Smiling Through This Darkness
Chapter 2: Smiling Through This Darkness
On another plane of existence the being known as The Ancient One frowned in consternation as an unexpected ripple echoed through the mandala chamber that she was using to model the universe. She’d only caught it because she was looking for it. The sand patterns were agitated, the usual soothing susurrations of the mandala almost deafening in the huge temple chamber.
There had already been an overwhelming tidal wave of change recently, she had no idea what had caused it since she’d been part of the stream herself, caught up in the alterations to space-time she couldn’t tell what exactly had changed. If she hadn’t been attempting to converse with a parallel counterpart in another universe she may not have even been aware of the changes at all, the spells of protection she’d been weaving to enable conversation across the void had cushioned her from the worst of it.
As it was all she’d been able to do was look around afterwards and search for clues. Try to piece together just what was different from the whirling eddies of chaos in the mandala, all the while eyeing the gaping tears left in the fabric of space-time with her third eye wondering what was missing that had previously been there. She could tell that something had happened, and recently, to the skein of the whole multiverse, but frustratingly she was no closer to working out what.
To the untrained eye the mandala looked just as chaotic as usual, no pattern discernible in the mess of coloured sand. To the Ancient One the jagged shards in the chaos indicated a truly cataclysmic event had either occurred or been averted, possibly both at once. Form flickering between her previous incarnation, that of a wizened Tibetan monk, and her current, a pale androgynous high-cheekboned woman, in her agitation, The Ancient One attempted to locate the source of the unexpected disturbance to the mystical plane.
It was a tedious process, the mandala was haphazardly settling back down into its usual chaotic flow making it more difficult to spot ripples, the tears were slowly resealing themselves. The areas of agitated turbulence mixed sickeningly with the new pattern of chaos that was slowly overwhelming the evidence of whatever it was that had happened. Streaks of vivid green, orange and blue featured strongly in the “repaired” areas, randomly interwoven with the larger scheme making it more difficult to determine just what the new pattern was.
After an age of careful examination she finally managed to trace back the small unwelcome ripple to its source. It originated somewhere on the mundane planes of Earth, the mystical hub that was hers to protect. The unmistakeable shape the pattern was forming there had The Ancient One frowning in puzzlement, all Potential Powers there should have been accounted for, and there weren’t any due for five years. She’d so been looking forward to the birth of the next Potential candidate for the role of Sorcerer Supreme, the good Dr Strange would be an amusing being to watch she could already tell. Apparently she’d missed one. The Ancient One immediately blamed the megalomaniacal Latverian magician; most surprises on Earth could be contributed to his overly smug face.
She was about to leave the mandala chamber, halfway through turning when she realised just what it was about the tiny blot of Potential that disturbed her so very much. It was wreathed in blue, orange and green. The effect was subtle, but she couldn’t believe that she’d nearly missed it.
It was vital that she find this Potential, if they were truly as important as the mandala implied. Well. It was vital that she be the first to exert an influence, and not a being less benign than herself.
~~~~~~~~
Once he’d recovered from the lingering effects of the illness Tony basked in Jarvis’ presence. Howard was due back at the end of the month, Tony felt as if a vital deadline was looming, one of the Obie-imposed deadlines. Even away from the mansion Howard’s personality was oppressive. The atmosphere in the mansion was one of slowly looming dread.
Jarvis was doing a good job of trying to keep his spirits up, but Tony had spotted the man shooting him worried looks when he thought he wasn’t looking. Tony was spending his every waking moment worrying about the latest addition to his list of possible scenarios, and avoiding Jarvis so that he wouldn’t upset him.
Eluding the few members of staff around the mansion with an ease born of long-practice he covertly made his way down to the basement. Tony nearly had a heart attack when he slipped over a wet-spot in the hallway, he’d only just managed to catch himself on a sideboard, almost upsetting a vase in the process. Tony frowned at the bucket and mop around the corner, the gleam of the sun had a slightly different quality on the wet spot, he’d have probably spotted it sooner if he hadn’t been so busy sneaking. Tony wasn’t exactly sure why he was tiptoeing around, the staff had all known about his little hidey-hole.
Tony hadn’t felt the urge to build all week, he was surprised that he’d held out as long as he had frankly, the schematics were certainly piling up in the back of his mind. He needed to do something with his hands, the urge to fidget was becoming unbearable. He’d decided to compromise, he wouldn’t try to build anything beyond mid-00s level tech, he figured that was out of date enough to not cause any damage if this was all an elaborate ruse to use his brain.
He checked the tiny area under the back staircase that kid-him had claimed as a “workshop”, in all honesty chosen due to it’s distance from areas of the mansion Howard was likely to be at. He frowned as he noticed the potential for fume build up. As a child he’d foolishly ignored the issues with the space, in favour of it’s Howard avoiding properties. But his adult self did not want to put his brain through years of inhaling toxic chemicals purely for the sake of avoiding his assclown of a father.
On the off chance that this was real he needed to find a different space in the mansion to covertly claim as his own. Surely there was somewhere that fulfilled both his child-self’s needs to pass under Howard’s notice, and his adult self’s desire not to do unnecessary, irreversible, cumulative brain damage.
Finished with inspecting the tiny space’s (in)appropriateness as a workshop Tony began examining the projects scattered about on the sad rickety little table that was jammed in underneath the servant’s staircase.
He pulled a face at the pitiful attempts he found there, simple automatons, a few ridiculous engines, and a tiny armature that looked suspiciously similar to Dum-Es design. The half-finished robot dog was a particularly sad little object, built as a friend for a lonely little boy, given as a desperate offering to a callous father. Unwanted images of its fate flashed before his minds-eye, crushed under Howard’s boot, barely half a day after it’s completion. He contemplated leaving the stupid, childish toy unfinished, but he knew it would raise Jarvis’ suspicions. From foggy memories and their recent conversations kid-him had gone on about the damned thing often enough. Did he really want history to repeat itself?
Tony opened up the access hatch and inspected the wiring. Well at least there were some advantages to being pint-sized again; his small fingers were able to get into areas he’d have struggled with as an adult. However despite the unexpected ease of access, the area he was peering into was dark and full of awkward corners that he couldn’t see around. Sighing to himself he moved to dissect the little dog. He had to admit that kid-him wasn’t half bad at this, there were a few spots of wiring that were slightly tangled, and the chassis was clearly scavenged scrap rather than the custom formed casings he usually preferred, but the overall design was sound.
Once he had all of the pieces laid out Tony heaved a much more pained sigh. From his vague memories of 70s tech he had a sinking feeling that the little robot was actually on the bleeding edge of this stinking era. The handful of oversized integrated circuits built into the body of the dog had him muttering darkly about the great tech expansion of the 80s.
Well, if he had to rebuild the hateful thing he was going to do it right this time.
Tony carefully snuck down into his father’s workshop, it seemed years of future knowledge made a previously inaccessible goldmine ridiculously easy to break into. His father was painfully predictable in hindsight, the entrance combination on the old fashioned lock was the third set that he attempted – a variant of the atomic numbers of vibranium, Steve’s birthday, and though he hadn’t known it when his teenaged self had cracked this particular code, Howard’s SHIELD ID.
He resisted the urge to sneer when he saw the state of the workshop. Tony had been on the verge of contemplating using the space as a temporary workshop for the next couple of weeks until a better alternative presented itself. Christ – to think he’d idolised his father at this age. The shop was an absolute mess, booze bottles, cigarettes and meals only a few steps from gaining sentience cluttered the corners, contaminating worktops everywhere he looked.
The usual habitual spin of schematics in the back of his mind stuttered to a halt in disgusted shock.
