Guilt For Dreaming

Chapter 4: Time may change me, but I can’t trace time

Tony resisted the urge to faint through the stubborn force of sheer bloody mindedness, his vision was already going at the edges, tunnelling alarmingly. However he’d become hyperaware of his surroundings, it was as if his body, realising that it had only minutes left, had decided to record everything it could in as much detail as possible. The wood grain of the worktop he’d managed to pin himself against was suddenly engrossing, fine patterns he’d never noticed before drawing his attention inexorably.

A heavy, and above all pointy, prop shaft had crashed to the ground tip first when the piece of machinery he’d dropped had twisted as it crashed to the worktop. Thankfully the bench was solid enough to withstand the force of all that metal slamming into it, sadly Tony’s leg wasn’t. The tip of the shaft had speared through his leg on its path to the floor; it looked like he was going to have that familiar scar through his thigh after all.

He was pretty well pinned in place like one of those insects that budding psychopaths tended to kill and collect, all the while exclaiming about the beauty of nature as they reached for the killing jar and the net. Aware that his mental processes were scattering in strange directions even for him, Tony tried to focus on the here and now, not the fascinating wood grain but the important stuff.

He blearily twisted his head around to peer at the cause of his predicament. The cleaning girl strode towards him blonde hair gleaming in the harsh fluorescent lighting. All trace of her previous cleaner’s shuffle had gone, replaced by the familiar, but in this context utterly terrifying, gait that had been the hallmark of assassins like Natasha and Gamorra.

Clenching his hand around the shard of adamantium barely noticing that his grip was becoming slick as it sliced into his fingers with ease, Tony was grateful that he’d managed to keep a hold of it. Tony tried to brace himself for the upcoming confrontation. His stomach lurched when he spotted the scars around the woman’s wrist; he had even less of a chance than he’d thought he had. His odds had decreased from a 9.5% success rate, to a 0.3% success rate. She was a Red Room operative.

The blonde ducked down as Tony automatically moved to try and stab her, she almost casually knocked his arm aside; he missed and sliced deeply into the prop shaft instead. The spike of agony as the shaft momentarily shifted whited out his vision. When Tony managed to concentrate on the here and now again he was surprised to find that she was carefully examining the wound, a look of concern creasing her brow.

So she probably wasn’t here to kill him.

That thought sent another flash of panic through him and he scrabbled to grab one of the daggers. She in turn pulled his wrists together with one hand, effectively pinning him even further. She efficiently tied his hands together with a zip-tie that she’d produced from somewhere in her uniform, his even more vulnerable position sent another spike of panic through him and he tried ineffectually to get free, scrabbling at the worktop as she hooked the make-shift cuffs around the table leg so that he was unable to move. Unfortunately all of the adrenaline was taking its toll. Despite the large metal rod still plugging both the entry and exit wounds, a sizeable puddle of blood had formed on the concrete floor where he lay awkwardly slumped on the workbench.

Tony found himself examining the play of the fluorescent lighting on her shining golden hair, the play of the light was mesmerising. He was utterly unprepared when she carefully braced the prop shaft with her leg, and yanked the shard of adamantium out of it. It must have taken quite a bit of force, but the shaft barely shifted.

It didn’t matter though, a severe jolt of pain flashed through him at even that minute change in position, making his vision blur even further. He desperately tried to keep his grip on consciousness, however whether he liked it or not he could tell that he was going to go under soon.

He tensed preparing to try to fight her off somehow bracing himself to dislocate his thumb to escape, or more likely for his death when she realised that he was more trouble than her mission was worth. Instead Tony was surprised when she started to slice through the shaft just above where it poked out of his thigh pushing the heavy shaft to the side where it clattered harmlessly to the floor. When she repeated the process with the bloodied end of the shaft his leg collapsed from underneath him as the painful support was removed.

Task apparently achieved and seemed to be looking around for something to tie the wound off with, settling on a dubiously clean rag on another bench. He grunted at the sudden pressure, but the discomfort was further proof that she intended to take him alive. Desperate to gain himself some time Tony tried to distract her,

“Who are you?” He croaked

“The Black Widow.”

The final rush of adrenaline at that revelation undid him, heart-pumping blood he couldn’t afford to lose out of the wound in his leg.

Just as he finally succumbed and slipped into the black bliss of oblivion there was a loud crash, a shouted exclamation and a flash of purple followed by a blur of grey and green.

~~~~~~~

As he slumped to the sticky floor the world faded to shades of grey, everything was tinged with the blue edge that he’d learnt to associate with infinity. The Red Room operative was frozen in action, hovering surreally in mid kick. An unknown man in an expensively cut suit was similarly frozen, looming over her imposingly despite the pair of them being of a height.

Tony stared up at his strangely handsome face, he was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. It didn’t matter anyway, not now, not any more. He felt himself slipping further away from his physical shell.

A figure approached from behind him, despite the solid presence of the workbench he was somehow still propped against. He hadn’t noticed her before; it was the goth from earlier. The whole situation was utterly bizarre.

Looking up at her Tony felt a sort of peace and knowledge overcome him. She was familiar in a way he hadn’t noticed the last time he’d seen her. He got to his feet, leaving his body behind. As the world faded to unreality, his surroundings becoming somehow thin, he was overcome with a degree of calm knowledge that he’d never possessed in life.

His injuries had been silenced, immaterial matters of the flesh, Tony realised that that answered that question. He was dead. She was Death. Huh. The other boot had finally dropped it was a relief. So he really had travelled back in time, how about that?

The room around him faded away completely, replaced with a starry sky, well an utterly overwhelming view of stars and galaxies and planes that would have been brain warping had he still been connected to his physical body. Tony realised that he was looking up at the whole terrifyingly vast breadth of creation, the endlessness of the universe spread out before him.

Tony was standing in the middle of a desert that stretched out forever as far as the eye could see, black sand crunching underneath his bare feet. He rubbed at his beard contemplatively wondering what direction he should set off in.

Tony realised with a mild jolt of surprise that his body here was his own adult self, the long-removed arc reactor was casting it’s familiar pale white-blue light over his surroundings, and whilst he certainly wasn’t as tall as the two metre tall woman looming above him, flickering between a skeleton in a robe and her kinder, more gothy appearance, he certainly wasn’t a shrimp of a child anymore either.

Suddenly, just there where nothing had been before, was a wizened tree, it looked dead, bare, only the wood remained. It’s trunk and branches so twisted and gnarled that it leaned over at nearly a 90-degree angle, so that it somehow resembled a gallows. Around him the wind howled, and a multitude of ravens took to the sky. He’d have been startled if he’d still possessed the body to produce hormones and adrenaline. But he merely stared up at the murder of corvids with detached curiosity.

Unheeded She reached down towards him in the matter of fact manner that a parent takes with a child when rubbing a spot of dirt off their cheek with a damp handkerchief, her finger reached into his chest.

As Tony woke up gasping, he thought he heard a distant gust of wind.

^{“Don’t make me have to do that again.”}

The memory of the dream slipped through his fingertips, running out between his metaphorical clenched hands as sand did when you attempted to clutch at it. Though the lingering certainty about just when he was somehow remained.

The chaos that had been carrying on around him unheeded seemed to come to an end, he only really noticed it was over because of the sudden cessation of noise. Between the still pressing issue of the blood loss and his lingering distraction, Tony didn’t really notice until a concerned pair of brown eyes were staring down at him,

“Really Mr Stark – I can’t leave you alone for a moment can I?”

The voice was incredibly familiar, but no it couldn’t be could it? Tony finally slipped into blessed sleep, nagging sense of loss following him down into his dreams.

~~~~~~~

The Ancient One blinked in consternation as the little dot of Potential flashed out of existence in the mandala pattern. She’d only just gotten used to it’s presence, hadn’t even begun to track it down to a hemisphere let alone a continent and it had been wiped out??

The blues, oranges and greens that seemed to emanate from that little blob withered before her eyes, grey creeping along the colourful tendrils radiating out from the void where the spark of Possibility had been.

The Ancient One had thought that the swirling colours were sickening, the lifeless grey was far far worse. The hole left by the dot of the potential seemed to widen before her eyes, sucking the surrounding colourful sand into it inexorably like a plughole.

She desperately called up spell after spell trying to undo the damage being wrought to no avail, each delicate mystical matrix flared and died in front of her as the quantum manipulations failed to find anything to grasp on to. The mandala chamber was lit up by the dim glow of the many crumbling rune arrays that did absolutely nothing to stop that encroaching grey. As she began to panic at the possible ramifications there was a sudden blinding flare of blue-purple tinged light.

Blinking back the white spots in her vision, The Ancient One immediately searched out the source. Predictably, impossibly, the spot of Potential was back the swirls of colour surrounding it stronger than ever.

She wondered what on shemo-gorath that meant.

