January 1992

Tony Stark wasn't exactly a gentleman. No, he was an infamous playboy who had broken the hearts of many women. Still, he wouldn't kick a woman out of his house, especially not before sleeping with her. Last night was an exception. What was her name? Emma? Emily? Emilia? He was too drunk to remember, and too mournful to care. Anyway, he had chosen her to take to his house after the party. They could have got it on anywhere they wanted. This mansion had five bedrooms, a pool, and a hot tub. They could have done it in the kitchen, the bathroom, on—or, in—one of the cars, or the couches. But she had wanted to do it on the piano instead. His mom's precious piano. Tony had said no, she had insisted, so he had kicked her out of the house. Now, he had woken up on said instrument, alone.

"Sorry, Mom," he mumbled, rolling from the piano on to the floor.

A thud, and then nothing. His mom wasn't here to accept the apology. The house felt awfully quiet. Jarvis was upstairs, but he was probably still asleep. Tony still couldn't believe his dad had sent him to an old folks home while Tony was studying abroad. He had defended himself saying he knew a "friend" who would take care of Jarvis better than any nurse or doctor could. Tony had no idea who his dad had been talking about, but it didn't matter. It was bullshit. After the accident, Tony had brought Jarvis home immediately, and hired the best nurse money could afford. Still, Jarvis slept a lot these days. When he was awake, he often sat in a chair by the window in his room, and read a book. If he felt strong enough, he would even take a walk in the garden, but those walks were becoming less and less frequent. Soon, Jarvis would leave him, too, just like his parents had. Rhodey had joined the Air Force. All he had left was Obadiah, who tried ridiculously hard to become a father figure to Tony. Like he could replace Jarvis… But the company needed someone capable and trustworthy, so Tony was willing to tolerate him. At least he was fun to mess with. But he wasn't Jarvis, and he would never be. No one could.

Too bad the great Howard Stark had died before he could find a cure for death itself.

He wasn't sure what time it was, but it was probably still damn too early to start drinking again. Also, the hangover was a bitch. The sunlight was hurting his eyes. His back was sore from sleeping on the piano. He scrambled to his feet, trying to ignore the dizziness, nausea, and the throbbing headache. He was hoping to make for the kitchen and fix himself some coffee when the doorbell rang.

At first, he thought it was either Rhodey or Obie, here to give him his daily dose of lecture on why he needed to start pulling his shit together. It had been two months since the accident—it had been only 39 days, actually, not two months—the company needed him, his dad would be devastated if he could see him right now, the usual crap… For a brief second, he wondered if he could ignore the door, but then changed his mind. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

But it was neither Rhodey, nor Obie. There was a basket on the doorstep, and inside a basket, a sleeping baby, covered in a pink blanket.

A prank, he thought. This must be a damn prank. He really must have pissed Emma off last night, and this was how she was getting back at him. He just hoped the bitch had borrowed a friend's kid or something, and not kidnapped a random baby. But he didn't think the blanket would be enough to protect her from the bitter chill of the New York winter, so he had no choice but to take the baby inside until someone came to claim her. Was it even a she? The blanket was pink, so he assumed it was. He gingerly grabbed the handle of the basket, and took her to the warm living room.

"Claire!" he called for the nurse. "Get down here, I need your help with something!"

The baby's brown eyes flew open, and she started crying.

Shit. How could he have been so stupid? He had woken the baby up when he had shouted like that.

"Please go back to sleep," he said, wondering how such a small thing could have such strong lungs. The cries were piercing his ears. The hangover wasn't helping either.

"What? Are you hungry? Don't tell me you need a diaper change…"

She just kept crying and squirming. Tony rubbed his temples. This morning was a nightmare. Really, it was just a nightmare. Perhaps he was still sleeping on the piano.

"Look, I'm sure you need something, but I got this terrible headache and…" He paused. He was trying to reason with a baby who looked like only several weeks old. He made for the front door again, opened it, and then yelled, "Alright, the prank's over! Whoever you are, just come here and take the baby!"

No reply came. Frustrated, he returned to the living room.

"At least don't die on me, okay? I don't want to go to jail."

"Oh, Master Tony, I don't think she'll learn how to talk today…"

Jarvis was standing in the doorway, still in his brown pajamas and slippers, with Claire behind him. Great, Tony must have woken him up as well… Claire helped him sit down on the nearest armchair.

"May I?" she then asked Tony, gesturing at the basket.

Tony didn't know why she had asked for his permission—it wasn't his baby, after all—but he nodded nevertheless. She took the baby, put a hand on her tummy and then sniffed her bottom.