It was probably a good thing that Howard hadn’t focussed on med-tech, anything biological in here would inevitably turn into a poison. Some of the tall tales Aunt Peggy had told him when she was in the nursing home about Howard’s accidental chemical weapons began to make a horrible sort of sense. Tony wondered how many of the Commandos far-too-early deaths post-war had been Howard’s fault one way or another.
Of course that was ignoring the woeful lack of proper laboratory protocol in here, even at a glance Tony could see several sets of chemicals that should never ever mix sat painfully close to each other on the worktops. Hazardous chemicals that should be stored in a safety cupboard left willy-nilly on numerous surfaces (remembering the incident that had led to the safety cupboard in his Malibu lab getting sliced in half, Tony winced. He’d been lucky that the particle beam hadn’t caught anything too inflammable. He’d been able to deal with that whilst JARVIS was running scans on the new arc reactor, fortunately U and Butterfingers were able to follow instructions when it was actually important). Metal samples were unlabelled and stored haphazardly, the scanning electron microscope was far too close some heavy-duty machinery (Howard would never be able to get decent images out of the poor thing, the intense vibrations must have ruined the electron-beam’s calibration by now), well, Howard’s tools were in a dreadful state full stop.
Christ, Tony really, genuinely, couldn’t believe the state of the place. Even at the deepest depths of an engineering binge, Tony had never mixed his lab spaces as heinously as this. His small Malibu workshop was a temple to manufacturing processes: metallurgy, composites, foams, polymers, surface sciences, high-tec ceramics manufacturing. For all that the space didn’t look it at a glance it had carefully designated areas for different types of work. The processes that gave off poisonous fumes well contained within fume hoods, and the necessary heat shielding and dampening in place well beyond minimum safety specs. JARVIS’ analysis hardware was as far from the heavy machinery as Tony could get it.
In horrible contrast this place was a disaster waiting to happen, it was no wonder Tony had managed to get seriously injured here the few times he’d been allowed down to help. He still bore the scar- no no he didn’t, but the phantom ache in his leg reminded him of the compound fracture that had hospitalised him for months when Howard had asked him to lift the T-beam blocking his way without checking the area was safe first. The T-beam’s other end had been linked up to some horrifying contraption that looked even more mad-science than Howard’s usual monstrosities. Howard hadn’t bothered disconnecting it, and when Tony had tried to shift the heavy thing it had started up the… Whatever it was. Tony thought it might have been a heavily customised extruder with an adjustable output, but understandably his memory of the incident was hazy.
Grinning bitterly Tony thought to himself, there’s no such thing as health and safety protocols in this place; it would be like installing fire alarms in hell. Shaking himself out of the memory Tony cast about looking for things he could filch without Howard noticing. Whilst his Old Man was a drunk, and had been away for several months, the old bastard had an inconveniently accurate memory sometimes.
He settled on stealing several small pieces of metal from Howard’s scraps bin, as well as a handful of semi-ruined circuit boards that he thought he could salvage. He didn’t really want to risk the chemicals, he didn’t trust Howard not to have cross-contaminated them. Gods, he hadn’t expected to find out that his kid-self had paid more attention to lab safety then his dad did. As he cast about for equipment, he espied the corner of a promising looking vat half-hidden by the overfull chemical waste bottles under the muck encrusted fume hood. Ah perhaps he would risk siphoning off a few choice chemicals after all…
As he was about to leave Tony caught a glint of a metal he hadn’t thought he’d ever see again. The characteristic oily blue sheen was unmistakeable.
Smiling wickedly as he espied the appropriate tools Tony couldn’t resist the urge to imagine the pained grimace on Howard’s face. When Howard stomped this time, he was the one who was going to come off worse. Remembering Fury’s line about ant meeting boot, his grin grew far too many teeth. Well this bullet ant was perched on top of its hill waiting, and all of its buddies were peering down at the puny human from the trees above. And they were hungry.
~~~~~~~
Edwin frowned at the half-arsed job the cleaner had been doing on the hallways. He needed to talk to the skeleton staff, they’d always been reliable, but the streaks left on the hardwood floor proved he needed to have a word; it was probably the new girl. She passed all of the background checks with flying colours, but she’d probably never had to clean a parquet floor before.
Hell of a butler or no, even when it was only himself and Tony living at the place, cleaning the mansion really wasn’t a one man job. He wished that his duties gave him more time to keep an eye on what Tony was up to, or failing that an excuse to follow the boy around without having to make up reasons. Tony’s continued skittishness was genuinely worrying him.
When Edwin spotted evidence that Tony had been inside his little “workshop” he smiled in relief. His charge was still far too quiet and jumpy for his liking, but the proof that he’d started taking an interest in his favourite hobbies again was promising.
The adorable robot puppy that Tony had been working on all summer was in pieces on the rickety little desk, once he’d gotten over the initial shock Edwin wasn’t too worried about the development. The pieces were all laid out in a neat grid, a clear order evident even to Edwin’s untrained eye.
He assumed that Tony had found a fault somewhere and moved to fix it. Edwin sincerely hoped that the dear boy finished his little project by his self-appointed deadline. Whilst he suspected that Howard wouldn’t appreciate the gesture, it would break Tony’s heart if he thought he hadn’t been good enough to meet his own expectations.
Edwin felt a lot more cheerful as he went about the rest of his tasks for the day, now if only he could convince Tony that he wasn’t going to suddenly turn around and do a Howard to him. Edwin gulped, mood plummeting at that awful thought.
He wondered where the camaraderie between them had gone, whilst he’d initially been willing to blame this new awkwardness on the illness, as more time passed the excuse sat heavier on his mind. Edwin knew in his heart of hearts that it was no real explanation at all.
He just wanted Tony to stop jumping at his own shadow, at this time of the afternoon the boy could usually be found following Edwin around the house, attempting to “help” with Edwin’s duties so that he’d finish sooner and they could play Howling Commandos together. However as had become usual the boy was nowhere to be seen.
Now that Tony was fully recovered Edwin found he couldn’t justify the faulty reasoning any more. Sighing as he started up the prep for their evening meal, Edwin realised that he was truly looking forward to his upcoming day off.
Usually when he was the sole caretaker in the household Edwin took his bimonthly day off with mixed feelings, well aware that Tony really didn’t like the babysitter who was hired to look after him every second Sunday. However he dearly loved his wife, and sorely missed her company whenever Howard left Tony in the lurch like this.
Edwin had been looking forward to Ana getting back all week, with everything that had been going on with Tony lately he’d missed her company, and her capable advice more than ever. Ana had such a way of putting things into perspective. Whistling as he polished the silverware Edwin cheerfully suppressed a grin at the thought that Tony was beginning to get back to his favourite past time. He didn’t notice, but the cleaning crew threw each other looks of relief, Edwin had been running them ragged for weeks.
~~~~~~~
The next morning Tony began searching the mansion top to bottom for a more appropriate workplace. He covered his tracks by rushing through some “work” that he thought matched what he might have managed as a child, before rapidly making his way towards the lesser-used areas of the mansion.
Somewhere safe and Howard proof. Not too much to ask right?
He started in the usually closed off east-wing, picking the simple lock was the work of a moment, seems hanging out with super-sneaky superspies had it’s uses after all. Dust motes floated thickly in the air clearly visible without the stereotypical shafts of sunlight. The entire area had a creepy disused feel to it, permanently drawn curtains adding a downright sinister gloom. Everything was covered in white dustsheets, white shapes loomed out at him at unexpected moments from the darkness. As he began his systematic search of the rooms he disturbed the thick film of dust that coated every surface, the east wing was only really opened up when Howard or Maria held a party large enough to need the extra space. AKA rarely.
