Chapter Text
The knock came at 8:00 AM on the dot, as if the person on the other side had been waiting for the number to change before rapping against his apartment door. Tony didn’t need a crystal ball to know who it was, and after the drama of meeting with Cap yesterday and Lab-gate the day before that, he was fresh out of fucks to give for the person on the other side of the door.
He shared a look with Peter, who was dishing up bowls of yogurt, fruit, and granola while he worked on braiding Morgan’s hair. Her legs dangled happily over the edge of the chair as he worked his fingers through her thick, long strands, attempting to tame them into the inverted french braid he knew she liked. He made no move to answer the door.
After another round of knocking, Morgan attempted to turn and look up at him and asked, “Daddy, are you going to get that? Mommy says it’s rude to keep guests waiting.” He tried to disguise his sigh with a weak smile, dreading whatever nonsense was sure to accost him the second he opened the door.
“Your mother, as always, is absolutely correct. However, this isn’t a guest.” He grimaced and then looked towards Peter. “Please tell me it’s just Howard.” Peter winced apologetically and shook his head. “Goddamnit.” He looked at Morgan. “Don’t repeat that word until you’re 40.”
She giggled and stuck her tongue out at him, and he responded by sticking his tongue back out at her, blowing a raspberry and then kissing her forehead.
He mentally debated not answering, but decided that this was a bandaid best ripped off in one fell swoop. He quickly finished up Morgan’s braid and as he added the bauble hair tie that she loved, he near pleaded, “Miss Stark, while I love the energy, please try and refrain from giving your grandparents any gory details about their murder, okay?”
“Yes, Daddy. Bland details only.”
Peter snorted behind him and gave her a high five. Tony really should have known better; she was way too smart for a five year old. He took a deep breath and blanked his face before opening the door and aimed for generic politeness. “Mom, Howard, good morning. What brings the two of you to Midtown?”
Maria looked at his bruise from Howard, a dark look passing over her face before she quickly covered it up with a bright smile and a brush of her lips against his cheek. Her perfume smelled like home and he didn’t have to fake his returning smile when he looked at her. “Good morning, Anthony. We’re here with breakfast, and some clothing and other miscellaneous items for the children.”
Tony looked down and noticed the Barney’s bags at his mother’s feet and another whicker hamper in Howard’s left hand. For Thor’s sake, how many whicker hampers did they have? He debated sending them back to the Upper East Side for a full moment before opening the door fully to allow them entry.
“Thank you,” he replied simply. They’d see the kids’ breakfasts when they came in and maybe absorb that he wasn’t actually as incompetent as they assumed.
Maria nodded towards Howard before she crossed the threshold into the apartment and he marveled at how subdued they were behaving. Howard, for the first time in Tony’s memory, was quiet, reserved, and deferred to Maria. He dreaded what that meant he was in store for. It was both surreal and bizarre to witness. They were clearly in uncharted territory. Not that he blamed them; he couldn’t imagine how jarring and upsetting it would be to one day have Peter and Morgan replaced with a 45 and 55 year old version of themselves.
Deciding to throw them a bone, he nodded towards Howard and reached out to take the basket from him while Maria quickly set her many bags down and gathered the kids in a tight hug. She smothered their cheeks in kisses like Mrs. Doubtfire and he took an entire moment to watch and wonder if she had been body snatched. If she and Howard both had been.
He shook his head in disbelief and turned back to his father, nodding in greeting while hefting the heavy hamper onto his counter next to the bowls Peter had prepared for their breakfast. “Howard,” he attempted congenially.
Howard’s response was a weird combination of a grimace and a grin, and it looked completely unnatural on his face. Gone was the indomitable weapons manufacturer and left was a man who was clearly feeling as wrong-footed as Tony himself.
“Anthony,” he responded, once again moving towards Maria and deferring to her lead.
He looked towards his mother just in time to see her unearth a collection of bone china plates with an intricate golden filigree, and for goodness’ sake, how utterly ludicrous. Golden bone china? For children? This wasn’t even her trying to be passive aggressive; this was just his mother. He suddenly flashed back to the gigantic rabbit he gifted Pepper once and wondered if it was his mother, not Howard, whom he inherited his inability to properly shop for anyone from. Was she why he was hopeless without J.A.R.V.I.S. and F.R.I.D.A.Y. tempering him?
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that some matching golden utensils would soon follow and he resisted the urge to dig through the Barney’s bag, scared of what else she had bought.
“Not that I don’t appreciate….whatever this is, but it’s really not necessary.”
Maria gave a pointed look at Morgan, who was currently wearing Tony’s Haunting the Chapel concert tee like it was a dress, and smiled sharply as she patted his cheek. “Of course, bambino, but I was at the shops yesterday and couldn’t help myself. You wouldn’t begrudge your mother the experience of spoiling her grandchildren, would you?”
“No, mammina,” he replied automatically. He could hear Peter’s faint huff of laughter behind him and he scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “If the kidlets come out of this dressed like characters from Oliver Twist, I’m going to have to protest.”
Maria placed her hand over her heart, dramatically aghast. “I wouldn’t dream of something so common. You might not have taste, Anthony, but the children and I do.” She placed her hand on the top of Morgan’s back, just below her neck. “Isn’t that right, darling?”
Peter, as if sensing that Tony was seconds away from popping off, interceded quickly. “Dad’s fashion might not be tasteful by your standards, but he totally set the bar in the future for what’s cool or not cool. I like his look.”
Maria turned to look at him speculatively and Tony didn’t need a mirror to know he was blushing, feeling both embarrassed and chuffed by Peter’s defense of him. “Is that so?” she asked faux-innocently, and there’s no way Peter would see her manipulative quarry for what it really was, but he was saved from having to respond by Morgan piping up.
