Warnings:

1) This story is a continuation of the Avengers movie AU fic called Time-Traveler, and is sort of a companion piece to the Iron Man 3 tag-fic called Fixing Pepper.
2) This story is centered on an original character and contains elements of time-travel and 'future'-knowledge use. You may want to read Time-Traveler first, or you may get confused as to what is happening in the story.
3) This story contains elements of the Iron Man 3 movie, so this could be a spoiler if you haven't watched the movie. Which I really, really doubt, but just in case you haven't, you've been forewarned.

She can still remember the last time she felt this kind of fear, the one where her heart beats so fast it brings a roaring sound rushing through the veins around her ears. The one that has goose bumps breaking out on the back of her neck and her upper arms and the space between her breasts. The one that has the skin of her lower back loosing and tingling and her thighs feeling clammy and sensation becomes nonexistent from her knees to the tips of her toes.

This fear is an all-encompassing, paralyzing sort of dread that she'd hoped to never feel again.

Of all the people she'd thought could unravel her tentative plans to keep her family safe, he was the only one she ever had trouble with—which is ironic, because she's spent her entire life learning everything she could about him, and from what she'd been able to observe for herself in these past months, she's confirmed that the regular comparison her mother used to make between her and her father had been largely accurate. He had a history of leaping despite the dangers he could see, of going with an impulse despite the possible consequences he faced, and so did she. This similarity should've let her predict his next move, his next thought, but she hasn't.

Or rather, she can't. He is the progenitor of her innate unpredictability, and she thinks she has too much of her mother in her to be able to truly match him. And so, her father has thwarted her barely laid plans to keep him safe and alive by issuing a challenge, on live television, to the Mandarin.

"My name is Tony Stark," he says on the video playing on NY1 News, "and I am not afraid of you." Her eyes fall shut, squeezing tight at the brave, but thoughtless declaration. She doesn't need to hear the rest. Once was enough for her to drop everything and charter the jet, and every succeeding replay she hears only worsens the panic thrumming through her veins.

"Shut it down," she calls out, and the tablet blinks shut at her command. She's glad for the silence, because she really doesn't want to hear her father's speech all over again. Even though she understands why he was doing what he was doing.

The fact that Harold "Happy" Hogan had been hospitalized due to a Mandarin bombing confused her at first. He was supposed to become Pepper Stark's bodyguard this past June, not become head of security at Stark Industries. And Tony Stark never got involved with the Mandarin conflict; in fact, dismantling the Mandarin operation had been Uncle Rhodey's last assignment with the army, and it had taken them over a year to track the Mandarin down and end the whole affair.

The divergence of events from the history she knew boggled her until she realized what was missing: her conception. And since Happy had never been harmed in a Mandarin bombing in the history that made up her past, she knows for sure that the injuries he gained in the explosion was her fault. If she'd only known the effect her inexistence would bring…

God.

So why wouldn't her father be angry? Why wouldn't he be impulsive? She certainly was, and she was most definitely being impulsive now. Her intentions of staying away and protecting them from a distance wasn't working, so it was time to change the plan. Her goal now was to head to Malibu and keep her father safe until New Year, to ensure that he didn't die this time around.

The sound of the divider rolling down has her attention shifting, and she takes in a deep breath to gather her bearings before looking at the rear view mirror to meet the gaze of her unnecessary, but certainly not unwelcome keeper.

"We're pulling into the parking lot now," he says, and indeed, she can see main building of La Guardia looming nearby. "Anya, are you sure about this?"

This is the fifth time he's asked since she had him submit a flight plan an hour ago, and yes, she knows he's only asking because he's worried, but really, he's seen what she's capable of since the first week of their acquaintanceship, so why does he still bother doubting her?

The beat of her heart is still loud in her ears, but that is the sound of her fear of the consequences her father has unknowingly brought on him. She knows how this can end. She's determined not to let it come to that.

"Da, Vanya," she tells him firmly. "I am very, very sure."

Her first mistake is underestimating the Mandarin. Her second is avoiding the news.

By the time they touched down in Santa Monica, the beautiful cliff-side villa that had always belonged to her family was lying in ruins, and her worst fear was being run on every news channel in the country.

MANDARIN ATTACK: STARK PRESUMED DEAD

She takes a step back, staring at the destruction playing live on every television screen in the airport. Her lungs are suddenly bereft of air, replaced by a heavy weight that makes her feel like she's drowning in the sea alongside the rubble and debris of her favorite house.

"What do you want to do?" her companion asks, and a flood of ideas come crashing over her, vying to be the first thing she does in response to this attack on her family. To her father's murder, the one she still failed to prevent despite having anticipated it since she made her deal with Loki, despite eliminating the one responsible for the event the first time around.