Tony supposed they’d held more parties when they were younger, but when he’d been a kid the only events he remembered being held here with any regularity had been Maria’s annual balls for her foundations. Howard usually held Stark Industries events in central New York, too ashamed of his alcoholic wife, and crybaby of a son to risk them ruining his business deals.
In many ways the East Wing of the mansion was perfect. Plenty of space, privacy galore, it was highly unlikely he’d be disturbed here. Of course, the privacy was also the east wing’s clear weakness. If anything were to happen, no one would find him for hours.
Sighing, and immediately regretting it as he got a lungful of dust, Tony resigned himself to sticking to the more populated areas of his childhood “home”. Damn, since when had he become so safety conscious?
~~~~~~~
Edwin counted Tony turning up unasked in the kitchen at lunchtime as a win, the silence wasn’t quite as awkward as it had been, but conversation still wasn’t flowing easily between them either.
Edwin mentally raised his eyebrows at the fine coating of dust on Young Sir’s clothes. It was adorable that Tony clearly thought he’d gotten away with it. Just over a week into his time with this new, skittish version of his charge and he’d well learnt his lesson to not let either disapproval or his concern show on his face, Tony responded poorly to both emotions, well even more poorly than he had done.
He hoped Tony hadn’t gotten into the attic again, that area of the house was not safe, the floor gave way to insulation and beams unexpectedly about three quarters of the way through the large space, in the very darkest corner.
~~~~~~~
Tony’s next checkpoint was the attic. He climbed up there that afternoon, using a little used access point – hatch in a ceiling, fold down ladder – rather than the more travelled route, the servant’s staircase. He’d needed to cobble together a long pole from tools stolen from the garden shed to shift the hatch.
He came up in the foul asbestos filled end of the attic.
He immediately ducked back down and slammed the trapdoor shut. No. Nope, no way. He was not adding asbestosis to his list of potential future health problems.
Tony practically ran to Howard’s workshop, he took the most direct route there, taking the calculated risk that he’d run into Jarvis Tony did not want to contaminate more of the mansion than strictly necessary. He rushed through opening up the complex lock irrationally trying not to breathe too deeply.
Grateful that Howard had at least had the common sense to install a safety shower Tony pulled the cord and jumped under the freezing steam of water fully clothed. He focussed on scrubbing out his hair before stripping down rapidly and kicking the sodden pile of clothing to the centre of the stream of water.
He hadn’t really thought beyond that point. He was now naked, in the middle of Howard’s toxic waste dump of a workspace; Tony wasn’t sure how he’d safely get to the door, let alone through the mansion. Shivering violently at the intense cold Tony cast about desperately for something that he could use to cover up. He eventually spotted the child-sized set of coveralls that Howard had begrudgingly bought for him at Jarvis’ insistence. That was a fond memory, he still remembered the look of triumph on Jarvis’ face when he’d won that argument.
Whilst less than ideal the coveralls were better than nothing, and even better the coat hooks were fairly close to the shower, meaning he didn’t risk melting his feet off by walking across the floor with its suspicious stains and perpetually wet patches.
Now he just had to dispose of his asbestos contaminated clothing. He thought that Howard’s fume hood and some acid would do nicely.
~~~~~~~
When Edwin spotted Tony sneaking around the mansion in his coveralls he stifled a laugh. He wondered what Tony had done to his dusty clothes. If the boy thought he was being subtle he was in for a rude shock. He almost felt sorry for the skeleton staff, Tony had tracked dust all over the mansion. No follow able trails, mores the pity, but enough mess to require more work than his usual cursory run with the duster.
Edwin sighed disapprovingly when he found the tied together mop and garden tools underneath the attic access hatch. What on earth had possessed Tony to go poking around up there again?
Fortunately the hatch was properly secured, so Edwin didn’t feel the need to go checking on the attic. He hated going up there, something about the air in the dusty space always left him short of breath. Perhaps it was remiss of him not to check that nothing was out of place in the attic, but given that Tony was running around apparently fine, and the open insulation lined area was directly underneath the entrance-hall, and there were no visible holes in the ceiling, he felt he could get away with it.
Pulling on his gardening boots, Edwin gathered together the sagging pole, and took the tools back to the shed. He’d return the mop and inform the cleaning crew about the bigger than usual mess whenever he came across them.
Over supper Edwin pointedly enquired about Tony’s change of clothes,
“What happened to your other t-shirt Tony?”
“Huh?”
The blank look on Tony’s face was surprisingly genuine, the flash of panicked guilt that followed was more expected. Edwin resisted the urge to grimace when Tony’s shoulders immediately hunched, he’d hoped that they were getting beyond this.
“Do I want to know what you did with your dusty clothes Tony?”
Edwin did his best to inject warmth and humour into his voice. Tony’s pinched expression gradually relaxed when it became clear that Edwin wasn’t going to hit him.
“No?”
Tony tried to give him a cheeky grin, but the expression didn’t read true, there was still veiled panic behind the boy’s eyes. Edwin smothered the urge to reach across and take Tony’s hand, the poor boy had been shying away from all physical contact for weeks now. First reaction always an instinctive flinch. Suppressing his own flinch at that thought Edwin settled for more warm teasing,
“Well I do hope the clothes monster didn’t eat them Tony. Lord knows we’re already dealing with a mop monster, a garden tools monster and a dust bunny of incredible dimensions.”
Tony’s body language gradually un-tensed at Edwin’s tone of voice, face-flushing red as Edwin’s words registered.
“Sorry Jarvis.”
His voice was small, facial expression ashamed, but he’d relaxed. Edwin noted that no explanation appeared to be forthcoming. Humming noncommittally Edwin began to wordlessly gather the remains of their meal up, making it obvious that Tony wasn’t in the clear just yet, but that he wasn’t actually angry with the boy.
Tony cracked and blurted out.
“I’msorryIwastryingtofindsomepartsformydog.”
“What was that?”
“I was trying to find some metal for the robot dog.”
“I see.”
Edwin relaxed a tad, Tony seemed to be telling him the truth.
“You know I don’t like you going up to the attic Tony.” Edwin chided.
Tony dropped his eyes to his plate, but thankfully he continued to finish his meal rather than forget it entirely. Edwin smiled fondly at his charge, it felt like they were making some progress, much as there shouldn’t have been progress to make in the first place.
Edwin’s knees almost buckled in relief when Tony asked him to tuck him in that evening. Finally.
He’d been waiting for this moment with baited breath for a week and a half. He’d been afraid that Tony had decided that he’d outgrown the need for their little evening ritual but hadn’t wanted to ask.
Edwin had been extremely careful, he knew that Howard had no idea that he fulfilled the duties Tony’s parents should be carrying out automatically. But he’d honestly been worried that Howard’s constant rants about being a man already, and not a sissy little crybaby had gotten to his young charge in a new and cruel(ler) manner.
Edwin softly enquired if Tony would enjoy a bedtime story. His system flooded with relief again when Tony gave a tiny little nod in response.
“Any preference?”
“Uh – Lord of the Rings?”
Edwin was secretly pleased that Tony hadn’t asked for a Commandos story yet again, though he was surprised that Tony wanted Lord of the Rings. The last time he’d suggested the story Tony had loudly complained that the entire thing made no logical sense, and demanded that they swap to a factual book.
~~~~~~~~
Once Jarvis left Tony stared guiltily up at his bedroom ceiling, sleep evading him.