“Is there something I can wear in the lab?” She asked, too well mannered to go pawing through the bags, though she was clearly eager to. Tony gave Howard and Maria the same dark look he gave Senator Stern when he tried to take the suit and silently dared them to say anything about his daughter’s place in the lab. He didn’t need to look at Peter to know he was giving them an equally loaded look.
He’s not above relishing how wrong-footed her innocent question caught his mother. She shared a brief look with Howard that communicated a thousand words before turning back to Morgan with a warm smile.
“I didn’t, piccola, and that was a terrible oversight. Maybe you, your brother, and I can go to 5th Avenue this morning and find something more appropriate while your father and grandfather chat.” She looked up at him with a deceptively innocent smile, and oh. Oh hell no. He’d been fucking played before he even realized they were playing a game.
Goddamnit.
Goddamnit.
He should have known better. She had never intended to stay and he walked right into it. He was too out of practice from dealing with them—her especially. “That,” he choked out, feeling like he was swallowing glass. He forced himself to smile and continue, “certainly sounds like an idea. Roo, Gadget, what do you think?”
Peter took a step closer to his side, subtly flanking him, his silence answer enough. And God bless that brilliant child. Tony loved the stuffing out of him. Unfortunately, Maria had the right idea. If he and Howard were going to talk, it was best to do it away from any witnesses. Who knew what kind of bloodshed their conversation would lead to?
“And then we can play in the lab?” Morgan asked, looking to both he and Peter.
Tony moved to crouch down in front of her, playfully tugging on her braid and smiling. “Yeah, baby girl, and then we can play in the lab,” he answered, silently daring Howard to say something.
Peter dragged him over to his dresser under the guise of getting something to wear and looked at him with concern. “I am not going to leave you here alone with him,” he whispered urgently.
“I don’t need a bodyguard, kiddo. I promise you it’ll be fine. Howard probably wants to talk freely about the time-travel-replacing-his-son situation without stressing out Mom and Morgan.”
“All the more reason for me to be here with you!” he argued fiercely, angrily tugging on Tony’s old boarding school polo. Tony quickly glanced back at Howard and Maria, who were very aware of their whispered conversation, but hopefully unable to hear the actual words.
And god, Tony loved his kid. He placed his palm on the side of Peter’s face and forced him to look at him. “Peter, I love you more than anything, but I need you to keep your sister safe today. Howard and I are definitely going to yell at each other, but he isn’t going to lay a hand on me. I’m certain of it. This is simply how we are and we need to talk this out. Can you allow me that?”
Peter’s face crumpled, his eyes deceptively bright with unshed tears, but he gave him a reluctant nod. “I don’t want him to hurt you again. He’s not supposed to hurt you.”
Tony didn’t have to feign his warm smile and he pulled Peter in for a tight hug. “He’s not going to, bud. And if he does, I promise to let Spider Man take his revenge, okay?”
Peter pouted but agreed, “Fine. I hate this, though.”
“I know, kiddo. But you’ll have fun with my mom today. Make sure you spend as much of her money as possible, no matter how uncomfortable it feels.”
Peter laughed, and then shook his head awkwardly. “I’m not going to do that.”
Tony grinned. “I’m serious! You should. It’ll be good for her. Let her have her fun, okay? And make sure Morgan doesn’t start a criminal empire.”
“Not without you, you mean,” he added cheekily.
“Obviously! It’ll be a family affair. You, me, and Maguna only. No outsiders. All crime.” He raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t I supposed to be teaching you not to be a criminal? I can’t remember. Morals were a bit fluid in the ’80’s and ’90’s.”
Peter gave him a theatrical sigh, and then faux-remorseful said, “To think, I used to try and fight crime. Now, being a henchman in her future criminal empire is all I know. She’s corrupted me.” Peter’s eyes were bright with amusement and he laughed, making Tony feel lighter for the first time since Howard and Maria arrived.
“She’s corrupted us all,” Tony agreed as they rejoined the others.
After Morgan was appropriately attired and Maria had ushered the children out, the door had barely shut behind them before Howard spoke.
“How did you die?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Howard, you don’t waste any time, do you?” he exclaimed, feeling winded at the shock of Howard somehow knowing. “Aren’t you supposed to be raking my ass over the coals for volunteering your lab to my five year old?”
“Are you going to be there with her?” he asked mildly.
“No, I thought I’d turn her loose and see how she handles herself,” he snapped, rolling his eyes. “Of course Pete and I will be there with her. I actually give a shit about her wellbeing.” Which Tony knew wasn’t fair to lob at him, but after a childhood of absence and abuse, it was accurate. If Howard wanted to talk, then Tony wasn’t going to pull his punches.
Howard’s jaw tightened at the slight, but to Tony’s fascination and annoyance, he didn’t engage. “Then it’s fine,” he said instead as he opened the hamper and pulled out a carton of milk, which Tony hated himself for being grateful for, because Peter had just finished off the carton Maria brought the other day. He put it in the fridge, along with a few other items Howard took out that needed to stay cold, waiting to see what his father would do.
“So,” he began again. “Am I right? You died?”
“Fuck! It is way too early for this.” He exclaimed, pulling at his hair, needing to look at anything but the sad compassion on his father’s face. After years of yearning for a shred of his consideration, to get it now, at the end of it all, made him angry.
“It’s disheartening to see your penchant for vulgar language hasn’t improved,” he added casually, as if sensing that Tony that needed to return to something familiar within their dynamic than actually meaning the barb.
“Neither has my penchant for giving a single, solitary fuck for what you think,” Tony gritted out through clenched teeth as he finished putting away the miscellaneous groceries. He turned back and glared at Howard as he set the now-empty hamper next to the front door, secretly grateful for his father’s comment returning them to their normal, familiar combative banter.
