would do.
Anthony’s breath hitched. “I can’t believe you just said that. I turned out alright, sure, but that wasn’t because of you. That was because of Pepper, Rhodey-” Howard was suddenly reminded of the kid that had hung out with Anthony during his MIT years, were they still friends now? “-even Peter, all the people that gave a shit about me. And even then, you have no idea what I’ve been through. How can I explain it? How much things like constantly messing everything up and constantly being betrayed fucks you up. Because it does, it honestly does.” He paused to catch his breath.
“I’ve seen aliens, I’ve seen monsters, I’ve seen a rogue AI drop a city out of the sky. I’ve been tortured in a cave for three months, I’ve become a superhero, I’ve fought Captain America, I’ve fought beside and literal god-” He spoke so quickly, Howard couldn’t process any of it. It couldn’t be true, could it? What in god’s name had happened in the past thirty years?
“Oh.” Howard’s mind was having an internal wrestling match. For a long time, he just sat, thinking, trying to process.
He met Anthony’s gaze, and saw an expression that he couldn’t quite figure out. Worry, maybe? Fear?
“I’m sorry,” He whispered earnestly. “I’m sorry. For everything.” He hesitated, unsure how to articulate his swirling emotions. “And I’m proud. I’m proud of you, even if I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
It was true- Anthony had a woman, who seemed perfect for him; he’d obviously gotten himself cleaned up, he had friends, that much he could tell, and he certainly seemed a bit more stable than he was 30 years ago. He even had that kid, who Howard still thought of as Anthony's son, even though he apparently wasn’t.
Silence reigned.
After a couple of minutes, the lights above them began to fluctuate. Howard looked up, his surprise quickly turning to dread. His surroundings were beginning to swim around him, and he was beginning to feel sick again. He looked around, shocked, and ended up looking at his son as his surroundings began to swell. He met Anthony’s gaze as everything around him rippled and popped all at once, and perhaps it was just the light and the swirling surroundings, but Anthony’s cheek seemed to shine as though it was wet.
Everything went dark as Howard Stark fell through time for the second time that day.
On the other side of the city, behind the walls of the Institute, Doctor Stephen Strange smiled in satisfaction, his job completed.
Bonus Scene - Infinity War Spoilers Ahead
Tony had lost track of time long ago. He had spent most of his time sitting, sulking over how close they'd gotten to defeating Thanos and also the inordinately large stab wound. Dust and blood and dirt and strange, otherworldly smells filtered through his nose, and the sounds of the Guardians muttering behind him echoed around the otherwise silent ruins. Peter next to him, leaning against him. He hated to think what the teenager was going through.
The billionaire looked up to see the sorcerer nearby, leaning against a rock, looking defeated. The man had controlled time- until he'd given up the stone. Maybe he'd be able to answer some questions Tony had been harboring for the past while.
"Strange," he began. Strange looked up. Next to Tony, Peter shifted. "Can you tell me about something that happened a while ago?"
"Is this about your father?"
Tony stared at the wizard for a moment, before coming to a sudden conclusion. "It was you!" He cried, moving to get up, only to halt when pain sliced through his abdomen. Peter helped him sit back down. then began to lean against Tony, the boy staring at the sorcerer.
"Why?" Asked Tony after a minute.
Strange shrugged. "You needed to see him."