He was a middle-aged man possibly trapped in a prolonged torture chamber, possibly trapped inside his six-year-old body. Tony wasn’t sure if his emotional turmoil was due to whatever was being done to him, or maybe because he was stuck inside his six-year-old body, for fuck’s sake. How was this his life? Then again, Tony had been forcing his emotions down and aside to deal with later for such a very long time, perhaps it made a twisted sort of sense that he was cracking now that he was finally in an apparent place of safety.
Except he wasn’t, was he? Tony honestly had no idea if he was stuck in an impossible trap by Than-The Titan.
Tony honestly felt awful about lying to Jarvis, but he couldn’t trust him. He didn’t know if the older man really was Jarvis at all, or a construct in this impossible trap. If he was he was doing his job perfectly. Tony felt so damned conflicted.
After who knew how long staring up at the ceiling, thoughts running in circles Tony got back to trying to work out just how to work out what the hell situation he’d landed himself in.
Phase Two of Tony’s Find Out What The Fuck Is Going On plan involved testing the boundaries of his potential prison. He’d already established that he had the materials and tools to make dangerous tech, now to find out if he could actually do so.
If Tony actually built something deadly, it would be one more tick in favour of this whole situation not being a trick by Tha-The Titan. Logic dictated that the simulation would attempt to be as realistic as possible, within limits, such as not allowing the central subject to find his way out of the programmed parameters. If Tony could just find his way to a region where the spell or programme or whatever glitched, or the edges wrapped back around enclosing him, then he’d know one way or the other what he was up against.
If Tony could build himself the means to hurt himself, or maybe do irreparable damage to this, this simulation then perhaps they’d see the futility of imprisoning him in such a manner and let him out into the real world.
Tony thought he’d rather face actual physical torture than see that pained, pensive look on Jarvis’ face one more time. He hadn’t quite realised what that look had meant until it left, when he’d finally built up the courage to ask to be taken care of. Its sudden absence made it’s meaning painfully clear. The look of beaming joy on Jarvis’ face when he’d asked to be tucked in for the night. Gods, he was supposed to be a genius and he hadn’t realised just how much he was upsetting Jarvis. Jarvis. His d-, his Jarvis.
Tony had been so worried about upsetting Jarvis, that he hadn’t realised how much he was upsetting Jarvis.
Blinking back the tears Tony stared up at the darkness and tried to work out what the hell he was supposed to do.
~~~~~~~
Tony was really dredging up strange places in his quest for an appropriate mini-me workshop. He’d thought of and dismissed the long disused stables (too dilapidated), the potting shed (too full of literal crap), and the disused dog kennels (too small) before concluding that anything outside of the mansion proper was out.
He’d been getting (and ignoring) strange looks from Jarvis and the numerous interchangeable cleaners for days now. Though to be fair they knew about the giant mop-pole that he’d cobbled together the day he’d rediscovered the asbestos in the attic.
He’d found his way into the old coal cellar, it was right next to the wine cellar, which always had heavy foot-traffic given Howard and Maria’s inclinations. The cellar was close enough to the kitchen that Howard was unlikely to ever deign to stay down there for longer than it took to grab the nearest bottle of wine, he may have started off poor and working class, but the man had quickly taken to the upper classes habit of ignoring and abusing the help.
Tony figured that the coal cellar was close enough to the servants’ areas of the mansion that if something did happen he might well be heard and found in time.
The coal cellar hadn’t been his first thought when he’d decided he needed a well-ventilated area, however the massive access hatch in the ceiling for the coal deliveries might just work.
Tony decided to put it on the maybe list, he did not want to have to spend months scrubbing coal dust off of every surface.
~~~~~~~~~~
The dreaded/anticipated Sunday rolled around, Edwin sighed audibly at Tony’s reaction to the babysitter.
It wasn’t quite the desperate pleading he’d been dreading, of course it wasn’t, none of Tony’s reactions the past couple of weeks had matched his expectations. The poor boy had peered up at Miss Fisher’s bobbly cardigan, tissues stuffed into the sleeves, glasses dangling from a string around her neck and just looked utterly confused.
He turned a questioning face in Edwin’s direction.
“Tony, this is Miss Fisher remember? The babysitter?”
“Miss Fisher.”
“Macey dear!”
“Macey.”
Tony felt out the name as if it was unfamiliar, he squinted up at the young woman suspicion writ large on his young face.
To be fair to Tony, the boy had never liked the woman. However Tony was acting as if he’d never even met her before, the lack of recognition was alarming. Edwin wondered if that cold had done serious damage to Tony’s brain, but no he reassured himself, he’d kept his eye on Tony’s temperature as soon as he’d noticed the fever, it had never gotten dangerously high. And besides Tony had almost completely rebuilt Rex within the space of a couple of days. Putting that little dog together had taken up most of the boy’s summer, the new burst of speed was proof that he was doing ok, right? Or perhaps it was another item for the list.
Miss Fisher seemed taken aback by Tony’s overtly negative reaction. Whilst his charge wasn’t exactly good at subtle, he’d long since learnt it was better to play along with his babysitters. For Edwin’s sake if nothing else, Edwin remembered having to comfort the poor boy after Tony had overheard the last shouting match between himself and Howard.
Swallowing down his worry, Edwin bid Tony farewell and left his young charge in Macey’s competent, if rather unimaginative, hands.
~~~~~~~
Tony had completely forgotten about Miss Macey Fisher, the babysitter. She’d probably become unnecessary when he’d been sent off to boarding school, he glared up at the dreadful woman when she pinched his cheek. Unfortunately his six-year-old face rather ruined the expression, it was less threatening, more petulant when you were sporting puppy fat rather than a goatee.
After the third suggestion that he sit down and do some finger-painting with her Tony had given the idiot woman the slip. He rather thought his actual six-year-old self would have felt resentful at the woman’s patronising take on looking after him, let alone the ex-CEO with over twenty years of experience at dealing with ruthless competitors.
He’d ended up in his father’s workshop, much as he hated the filth of the place the woman would never find him here, let alone manage to get inside. The space would do for the very basics, like cutting things in half. He ended up jury-rigging a way to work with that delicious blue-tinged metal by cobbling together an even more one-time-only example of the lasers that he’d habitually installed in his suits ever since he’d worked out how to make the cooling systems portable enough.
The horrible thing had overheated almost immediately, sparking its displeasure even as it worked. Still it did the job, the long sharp length of metal was now in four shorter and much more useful pieces.
Tony was tempted to run down to his mini-me workspace and immediately start working on integrating the sharp struts into the pathetic little dog, but thought better of it. He’d much rather avoid Maddening Macey for as long as humanly possible.
~~~~~~~~
After a pleasant day spent in the company of his wife Jarvis finally worked up the courage to bring up his concerns about Tony with Ana over dinner.
“It isn’t like him dear, he sits in his room for hours doing nothing.”
“You said that he’d gotten back to his little dog project though?”
“Well, yes, but-“
“But you think his heart isn’t in it any more?”
“Perhaps. Probably. I’m not sure. I really don’t know what’s going through his head these days Ana.”
“Oh Edwin darling. Perhaps Tony just needs some time to himself?“
“No darling, I don’t think that’s it at all. Sometimes I catch such a look of longing on his face.”
Edwin sighed heavily, Ana caught his hand before he could rest his face in it. She clung, grip fierce across their little wooden dining room table.
“Perhaps darling you should make it more obvious that you’d appreciate spending more time with the dear boy? You’ve told me often enough how under socialised the poor dear is. Do you really expect him to pick up on your subtleties? It took me months to work out how you felt about me, do you honestly think that child is going to be able to see behind your mask of British aloofness?”
“Perhaps.” He allowed, “I mean there’s been some progress, he asked to be tucked in again two days ago. No repeat performance though.” Edwin sighed, running his hand through his greying hair.