And then his father flipped the script again, because for the first time ever, he didn’t rise to the bait like he was supposed to. “It’s interesting to hear how your speech patterns have changed, even through your vulgarity.”
“Are you…what?” He looked heavenward, already exhausted, desperate for coffee, and wondering who the man in front of him was. “Are we really going to discuss how language has evolved over the last 35 years?”
“Would you rather you discuss how you died?” He responded flippantly. “So, you’re, what, 55? That makes you older than your mother then.”
“But not you,” he snarked, unable to help himself.
“Anthony,” Howard sighed, taking a seat at the garish table Maria had delivered. “Tony. I’m not your enemy; not today.” Tony couldn’t help but arch his brow in disbelief. Technically that was true, but in actuality? Debatable. “And yes, your silence is very telling and more than fair. What happened the other day was inexcusable. I acted reprehensibly and I’m sorry.”
For fucks’ sake. Tony did not have the mental bandwidth for this weird pantomime of a father-son conversation that they’d never once bothered with before. He knew Howard was trying, he really did, and a not-insignificant part of him genuinely appreciated it, but he couldn’t deal with this right now. Not when his every thought was occupied with his children’s safety.
“Look, Dad, I…appreciate that. I really do, but let’s skip the whole…whatever this is. Can’t you just send me a Hallmark card with something along the lines of ‘Hey, sorry I wasn’t Father of the Year. Mea culpa.’ instead? I’d be good with that.”
“Yeah, of course.” Howard clasped his hand on Tony’s forearm and nodded. It was the most paternalistic thing he’d ever done and Tony resisted the urge to simultaneously scream and snatch his arm away.
Howard removed his hand, as if sensing that Tony was about to fling it off (he was), and moved to grab one of the takeout containers, opening it to find what looked to be a delicious corned beef eggs benedict on a giant, flakey biscuit and home fries.
“At least let us have something to eat while you tell me how you ended up here. Your mother got junk food for you and the kids and healthy garbage for me, but since she’s no longer here to supervise, I am absolutely stealing one of the better entrees.”
Tony arched an eyebrow, not remembering his mother being particularly demanding about Howard’s diet, but seeing as how he’d had only a couple dozen of dinners with them—if that—since he was 15, maybe that had changed.
“Why on Earth did you go to the trouble of getting all of this if Mom planned on taking the kids?”
Howard shrugged amiably. “She wasn’t sure when she’d be able to get them out. Too many variables.”
Which made sense. Tony may have been off his game around them, but this was a two-way street. He sighed and reigned in his temper, recognizing that he was behaving like the immature brat Howard frequently accused him of being. He reminded himself that he was a fucking Iron Man and that he could handle a simple conversation with his decades-dead father.
He couldn’t help but snort in amusement at the thought that both of them were now dead, sharing a meal like this wasn’t the weirdest thing to ever happen to him and that it wasn’t his own facsimile of hell. He shook his head and sat down at his mother’s ridiculous table across from Howard and started to unbag the remaining takeout boxes his father hadn’t touched.
“Can’t you just sneak to Burger King for a cheeseburger like the rest of us?”
“Are you insane? Our entire staff is on her payroll!” he complained, his tone and body language light, like he was sharing a meal with a friend instead of the veritable stranger wearing the face of his disparaged son. “I asked my driver to swing by Katz’s the other week and he brought me to L’Abbee Ltd. for a salad instead,” he whined before taking an enormous bite, making a satisfied noise.
“Jarvis is even worse,” he continued, muffled through his chewing. Tony swallowed the reflexive urge to chastise him for speaking with his mouth full. “It’s like he gleefully eats that rabbit food Ana has started making him. He doesn’t just tolerate it, he likes it! It’s unnatural.”
Hearing his father mention Jarvis’ name so casually twinged something painful and longing in his chest, and he quickly dropped his hand into his lap, belatedly realizing he’d been rubbing his sternum over where the arc reactor used to sit. Thankfully, Howard didn’t seem to catch his nervous tic.
Tony was tempted to snark that the staff followed her orders instead of his because they liked her more than him, but Howard was genuinely trying and that wasn’t fair. “You know Mom’ll know immediately when she gets back. I could never keep that kind of shit secret from Pepper. I’d try, but she always finds out, and then she—”
“Gets that disappointed face, right?” Howard interrupted and finished for him, commiserating. “Yeah, it kills me inside each and every time.”
Tony smiled, accepting that he was officially in bizarro land sitting across from his father discussing disappointing their wives like it was normal and not making his skin feel like a million ants were crawling all over him, “Yeah, her ‘I expected more from you’ face is lethal. It’s easier to roll over than to suffer her disappointment, so I save my rebellions for the really big ticket items instead of eggs benedict.”
“Hey, you pick your battles and I pick mine.” Howard grinned shamelessly, reloading his fork. “That’s a problem for this afternoon’s Howard. Right now, I’m going to enjoy my hollandaise in peace,” he said, saluting Tony with his now-loaded fork.
When in Rome, Tony thought to himself, bemused. He picked a random container not particularly caring what its contents were. He was pleased to see a slice of quiche lorraine and grabbed one of his mom’s gaudy golden forks (which were as ridiculous as he suspected).
“You know,” he started, feeling slightly more relaxed and the tiniest bit charitable. “When I met you in ’70, I thought that you would have been fun to grab a drink with if we had actually been strangers.”
“Oh yeah?” Howard looked pleased at that.
“Yeah.” He nodded, smiling softly. “How did you figure it out, by the way? That’s been bugging me since I broke into your lab the other day.”