The Ancient One got back to the laborious process of attempting to track the little dot of potential down, peering through time in a bid to locate it in the real world. Her task was proving extremely difficult without the usual mystical signs and portents to provide clues. Beyond it’s obvious existence in the mandala pattern there was no sign of it in the universe at large, and peering into alternate realities had thus far yielded no clues either. So narrowing down the search to something smaller than just “Earth, Sol 3” was proving ridiculously fiddly. However what she’d just witnessed proved beyond a doubt that it was crucial that she found whoever was at the source.

She sighed, resisting the urge to rub at her eyes, the after effects of the dazzle was beginning to give her a headache. The Ancient One decided to go and check in on her apprentice, young Karl Mordo should have finished the latest exercise she’d given him to practice his fine control by now, she did hope that he’d understood the lesson she’d been trying to impart. He’d brought up too many alarming theories in their discussions lately, the ripples caused by time travel tended to grow uncontrollably until suddenly there was a tidal wave of change rolling down the stream towards you with no possible way to stem the tide. She shook her head, that dizzying flash of energy must have been stronger than she thought if she was thinking of the Butterfly Effect in watery terms.

She’d always thought that the time is a river analogy was dangerously inaccurate, if it were possible to easily travel back and forth in time without changing everything people would do it all the time. Then again people had, until they’d understood the consequences of what they were doing. They always forgot about quantum, it was always bloody quantum.