"She seems fine to me," she said, giving her to Jarvis.

"I agree."

"Why is she crying, then?" Tony asked.

Jarvis shrugged. "Sometimes babies cry for no reason. In fact, you were quite a fussy little one yourself, Master Tony."

Tony smiled for the first time since he had woken up today. "It's just a stupid prank. If no one shows up in the next ten minutes, I'll call the police and…" His voice trailed off when he saw the look on the old butler's face.

"Miss Travis, can you please give us a moment?" Jarvis asked. Claire left the room.

"You don't think this is a prank…" Tony said as soon as the door was closed.

"No."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The baby had gone quiet, he suddenly noticed. Of course he knew something like this would happen one day, that a woman would come to him with a baby in her arms and say it was his. He just hadn't thought the shenanigans would start so soon.

He checked out the now empty basket for something like a birth certificate, or a note, but there was nothing.

He didn't think this was his baby. He wasn't an idiot; he was always careful. The last thing he wanted to become was a father. In fact, if he had to make a choice between fatherhood and celibacy, he would choose the latter. Well, maybe not really, but that was how much he dreaded fatherhood. Thankfully, they lived in an age of effective contraception.

"I don't think she's mine."

"Master Tony, you and I both know that there is only one way to be sure," he said softly. He had made a good argument.

"Right." He crossed to the phone. A paternity test was in order. He didn't care how much lecturing he would receive for this. He didn't want to go through this alone, and he couldn't drag Mr. Jarvis all the way to the hospital with him. The poor man needed his rest. So, he called Rhodey first, and then Obie, and told them to meet him at the hospital. He didn't give them the chance to ask anything.

Once it was done, he took the basket and held it out for Jarvis to put the baby inside, grateful that he didn't have to directly touch her.

Jarvis chuckled feebly. "She is just a baby, Master Tony. Don't be so afraid."

"I'm not afraid. I just… I don't want to hurt her." Indeed, he had never held a baby before. Babies seemed unnaturally fragile. Well, as an engineer, he had some experience with fragile things, but at least electronic components wouldn't die if you accidentally dropped them.

"Oh, I don't think you would," he said, with a meaningful smile, which only made the uneasy knot in his stomach—it had nothing to do with his long-forgotten hangover—only worse.

"I better get going," he muttered evasively, and darted out of the room.

…

She was his kid.

It was a bit funny, to see how his world could turn over so fast. But then, had the same not happened only 39 days ago? A phone call from Obie, a simple phone call he had answered without thinking much about it, and his parents were gone, just like that. He was the only Stark in the world.

And now, he wasn't.

"There's a couple in Maryland," Obie started, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a fatherly way. "Married for 15 years, can't have any kids… They're both lawyers, if you must know. They'll take good care of her."

Tony didn't ask him how he had been able to find a foster family so quickly. Obie had handled the police and the social services, kept this under wraps. Tony also felt like he had been keeping a list of childless rich couples for an emergency like this. For some reason, it angered him.

"Obadiah!" Rhodey scolded him. "How can you be so heartless?"

"Heartless? I'm being realistic here. What else is he going to do, keep the kid? He can't even take care of himself!" He then turned to Tony again. "No one's judging you. You're too young, Tony. This is the right thing to do. Besides, you have a reputation to think of. And a company. The rumors of a love child is the last thing you need right now."

Obie probably didn't realize what a great job he was doing at infuriating Tony even further.

"Tony, please just think about it! It's been a month since the accident, and now you found a baby on your doorstep. This is a sign, don't you see it? Your second chance to have a family. Don't throw it away." Rhodey was almost begging him.

"He's a playboy, Rhodes, not a family man."

"I don't know, I heard women find single fathers quite attractive, actually."

Obie laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, I'm sure he'll look quite attractive changing dirty diapers, with his hands covered in poop."

"He can pay someone to change her diapers. Stop trying to scare him."

"Give me a break!" Tony finally snapped, and stormed off. He didn't believe in fate. He didn't believe in divine signs. Right now, he didn't give a shit about the company or his reputation either.

His feet carried him to the nursery. A nurse was bottle-feeding her.

"Would you like me to teach you?" she offered politely.

"Thanks, I guess I'll just observe for now."

"Very well."

He just watched her in silence. Only a few hours ago, she was no different from any other baby who had ever existed. Innocent, fragile, even cute, but also loud, demanding, messy and absolutely not something he would want in his life. Now, he couldn't imagine a universe in which she didn't exist.