Howard sat back his chair and looked at him consideringly, head tilted in thought. “A few years ago—I think you were maybe 15? 16?—we were in an SI elevator headed to my office and you looked at me the same way. Not a facsimile, but the exact same way. Same mannerisms, same inflection, same expression.
“It threw me completely, because I had forgotten about Potts mostly—as I’m sure you wanted me to do—but, in that instance, I knew I had seen your face before. I racked my brain for days trying to remember where I had seen it, and then I remembered the random man I met back at Leheigh. It took me a month to uncover the security footage of our meeting and when I finally found it and watched it, the idea sort of cemented itself.
“The more I thought on it, the more I was unable to let it go. Then, the older you got, the more you grew to look and sound like him, until I decided to take the leap of faith and accept that it was you.” He relaxed back over his food, as if that was that.
“That’s…,” Tony shook his head, impressed. “I was with you for all of 3 minutes. How the heck did you clock all that?”
“You were genuinely surprised when you said my name, which belatedly helped me realize that it wasn’t yours,” he grinned. “And if anyone was going to figure out time travel, of course it’d be you,” he said plainly, as if it was normal for him to think Tony was impressive instead of the waste of space he usually did.
“Huh. Did you, uh, see anyone else in the security footage?”
“You mean your accomplice?” Howard asked with a knowing smile. “Yes, I saw the back of him, but he was much better at evading our cameras than you were. Big fella, hard to miss.”
Tony snorted. Yeah, Cap was always hard to miss. “In my defense, I wasn’t actually trying to evade the cameras. You would have noticed immediately if I were.”
Howard made an agreeing grunt and Tony smiled as they lapsed into a short silence, eating their meals. It didn’t feel awkward, as they both seemed to be lost in thought. Tony couldn’t stop thinking about how surreal it was to be back in 1990, and how satisfying it must be for Howard to finally get confirmation that he was right about their encounter in 1970.
“It’s weird looking like this again,” he confessed. “I don’t actually like it. You’d think I’d be over the moon about not having to deal with old injuries or aches and pains, but,” he shook his head and trailed off, looking at his unfamiliar hands. “My life has been erased. My work has been erased,” he frowned. “Everything has been erased. I don’t…,” he stopped, his throat choked with grief.
“I don’t want to be dead, but I don’t want to be here either,” he whispered, looking down at the table. “I want to be with my wife and kids in my own home, with my own lab, in my own world. Not this…whatever this is.”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must be.” Tony looked away from the naked compassion on his father’s face, unable to stomach it.
“I know it’s strange for you and Mom, too. It’d hate it if that happened to me with Pete or Morgan. But it’s not like you and I ever…” got along, he couldn’t say aloud.
Howard must have heard his unspoken words anyway, because he stood up and moved to the cabinet. Tony watched in confusion until Howard grabbed the bottle of scotch, two glasses, and poured them both a few fingers each. “You always did love stealing the good stuff,” he muttered, without any heat.
“I didn’t even like it as a kid,” he admitted. “I only did it to piss you off.”
Howard looked at him over the rim of his glass like he knew that, and gave him a rueful grin. “I know. It’s why I let it happen. Easier to ignore it than engage. Also, it was safer for you to get it from me than some unknown hooligan on the streets.”
Tony couldn’t help the shock of laughter. “Unknown hooligans? What is this, Once Upon A Time In America?” He shook his head, amused, and took a drink, not caring that it was just past 8 in the morning. “You know, I wasn’t actually the troublemaker you thought I was. Do you know how hard it was to get two masters and a PhD under the age of 21? I spent most of my time in the library and lab.”
“You were all over Page 6 a week ago. Don’t try and rewrite history.”
He rolled his eyes. “After 21, yes, I’ll allow it, but before? I had one friend. One. I went out by myself occasionally, but the papers made it look way worse than it ever was. I couldn’t enter a bar or club without someone taking a picture.”
Howard looked like he wanted to argue about the appropriateness of entering any bars and clubs under the age of 21 and being photographed intoxicated, but Tony knew he knew that would be the pot calling the kettle black, so Howard changed the subject instead. “Alright. So how do we fix this? I’m not above admitting that I’m not sure where to start.”
“How much do you know about the Infinity Stones?”
“Is that how you refer to the blue cube you absconded with in the ’70’s?”
Tony couldn’t suppress his smirk. “Yes, that is one of them. There are six in total. The blue cube is more widely known, er, universally that is, as the Space Stone. I think you know it as the Tesseract?” Howard nodded. “Right, well, how much do you know about the Tesseract and can I trust you to speak candidly?”
“You mean spill classified secrets?” Howard arched a brow, grinning, thankfully not taking offense to Tony essentially telling him to his face that he didn’t trust him to tell the truth.
“Obviously.”
“How much time do you have?”
Tony rested his elbow on the table and pressed his middle and index fingers against his temple, inhaling deeply and reminding himself to be patient. “The Cliffs Notes, then.”
“I feel like I know quite a bit and absolutely nothing.” Tony nodded, agreeing with that assessment of understanding (and not understanding) when it came to the vastness of an Infinity Stone. “I knew right away it didn’t originate here, though I couldn’t exactly advertise that back in the ’40’s. When Peg and I got S.H.I.E.L.D. up and running, it allowed me direct access to experiment on it. I always suspected that if I had better equipment to study it and replicate its energy signature, then it could have lead to limitless, renewable clean energy.”
“Badassium,” Tony confirmed, enjoying Howard’s furrowed confusion. “You’d have been successful if the technology was better. And you were right; it was the key to clean energy.”
Howard’s eyes widened with glee. “You did it, then?”
“Yup,” Tony nodded, pleased. “You can power an entire city with it. It’s really something.”