The Ancient One called up the mystical matrix that would allow her to transport herself back to the living quarters of the monastery, fingers dancing through the complex runic symbols rapidly. In a maelstrom of orange light she vanished.

~~~~~~~

Tony woke up and took stock, all of his appendages felt as if they were still present and correct, and there were no aches and pains. That registered. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been truly pain free, even since he’d woken up as a six year old. And besides shouldn’t he be bleeding out right now? He cautiously cracked open his eyes and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling; there was a strange hum in the air. He hated asking this question, it was so cliché. He’d been through far too many kidnappings for this not to be routine by now, but still, some questions had to be asked,

“Where am I?” he said, and then he added “this time.”

“Well done! Mr Stark”, a horribly familiar voice behind him said, “consciousness to sarcasm in five seconds.”

Tony shot upright at the horribly horribly familiar voice, or at least he tried to. He ended up slumping back to the pallet midway through, forced down by sudden dizziness and an invisible hand gently but firmly pressed against his chest.

The voice continued in the same carefree supercilious tone,

“I healed your leg by the way.”

“Thanks.” Tony bit out, he had noticed.

He cautiously poked at the hole in his pants anyway; white scar tissue was visible where before there’d been a gory metal-filled hole.

“However the bloodloss is still in effect, so do try not to exert yourself too much.”

“What do you want?”

The other man affected an injured look,

“This meeting should be beneficial for both of us.”

“How?”

“You are Tony Stark yes?” Tony didn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes, despite the lack of armour to hide his facial expression behind, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. And believe me, my definition of everywhere is somewhat broader than yours Mr Stark.”

“You’d be surprised.” Tony muttered bitterly whilst trying not to let his sense of panic show on his face he hated that he was an absolute twerp right now. Even that playing field had been tilted in the other’s favour now. The older man seemed to spot his feelings nonetheless, if the condescending smile was anything to go by.

“It’s most fortunate that I found you when I did Tony, a few minutes later and you’d have been dead.”

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“For us to help each other of course.”

“Where’s your armour?”

“Oh that old thing? As you can see I’m a new man.”

“Yeah, last I checked your face was too horrible for human eyes to see.”

“I got better.”

“What do you want Doom?”

Tony glared daggers up at the older man, which reminded him of something that he’d shamefully forgotten about in all of that chaos. Hand slipping to the small of his back Tony grabbed the item concealed there, leapt down from the pallet and ran at Doom, adamantium knife extended.

Doom smiled that infuriating smile, which faltered as the adamantium managed to dig it’s way a few inches into the mystical shield he’d obviously pre-prepared. Doom flung out his hand, another invisible wave of force pushing Tony back across the room.

Tony ended up slumped against the pallet, slightly dazed by the sudden change in position. He was still mentally cursing his six-year-old self’s lack of physical training when Doom shot out pleasantly,

“If you’ve quite gotten that out of your system, let’s try that again shall we?”

He sheathed the dagger, yanked himself upright from the pallet and faced the source of the voice. It seemed Doom wasn’t looking to kill him at the moment, at least not right away.

Now that he had the time to really look Tony stared in disbelief at the surprisingly handsome face. He recognised him of course, had seen the photos of the man before the mask, but still. Pushing aside the disturbing train of thought he fell back on anger, always a useful emotion in situations like these,

“What do you want? You did this didn’t you? Change me back!”

“Me? Nothing!”

The older man affected a hurt look; Tony didn’t believe it for a second. Doom continued in a more serious tone of voice,

“I really do want to help you Tony.”

“Yeah right.”

“Really I do. We worked well together at the End if you’d care to remember.”

Tony flushed with shame at that gently worded barb. He hated to admit it but old Doomy was right. It had just been so hard to think lately. Pushing down the wave of terror at the implications of that thought Tony fell back on the cold business like tone that he’d been forced to rely on so much during the run up to Than- The Titan’s invasion.

“Alright, explain.”

Doom shot Tony an annoyed look, which nearly had Tony backing up in preparation, before he seemed to catch himself and started speaking.

“At the moment you used the Infinity Gauntlet you were caught up in what we in the field would call a Major Cosmological Event.”

“I didn’t use the Gauntlet.” Tony protested, “That would be just about the worst idea ever. Can you imagine, me? Mr Irresponsible, using the source of absolute power? They already say all that power’s gone to my head, what the hell do you think would happen if I somehow ended up omnipotent.”

Doom merely stared at him mildly, before explaining,

“You didn’t wield the Gauntlet, true enough, however you did use it’s power to erase Thanos” Tony winced as Doom said the name out loud, “from existence. Even though it was through a crude form of controlled backlash.”

Tony stared at him blankly, willing the other man to get to the point, or better yet stop playing his perpetual game of silly buggers. Still grinning that tiny infuriating grin the other man continued,

“In effect the universe you were inhabiting ended at the very moment you entered the void between the d-branes of existence.”

Tony didn’t want to believe it; he clung to a last desperate hope,

“So I’ve jumped universes? Is there any way to send me back?”

“Um, no Mr Stark, you misunderstand me, at the instant that your universe was being rewritten, there was a major Incident” Tony could hear the capitalisation, “on a multiversal scale. Instead of an alternative universe branching off as usually occurs in these cases your original brane unravelled completely. I believe you’d just crossed into the null-space created by the gauntlet’s backlash when The Incursion struck. You are in effect a refugee from your universe, a lone survivor. It was destroyed.”

Tony’s heart dropped. Okay, he conceded, he didn’t really want to go back. But to know that it wasn’t an option anymore was depressing. Doom murmured under his breath at a volume Tony was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear,

“Alongside an oodleplex of oodleplexes of others.”

Tony didn’t want to believe what he was hearing, but it was too late. Something about Doom’s words held true. His brain had taken the new data and was running the math, it checked out as a highly probable explanation given everything that he’d seen. Tony shuddered as he remembered the yawning void of Nothing that had been expanding outwards the last time he’d seen it.

There was a significant pause before the really disturbingly handsome man continued in a puzzled tone,

“I’m not entirely sure how you managed it to be honest.”

Tony didn’t trust Doom one jot, but, he knew him, he was a snake, but a familiar one. Ironically their long history as enemies made him trustworthy in a very untrustworthy way. He wouldn’t bother lying to you when it would be so much more fun to viciously tell you the unvarnished truth.

Tony picked at the loose thread in the tale the other man was weaving,

“Wait a minute why do you want to help me? And how do you know so much? If you’re not from my universe, and my Doom is dead alongside everyone else, how the hell do you know so much about me?”

“Ah well, Doom, I mean I managed to escape the Incursions.” Tony noted the word’s repetition and catalogued it for later, Doom had slipped up there, “I managed to watch everything. In effect I am your Doom.“

Tony knew there were things Doom wasn’t saying, there always were. He didn’t trust this newly chatty version of Doom, with his well-tailored suit, and rakish scar. Where was the cackling, the crazed monologues about getting revenge on Richards? (Not that the infuriating man didn’t deserve it, Tony just wished Doom wouldn’t cause so much collateral damage in his constant quest for vengeance.) Where had the referring to himself in the third person gone?

Tony knew that a few hours ago this confrontation would have gone very differently, but something inside him was telling him that this was true and that he should listen. Tony was aware that it could be Doom using his mojo on him, but again something told him that it was nothing to do with the other man and that he’d glimpsed a truth somewhere along the line.

Doom seemed to take Tony’s silence as a signal to try and explain further,

“Effectively you’ve time travelled. Only you really haven’t”

“Patronising, much?”

Tony shot back heatedly.

Tony had always resented the assumed intellectual superiority that both Richards and Doom seemed to wear about themselves like a cloak, it grated, Tony himself had always tried not to rub his genius in unless he knew the other person really really well, or just genuinely loathed the person he was talking to. Genius tended to disturb people. It had been a harsh lesson, one that had been learnt with tears and blood.

“Well, you know your basic multiversal theory yes?”

“Of course,” he bit out, “even if it hadn’t been accepted by a significant proportion of the scientific community, I’ve watched my fair share of scifi over the years, and experienced it first hand.“

Tony glared daggers at Doom over that last statement; he was still sore over the attempted abandonment in an alternative medieval Britain.

Doom seemed to get the hint that he should at least act as though he thought of Tony as an equal,

“Well, ignoring the technical side of things about d-branes rubbing against each other, and quantum strings wrapped up inside each other…” Doom tailed off as he caught Tony’s darkening expression, “Remember the old-trouser leg of time theory?”

“Every decision creating a parallel world? Sure, why not?”

“Well your decision to annihilate Thanos created a new past, one where Thanos hadn’t existed.”

Tony still felt a thrill of apprehension every time Thanos was mentioned, the urge not to say, or even think his name still ingrained.

“Unravelling my old universe to make this one?”

“No! No.” Doom continued in a placating tone, “That universe was wiped out in its entirety by The Incursion. This one is a completely new reality where Thanos never was.”

“Oh that’s a comfort.” Tony muttered under his breath, unfortunately it really was given the other option.

“Where you currently are, right now, is the universe you created, the one where Thanos never existed.”

“How did I end up stuck here as a six year old then? By rights I should have been wiped out with the Mad Titan.”

“Really Mr Stark, I know you’re not this stupid usually. Think about it. What did you see as the void took you? What were the Infinity Gems doing?”

Tony bristled automatically, before considering the question, it had been so very difficult to think clearly lately. As if there was something stopping him at every tur- blinking away the haze of red, Tony remembered.

Flashing, orange and blue and green.

Oh.

Oh.

Time and space and soul.

He’d effectively sent his soul back in time.

Fuck.

How could he have been so stupid? It was so obvious. How hadn’t he seen?

Basically he’d time travelled.

Tony decided to ignore the technicalities about destroying and creating universes for now. He could sit down and try to work through the math later from the sparse information Doom had provided.

Actually, in truth Tony was trying really hard not to think about how their last ditch plan had somehow only saved him of all people, effectively filling his ledger with so much blood he didn’t have a hope of trying to make amends.

Tony became aware that his usual quiet spin of science, math and schematics had been completely subverted by the knotty problem of just what had happened that day on the battlefield. Very carefully setting the whirl of numbers running through chaos theory, Gravitons, Higgs Boson interference, quantum mechanics and the butterfly effect aside, he stared at Doom searchingly. Probing the other man’s facial expression for any hint of deceit.

Despite the lack of his habitual mask the older man had an excellent poker face, however Tony was sure the Infinity Gems being in play had complicated matters. He’d deal with that later, once this bout of terror had settled down. Tony didn’t think he could face the idea that everyone he’d known had been wiped out by his hand, even though he’d seen most of them fall at the end beside him.

Doom interrupted the stream of thoughts with a complete non sequitur; it was as if he knew that Tony was spiralling down into the deep well of his thoughts.

“I was so disappointed to see that you hadn’t been keeping up with your attempts to access your full potential.”

“What?” Tony snapped both relieved that he hadn’t had a chance to get onto the litany of the dead, and irritated that the other man seemed to be staring at him knowingly, dare he think it, sympathetically.

“Access magic.”

Tony glared up at Doom at that, how had the other man known?

“Stay out of my head!”

“I assure you Mr Stark I’d never be so impolite as to break past those firewalls of yours.”

Tony was surprised by the news that they were still there, Extremis certainly wasn’t.

“Besides,” Doom continued in a musing tone, “They’re so deeply ingrained into your psyche I’m really not sure what tearing them down would do to you.”

Tony knew that the other man was trying to be reassuring, it never worked his idea of morality was so warped, even when compared to Tony’s own that his idea of reassuring was more often than not utterly disturbing. Doom continued in the same unaffected tone of voice,

“No, the smell of it is all over you. And anyone with a hint of magical finesse the whole realm over felt that ripple you sent out the other day. Though Surtur alone knows what you did, it had a very peculiar flavour to it.”

“Wait what?” Tony gaped at him, “I did magic?”

“Of course. Do shut your mouth Mr Stark, that gaping fish expression does not suit you in the slightest.”

Tony shut his mouth with a click, and resumed his mistrustful glare. Unfortunately it bounced off the back of Doom’s head. Doom had already started walking off, opening a door that Tony hadn’t seen before and disappearing into the space beyond.

“Come with me.”

Tony ended up trotting along in the revealed corridor after him, not for the first time cursing his ridiculous return to childhood. He was vaguely thankful that Doom hadn’t brought it up, the other man was probably aware that it was a sore point. Doom was being surprisingly tactful all things considered.

“Where are we again?”

“My own private residence, in a pocket universe so don’t get any silly ideas about ‘escaping’” the sarcasm dripped, Tony could practically hear the quotation marks, ”you aren’t a prisoner Mr Stark.”

Tony genuinely couldn’t tell whether Doom was still being sarcastic or not, he decided not to ask. He was too bone-weary to deal with Doom’s usual brand of nonsense, trickery, bullshit and magic. He only hoped that Doom’s apparent good mood would last, and that the other man wouldn’t take the opportunity to kill him.

“Why are you bothering with housecalls then? If what you’re implying is true, surely you’ve got far bigger fish to fry than little old me?”

Doom shot him an amused grin, before strolling off, the bastard.

Tony followed Doom down a spiral staircase into the depths of wherever they were, the perpetual hum was getting louder the further they descended. Tony was startled when they walked past of patch of wall into which the Seal of the Vishanti had been carved, Strange had explained to him once that the symbol was purely protective and couldn’t be used for offensive purposes. Tony had been sure that Doomsy would have used something more, well, evil.

Pressing his hand to a seemingly blank patch of the stonework that lit up under his fingertips Doom led the way through the hidden doorway to his lab.

The pair entered the space in silence, Tony unwilling to further test the other man’s temper when he was 1) defenceless without his armour and 2) defenceless because he was a shrimp of a child again.

Tony stared up suspiciously at the huge cylindrical piece of towering machinery that dominated most of the metal-lined room; it was wreathed in a blue haze and seemed to be the source of the bone resonating hum.

Tony watched as Doom walked over to a sturdy looking case, casually strolling through the unnerving haze as if it wasn’t even there. Tony followed reluctantly, relieved when the haze didn’t turn him into a frog or something equally humiliating. Doom ran his hand over the case almost lovingly, before unlocking it to reveal an unearthly golden glow.

Doom passed over a nastily familiar object, Tony didn’t want to touch it with his bare skin, he hated magic. The nasty thing was actually making his skin crawl that was new he’d only ever been able to spot magic by it’s effects before. Tony stared down at the impossibly whole Wand of Watoomb and gulped.

“Is that?”

“Yes, and no.” Doom gave him that infuriating little grin again, “It isn’t Doctor Strange’s Wand of Watoomb if that’s what you’re asking, it was mine.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Would it surprise you to learn that Earth is at an interdimensional junction, as well as a multiversal crossroads? In short it’s the centre of a hub of mystical energy, and sometimes things fall through the gaps. Things that shouldn’t be here, that don’t follow, and often break the laws of physics that our universe abides by.”

The response was automatic he couldn’t help it,

“What, like Torchwood?”

Doom gave him a politely puzzled look.

Tony resisted the urge to laugh in his face and continued,

“Alright Captain Harkness, do tell.”

Doom sighed in exasperation before starting,

“Earth resides on a thin patch of the multiverse. The interdimensional barriers are thin here, on every Earth, in every multiverse.” Again Doom muttered under his breath “Or at least they were.” Again Tony wasn’t sure if Doom was talking louder than he should be because of the lack of a mask, or if his own hearing was better than it had any right to be. He decided not to bring it up, any advantage against this man wasn’t to be sniffed at.

Despite his knowledge of interdimensional travel via Yggdrasil, gleaned from first Thor, then Loki, Tony raised an eyebrow in mild disbelief,

“You’re talking as though the Earth resides at a fixed address in the universe, despite the hurtling at thousands of miles an hour around a sun, that is itself hurtling at thousands of miles an hour around a black hole, that in itself is hurtling away from everything else at the same rate the universe is expanding.”

“In an astronomical sense you’re correct, however in the quantum realm Earth very much has a fixed abode.”

Tony stared at Doom in blatant mistrust; he couldn’t quite bring himself to accept the worldview the other man was pushing, despite the way it made a horrible sort of sense given everything that had gone on in the past few years.

At the very least it would explain the existence of the Einstein-Rosen bridges, Tony and Doctor Foster had worked through the theory together, and had a working model if only they could find the materials to channel a power source as physics defying as the one powering the Bifrost. Even Tony’s arc-reactors with their insane power outputs and ridiculous Starkanium-fueled efficiency hadn’t quite branched into the physics warping fuckery that was needed to maintain stable control of the wormholes created.

“As a gesture of goodwill I’m going to leave this with you.”

Unbelievably, ridiculously, Doom passed the Wand of Watoomb over, clearly expecting Tony to reach out and take it.

Tony stared at the man, he found that he was pulling that face an awful lot around him. He didn’t want to accept it, didn’t trust that the thing wouldn’t turn him inside out and spit him out again. Didn’t trust Doom not to use it this as something to hold Tony beholden over forever, and yet the man had such a sincere look on his face.

Still staring in utter distrust Tony gingerly reached out and took it.

Nothing happened.

The dam broke,

“Why the hell do you want to give this to me? Surely I’m the worst pair of hands to put it in. I’m still not even sure I believe in magic. How am I supposed to protect it if someone comes looking for it?”

“Taking a page out of your book I’ve surrounded it with a bubble of zero point energy, as well as my own brand of mystical suppressant field. People won’t know to look for it.”

Looking closer Tony could see a collar of some sort wrapped around one of the twin demon heads, he wryly thought that he recognised one of his arc reactors. He peered more closely, it was one of his miniature reactors he could see the Stark Industries logo embossed on the casing. Only slightly mollified Tony asked,

“And what if they do?”

“Well I’m hoping that by the time that question arises you will have learnt enough to defend yourself. And if not, well you’ve always proven adept at surviving these sorts of incidents in the past.”

Tony glowered up at Doom at the cavalier attitude to his safety, of course the other man was giving it to him so he’d attract attention and end up dead. Knowing full well that he was in no position to refuse the poisoned chalice, Tony threw another spoke in the wheel in a vain attempt to get out of the trap that was closing in around him.

“Well where exactly am I supposed to keep it? The back of my sock draw? In case you hadn’t noticed I don’t exactly have a secure facility to house it in, and Strange isn’t around yet to dump it on.”

For a moment there Tony thought that he caught a flash of hurt cross Doom’s face at the mention of Strange, he dismissed the idea, he must have imagined it. Why on earth would Doom of all people care what he thought?

Doom seemed to mull something over before replying,

“Oh, very well Tony,” seeing Tony’s look at being referred to so familiarly he amended himself quickly, “Mr Stark.”

Mr Stark was worse, much worse, Tony pulled a face.

“Tony, now keep in mind that if I do this, only I or someone with the power of say a Sorcerer Supreme will be able to undo it.”

Despite the horror that his previous statement implied Doom matter of factly reached out for the wand and shut his eyes. The thing shrunk before Tony’s eyes, until it was the size of a keyring, in fact it was a keyring, there was a small chain dangling off of one end and everything. The suppressant ring now formed a physical circle of grey metal around the length of the wand. It looked rather like a tacky piece of tat that you could pick up on any street corner in the tourist centres of any major city the world over.

“I don’t think many people will be able to recognise the Wand of Watoomb for what it is in this form.”

“What did you do?”

“Politely asked the wand to hide the majority of its essence in a pocket universe until it was called on again, it agreed.”

Tony eyed the innocuous looking trinket suspiciously, he hated magic and he really didn’t want to be responsible for anything to do with it. However Doom was right, out of Tony and Doom, Tony trusted himself (marginally) more.

Gritting his teeth Tony reached out and took the thing, hastily pocketing it when it didn’t turn him inside out.

“And now I think it’s about time I sent you home.” Doom grinned, “You are a growing boy after all.”

Tony growled at him, despite the fact that it was true the jibe incensed him.

“Oh, by the way I sent the young woman to the other side of the planet, North Korea to be precise. I do know how you hero types feel about unnecessary deaths.”

Tony suspected that even in that woman’s case death wasn’t necessarily off the menu given Doom’s choice of location,

“I think I might have made an exception in her case,” Tony grumbled “She was a Black Widow.”

“Ah, well I could still kill her if you’d like?”

“No! No. Thank you but no.” Tony belatedly remembered that he was dealing with Doom here, not another Avenger. He had to keep reminding himself of all of the betrayals, he’d pulled this trick far too many times before for Tony to fall for it again, whilst they’d worked well together in months running up to The End, that had been out of sheer necessity. Just because it had been, well, nice, didn’t mean Doom wouldn’t turn around and try to stick a knife in his back, again.

“I think you should leave now Mr Stark.”

“Well I would have left as soon as I woke up if I had any clue how to.” The words ‘get away from you.’ lay heavy in the air unspoken between them.

Doom shot Tony yet another infuriating look, this one knowing. Tony reflected that his tone there had been a bit too honest.

“I see.” The other man’s expression hardened minutely, a brief frown of concentration creasing his face, “Very well. You should go before you outstay your welcome.”

The world flared purple for a moment before dissolving into jagged shards of nonsense that his senses gave up trying to interpret.