Ana fixed her husband with a piercing glare, fiercely biting out,
“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this Edwin. You and I both know it’s Howard’s fault – “ she trailed off, in a softer tone she continued, “You’ve managed to protect Tony from the worst of it, I know you’re doing your best within the limits we have.” She shot Edwin a guilt-ridden look, “Besides you and I both know how bad the social system can be.”
Edwin looked down at the wood grain of the table, they both loved Tony like a son, and they’d failed the poor boy.
“Oh Ana.”
“Just be there for him darling, and let him know that you are there for him. That’s all either of us can do.”
Edwin sighed heavily,
“Speaking of which, would you mind taking some time off darling, come to the mansion to keep Tony and I company?”
Ana smiled at her husband,
“Well I don’t have any missions coming up. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll let you know if it’s possible by the end of the week.”
Edwin looked over at his wife lovingly,
“Thank you darling.”
~~~~~~~
As Jarvis and Ana discussed Tony’s newfound personality changes, Tony had given his Sunday babysitter the slip yet again. He’d hurriedly choked down the horrible “casserole” that she’d concocted (he’d had worse over the years but he was beginning to remember this awful woman’s cooking) and pretended to get ready for bed willingly enough so she’d let her guard down again. The insufferable woman had caught up to him on the third floor landing of the servant’s stairs, fortunately he’d already dropped off his filched metal in the alcove. He didn’t want to think what she would have done to the tech down there if she’d caught him. Given her ideas of appropriate activities he rather suspected that she’d end up damaging the items in her ignorance when trying to take them away for his own good.
He’d stuffed the bed with cushions stolen from one of the many couches around the mansion to hide his absence, and was hiding in the gardens looking up at the full moon, thinking yet again. That was the only thing he really seemed to do nowadays.
Tony had been so worried about upsetting Jarvis, that he hadn’t realised how much he’d been upsetting Jarvis.
That thought had been spinning around in his head ever since he’d come to the realisation. Of course, if Jarvis wasn’t really Jarvis then maybe he should be upsetting the man.
The dark spin of his emotions had pushed the schematics in unpleasant directions, he mentally redesigned the non-lethal crowd control device, working out that it was possible to create a counter-frequency as a failsafe. Even if the nasty little paralysis machine got out there, Obie wouldn’t be able to use it against him. Catching the turn his mind had taken Tony tried to push back to working on his current situation.
Tony rubbed at his eyes ruefully, everything about his situation was suspiciously similar to that stupid British cop show Peter had once forced him to watch. Barking out a cynical laugh he found himself quoting the tagline from the show in a faux British accent,
“Am I mad, in a coma or back in time?”
At least that whiny British dude hadn’t jumped back into his child self… Though he had had the Neanderthal man in his amazing camel coat, and his cronies to deal with, so swings and roundabouts he supposed.
As he peered up at the dark vastness of space his mind was pulled unerringly towards that image of The Void, not the all too real horror of the nuke, the familiar terror of hypoxia or even the Nothing that so haunted the Chitauri, no, nothing so tame. He was reliving that awful scene in his head, the vision of the future that showed all of the original-founding members of The Avengers dead on that lifeless rock, and it was. All. His. Fault.
Christ, whilst that potential future hadn’t come to pass, the actual events that had occurred were much much worse, and just as predicted it really had been all his fault. Why wasn’t he good enough? Why was he never good enough? Not for Howard, or Obie, Pepper, Steve.
The litany started up in his head again, Thor, Loki, Peter, Sue, Stephen, Luke and Jessica, Matt, T’Challa, Vision… This time the names warped, his vision of the future twisting the faces into the pained grimaces of Steve, Bruce, Nat, Clint, Thor, the tiny part of him that was still cogent noticed a red tinge to the image, Steve, Bruce, Nat, Clint, Thor, Ste- red? Red. It was such a familiar shade… Steve, Nat, Steve, Nat, Bruce, Nat, Nat, Nat.
The cognitive loop eventually shook him out of the flashback, his mouth tasted like something had died in it, metallic taste- ah, he’d bitten through his cheek, of course.
Tony honestly had no idea how long he’d been slumped there in the grass, but the dampness gave him some idea. The dew that had built up meant it must be pretty damned late, or rather early.
He avoided looking up at the stars again, another pleasure that he’d ruined for himself with his selfishness. He had fond memories of being a member of Cambridge University’s Astronomy Club whilst he’d been studying there for his third doctorate. He smiled at the memory, lying out in the boggy fens, far, far away from light pollution, sharing awful tea out of a thermos and munching on strange British cookies whilst they wiled away the time waiting for cloud cover to pass.
With a grunt he got up and moved closer to his intended destination.
Why had he fixated on Nat? The tough superspy had made it, as far as he knew. He quickly rattled off a list of words that he associated with her in his head trying not to think too hard about the answers. Nat, liar, betrayal, Not Recommended, Russia, Itsy Bitsy Spider, superspy, sneaky, scary, teammate, friend, Russia, Russia, Red Room. Red. Red.
What about red?
Unbidden, multiple theories about temporal physics spun through his head, as far as science was aware it was impossible to physically travel back in time. Paradoxes, world ending, hole in the universe the size of Belgium, the whole shebang. Parallel universe travel on the other hand was perfectly possible, Tony had experienced that lovely situation first hand.
Shaking the whirl of thoughts out of his head in frustration Tony instead got back to trying to find out whether this whole situation was real or not.
He didn’t think he was in a coma. Unfortunately Tony knew what that felt like, he’d had plenty of experience there. He really hoped it wasn’t a coma, he didn’t want to have to jump off of a roof to become a red smear on the sidewalk if this all turned out to be some kind of brain-death induced hallucination.
It was with some trepidation that Tony sat down to meditate. Of course in typical Stark style he took the bull by the horns, his chosen spot was directly beneath the tree of freaky LSD nightmares.
Leaning back against the rough bark of the imported oak Tony started to work his way through the breathing exercises Bruce had taught him. It may be fucking late, well early now, but dammit he was going to finish what he’d come out here to do.
It took him several attempts to calm down enough to get anything close to a light trance; Tony’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking, even fisted tightly in his lap.
When he finally managed some semblance of a trance state Tony tried to get to work on the problem at hand.
Did this feel like a coma? He didn’t think so, it felt too real, nothing was disjointed or illogical or out of place. Well, except for the tree. Damn. Tony hated that his growing list of potential situations kept growing longer rather than shorter.
Than- The Titan, Time Travel, Insanity, Coma.
DreamVision, advanced technology, magic.
Magic.
Trap or no it was probably magic. It was always bloody magic.
Magic: Bullshit wrapped in an enigma.
The usual play of schematics was muted, there were some half hearted ideas to maybe think about improving the efficiency of the current (hah future) model of dialysis machine that Stark Industries produced, but nothing solid. The flashback had really twisted his usual thought processes into utter chaos.
Red. Why had that flashback been red? Red. It was important he knew. But whatever it was kept slipping through his mental fingers. It was slippery all right, as though it literally didn’t want him to look at it, the idea morphed into a tendril in his minds eye. He poked it and was rewarded with a burst of pain that made the extremis migraines pale in comparison.
Grimacing Tony glared out into the darkness.
He wasn’t sure he’d be able to re-enter the extremely fragile trance state he’d achieved. After several aborted attempts Tony managed to calm his mind enough that he thought he might be able to re-try his experiment the other day.