Howard shook his head, smiling. “Amazing. Well, after 40 years worth of testing, my conclusions were that as much as I could study and experiment, it was a drop in the ocean of what it was actually capable of, but I know that we don’t—or didn’t, rather, have the technological framework available to test it properly and really see what it could do.”
Tony nodded, suspecting as much. Truthfully, if he had done the same with the stone in his own time, he suspected that his conclusions would have been exactly the same—that neither one of them were smart enough to unlock the Tesseract’s true power and secrets.
“That sounds about right. So the Space Stone, or, the Tesseract, is one of six. Each stone has the power to do some planet-ending shit, and trust me when I say that you don’t want to see what happens when there’s more than one of them put together. Or all six.” He shuddered. “Let’s just say that it’s not a fun time. But back to the stones.” He took another long drink of scotch before he continued, needing the familiar burn to wash away the remnants of The Snap.
“The Time Stone,” he continued, “a stone that gives its user the domain over spacetime and the quantum realm of the temporal flow-state, is also on Earth. If I have my timelines right, it should be right here in New York. That’s my Hail Mary if my own design can’t get off the ground.”
“This is the design that brought you to me at Camp Leheigh?” Howard sat back in his chair, and Tony watched and marveled at how fast his father absorbed the knowledge and begun to spin his own ideas. He had the idle thought of wonderment of whether this was what it was like when dealing with himself. He had always run from the old assertions proclaiming how similar the two of them were, but maybe they weren’t so far off the mark after all.
“Got it in one,” he nodded.
“Absolutely amazing.” Howard’s bald amazement was utterly foreign, and as much as Tony wanted to soak it all up, it was too weird to comprehend.
“Well, you’re going to want to pump your excitement breaks, because Hank Pym’s research played a not-insignificant part of my breakthrough.”
“Ugh!” he groaned theatrically, setting his drink on the table so abruptly that some of it sloshed out. “That crazy fucker? Tell me you’re having me on.”
“Nope,” Tony answered. He debated asking Howard about what had happened between the two of them that lead to such an acrimonious association, but ultimately decided it was irrelevant and that he didn’t care. “The device can’t work without Pym Particles, as the quantum realm is an essential part of time travel.”
Howard grimaced. “Please, please, please tell me you already have them and that you don’t need more.”
Tony shook his head and grinned unapologetically. “Nope—we’ll need to acquire some more.”
“Fuuuuuck,” Howard exclaimed, before knocking back his entire glass, grimacing. He quickly poured another and Tony wondered if he should put the bottle away before it became a problem.
“Now who’s being vulgar?” He teased lightly, deciding to go ahead and cork the bottle instead of returning it to the cabinet. If Howard grabbed one more, he’d dump the rest out.
“When it comes to Hank Pym? There’s no such thing as vulgarity,” he grumbled, frowning deeply.
Tony couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped, enjoying the small, betrayed look Howard sent him. “You should hear some of the complimentary things he says about you.”
“That tosspot can get stuffed for all I care!”
“Are you really not able to see the black pot next to the kettle, Howard?” Howard rolled his eyes in response, but didn’t take another drink, so Tony counted it as a win. Apparently, monitoring Howard’s alcohol consumption was a habit in which he never let go.
“Anyway,” he soldiered on, “the technology is there to send the kidlets home, and there’s a plans B, C, D, and E if that doesn’t work, one of which includes wizards and the other Infinity Stone.”
He enjoyed Howard’s face when he said the bit about the wizards, watching him attempt to determine if Tony was being facetious or factual, because honestly, same.
“Okay,” Howard said, bypassing the wizards and taking another sip of scotch, “so what about you?”
Tony felt his face tighten and his stomach clench. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“I assume it’s nothing as simple as returning to a time before it happens and ensuring that it doesn’t?”
“No, it’s…unavoidable,” he grimaced. “Inevitable, even,” he said softly, thinking of Thanos.
“Inevitable?” Howard frowned. “I find that hard to believe. You invented time travel; surely this is nothing. We can fix this, workshop something.”
“No, Howard, it’s…,” He shook his head, looking out the window past the fire escape, the familiar lump of grief painful in his throat, stealing his words. “I can’t undo it. I wouldn’t undo it.” He looked back at Howard, directly in the eye and proclaimed, “I would do it again, if presented the choice.”
Howard sat back and examined him, assessing. After a long silence, he finally responded. “Peter. You did it to save Peter.”
Tony nodded, not surprised that his father had put it all together. “Yes. I did it to save Peter. Morgan and Pep, too. But mainly Peter. He was,” Tony trailed off, not able to put into words the horrors of what Thanos had done. His memory was nothing but dust disintegrating through his fingers.
Dust. Nothing. Lost.
“Gone,” Howard finished instead and Tony nodded, knocking the entirely of his own glass back, but not going for more.
They lapsed into another silence, but this one longer and more fraught.
“You’ve given up,” Howard said finally, but his tone held no censure, no judgment. Instead he looked sad and understanding, but Tony wasn’t sure what he thought he understood.
“No,” he started hesitantly, not sure how to articulate that he hadn’t given up, but if it came down to him or Pete? He’d choose Pete every time, not that he would ever expect Howard to understand that kind of decision. “But if it’s down to me or Peter, then I’m choosing Peter every single time and I could never, not once, ever regret that.”
“Believe it or not, I get that.” And Tony didn’t believe him, but if Howard wanted to pretend that he’d be willing sacrifice himself for Tony, then fine, because he didn’t have the energy to bring up the receipts proving otherwise to argue the point.
“Truthfully, I’m not sure how I’m even here. I knew I was going to die. Maybe even welcomed it, because it was the only option to keep Pete safe. I…I used all six stones at once,” he admitted and Howard inhaled sharply before he could continue.