~~~~~~~

Tony reappeared in the blood-strewn workshop, jagged glass-like shards of reality spitting him out onto solid ground. For a disorienting moment the world was entirely comprised of a whirling kaleidoscope of colour, and Tony felt as if he were standing on the edge of an abyss staring into something fathomless and deep. Horribly Tony was distantly aware that it might very well be staring back, with a worrying amount of effort he wrenched himself away from the bizarre vision and tried to focus back on the real world.

The sensation faded by increments, Tony realised that the area wasn’t quite as he’d left it. Spotting the stiletto-like shard of adamantium lying casually on the workbench Tony hastily squirreled it away in his shoe. Sitting next to it on the worktop looking innocently untouched was the lump of heavy equipment that had pinned him.

Well except for the prop-shaft, which had mysteriously vanished altogether, though given the state it had been in last time Tony had seen it that was probably a good thing. The prop-shaft had been in three separate pieces one of which had been running clean through his thigh.

Though now that he was clear headed he found himself wondering just how Doom had dealt with the problem. He dismissed it as unimportant; Howard might put down a missing prop-shaft to forgetfulness, a piece of machinery mysteriously sliced into several pieces however would probably be noticed.

Say what you like about the man, Doom was thorough, and he’d managed to orchestrate everything perfectly. Tony wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about their confrontation; well, more Doom talking at him and Tony having to listen due to circumstance. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Doom had pulled this trick far too many times for him to even contemplate trusting him, and yet, they had worked well together.

Tony hurriedly mopped up the blood casually dumping the rag in an acidic waste bottle, and tried to put back the items strewn around the shop back where he remembered them being. Typically Doom had left him with a mess to clean up. Tony couldn’t quite remember how they’d ended up scattered everywhere, he must have passed out for a moment. Tony relied on his eidetic memory to help him put everything away, however he was aware that even his memory was probably no match for Howard’s chaotic lack of organisation.

He snuck back towards the music room, keeping to the shadows out of paranoia so that he could get back to an explainable area of the mansion in case Howard found him.

Maria was still exactly where he’d left her, despite the fact that it was nearing the wee hours of the morning if the sickly pre-dawn light beginning to ease it’s way across the night’s sky was any indication.

It was odd, the entire world looked utterly unchanged. And yet Tony’s perspective of it had irrevocably shifted. He stared up at the few stars bright enough to still be visible in the pre-dawn gloom with a new sense of wonder. Somehow he was alive, he should use this borrowed time to do something positive with his life, and not waste Yinsen’s sacrifice.

Tony was unsure if he should approach his mother or not, despite how unwell she’d seemed earlier Maria still had that mother’s preternatural ability to sense when something was wrong with her child, though her responses didn’t always fall within the normal range expected of a caring parent.

Nerves still jangling discordantly Tony decided he’d risk it. It would be better to help his mother before Howard found her, or Jarvis had to deal with her. Fortunately Maria didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss she was still too caught up in the dilemma in her own mind to offer much resistance as he gently took her by the hand and lead her to bed before running off to his room.

~~~~~~~

Edwin smiled in surprise when Tony shot him a dazzlingly bright grin at breakfast that morning before eagerly tucking in. Whatever had been going on with Tony lately appeared to have resolved itself, well whatever had been going on as well as his post-illness personality changes. Edwin wasn’t sure if this sudden sunny disposition was another puzzle piece or not, but he made a note of it as he finished frying their eggs on the stove.

Tony’s suddenly improved mood had a knock-on effect, Ana had noticed that he suddenly seemed slightly more at ease in his own body, as if he’d finally gotten over whatever mental block that had been throwing his centre of balance off so much. He was still apparently off-centre, but he was suddenly far closer to finding it than he’d ever been before. Even Edwin had noticed actually, and whilst he was a passable practitioner he was no expert like his darling wife.

It was good to see Tony being cheerful again, he’d been slowly descending into a dark mood that neither Ana nor himself knew how to broach, though of course Edwin was still keeping a close eye on his young charge.

The puzzle he’d been putting together was on hold for now, he had the vague notion that he was missing the key piece to the puzzle, that if he could just find the final piece everything would come into focus. But well, he just couldn’t think of a rational explanation for all of the sudden changes.

The fever was out, yes it had gotten high, but not that high. And besides Tony seemed to be smarter than ever if some of the gadgets Edwin had spotted were any indication.

There hadn’t been any incidents that could have triggered anything, well ok – there had been recently, but they had all taken place well after the changes had occurred.

Edwin knew that he was going about all of this the wrong way, and he was uncomfortably aware that he was running out of time to solve this mystery. As soon as Tony went off to whichever school Howard settled on the personality changes would probably come thick and fast, given how much social interaction his young charge was going to encounter, and how infrequent school holidays were.