Once she seemed full, the nurse started rubbing her back gently, until she burped, and Tony found it adorable.

"There," she said cheerfully, wiping her mouth clean. "Are you going to take her?"

Well, he wasn't ready to actually take her, but the nurse had given him no other choice.

"It's alright. Just make sure you support her head."

Just like that, the little girl was in his arms. About two months old, 9.2 pounds, and perfectly healthy. She felt so soft, so warm, so delicate in his arms… He couldn't believe such a pure thing could come from him. And God, why did she have to smell so good? It was as if every single cell in his brain was screaming him to protect her at all costs. When their brown eyes met for the first time and she smiled at him like she knew who exactly he was, he felt like he had found a missing extension of himself that he didn't even know he needed until now. But it only lasted for a second. Then she yawned, and her head fell on his chest with a soft sigh. He didn't think he could ever forget that smile. Something inside him had changed irreversibly. For some reason, it scared him.

The nurse was tending to another baby now, and wasn't paying any attention to Tony anymore. He took a detour as he walked out of the hospital to avoid Rhodey and Obie. Those two didn't understand his struggle. There was only one person who would.

Gently, he put her in the basket that was sitting on the backseat of his car. His parental instincts had apparently kicked in. A part of him wished he could shut down that section of his brain, but another, more realistic part reminded him that even if he could do such a thing, he wouldn't. Nevertheless, on their way back home, he forced himself to think more logically.

Obie was trying to be a father to him, but if his father were here, Tony wouldn't even have a choice. His dad would skin him alive, then give the kid to a foster family, and Tony would never hear from her again. Even his mom (Damn, she wouldn't forgive him if he abandoned this kid… No, right now, he was being logical. Not a good time to think about his mom) couldn't convince him otherwise. Obie, on the other hand, couldn't force him to do anything. Not really. It didn't mean he was wrong, though. Tony couldn't even take care of himself. His life was a mess, and it would always be a mess. He was who he was. And soon, they were going to make him the new CEO. He was going to have more than enough responsibility on his plate. He didn't need a kid's responsibility as well. He didn't mean changing dirty diapers or warming baby bottles. Like Rhodey had said, he could hire a nanny for that part. But he knew hiring a nanny wasn't enough. If it were, his relationship with his dad would have been much different.

The paradox was, he was too scared that he would hurt this kid, but he couldn't trust anyone other than himself to take good care of her either. What if her foster family didn't love her enough? What if they couldn't protect her, and let someone hurt her? What if they hurt her? Seeing her cry for no particular reason was bad enough…

And what if she was a genius, too? Would those idiots in Maryland be able to answer all the questions she would have? Tony knew he could. The thought of being able to share his knowledge with someone excited him. If Tony and his dad had shared any sentimental moments, they were usually while building something together. It was cool if she wasn't interested in science or engineering, of course, but still… And if she was half as smart as him, she would eventually figure out who her biological father was. He tried to picture her as an angry teenager, asking him why he hadn't wanted her. He didn't like that thought.

But most of all, he didn't like the thought of her calling another man "Dad." He didn't want to share her with anyone. Like, ever.

He tried to imagine her as a teenager again, and himself scaring off her prom dates. Then he mentally slapped himself. She was going to be homeschooled. He couldn't trust any teacher or school with her mind. Were there proms for homeschooled kids? He had no idea.

Another mental slap. It wasn't for him to decide whether she would be homeschooled or not. He wasn't going to be the one to raise her. He was incapable of such responsibility.

A third, final mental slap reminded him to not to make any decisions before speaking to Jarvis first. On his way home, he made a quick stop to buy the immediate necessities like diapers and baby formulas, which would be needed until he made up his mind. He could worry about the other baby stuff later.

When they returned home, Claire said he was sleeping. Tony went to Jarvis' room with his baby. He was fast asleep, indeed. Tony took his place in the armchair beside the bed, and watched him. Jarvis seemed to have lost even more weight in the last couple of days. He was dying. With all the money and the influence he had, there was nothing he could do for the man who had been a real father to him. Everyone he loved was being taken from him these days.

He spotted the book on the nightstand, the one Jarvis had been reading, or rather, rereading, perhaps for the third time. The Remains of the Day. Tony hadn't read it himself, but he knew it was about some traditional English butler. No wonder Jarvis liked it so much.