Remembering what he’d been doing when the bad acid trip had intervened Tony tried to reach the mindstate he’d been in when all the craziness had happened, will-exertion, extremis access, plus vague nature crap. But his heart just wasn’t in it. He didn’t think he’d be able to cope with another heart attack inducing shock that evening, or rather morning. He wasn’t sure if he’d successfully recreated the state of mind he’d been in or not, but he knew it was time to call it a night.
He figured he wouldn’t be useful for anything in this state.
He eventually fell asleep glaring up at the tree canopy in the moonlight.
~~~~~~~~
Edwin was surprised by the look of exhausted relief that Macey Fisher shot him when he arrived at the mansion on Monday morning. Whilst Tony had always made it very clear to Edwin how much he disliked the woman he’d never run her quite this ragged before. Fear of Howard was a powerful motivator, Tony always tried to be good for his sitters. But a budding genius combined with a hyperactive six-year-old’s energy did make an exhausting combination, he was intimately aware of that fact.
However this wasn’t the usual resigned exhaustion of a sitter unused to looking after an incredibly intelligent child, besides Macey was well used to Tony by now. For all that she still didn’t seem to grasp that her usual choice of activities bored the boy silly. Macey looked at once terrified, guilty and relieved. An alarming combination.
“Macey?”
Edwin questioned lowly.
“He disappeared on me!”
“What?!?”
“Twice! He vanished after you left, he only slunk back hours later for dinner. Then when I checked in on him in his bedroom he was gone.”
Edwin shot the flustered woman an angry look.
“Why didn’t you phone me?”
“Wha- Oh! No, he’s asleep in his room now.”
Slumping in relief Edwin didn’t let up on the glare. He looked at the quavering woman down his nose, for all that Tony was safe and sound now he really should have received that phonecall. He was tempted to fire the woman on the spot, but being honest with himself Tony had given him the slip several times over.
“Fine. Fail to call me again though…” Edwin allowed his voice to trail off threateningly.
Edwin watched the woman leave angrily. He’d be having a word with Tony, actually, no. The boy would only get even more secretive if he did.
He rubbed his eyes tiredly, he really hoped that Ana would be able to get the promised leave. She was far better at reading people than he was, perhaps her perspective would help shed some much needed light on this situation.
~~~~~~~~
Jarvis had been making it much more difficult for Tony to sneak around lately, every time Tony so much as thought of looking around for a new workspace the other man was there, looking at him.
He’d been half contemplating putting together a stealth module, but forcibly halted the stream of schematics before the design could get anywhere serious. Tony was beginning to worry that just thinking about the tech would give Than-The Titan the information.
Tony wasn’t sure if that meant the other had finally given up the pretence, and was just acting as a jailer would, or if it meant that Jarvis was worried about him. Of course Tony had spent years living in a far more crowded space. He’d learnt how to avoid people when he didn’t want to see them, the hateful months leading up to Than-The Titan’s invasion had raised his skill level in that area to ridiculous levels by necessity.
Avoiding Jarvis’ increasingly halting attempts at conversation Tony deftly vanished into the depths of the mansion to search.
In the end Tony found the perfect space in a room he’d forgotten all about. Something in the back of his mind made a note of that, if this place was a trick they were doing a hell of a job of dredging things out of the very depths of his subconscious. The room in question was a bizarre leftover from the days when Maria and Howard had apparently been happily married, before he’d come along.
It was fairly near the servant’s quarters, so Howard was unlikely to be going down that way, yet close enough to people that Tony didn’t feel too nervous about doing dangerous work there.
The room was an indoor squash court. Tony found that coincidence extremely amusing. For some reason it had been abandoned for as long as Tony could remember, but it was in the mansion proper, and had an entire row of windows along the back wall. The space was fairly large, and though it smelt of must and decaying rubber the ventilation was more than adequate for Tony’s purposes.
Tony grinned, he felt like he was finally making progress.
~~~~~~~~
Tony looked around at his newly claimed space with no little satisfaction, it had taken some doing but he’d managed to clear out the worst of the filth. The area wouldn’t do as a research lab, it would never be clean enough for that, but as an area for cobbling together a few basic gadgets it was perfect.
Tony’s haul from Howard’s pathetic shitstorm of a workshop had proven useful. A lot of the tech he’d stolen from his father was decades ahead of it’s time, his vague ideas of 70s tech involved transistors, valves, tubes and tape. Tony had the makings of a set-up to produce silicon wafers if he managed to get the area clean enough, he wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to manufacture any useable chips out of them, not yet but the possible ability to produce the basic materials he needed was heartening. Of course to get beyond the single block of crystal the Czochralski dip stick method provided, he’d need a clean room that was far more sterile than that found in most medical labs let alone operating theatres. Tony sighed – he had the know-how but the means were still evading him, he wasn’t sure how he’d get a photolithography set-up fine enough to let him make chips up to the standards he needed anyway.
He finished soldering the circuit board he’d drawn out, without the proper chips he was limited in what he could do but he could easily push what he had to it’s limits. He never thought he’d say this, but why oh why wasn’t his freaky Than-Titan prison in the 80s? He’d kill for the 80s right now. Integrated circuits had come on leaps and bounds in the 80s, Tony wondered if he’d be able to circumnavigate Moore’s Law, skip ahead of the exponential growth in chip capacity to make something useful. The laughably simple software he’d overwritten in the pathetic little robot dog had already been pushing the limits of current tech. Gods the 70s were so depressingly backwards, he’d forgotten just how much tech had leapt forward since his childhood.
Sighing about the disparity between 70s chips and the kind of processing power that he was used to Tony got back to trying to work out if he could, or even should make himself a basic AI. A virtual assistant would be incredibly useful, even in this era of next to no computer networking. At this point he could code the learning routines and basic personality profile in his sleep, there was a reason he’d had more than one baby-AI in backup when JARVIS had… JARVIS.
The thought of JARVIS made something twist in his chest. Despite what the others had thought Tony had more than one backup of JARVIS in storage. Of course he did, he took better care of his frien- people than that. Hands shaking Tony carefully put his tools down and willed them to stop moving. They didn’t.
Truthfully Tony hadn’t booted up the most recent back up of JARVIS immediately for two nearly inseparable reasons, he’d no longer trusted the Avengers not to turn on him and he desperately wanted to make sure that JARVIS was safe. They’d fried his attempts to fix things, taking the word of those spiteful children over his own, the attempt to upload JARVIS to the android body had been interrupted halfway though the process corrupting both the parent file and the copy irreparably, leaving Vision painfully new and naïve in the middle of a crisis, lacking many of the memories that would have enabled him to make his own informed decisions about whether to trust the Avengers. How could he trust them not to turn around and kill one of his oldest friends out of fear, if they’d had any idea of the level of autonomy that JARVIS actually possessed…
Once everything had calmed down, Tony still hadn’t booted up JARVIS for far less selfish reasons. FRIDAY had proved herself a capable AI, eager to learn and help. He couldn’t just turn her off like that, not when she was only just finding her legs so to speak. And then there was what that would do to Vision, the young being already thought he was a disappointment. Tony couldn’t bear the thought that his, his son, would think that he preferred the “butler” (though JARVIS was so so much more to him than that) to the fully autonomous person in front of him, it wasn’t Vision’s fault that he lacked the memories, couldn’t remember just how much trust Tony had placed in his parent code. Gods, Tony sincerely hoped that Vision had been aware that he was anything but a disappointment.