“As the power burned through me, for an infinite moment, I understood everything. I understood the universe itself, the infinite branching timelines and string theory, M theory, and how everything worked and why, and then, almost as soon as it began, the moment was over and the knowledge was gone. I was everything and then nothing, and then I woke up here in a branched timeline looking prepubescent again.”
The mood was bleak and if Tony allowed himself to feel his emotions instead of intellectualizing them, he would have been sobbing into the bottom of his half-empty bottle of scotch. The silence was so deafening that the ticking of his wall clock sounded like a klaxon with each progressive tick.
“You’ve found yourself in a pickle,” Howard said at last, and Tony couldn’t help but laugh at the understatement.
“You could say that. I,” he started and then stopped, looking away, unable to face Howard when he told him his deepest fears. “I’m worried that your son is gone. I don’t…I don’t actually have a way back. I’m just…here. Just me. There’s not,” he shook his head, trying to find the words to describe what it was like. “There isn’t an additional consciousness of my past self. It’s only me up here, memories and all. I,” he confessed quietly, “I think he’s gone.”
“My son isn’t gone; he’s sitting right here in front of me,” he said confidently, and Tony had no idea where he found his confidence, because Tony’s chest was tight with anxiety. “Sure, you’re a bit more experienced than you were a week ago, but you’re still you.”
“I’m dead, Howard, take this seriously,” Tony snapped, not able to see how his father could be so glib about this. “I’m telling you that your son is gone, replaced by some golem specter, and you’re acting like he’s still here, but with a bit more experience. It’s not the same.”
“I am taking this seriously, kid, but you’re not able to see the forest through the trees. We’ve been sitting here talking for the last hour and you keep talking about your past self like he’s a different person. He’s not; you’re you. Sure there are differences, but not the stuff that matters. You’re who you’ve always been.”
Tony couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Jesus, Howard, did you really hate me so much that you don’t even care that your son is gone? For fucks’ sake! While you might not care, Mom sure as shit does. She demanded to know where he was the first night I saw her.”
“Hey, that’s not fair!” Howard defended fiercely. “I care about you just as much as your mother does, but I refuse to delineate between who you were and who you are, because you’re the same fucking person. If my choice is between you dead or you alive, then obviously I want you here!” His declaration rang hotly through the silence, echoing in Tony’s ears, before he continued, lighter. “Besides, this just means that we’ve got more time to workshop something so we can prevent it from happening again in the future.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping staving off what was sure to be a righteous tension headache in a few hours. He got up and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen he kept next to the sink and swallowed a few tablets dry. “Mom’s not going to see it that way.”
“Let me handle that. Your mother doesn’t think the same way we do, and don’t give me that look,” he snapped without any heat when Tony couldn’t keep the annoyed disbelief off his face. “We’re more alike than you care to acknowledge. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Tony frowned, but conceded the point. Instead, he sighed and sat back down. “Well, however we think, Mom’s definitely not going to be okay with this.”
“Have more faith in her; she’s going to be fine. I mean, sure, she’s going to be riding you to give her grandchildren nonstop now until you make it happen again, but she’ll be more devastated about losing them to the future than losing the child you used to be.”
“I am literally older than her now,” he said unimpressed and with extra annunciation, as if that would somehow drive his point home through Howard’s impossibly thick skull.
Howard grinned and then clapped his shoulder, “But you’re still not older than me, kiddo.”
He snorted. “That is not the victory that you think it is, old man.”
“Sure it is! You’re still my kid no matter how old you are. Tell me it would be any different for you with Peter and Morgan. Actually, don’t even bother, because we both know I’m right.”
“You’re insufferable,” Tony exclaimed, rolling his eyes theatrically and without any heat. “I suddenly have so much more sympathy for Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy. Is this what I’m like? I don’t know how they could stand it.”
“Same way your mother stands me—with lots and lots of patience. And new dresses. So many new dresses.” His smile was friendly, and even through the tense words of earlier, Howard was still here, still trying. Before, one of them would have already walked away.
“Tell me about your girl,” he prompted, changing the subject.
Tony couldn’t help but smile, grateful to talk about not just anything else, but about the best thing to ever happen to him. “I don’t deserve her.”
“Well, we’ve got that in common, then. I don’t deserve your mother, either.”
“She’s a statuesque goddess. Taller than me with hair the color of a Pacific sunset.” He thought of Pepper’s warm, welcoming eyes at the end of a long day, a cold glass of chardonnay ready for them to share. Her steady hand holding him together when he’d spin out. Her patient understanding when he ran repeatedly into a wall. She was his everything and the prospect of doing anything without her made him want to scream in agony.
“She sounds like a helluva broad. Is she the ‘Pepper’ you mentioned earlier?”
“Miss Virginia Potts,” he nodded, smiling when Howard lit up at the realization of where the name came from. “But to me, she’s just Pepper. I was a real bastard when we first met. I have no idea why she stuck around, but I’m eternally grateful that she did. She didn’t just transform the company, she saved it. Saved me, too.”
“What’s she do at the company?”
“I made her the CEO and she turned Stark Industries into a global empire. And none of that was me—it was all her. She’d say something stupid about how it was my inventions and intellectual property and yadda yadda yadda, but I promise you it wasn’t, because nothing I make would be worth anything if Pep didn’t know how to get it out into the world.
“And get it out she did. In fact, if anything, I made her job a million times more difficult because I’m, well,” he looked at Howard sheepishly. “You know how I am. But Pepper took it all in stride and handled anything and everything I threw at her. You’ve never met a more elegant executioner in a boardroom, either. She’s absolutely ruthless.” Just thinking about his wife stepping on the necks of other CEOs and board-members, crushing their jugulars with her custom Italian heels got him hot.
“What happened to Obie?”