"Ana," he mumbled in his sleep. "Ana, I missed you so much, my darling…"

Ana Jarvis. She would make Tony those delicious Hungarian pastries whose names he couldn't remember right now, and played hangman with him when he was bored. She was the first person he had lost. He was a little kid when she had died of a stroke. It had been so sudden, so unexpected… Tony remembered how he had cried his eyes out during the funeral, at least until his dad had shot him a cruel glare that told him to stop crying and act like a man.

Tony was on the verge of tears again, and although there was no one to judge him this time, he suddenly felt ashamed. He inhaled the baby's smell again to cheer himself up. It was almost intoxicating. Better—and surely, much healthier—than anything else had tried to feel good before. It was a trick, of course, to trigger his parental instincts, and make sure he would take care of this little human until she was old enough to take care of herself. But damn, it was working. Survival of the cutest, he thought.

"You're cheating. It's not fair."

She blinked at him. It was probably just a figment of his imagination, but Tony could swear that he had seen a hint of triumph on her face. A face that basically said, "Yep, you're mine now."

"Master Tony?" Jarvis was awake.

"Jarvis? How are you feeling?"

"Much better," he said, looking at the baby in Tony's arms.

They both knew that was a lie, but as usual, Tony was going to play along. "You look better."

With some effort, he sat up in the bed. Normally, Tony would help him, but his hands were full right now.

"So, she is…"

"My daughter." The words felt strange on his lips, but not in a bad way.

"Do you know who the mother might be?"

"No idea," he admitted. He was pretty sure she had been conceived while he was still a graduate student at Cambridge—he had dropped out after the accident and never thought much about it again—but, well… There were just way too many candidates, and he didn't think Jarvis needed to know all the details of his sexual exploits. Tony Stark wasn't as shameless as everyone thought he was. And he didn't want to exhaust him, so he cut to the chase. "Obie thinks I should give her to a foster family. He's already made an arrangement."

"With all due respect, Master Tony, I don't think you should let Mr. Stane make this decision for you."

"I know. That's why I came to you."

He smiled. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. But I know what I don't want to do. I don't want to give her away."

"Then don't."

"I can't do that either."

"Why not?"

He made no reply.

"May I?" he asked, extending his arms. Tony gave her to him. Funny, Jarvis didn't seem surprised to find out that there was a new Stark in town. In fact, it was as if he had been expecting her for some time. But of course, that was a ridiculous thought. There was no way he could have known.

Jarvis cooed her for a while before asking, "What is it that you fear so much, Master Tony?"

"I don't want to be like him."

Jarvis would never speak ill of Howard Stark. But he wouldn't pretend like his employer was a good father either. No, he was too honest for that. So, he would simply give Tony a meaningful look instead, like he did now. Then he returned to cooing her. She giggled. It could be the most beautiful sound Tony had ever heard.

"Jarvis, you always said my dad and I had much more in common than I knew. Do you think I'll be like him? Tell me the truth."

He looked at Tony again. "Sadly, I cannot see the future. I don't know what kind of father you'll be. I knew your father made mistakes, but I always thought time would heal all the wounds. What I didn't know was that there was no 'time.' Do you want to know the truth? The truth is, he died with many regrets. If you don't want to be like him, you must make sure you have no regrets. Look at her. She's the only family you have now. Do you really want to deny yourself the joy she will bring to you? If you give up on her, one day you will regret it, Mr. Stark. I know you will."

He had never called him "Mr. Stark" before. This was his subtle way of reminding him that Obadiah had no authority over him. Tony was Mr. Stark now. The name had a certain weight to it. And a sense of power. No one could take away Mr. Stark's only family from him unless he let them. He didn't know what his dad's regrets were, and he decided not to ask. This conversation was already too sentimental for him to handle. But at least he had made up his mind.

"Well, I guess Claire can help until I find a nanny. Damn, I'm going to have to read a lot of resumes tonight," he said nonchalantly to lighten the mood.

Mr. Jarvis's sunken face suddenly became more alive. He prepared to give her back to him, but then paused, like he had remembered something important. "Mr. Stark? Does this beautiful young lady have a name?"

Right, he thought as he scooped her into his arms again. He probably should call the lawyers, too, while he was at it. There would be some paperwork to be done. But at least he knew what he would name her. That was the easiest part, really.

"Ana," he said. "Ana Maria Stark."

Jarvis looked at him with a mixture of shock and gratitude. Tears brimmed in his eyes. No one had spoken that name out loud in years, knowing how painful it was for him. But Tony had wanted him to know that Mrs. Jarvis wasn't forgotten.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. Thank you."

A/N: This will be a collection of five one-shots that takes place in my Secret Sisterhood universe, but they can also be read as a standalone.