~~~~~~~

Tony spent the next couple of days in a pleasant daze too caught up in the realisation that everything he was seeing really was his reality now to pay much attention to anything else.

His sparring sessions with Ana and Jarvis were proving remarkably unproductive, and yet somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to care, too caught up with re-examining everything he could see, the summer light giving everything a warm glow.

Whilst it was still a dark and forlorn excuse for a home the mansion was his childhood home not a nastily accurate recreation, and it was bustling with a life that he’d never really noticed before. Yes the mansion was still the site of many of his worst memories, and yet, the place was also home to most of his happier ones too.

He kept catching himself reminiscing about cooking sessions with Jarvis, and the slowly improving relationship that he and Maria had shared. Whilst a child had no place understanding and comforting an adult with very adult problems, Tony had been a genius, and he’d grown up with a genius’ speed too. He and Maria had gotten on once he’d understood that she really did love him, and care, just that she had bad days, as well as good. The addition of his adult understanding of just what living with Howard must be doing to her had only made him realise just how much she must have sacrificed to protect him from his father over the years.

He resolved to try to regain that closeness that they’d shared towards the end of his teenaged years a few years early. She’d always been ready with a sympathetic ear, and a useful word or even a moralistic story when she’d been well enough. But it had taken until his was nearly into adulthood the first time around to realise just how much that effort cost her. Tony thought that it was nigh on time that he tried to return the favour.

(He shuddered at the remembrance of dark dark bruises in the shape of fingers on her arms, he did not want to think about that last fight he’d had with her about fucking Howard of all people just before she’d taken that car journey.)

Shutting his eyes Tony forcibly redirected his thoughts towards something less self-destructive, it wouldn’t do to dwell on that. He’d only just managed to find himself some semblance of peace over the guilt of that day, and then… And then had come Zemo, and Barnes and Steve, lying to his face even as the video played out and ripped the world out from under him. No.

Tony wanted to get started on his plans for a repulsor gauntlet akin to the miniaturised wristwatch version that he’d taken to wearing at all times back hom- in the future, he’d been purposefully redirecting the spin of schematics in his mind for weeks now. Terrified by the vague notion that Thanos would somehow get ahold of the deadly designs that his mind often automatically came up with.

Now that he had confirmation that reality really was reality, and that his mental firewalls were somehow still intact, Tony thought that he’d better get started on putting together some of the tech he’d need to make a difference in the world. Though for now some method of self-defence for when the inevitable kidnapping attempt was made would do.

Of course the constant weight of the miniaturised wand of Watoomb in his pocket made for quite a distraction from his intent to get started on actually working out a thorough game-plan for what he wanted to do next.

Every time he was alone Tony caught himself patting his pocket to make sure that it was still there, though his natural distrust of all things magical meant he didn’t go so far as take it out to look at. Tony didn’t want to actually touch the thing with his skin any more than absolutely necessary, it was bad enough that he was carrying it around every day in his pocket.

Tony found it within himself to try to put up with Maria’s ever-changeable moods despite his own current inability to have much control over his. The pair spent hours together in the forest-scene wallpapered music room playing duets and silly little ditties together on the grand piano.

~~~~~~~

Edwin frowned in consternation; his staff was missing a member that morning. He wouldn’t have been too concerned, but it was the third day in a row with no explanation, and she had been reliable up until this week. Edwin was in the main hall using the phone on the side-table, trying in vain to contact the woman when Howard stormed past, he had a face like thunder.

“Where’s the boy?”

“Why Howard?” Edwin asked nervously, worried for his charge’s safety.

“He’s been in my workshop. Things have been moved around, the brat should know better. I’m going to make sure that he knows that.”

“Actually Howard I think I may have an explanation. But you won’t like it.”

“Well?”

“A member of the household staff is missing, it’s been half a week now.”

Howard’s face froze. He rapidly turned around and marched off in the direction of his study.

“Howard?”

“I need to make a phone call.”

Jarvis opened his mouth to point out that he was standing right next to a phone,

“On the secure line!”

Howard shouted out, waving his hand in dismissal as he strolled down the hall. Edwin very nearly smiled; his employer had almost sounded like his old self in that moment. However he caught himself, that would be inappropriate, Edwin was aware that the situation they faced was probably a serious one.

~~~~~~~

Edwin sighed in concern, that woman had infiltrated their lives far too easily. She’d passed all of their background checks, been the perfect employee, discreet, competent. And then she’d broken into Howard’s workshop, probably stolen secrets and vanished. There wasn’t much evidence of her tampering, but Howard was adamant that something was “off” in his workshop and the complete disappearance of the woman had been suspicious.

According to Ana when the woman’s flat had been searched a secret stash of weaponry as well as evidence of known Red Room contact methods had been found, apparently it was more advanced that the old typewriter trick, but definitely a method known to SHIELD.

As a result the mansion was now crawling with agents, Edwin was well aware that they were SHIELD. He wanted to disapprove of the way that Howard had managed to bring his work home with him in yet another new and intrusive way, however he knew that this whole situation was his fault. He’d invited her into their lives, opened their home to this, this spy.

Edwin had been able to keep Tony away from the worst of the chaos, fortunately Ana being around had played to their favour, she’d been able to keep Tony occupied with sparring in their discreetly chosen hall. If his charge noticed anything off about the sudden increase in sparring time he didn’t say anything. Edwin wondered where on earth Tony‘s usual insatiable curiosity had gone, the boy’s own utter lack of any real reaction to the latest incident was another subtly terrifying piece of the puzzle. He’d been so sure that Tony had been getting over whatever it was, but obviously he’d been wrong.

An agent was speaking to his employer,

“I don’t know what to say sir, she passed all of our background checks.”

Edwin felt somewhat reassured at that, the near miss hadn’t been entirely his fault but he’d much rather the situation hadn’t occurred in the first place.

After several hours of tidying up what seemed like fruitless busywork from the agents as they turned the entire house upside down Edwin had just about had enough. From the discussions he’d overheard so far nothing significant was actually missing, oh Howard was kicking up a stink about a few pieces of equipment, but why the spy would be interested in standard lab-ware was beyond Edwin. Indeed, he rather thought, given how discreet she’d been, that the woman had probably made off after photographing every document in the house.

To make matters worse Edwin was sure Howard hadn’t actually been inside several of the areas that had been thoroughly turned over in years, let alone done any work there. But he understood the necessity, much as he hated it.

He’d had to tiptoe around them whilst putting together lunch for both the family and the invading suits. Edwin had been dismayed when he’d gone to find something in the small staff kitchen that he and Tony habitually shared, they’d turned it upside down. Edwin had found that they’d mixed up all of the flours when they’d sieved them for lord knew what, and scattered rice and spices all over the counter. Not to mention that they’d clogged the sink. Just what did they think they’d find in this area of the mansion? The staff kitchen didn’t contain anything sensitive for goodness sake.

Given Edwin’s previous culinary disasters in Howard’s presence he wouldn’t usually be playing chef, however the rest of the staff, chef and Edwin’s cleaning crew included, were busy being questioned in the main hall.

As he handed out the basic repast he’d prepared for everyone, Edwin overheard a snippet of a particularly troll-like agent interrogating the household staff as he walked past,

“Own up! I know you did it, own up!”

A thinner agent stepped out from behind the behemoth of a man, he was somehow weasel-esque, his ill-advised pencil moustache somehow adding to the impression of sly rodenty malice.

In a low level tone of voice that was calm yet somehow threatened with the utter certainty that what was said would absolutely be carried out he started,

“If the person responsible for assisting this corporate spy in this… catastrophic example of corporate sabotage doesn’t own up I will personally ensure that all of you will be imprisoned without trial indefinitely.”

Edwin was impressed that SHIELD had had the foresight to pin the problem on a rival firm digging for SI secrets rather than the more dangerous truth. However he rather thought the threat would hold more weight if the agent in question didn’t give off such a furtive air, one got the impression as he walked through the hall that he was somehow sidling forwards. A difficult task, but one he somehow managed.

Fortunately before the idiot could do any lasting damage the double doors opened dramatically, silhouetting a figure in the bright sunlight. Edwin was surprised when Captain Nick Fury had stridden in looking just like his namesake; the other man was furious.

“Oh hell no! Howard man, tell me I did not get called in from an operation in Cambodia to deal with a possible espionage attempt from your own staff.”

Edwin struggled to keep the amused grin off of his face, it was pretty hilarious watching his employer gape like a fish as the younger man reamed into him. One of the waiters wasn’t so lucky, his sniggers earning him a harsh glare from the eyepatched agent.

“Howard for fuck’s sake man, get your house in order!”