Tony frowned at the memory of his odious late godfather. “If you say one word against me for making a woman my CEO, then I’m going to—”
“Anthony, will you calm down?” Howard rolled his eyes as he interrupted him. “I don’t care that you made your gal the CEO; your mother wouldn’t have married me if I did. I’m simply curious as to why SI’s second isn’t the CEO if you aren’t, that’s all. Not that you’ve got a woman leading the charge. If she’s even half of what you’ve just described, I’d step aside and make her the CEO myself, and that’s only if Peg didn’t snatch her up first.”
“Oh.” Tony scratched the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious, not having expected his father’s blasé reaction about making his wife the CEO. He had always assumed that decision would have had Howard rolling in his grave, so it was an unexpected surprise to find that he was fine with it.
“Uh, he decided to engage in treason instead. He sold our weapons to terrorist regimes around the world behind our country’s and company’s back, waged war on innocent civilians, paid a terrorist group to kidnap and kill me, and when that didn’t work he attempted to finish the job himself.” Howard’s eyes were the size of metaphorical dinner plates, and Tony couldn’t help but wince. It wasn’t a story he had ever thought he’d need to share with his father. “It was a whole thing. But don’t worry, I murdered him instead. It’s all good.”
“He what?” Howard was white, his hand gripped so tightly around his glass that Tony wondered if he should pull it out of his grasp to prevent it from shattering.
“Yeah,” he winced sympathetically. “I’d go through your books and contacts with a Titan Krios, because a simple magnifying glass won’t cut it when it comes to that oily fucker. I’m not sure how much damage—if any—he’s done so far, but if I were you, I’d follow up with extreme prejudice.”
“That sonuva—”
“But Obie aside,” Tony interrupted, not wanting to hear his father’s tirade about how blind he’d been, because while he felt genuinely sympathetic, that wasn’t something he cared to deal with again, “his treachery ended up being the best thing that could have happened to the company. We shuttered the weapons division and went full throttle behind defense and tech. Those ‘worthless robots’ you chastised me for wasting my time on,” he couldn’t help but smirk at that, “made the company billions, and all of it blood-free. We were on track to become the first trillion dollar empire helmed by a woman when I,” he cleared his throat. “Well, when I left.”
Howard sat back in his chair, struggling to absorb what Tony had revealed. His face was a complicated picture of remorse, regret and some shades of guilt thrown in for good measure, but none of the anger Tony was expecting. And he wasn’t trying to be an asshole or to goad his father into anger, but he knew dismantling everything his father had spent his life working towards would be a tough pill to swallow, no matter the profit margin.
“Look, it’s not your fault,” he tried to assuage. “I don’t blame you about Obie—not anymore. Hell, you should have seen some of the assholes I put my trust in whom I definitely should not have. You were the product of your upbringing, just as I was. World War ll made you hyper-vigilant about keeping people safe and using weapons to do so. You’re a protector and you decided to use the biggest stick to do that. I’m a futurist, and I tried to build a shield around the world.
“We were both wrong. The future isn’t weapons or shields, it’s Peter and Morgan. They’re better and smarter than the both of us ever were.”
“You weren’t exaggerating in the lab the other day; you really did raze my empire to the ground,” Howard said quietly, contemplatively.
Tony couldn’t help but pale, having forgotten the words he’d thrown at his father in anger the other day. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I burned it all down.”
Then Howard shocked him. “I’m glad.”
“You’re….you’re what?” A feather could have knocked him over. Of all the reactions he had imagined over the years after Afghanistan, when he dismantled nearly everything his father had built, he never once thought this could have been Howard’s response. Not even in his wildest dreams.
“I’m proud of you.”
“I…what?”
“I’m not so naive as to think that what I’ve created hasn’t hurt people, but I only ever wanted to help keep our country and our troops safe. Weapons and defensive equipment were the only way I knew how to accomplish that. It was never my intention to have your hands as bloodied as mine.” Howard set his fork down and looked him directly in the eyes. “I am so very proud of you. Of what you’ve accomplished and the way you’ve carved your own path—it’s incredible. I’m in awe of you.”
“Howard, I…” Tony sat back, stunned. He felt like he was at a loss of words. He had longed to hear those sentiments for so many years of his life, to believe them, but now that he’d finally heard them, he realized how meaningless they rang, how hollow they felt after everything he’d accomplished on his own. “I don’t care; not anymore. I did when I was actually 20, but we both know that you were never proud of me.
“Now, I don’t need your validation or approval for doing the right thing. I learned to live without it a long time ago. I might look like a kid, but I’m a grown-ass adult and your good opinion no longer matters. As long as my family is proud of me, my kids, that’s all I really care about. But I’m not sure that’s something we have in common.”
“Your family.” Tony didn’t relish the deep frown on his father’s face, the pain his words caused him. He hadn’t said it to hurt him, he said it because it was his truth.
“Yeah, the one I built for myself when you weren’t there.”
The silence in the apartment was deafening, which made the loud, sudden ringing of his phone that much more jarring. He startled, and quickly got up to answer it, grateful for the reprieve.
“Yes?” he asked gently, assuming it was his mother checking in with the kids. “Have you lost one of them yet?”
“Tony? Tony!” Rhodey’s tinny voice came from the other end, and Tony’s heart soared at the sound of his best friend’s voice. “Thank fuck you finally answered. What is it with you and your refusal to pick up the goddamned phone? And who lost what?”
“Rhodey Bear? I thought you were my mother. You know I always pick up my phone for you, Sugar Plum. Have you been trying to call? What time is it over there?” Was he still in Sarajevo? Was he safe? Tony thought he could hear the sounds of war in the background, but Air Force base camps were usually farther away from any live conflict.