Glittering binary running through his minds eye Tony realised with some surprise that he was visualising the code of both FRIDAY and JARVIS perfectly accurately. He hadn’t personally had much of a hand in either of their routines since he’d booted them up, beyond helping them to update their security protocols. Was this his eidetic memory or extremis talking? There were reams and reams of code. He hadn’t honestly expected to be able to call up their… souls like this, Tony had been planning on writing himself a new frie-assistant. Did he have the right to try to boot up his old frien- assistants in this day and age? Was his memory truly that good? Or would any attempt to recreate them be an insult, they’d both grown and learnt so much since they’d first been turned on. Did he have the right to try to recreate them? One digit, one line of code out of place and they wouldn’t be the same people. Hell even if he actually managed to get it right they’d be cast adrift, tech even further behind them than it had been.
He realised he’d been staring blankly at the oversized and woefully underpowered chips in front of him for some time. Christ what he’d give to have woken up in the 80s.
The thought of how useful even eighties-level microchips would be right now had him thinking back on the coal cellar, such a useful space sitting neglected. If it weren’t for all of the soot, coal and buckyballs coating every surface – deftly pushing down the images of his parent’s murder down to the deepest depths of his mind, he would not let Bucky Fucking Barnes ruin science for him dammit, he’d loved the structure of buckminsterfullerene for decades - Tony had a sudden flash of inspiration at the thought of all of that perfectly arranged carbon. He dredged up the paper that Li, Kinloch and Windle had published all those years ago (…in the future…) to the front of his minds eye, their process had been so laughably easy, but damned near impossible to scale up. SI had managed it after five years of research, and they’d signed contracts promising half of the money to the Materials Department at Cambridge, given that that was where the process had first been developed.
Tony didn’t need to scale the process up all that much, just a little. And the coal cellar was the perfect place for it, no one to go down there and get asbestosis from the carbon nanotubes (asbestosis? Carbon nanotubetosis?).
Grinning widely Tony ran down to Howard’s workshop to steal some more equipment, he was going to spin one of the strongest fibres known to man out of smoke. It was going to be awesome.
(Intrusive Footnote:
The carbon nanotube rope out of smoke thing? Real science, real paper, real scientists, real process. Windle is hilarious if any of you ever meet him. I figured if anyone in the MCU could work out how to scale the process up it would be Tony Fucking Stark, super-genius engineer extraordinaire right?)
~~~~~~~
Edwin whistled as he strolled up the block towards Jazzin Solos, Ana was right he needed to make the first move. The past week had made that painfully clear when Tony had made no further steps to re-joining him at any of their usual shared activities.
The little bell over the door jingled merrily as he entered,
“Hello Frank.”
“Oh – Hey Mr Jay, Mike said you came over with that Sprog you’re looking after?”
Frank had the evening shifts at the shop, the clerk was the diametric opposite of his coworker. Where Mike was all old-fashioned suits and tie-dye hippy charm, Frank’s style was double denim and leather, fashionable flares and cowboy boots.
“Actually that’s why I’m here. Do you have any”, Edwin pulled out his shopping-list notebook and flicked to the correct page, ”Black Sabbath, ACDC, David Bowie, Metallica… Or any recommendations based on that list? ”
Frank chuckled,
“Yeah, a start a trashcan fire.”
Edwin shot the clerk a withering look.
“I’m also in the market for a large poster about two feet by five.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll have a look, I think that’s the kind of crap the boss has been into lately, I’ll see if he’s left anything out back.”
After some negotiation Edwin left with 3 records (2 for Tony and 1 for Ana), and a large poster.
~~~~~~~~
Tony took advantage of Jarvis’ absence that evening to do the final set up to the equipment he needed to weave carbon nanotube rope out of almost literal thin air.
He was so hyped. This was stuff from the present that he could actually do here and now, in this foul year of our lord 1976.
In the end for lack of anything better Tony had compromised on the design of the small furnace scavenged from an old boiler stuffed in a dark corner of the mansion and some of the precious scrap he’d allowed himself from Howard’s destroyed projects. The exhaust vent fed along the old coal cellars own exhaust systems, before meeting the rush job he’d come up with in Howard’s workshop – a series of pipes that fed into the extractor system in Howard’s fume hood.
The whole system had several fans speeding the exhaust’s progress out of the mansion and into the fume hood’s filters.
He really hoped the fume hood’s vents would stand up to the heat. Though frankly Tony couldn’t care less if Howard were to get poisoning from his fume hood breaking down, or nanotube induced asbestosis.
Tony had sealed off everything else as best he could, before caving to the inevitable. He’d pinched the kid-him sized set of heat-resistant coveralls, for the times when he was allowed to help Howard pour molten metal, a respirator and several sets of particulate filters. He’d wear this outfit at all times in the coal cellar, and it wouldn’t leave the little area in the corridor outside he’d designated as a decom-zone.
Starting up the numerous monitoring sensors he’d jury rigged out of 70s circuitry (linked via short-wave radio to an alarm that would sound if any of the numbers went into the red, he was going to carry the little box with him everywhere in the mansion), Tony got to work on feeding the gas into the furnace, checking every few seconds that his welding held true and there wasn’t a leak in the system.
Eventually Tony deemed it safe enough to let the automated systems take over, he’d come in to check on the furnace every few hours, primarily to make sure there wasn’t any dangerous exhaust build-up where there shouldn’t be, but also to make sure that the ancient jury-rigged equipment was actually holding up.
He opened up the ethanol feed, smiling in satisfaction as the smoke started to be spun into thread, it seemed to be working perfectly. When he deemed that the processed had stabilised he removed a small sample of the nanotube filament to run tests on to make sure that it had formed as anticipated.
He double and triple checked all of the safety measures built into the furnace before exiting the room and heading over to Howard’s shop. The fume hood seemed to be holding up.
Tony knew it wasn’t exactly safe, leaving a furnace running at 1200C unattended for any length of time, but he didn’t exactly have any choice, and the number of failsafes he’d built into the thing should stop any disasters.
Besides the coal cellar was built of solid rock, and was quite a way away from the actual house, it was under the garden, next to a wine cellar also built of solid rock, and Howard’s underground workshop, a space much much more likely to blow up. At worst the heat would spoil Howard’s wine collection.
As he prepared the sample for the numerous tests he’d need to run Tony hummed in satisfaction, whilst manufacturing an advanced material wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind Tony thought he could live with this.
~~~~~~~
Edwin beamed at the way Tony’s face lit-up when he handed both the first of the LPs, and the poster over. Frank had outdone himself, or really his boss had. Albeit unknowingly.
The poster in question was a large black and white photo headshot of David Bowie blown up far larger than life-size. The man was looking out and down at something off camera, a frown on his face and cigarette between thin lips. The image was a striking one. At the bottom of the poster in block red capitals ISOLAR TOUR 76 was spelt out. Edwin hadn’t expected to be looking at music in relation to Tony until at least the boys teens, but as always Young Sir had surprised him.
The first of the LPs Frank had “borrowed” from his boss’s collection was Queen, A Night At The Opera. Edwin hadn’t been sure about it, the sleeve had looked rather old fashioned to his eyes, but Frank had insisted that “the crap Syd likes listening to” was halfway between Bowie and Sabbath.
From the expression on Tony’s face he’d been right, Edwin wasn’t sure what to make of the look of pleased familiarity but he was glad he’d put it there.
“Now Tony, don’t go thinking that this will be a regular thing.” Edwin tried to look kindly stern; “You won’t get given a reward every time you destroy something. But you and I both know what would happen if your father” Edwin spat the word like a curse, “ever saw that dent in your wardrobe.”
Tony nodded up at him mutely, brown eyes huge in his face. Edwin pretended not to notice the wet gleam.
Together they moved up to Tony’s room, Edwin helping Tony tack the new poster up on the wardrobe, he thought the new poster looked far better than the old one. For a start it didn’t clash as much with the décor in the room. Though he conceded that he was biased, Edwin didn’t like propaganda, not after the horrible bile he’d witnessed in Ana’s home country, and he most certainly did not like Steve Rogers, or rather, what Steve Rogers had come to represent in this household.