Howard glared at Fury, Edwin admired the agent’s chutzpah, for all that Fury technically ranked lower on the SHIELD pecking order than Stark he was staring down the Executive Director with nary a blink. There was a damned good reason the young black man had risen so quickly through the ranks of the Agency, making Captain barely a decade after the Civil Rights Act had been put into place. According to Ana he was on the verge of promotion to Colonel a couple more successful missions under his belt and he’d have a position significantly higher ranking than field-handler for a small team. Edwin was uncomfortably aware of just how remarkable the young man’s rise through the agency hierarchy had been, as remarkable as Peggy Carter’s a couple of decades before in fact, complete with similar levels of resistance. If anything the young man’s earlier operations in Europe had helped his case there, whilst racism was definitely still a persistant issue throughout the western world anyone willing to help give aid on the East/West border with little regard for his own welfare was welcomed.  

Within moment’s Fury had dismissed both the household staff and the would-be interrogator. He took over the running of the whole operation with an ease that told Edwin that he would be perfectly suited to a role with more power.

Staff interviews were to be held one on one with Fury’s personally selected agents, primarily a competent if bland looking young man with an attitude eerily similar to the one Agent Sousa had held all those years ago.

With the situation firmly in hand Edwin felt it was safe to trail along behind Howard and Fury, discreetly listening in on their heated discussion in the sideroom Fury had dragged the shorter man into. Acknowledging him with a sharp nod of his head Fury got started,

“Without the edge your tech gives us, or SI’s money funding the operations the government really shouldn’t know about SHIELD would be dead in the water. Do you understand what would happen if your designs got out there again? You thought the nonsense with your formula was bad?”

Howard opened his mouth to reply with something that was no-doubt sarcastic, Fury interrupted him before he could even get started,

“It’s the cold war you fool, that tech is probably halfway around the world by now. Do you want the world to suffer, think of it man, a world where the lunatics too insane not to press the button, like motherfucking Pol Pot, are able to run around unchecked!”

Edwin was impressed, what the rant lacked in clarity Fury more than made up for in sheer momentum. He’d managed to successfully steamroll Howard, a man who always had something to say for himself. Edwin had a feeling that within a few years the promising agent would be absolutely terrifying.

“From what I hear he’s doing that already.” Howard muttered mutinously.

Fury shot his friend, and technically his employer, a withering look.

“Howard, man… You need better security protocols than this. Fuck me, how are you so damned incompetent at this, you’re the executive head of SHIELD! You could have lost Maria and Tony to her, she had the run of your house for weeks… How are you so cold about this man. I mean fuck me.”

Howard puffed up puce again, before seeming to think better of it from the look on Fury’s face. Instead after the dawning panic that the moment of contemplation brought, his face took on a sly considering caste that Edwin was immediately deeply suspicious of. Fury on the other hand was not yet finished with his rant.

“You know I’m going to have to go all over this motherfucking house with a fine toothed comb. You owe me one man,-“

Edwin discreetly slipped away, determined to check in on the way the other agents were treating his staff. Whilst Edwin was definitely taking advantage of being the unseen and unheard help, he was incredibly angry at Howard’s cavalier attitude to his only child’s safety. It was clear from the expression on Howard’s face that the other man hadn’t even considered the possibility of his family being hurt until Fury had brought it up in an incredibly blunt manner.

~~~~~~~

That evening as Howard and Maria sat down to dinner together in the cold but beautiful formal dining room Edwin felt a distant sense of unease. Unfortunately the staff were still being vetted by the SHIELD agents, interviews running late into the night, so Edwin was playing cook, waiter and butler to the couple.

He’d decided to play safe with the menu, quickly rustling up a few dishes that he’d prepared countless times before, such as a simplified version of the apple torte that both Ana and Tony adored so much.

Fortunately Tony had been pretty thoroughly exhausted by the workout Ana had given him that afternoon so was already tucked up safely in bed, Edwin smiled softly, his charge had almost dozed off into his soup.

Edwin was beginning to think that his sense of impending trouble had just been over-sensitive alarm bells ringing in the suspiciously quiet aftermath of whatever it was Tony had been going though lately. He’d just gone to the kitchen to fetch the after-dinner coffee, relief that neither Howard nor Maria were going to start anything streaming off of him in waves.

Of course the relief had been short-lived and ill-advised. When he returned to the room coffee tray in hand, Howard and Maria were sat huddled together at one end of the long table muttering furiously at each other as if the conversation were too important to waste over shouted words.

As Edwin drew closer to their end of the table he could make out Maria saying flatly,

“No Howard no. I tried to break the news to him but I couldn’t. Don’t send him away.”

Howard smirked in triumph, Edwin had seen the look on the man’s face in the boardroom often enough to recognise it.

“See Maria, the mansion just isn’t safe. At least at the school the security will be more than good enough to stop our little boy from being kidnapped.”

Maria sighed damply, her entire posture slumping to one of defeat. Even her pearls seemed to sag,

“Yes Howard, I see your point. I do wish it wasn’t necessary.”

Edwin was surprised, he’d thought that Howard was going to carry out his plan regardless of Maria’s thoughts on the matter, but it seemed that he’d used her own fear for her son’s safety against her and acquired her reluctant consent after all.

He supposed Maria’s behaviour lately had persuaded Howard that his life would probably be easier if she agreed to the plan, Edwin had been sure that Howard had actually already been phoning boarding schools recently if the school prospectuses he’d tidied around in Howard’s study meant anything. Whilst the methods were dubious at best, Edwin actually thought that Howard was doing the right thing by his boy for once, Tony would be far better off at the school than in the mansion.

~~~~~~~

After enduring Maria’s clingy pampering all morning Tony snuck away to his shop. Thankfully the agents had mostly cleared out the night before. Much as he loved his mother, had missed her with an ache that never quite went away, Tony couldn’t quite bring himself to accept another whole day of her current slightly smothering brand of affection. Not when he knew it was likely borne of mental frailty rather than actual love.

Tony had been thanking his lucky stars that he’d had the foresight to clear away the nanotube set-up all week. He hadn’t had the freedom to go and double-check that he’d cleared the coal cellar completely, but from the lack of suspicious looks he thought he’d gotten away with it.

Between his mother’s attentions, the hoarde of government suits and Ana keeping a steely eye on him Tony hadn’t really had the time or the space to do much of anything for the last few days. It had been dispiriting having to act like an actual six year old, when it was the very last thing he’d wanted to do. He’d wanted to immediately get started on building himself some worthwhile tech now that the ever-looming threat of Thanos (Hah he could think the name as much as he wanted now – Thanos, Thanos Thanos!) was confirmed as over.

However Tony had not wanted to catch SHIELD’s attention. Tony had learnt the hard way not to trust the non-Hydra agents, let alone the tainted agency as a whole. He’d sworn to sit down and think about what Doom had told him when he was actually given the time to do just that.

Tony gulped as he spotted Nick Fury of all people examining something in his squash-court cum lab. He tried to back out of the room, regardless of the shouting in the back of his head demanding that he march over there and rip Fury a new one for daring to touch his tech again. That dangerous mess with the helicarriers hadn’t happened yet. Might never happen.

Unfortunately Fury’s preternatural ability to sense when Tony was up to no good seemed to be intact, the older man’s head whipped around. Tony gulped, he was a young man in this era giving him yet another moment of cognitive dissonance, made stronger somehow by the fact that the eyepatch was still present and correct. However the scars were livid, somehow fresh looking, almost sore.

Tony refocused on the workbench Fury had been poking at and resisted the urge to let the panic show on his face, instead affecting paparazzi carefree air no.6 (The Twelve for Twelve calendar edition). Fury had been poking at the equipment he’d been slowly scavenging with an eye to cobbling together an analogue repulsor.

After the initial flood of panic had passed Tony felt a flood of relief, he’d not started on anything yet on that bench. The lack of small enough servos had been giving him enough trouble that the thing was still in the planning phase. To Fury it would be a random pile of junk that an overly curious six-year-old had stolen, nothing important. Thanking his lucky stars, or rather his hard-won paranoia that he’d been trying so very hard not to even think about repulsor tech let alone make any lest The Tit- Thanos steal the ability, Tony quickly glanced around to try and see if he’d left out anything else that would make “The Spy” suspicious.

Tony felt his gaze inexorably trying to draw itself to the overpowered computer in the distant corner, but he forced himself to look into the middle distance six inches to the left of Fury’s head. He could not allow that sneaky bastard to get a hold of any of that software, or to even get a sniff of what computers were actually capable of. Tony dreaded to think how Fury and SHIELD would misuse that information against the general public let alone what the hidden HYDRA network that was bound to start growing in strength soon would attempt.

To Fury’s credit he crouched down to Tony’s level in a manner that completely bypassed condescending and fell into the realm of matter of fact,

“Hello Anthony, I’m not sure if you remember me, my name is Nick.”

Tony was surprised, he hadn’t remembered anything about Fury being around when he was a kid. But apparently this visit wasn’t as unusual as he’d thought. Huh.

“I’m a friend of your godmother’s, she asked me to keep an eye on you in her stead.”

“Aunty Peggy?”

It just slipped out, he hadn’t meant to say anything.

“Yes Aunty Peggy.”