“Do you know how difficult it is to call your prima-donna ass from Bosnia? And then for you to either not answer or have your phone disconnected? You’re killing me, Tones.” The way he spoke, Tony couldn’t help but wonder if this was his Rhodey. He didn’t dare hope, but he was desperate to know.
“Well, you know me, parties to attend, people to see. Been hanging out with some new kids these last few days. You’d like ‘em,” he said, hoping that Rhodey would pick up on the double meaning.
“Oh yeah? Tell me about ‘em.”
Tony smiled, his confidence growing that this was his best friend, not baby Rhodes. “One of ‘em loves swinging, if you catch my drift.”
Rhodey snorted and Tony couldn’t help but mimic his relieved breath. “I hope you mean from building to building.”
“Platypus? That’s exactly what I mean.” A million thoughts raced through his mind at what this meant and why it was happening. How was Rhodey here? Why? Did the stones send him too? Did he use them after Tony died? What was happening?
“Oh, thank god. Pepper?”
For the first time all morning Tony felt like he could breathe. Pepper. Was she here too? He hoped with everything inside of him that she was. He knew they couldn’t speak freely, not with Howard sitting next to him and the lack of a secure line, but for one shining moment, none of that mattered because he was talking with his best friend. His best friend.
“I don’t know yet. Workshopping that.”
“Fuck, Tones, what is going on?” Rhodey paused, then said softer, the bad connection crackling loudly between them, “I had a wild dream 4 days ago and have been trying to call you ever since.” And Tony’s heart raced at the dates aligning with his own little adventure into 1990.
“Me too, Sour Patch, me too.” He couldn’t wait to have his wingman back. “When are you next on leave?”
“Not until December.”
“Fuck.”
“I know!”
“I’ll figure something out. I’ll…I’ll see if Howard can arrange something,” he said, wincing as he glanced over at his father, who raised his brow at that statement. “I don’t quite have the clout yet to pull that off myself.”
“Is he—” Rhodey started, then immediately cut himself off, struggling with what he could say on a party line. But Tony knew what he meant. He always knew.
“I don’t know. It’s…I don’t know. I’ll figure something out; you know me. I’ve got this handled. When can you next call?”
“It won’t matter if you don’t pick up your fucking phone, Stark!” Tony grinned, not needing to see him to picture the affectionate-exasperated-relieved face that only Rhodey made so perfectly.
“You know that’s what F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s for.” He couldn’t help the thread of amusement he felt over how confused their audience members were over their conversation and how to anyone else, it would sound like they were speaking in code, when in fact they were speaking plainly.
“Yeah yeah, I can call again on Sunday. Same window of time.” A loud voice sounded from behind Rhodey, telling him to hurry his ass up and get off the phone. “Tones, I gotta—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “But real quick, before you were dreaming, did you—I mean, like me, did you?”
“No. No I didn’t. Just you.” And Tony had no idea what the implications of that meant in the scheme of this whole mess.
“Just me,” he confirmed.
“Just you.”
“Fuck. Okay. I’ll. Fuck. I’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah,” Rhodey said sympathetically. “I’ll try and call you Sunday.”
“Sounds good, Second Lieutenant Rhodes. We’ll be here waiting,” he said, carefully annunciating the ‘we,’ knowing Rhodey would pick up on it.
“Tony?”
He smiled softly, hearing the smile in Rhodey’s tone. “Yes, Honey Bear?”
“I am so glad to hear your voice.”
“Me too, Platypus. Talk to you soon.” As he hung up the phone, he slumped against the wall.
“Shit.” He heaved a sigh and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Fuck!”
“Anthony?” his father’s voice was tentative and hard to hear through the cacophony of noise roaring in his ears. His mind raced with what Rhodey’s call meant and he pushed off the wall and started pacing. He didn’t die like Tony, but he still woke up in 1990. Did this mean Pepper was here too? Happy? May? How did they get here? What did it all mean? Was this something that could be fixed?
Did he want it to be fixed?
“The kids. If I can’t send them back to the future, they’re going to need papers, socials, identity, the whole works. Peter got into Columbia and MIT. He’s amazing, smarter than the both of us, and obviously I’m camp MIT, but I want the kid to be happy and I don’t have a ton of pull at Columbia, well, I mean, I used to, but not while I’m a 20 year old fuck-up—”
“Anthony—”
“—So he may have to settle for MIT, but I’m certain you could grease the wheels of Columbia if he really wants that one instead—”
“Anthony—”
“—And Her Little Miss is not in traditional school yet. Pep and I were going to homeschool her until she tested into high-school and then send her to Midtown Tech, which is Peter’s school—”
“Tony!”
Tony’s stream of thought ground to a halt and his head snapped over to look at Howard, annoyed. “What?” he snapped. “This is important and I need you to step it up for me for once in your goddamned life. They need a support system, and obviously I’d rather not have that be you, but they need your resources if they’re going to—”
“You’re not a fuck up,” he said simply.
Tony couldn’t stop the disbelieving noise that escaped his throat. “Howard, you’re the one who taught me that I am.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll take that shame with me to my grave. I…I’m so proud of you that I don’t even know how to tell you, I don’t hardly have the words for it, but I am. And I thought that…well, it doesn’t matter. I was wrong. I was wrong, and I messed up, and I apologize. You’re not a fuck up. I’m the one who fucked up, not you.”
And Tony looked at him, unable to form coherent thoughts or words, too panicked about what Rhodey’s call implied and what Peter’s description of the future meant, and what that could possibly entail for his children and his family, and the air suddenly vacated his lungs, leaving him breathless and gasping. He searched for something to say, but felt the walls closing in on him, suffocating him.
“I can’t do this right now. You want to make it up to me? Then get me a phonebook for Philly,” Tony said as walked straight out the door, slamming it behind him.
~~~