They retired to Edwin’s rooms for the afternoon, Edwin had to admit he was pleasantly surprised by Queen. Though he did wonder how on earth Tony knew all of the words to Bohemian Rhapsody.
The next week was spent in relative domestic bliss, Edwin’s and Tony’s relationship still wasn’t back to what it had been, unfortunately Edwin just didn’t know what he could do to cross the yawning breach that had grown between them. However Ana’s advice about verbally expressing an interest in Tony was paying off. – If too slowly for Edwin’s sense of growing anxiety.
It seemed that Tony had finally gotten the message that Edwin welcomed his company at lunch, and it fact would actually prefer it. Sadly, Tony hadn’t asked to be tucked in again since the night he’d read him Lord of the Rings, nor restarted his habit of following Edwin around during the afternoons. Though whenever Edwin suggested they listen to music together Tony jumped on the chance.
Whilst Edwin appreciated their newfound method of bonding over listening to music together, Tony was still far too cautious around him for his peace of mind. Whenever they disagreed over whether a particular track was worth listening to again or not Tony had a nasty tendency to hunch his shoulders and physically back away from him as if scared of a blow.
Edwin had no idea where the all too clear body language was coming from. He’d never hit the poor boy; lord knew Howard did more than enough of that, and over something so trivial?
He’d learnt to telegraph his actions clearly, and make no sudden movements. If Edwin didn’t know better he’d assume that Tony was suffering from shellshock, but he dreaded to think what could possibly have happened to Tony to turn him into this, this ghost of himself whilst the boy was under his care.
Despite his ever mounting anxiety over Tony’s wellbeing Edwin appreciated that the boy seemed to be gradually relearning the trust they’d once shared, just as Edwin was gradually relearning how to interact with Tony. He just wished he knew what had happened.
~~~~~~~~
Tony and Jarvis were in the small staff kitchen, the area had always been their “space” in the mansion, most of the household staff preferring to eat the leftovers the chef left behind in the main kitchen than to cook for themselves.
They were peacefully sharing the task of making a loaf of fresh bread when the quiet harmony they’d gradually started to rebuild was shattered irrevocably. The doorbell rang, and the old-fashioned bell system started to ring. The bell labelled “Entrance Hall” was jangling back and forth almost angrily.
Looking at each other in mild shock Edwin and Tony both hurried out of the little kitchen towards the main entrance. Howard Stark was standing there, mountains of baggage in tow, with a face like thunder.
~~~~~~~~~
Howard stormed back into their lives two weeks early, in a foul temper. The expedition boat had sustained serious damage when it ran across an iceberg, he’d apparently returned the long way round via Italy since he had Maria in tow.
With Howard’s return there was an immediate influx of people to the house, cooks, cleaners, maids, waiting staff, the works. Despite the state of Howard’s finances the man refused to let the monetary issues show, in any way that might make it to the public eye, so no expense was spared on staff.
Of course Tony had made himself scarce as soon as was polite. Despite the increased foot-traffic Edwin had no idea where Tony had disappeared off to.
~~~~~~~~
Tony slipped away to the coal cellar as soon as he was left alone. He needed time to work out just how he was going to handle Howard. He could have kicked himself, he should have thought about this, once dismissive glance from his father and he was – hah – six all over again.
He slumped down in the furthest corner of the room from the furnace and leaned against the wall. Staring blankly at the furnace monitors, he noticed his breathing echoing through the respirator harshly and made the effort to slow it down from the verge of hyperventilation. The schematics that habitually ticked along in the back of his mind had all taken a dark spiky turn. Smart bombs, and weaponry designs that would make the atomic bomb look like a water balloon were mixed in with designs for safe rooms, body armour, and protective gear. Noticing the violent theme his engineering had taken Tony forcibly halted the stream of ideas.
The sudden silence in his mind was deafening. All he could see was the look of utter contempt on Howard’s face.
Tony half-heartedly attempted some self-encouragement. Come on Stark, you’ve just engineered the manufacture of one of the strongest fibres known to man nearly 40 years early with an old boiler and some scraps. You’re better than him. You’re better than this. You’re the only name in green energy. You’ve saved the world.
His attempts at bolstering his own mood fell flat, Howard’s latest dismissal filled his minds eye, worthless, hateful, not good enough, never good enough, he flinched back, hitting his head on the wall behind him. Steve’s final look of derision loomed out of the dark.
Even in the depths of despair the scientific part of Tony’s mind knew better than to remove the respirator in this room, he backed out of the nanotube cellar and hurriedly stripped off the protective gear.
He knew better than to be late for the “Family Dinner” that Howard had ordained. He should probably go and get ready, anything less than formal dress wouldn’t be taken well.
A large part of him hoped that this really was a trap by The Titan, or a coma. Then again maybe not, he knew he’d never let himself out of this hell if all this were some trick of his subconscious.
Tony consciously straightened his spine. Stark men are made of iron. Never show them your belly. Strut. He’d worked with people who hated him for years he could survive a few weeks in the company of his father.
~~~~~~~
Edwin was thankful that he’d gotten that poster when he had, a week later and there’d have been hell to pay. As it was Howard was demanding that the family share a meal together that evening in the dining hall. The chefs were bustling about the main kitchen, the peaceful atmosphere in the mansion shattered.
Edwin did what butler’s did best, and organised the chaos.
After the initial burst of activity had died down Edwin rushed off to find Tony, expecting the worst. The boy was in his bedroom, dressing for the family dinner looking for all the world like a man preparing to face an executioners squad.
Edwin had been shocked when Tony had turned around and looked up at him with the most world-weary pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Old, old eyes stared up at him out of a young face. He couldn’t read the emotion on Tony’s blank face, but Edwin thought the tight skin around the boy’s eyes was unpleasantly telling.
A part of him had been overjoyed that Tony wasn’t cowering or quaking in fear, but this alarming new reaction was just another item on his ever-growing list of changes. He’d desperately wanted to take the boy aside and comfort him, but he’d been trapped by his duties and Tony had fled.
~~~~~~~
It seemed some things were destined no matter what he did. Tony had made a concerted effort to not meet Howard’s eye once at dinner. Of course that was taken as an insult, and he’d been thrown into the mantel with the force of the blow to his cheek.
Maria cradled Tony to her breast and very quietly reprimanded Howard.
“Howard! No more, not again please.”
To be fair to his Mother, she was trembling. Tony had never noticed how frightened she was of his Father before. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed, wasn’t he supposed to be a genius? He could have tried harder to help his mother. He should have tried harder.
The huge, overfull, glass of bourbon shoved into his hands came as no surprise.
Even expecting it Tony’s heart crashed down to his feet at the hateful gesture. He’d thought he’d gotten over this moment, apparently not. He froze, he couldn’t decide if he should gulp it down as before. Of if he should throw it away.
He threw it away. The delicate crystal tumbler smashed satisfyingly. He’d not exactly been teetotal, but he’d managed to cut down his intake from highly functioning alcoholic to occasional binger, and though it was a strange and twisted streak, and really wasn’t much of a streak at all, he wasn’t about to break it for Fucking Howard. Besides he knew the damage that amount of alcohol could do to a child.
Howard reared back, puffing up like an offended goose he struck Tony, hard.
Tony crashed into the coffee table. His already bruised jaw throbbed angrily at him, he raised a shaky hand to his face and tried to feel for a break.
Distantly he registered that Maria was shrieking.
As his vision blurred around the edges Tony thought to himself, huh, maybe he’s really killed me this time.