The look on Fury’s face was warm, had Fury ever looked at him warmly back in the – the future? Tony wasn’t sure, but this development was going to have him re-examining every single interaction he could remember having with the older man. Starting with trying to see if he could dig up any more misty childhood memories.

“So fucking Howard didn’t bother to tell you about me, eh?”

Tony almost laughed when he realised that young-Fury hadn’t yet learnt how to regulate his facial expressions, or even how to keep his language appropriate for his audience. The momentary look of surreptitious guilt was absolutely hilarious with the eye patch. Fury’s face settled into one closer to his habitually angry expression, Tony instinctively hunched away.

If anything it made Fury look even angrier, and Tony realised with some shock that it wasn’t actually directed at him for once from the exaggerated open-palmed backing up the far taller man was doing. Though he was clearly trying to hide the emotion from him, somehow Tony suspected that the anger was closer to the surface than it usually was. Though he wasn’t entirely sure what the source of the emotion actually was, he dismissed it as unimportant right now, it was probably something to do with spying.

Still it was useful to pick up these emotional tells, the more blatant facial expressions adding to his internal book of Fury-facial expressions and what they meant. If the other signs weren’t there he would have been able to tell from the vein throbbing at Fury’s temple that the other man was far angrier than he was letting on. As it was the man’s brow was ever so slightly lowered, and his mouth had a grim set to it. At least his years of learning how to read Fury-esque long after the older man had perfected his masks were going to make his life easier this time around.

Fury awkwardly patted Tony on the shoulder before seeming to decide that Tony had probably had enough physical affection for the time being and straightening up to apparently examine the workbench again.

“So, what are you building son?”

Tony distracted by trying to read what the man’s body language was telling him had to think for a moment, unprepared for the unexpected interest.

“Oh, um.” Tony came up with something on the spot, “Well, Dad broke my puppy.”

“Wait, wait. Hold up. Your Dad broke your fuckingdog?”

Fury’s voice had taken on a far too familiar incredulously angry tone.

Tony hurriedly backed away from the far taller man, panicking at the too familiar angry glare. Fury seemed to pale under his eye patch, backing away again exaggeratedly. It was only the unfamiliar look of concerned worry on the other man’s face that got through to him, some part of his mind still intently analysing body language and facial expressions. Tony rapidly backtracked, trying to play off his panic as something childish, and keep his explanation within childish parameters. He babbled out.

“Yeah, I mean I built him, and then Dad got angry and said he was rubbish and a waste of time and he broke him, and he hurt his foot.”

Fury tilted his head as he parsed Tony’s meaning, and failed.

“Your Dad broke your dogs foot??”

Clearly he hadn’t had much experience in speaking Tonyease yet. Huh. Which implied that he had had experience in the future. And yet Tony had no memory of the man, except for a possible sighting at the funeral.

“No!” Tony was aware that he was making things worse, Fury’s lone visible eye was twitching, “My dog broke my Dad’s foot.”

“Where the hell is that damned dog?! Is it alright? Don’t say it’s been put down.”

Tony felt vaguely cheered by this surprising show of loyalty from Fury,

“Oh, no, not as such. It’s here.”

Tony gestured to its remains on the improvised workbench directly behind Fury, subtly redirecting him away from the more sensitive objects that lay out in the shop.

“Oh.”

Fury seemed to deflate when he saw the pitiful remains, some of the righteous anger draining out of him. Sadly Howard had “confiscated” the adamantium shard by dint of hobbling off with it in his foot in all of the chaos when Dr Creep had come in to treat him, but the shattered remains of Rex made for an impressive display of filial destruction. Despite the choked feeling the sad parts gave him every time he’d looked at them Tony hadn’t been able to bring himself to part with them when Jarvis had thoughtfully presented him with the remains “in case you wanted to have a go at fixing him.” The indentation from Howard’s trademark custom-made rubber soled patents with the heavy duty treads was clear as day in the remains of the robotic dog’s fairing.

“So that’s why he had that limp.”

Fury mused rubbing at his chin, he shot Tony a shrewd glare, it wasn’t quite up to his old steel-boiling intensity but it still had Tony quailing inside for all that he refused to show it. Fury seemed to see something that he liked, he sighed and rubbed at the eyepatch reflexively, voice softening,

“Old man Stark giving you a hard time son?”

“You could say that.”

Tony hazarded cautiously, unsure of the turn the conversation had taken.

“I’ve been neglecting my promise to Peggy.” Fury muttered, again Tony was surprised that he’d caught something that he probably wasn’t supposed to be able to hear. He was beginning to think that a few things had lingered from his time with Extremis.

“Well son, I can’t say I approve of your father’s parenting methods. I’m sure you built yourself a damn fine dog.” Fury struggled for words for a moment staring down blankly at the remains of Rex, before seeming to come to a decision, “but he’s your Dad.”

Tony felt shattered, the desperate fluttering hope that perhaps things would turn out differently this time around winked out. The light at the end of the tunnel had turned out to be a train.

“However that doesn’t mean I can’t have a word in his ear.”

Fury shot him a quick grin, there and gone again in a moment. Tony stared up at the older (currently younger mentally, and wasn’t that a brain melting shocker) man in disbelief. Even this far more open version of Fury had proven impossible to get a bead on.

“I’ve got my eye on you.”

Fury’s parting shot had Tony dropping the piece of Rex’s circuitry that he’d been half-heartedly fiddling with in déjà-vu induced shock.

~~~~~~~

Things moved on apace when the agents left after concluding that nothing important had actually been taken. Though as Edwin had suspected there was no telling what documents the spy had copied, the following day the whole damned lot was shipped off to SHIELD for forensic testing with yet another swarm of agents, Howard in tow.

Some equipment had initially been thought missing, but Fury had stated casually that he’d found it with no further explanation, and left taking his agents with him, but not before a final parting shot at Howard’s expense,

“Could you please keep a better eye on your shit, Howard seriously? You’d lose your own head if it weren’t nailed on and I’ve got better things to do than supervising this bunch of idiots because I’m the only senior agent who can stand you.”

Howard had glared at that,

“I’ll have you know that SHIELD relies on my tech.”

“Yes I know. It’s terrifying. From what I’ve seen you don’t know how to organise a bum-raping in a barracks.”

Fury nonchalantly strode out after that rather tasteless departing statement, pointedly walking off in the opposite direction to the rest of the agents. Edwin had his suspicions about just where Nick Fury had found the missing equipment but if the agent wasn’t saying anything then neither was Edwin.

Thanking his lucky stars that the days of agent-induced chaos were over, the damned fools had been trudging around the mansion for almost a week, Edwin spent the day bracing himself for the news that he’d have to break to Tony. Maria had taken him aside and asked him to do the deed, apparently she’d tried and failed to tell her son about the plans for his schooling last week. Edwin wished that she hadn’t, he had some idea of how the conversation might have gone.

However Howard had confirmed with some anger that the boy was to be sent off to an extremely exclusive boarding school at the end of the month. Apparently Tony had finally healed up enough for Howard’s reputation, but the school had taken some fiscal persuading to take in a student after the start of term.

Despite their earlier arguments on the matter even Ana had agreed that it would probably be safer for Tony if he were away from the mansion for the time being. Between Howard’s increasingly erratic behaviour and their inability to keep snakes out of their nest Ana had conceded that it was better for everyone if Tony was kept away from the epicentre of the chaos.

Edwin’s brows pinched as he remembered the heated discussion of a couple of evening’s ago; it had been Edwin’s turn to cook and he’d been glad of it. Ana had looked exhausted, actually she’d been tired quite a lot lately, and Edwin was trying to do everything he could to make her home life easier. He knew it wasn’t an easy life she’d chosen for herself at SHIELD. His adventures gallivanting about with Peggy fighting spies, criminals and science experiments gone wrong certainly hadn’t suited his temperament.

It had been a cold night for the beginning of autumn, or fall as they called it over here in America, and Edwin had taken advantage of that in his choice of food. Whilst he’d sworn off of the culinary experimentation, one too many burnt soufflés seeing to that, he’d done his best to cook his dear wife something comforting for the dreaded conversation. He’d prepared them both sólet for dinner and they were polishing off their Flódni for dessert when Edwin had finally dared to broach the subject,

“Ana dear really, don’t you see that Tony would be safer away from this place?”

Ana’s eyes had flashed for a moment before she sighed, her thin shoulders slumping in defeat,

“Fine.” Her tone was flat, answer almost rote as if she’d been rehearsing it all day, Edwin suspected that she somehow already knew that Howard had made his decision and it was only a matter of when now, not if, “Yes darling, I know it makes sense. I don’t think Tony’s going to take this very well though.”

“Yes dear, in that at least I think I agree with you.”

“Damn it all – if only we could take the poor dear in. You know he isn’t going to take this well.”

“Either way we don’t get a say darling.” Edwin had pointed out gently, waiting calmly for his darling wife to wind herself down from her understandable anger.

The couple had stared at each other over their shared kitchen table, before sighing in unison and turning back to the pudding that now sat heavy in their stomach’s like the leaden feeling in their hearts.

Shaking himself out of the recollection of the discussion that had taken place only a couple of days ago Edwin focussed on preparing the dinner he was going to use to help soften the blow when he broke the news to Tony.

Maria was out at one of the many functions in New York that she held for her foundation, even at the deepest depths of one of her depressive spells the woman had an impressive drive when it came to her charity work. Howard was presumably still at SHIELD supervising the agents as they analysed his paperwork. Howard’s understandable paranoia about his tech falling into the wrong hands actually made his actions forgivable in this instance.

Thankfully his years of trying and failing to cook culinary masterpieces for Ana had turned him into a competent, if not particularly good at improvising, cook. Perhaps due to his own subconscious desire for a slice of home Edwin had prepared a roast chicken with all the trimmings, stuffing, gravy, parsnips, roast potatoes, cabbage, carrots – the full works, as well as bread and butter pudding, which was currently warming up in the oven. (He was saving the much loved apple-torte recipe for Tony’s last evening at home, it had been with some chagrin that he’d realised that Tony, as well as Ana adored the dish. For all that the actions of putting it together had long since become rote, it was still a fussy dessert to do well.)

Tony crept into the small kitchen right on time, body language radiating the skittishness that Edwin had thought had finally been easing away. Tony had spent much of the past week wandering around with a thoughtful look on his face, as if he’d come to a realisation about whatever it was that had been making him act so secretively. More than once Edwin had caught the boy staring at something in the mansion as if he’d never seen it before, that strange nostalgic moue twisting his face.

The latest change to Tony’s behaviour was almost as abrupt as the previous one had been, though this time Edwin thought that it was probably a change for the better. Tony had still been jumpy, with haunted eyes staring out of a young face, but he’d seemed more settled somehow in the past couple of days.

Edwin really hoped that the news he’d have to break wouldn’t undo all of that forward progress, he let Tony devour his dessert before gently passing on the news.

“Tony.”

“Yes Jarvis?”

Something in his tone must have gotten through to his charge, Tony’s huge brown eyes were wary and suspicious. Edwin’s heart nearly broke, not again. He steeled himself,

“Now that you’re well enough you know that you’ll be going back to school soon.”

“Yes?”

Tony’s tone was puzzled, as if Edwin was pointing out that water was wet, or something equally obvious.

“Well, Howard and Maria, and actually me too. We all think that your current school is holding you back.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, Edwin hurriedly continued,

“So you’ll be going to a better school.”

“Okay”

Edwin blinked,

“What do you mean – Okay? Wait a minute, I haven’t told you everything. It’s a boarding school.”

The relief as he finally got the news out was stunning, Edwin waited with baited breath for the expected reaction.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, it’s cool. No biggie.”

Edwin could only gape, he really hadn’t expected it to be this easy. At the very least he’d been expecting tears and snot, not to mention the distinct possibility of begging not to be sent away. This, this was unexpected. And possibly worrying, but he was so caught up in his own back and forthing emotions on the matter that he couldn’t begin to get past the shock of Tony’s own lack of emotion.

Tony slid back his kitchen stool,

“If that’s all, may I be excused?”

“Y-Yes.”

~~~~~~~

Despite his new awareness of the worried looks the Jarvises kept shooting him the following week flew by, Tony found that he enjoyed the training sessions with Ana and Jarvis far more than he had been. Life seemed to have a new zing to it that had been lacking lately. He’d finally be far away enough from Howard’s watchful gaze soon to actually do something.

Unfortunately as a side effect to the Jarvises worry for him they seemed determined to spend Tony’s every waking moment in his company. Between his mother’s sudden interest in his welfare and the couple’s determination to keep him company Tony barely found the time to discretely close his workshop down. Let alone pack away the equipment and inventions that he thought he might get away with at the school.

Jarvis had tried so very hard to break the news to him gently, and was clearly taken aback by Tony’s casual acceptance, he’d obviously been expecting Tony to put up more of a fight. It had been all Tony could do not to laugh gleefully in the other man’s face, but he’d reigned in the impulse, knowing it would probably be misinterpreted as hysterical.

One particular example of a wasted day was when Ana and Jarvis dragged him out to New York zoo, even Maria had come along. They’d spent a perfectly charming day together looking at the animals. Tony would probably have enjoyed it immensely even as a precocious six year old who was beginning to understand that the only activity “Worth” doing was engineering, and even then only when it pertained to weapon’s manufacture.

As it was Tony looked at the animals and felt sick as a horribly familiar waft of decay washed out of the lion’s pen, the smell a lingering note of faecal matter and rotting flesh. It brought back too fresh memories of the stench that had wafted over the transduction barriers that were all that stood between them and Thanos’ armies, everything outside of their little haven had been decimated. Rotting corpses, human and animal all that was left of the ecosystem around their little fortress. Only the bacteria had thrived in the wasteland that Thanos had wrought. Tony remembered an expedition into New York for supplies, somehow the human corpses had been less terrible than the carcasses of the animals. He didn’t know why, maybe it was something to do with overexposure.

Fortunately Tony’s visceral reaction to seeing the animals had been misinterpreted as fear over going to the school, and they’d left for Central Park and ice cream. Tony had never been so glad of wilful adult blindness as he was in that moment. He didn’t know how he’d have been able to explain why the sight of some lions lounging in the sun had upset him so much.

As a going away present Jarvis bought tickets for all three of them, Ana, Tony and Jarvis, to go to the Isolar Tour Concert that was being held in Nassau Coliseum, New York.

Somehow Jarvis had gotten them ridiculously good tickets, very close to the stage. Tony felt as if he could reach out and touch the musicians they were that close to the front.

The lights dimmed, concert hall going dark, before suddenly raising again, overhead spotlight highlighting the shirt-clad guitarist with his back to the audience teasing the guitar strings into releasing wails of electric thrumming.

The overhead strobe lights began flickering with epilepsy inducing intensity, the spotlight highlighting the pianist all in white as he started playing a simple bass-line, the bass-player in an insane purple frockcoated and top-hatted outfit soon picked up the line. Denis Davis the drummer added his genius with the drums and the song began in earnest.

Tony recognised the opening refrain to Station to Station in the bass line of the guitar and the tortured strains of an electrical animal in pain being teased out of the guitar duo. The building thrum blasted out to a silent hall, the hushed kind of silence made from a vacuum of hundreds of ears all listening intently, sucking in all sound.

And suddenly there Bowie was. Tony forgot to breathe. The man’s sheer presence filling the hall completely. Bowie was standing there utterly still, a cold hard presence in the centre of the stage as the band played on, bright orange hair gleaming in the overhead spotlights. The tension was unbearable, the baseline building and building to nearly orgasmic levels. Tony found himself staring up at Bowie unblinking, unnerved by the unnatural stillness that the man was exuding.

Tony could feel the bass thrumming through his very bones.

Finally Bowie moved. A motionless statue springing to life in a shocking instant.

“The return of the Thin White Duke throwing darts in lovers eyes…” blasted out in a powerful baritone.

Finally.

It was nearly blissful. Hell it was blissful. Bowie hardly moved, but with a voice and a presence like that he didn’t need to. The man stood his ground in the centre of the stage occasionally raising an arm to gesture.

“The return of the Thin White Duke making sure white stains…”

The opening song trailed off and Tony spent the entirety of the remainder of the concert in raptures at the music, and the ridiculously charismatic presence that David Bowie presented. The man was dressed in a well-tailored waistcoat and trousers ensemble, clutching at a packet of Gitanes cigarettes that he secreted in his waistcoat pocket whenever he fished out a smoke with his long elegant fingers. Bowie’s occasional grin was infectious; he was clearly enjoying performing for the audience, possibly almost as much as the audience were enjoying watching him.

The energy in the concert was utterly electric, the duo-guitar players fantastic, and Bowie a somehow looming presence that utterly domintated the stage despite being dressed relatively demurely when compared to his fellow bandmembers outfits, especially the bass guitarist’s purple frockcoat and huge tophat. He was a surprisingly slight man, but somehow his presence expanded and filled the entire room in a way that Tony hadn’t really felt before, except maybe when meeting the more powerful demigods from Asgard.

Tony was ridiculously impressed when the drummer, Denis Davis, pulled-off a 10-minute long solo in the middle of a dire apocalyptic song about the fall of Detroit complete with improvised lyrics that sounded suspiciously like a forerunner of rap. He’d had no idea that percussion could be so fantastic.

By the time Tony left the concert that evening he’d gone from being a tentative new fan, having been given most of his albums by Jarvis’ well meaning lack of understanding to a complete and utter convert.

The trio left the concert flushed and happy, and Tony realised that he’d likely remember that evening for the rest of his life. Tony kept humming bars from the songs they’d heard, Ana and Jarvis occasionally joining in as they made the trek back to the car. The experience had been on a par with the ACDC concert he and Rhodey had managed to score tickets for back when they’d still been at MIT.

Tony realised that he was genuinely looking forward to finding out what he should do next. He grinned up at the night sky from his position on top of Jarvis’ shoulders and let out an elated whoop.