She stills at the thought that perhaps he died because she removed the one who would've been responsible for his death.

Oh god. In the future that was her past, Tony Stark had died minutes before her birth, so she'd thought that taking herself out of the equation would solve the problem, would stop him from dying on December 31, 2011. But what if preventing her birth caused him to die twelve days earlier instead?

Or had something she'd done now caused his death this time around?

God. She'd thought that this would be simple, that erasing her existence would be the only move she had to make to save him from death. Was it really his destiny to never live to see her birthday?

Anna doesn't hear the strangled sound that escapes her, nor does she see the worry that widens her keeper's eyes when she turns away and disappears into the crowd within the space of five seconds. Impulse drives her now, and she can't stop herself from following through despite the live feed she'd just watched on TV, reminding her that Starks don't have the best track record when it comes to impulsive decisions.

But, as the word impulsive dictates, she doesn't even think about what she does next.

Anna feels her heart break at the sight of the ruined mansion. No, it hadn't been her childhood home (that honor goes to Stark Tower) but it was the house—the only house—that her parents ever shared. The house where J.A.R.V.I.S. first came alive. The house they as a family would've lived in had her father not died.

To her, that house held all the promises of a good life, and now…

Now it was gone. God.

She sweeps her eyes over the scene twice before she spots her mother, standing in what was once the foyer and staring down at… She shuts her eyes to block out the painfully raw sight of Pepper Potts pressing her forehead against one of the Iron Man helmets, feeling her chest tighten as failure overcame her.

Tony Stark was dead again, and this time, she had no do-overs to use to change the outcome. She had wasted her one chance to save his life, to give her mother the man she had—now would again—miss for the next twenty years.

She bows her head and sucks in a ragged breath, wondering what she was going to do now.

God. How could she make this right?

"Anna."

She doesn't need to open her eyes to see who slips into the space beside her. "Ivan."

Mercifully, he doesn't ask her how she's feeling or offer platitudes to try and comfort her. What he says instead is this: "What do you want to do?"

She sucks in a breath, the question grounding her enough to get her thinking again, and she looks up at him through misty eyes and answers, "I want their heads."

He smiles. "Then where shall we start?"

"The Mandarin," she says, turning her eyes back to the mansion, back to her mother, who was pulling the Iron Man helmet off her head and wiping tears off her face. Anna tears her eyes away before the sight could get to her again and returns her gaze to her companion instead. "This happened because Stark egged him on."

"I see," he nods. "Then I suppose it's only appropriate that we respond to his response, yes?"

"Oh, Vanya," she smiles, wide and dark and full of anticipation. "It's like you read my mind."

It takes her too long to find the information she needs, so when the Mandarin's broadcast signal leads them to Miami—Miami, seriously, what?—they arrive just in time to see a CH-47 Chinook and the newly repainted War Machine—oh sorry, Iron Patriot, Jesus, just what were they smoking—taking to the skies. Anna feels her gut clench, can tell that something is wrong, but it's not until they see James Rhodes jumping off a garden balcony to tackle another guy that she realizes what was wrong.

The Mandarin has command of the War Ma— of the Iron Patriot armor.

"Fuck," she says. And then an Iron Man suit comes out from one of the exterior hallways, the armor banged up and fails to takeoff when its driver tries.

Anna sees red.

Ivan grabs her halfway to the hacienda where the armor disappears to, and they grapple all the way down the hill they roll down from.

"It's him!" Ivan is screaming at her. "Anushka—" She punches him on the jaw, kneeing him in the gut and yanking at his hair to get him off her so she could get to the motherfucking bastard wearing her father's suit and kill him for desecrating what once was her father's— "Anna, it's your father!" Ivan yells again. "It's Stark! It's him inside the suit!"

And she stops. Unprepared for her sudden inactivity, Ivan gets in one last punch, and she's unable to bring her arm up in time to block the uppercut that makes her world go dark.

She wakes up two hours after everything goes down and repays Ivan for his folly. The duration of his forced nap is far less than hers, but she makes good use of her alone time and finds out which cameras and satellites were aimed at the battle site, hacking into each and every one of them. Which is why she spends the entirety of Christmas Day watching the battle that should never have happened over and over again from every available angle.

Poised on the edge of her seat, she watches her father perform what should've been fatal jumps and dives and come out only slightly banged up thanks to the suits he hadn't built when she existed. Heart in her throat, she watches her mother fall 200 feet into a veritable fire pit and come out from the flames unscathed and ready to fight. Lead forming in her belly every time she hits play, Anna imprints every second of it into her brain so that she would remember the consequences she brought onto her family by playing with history and fate.

Because all this shouldn't have happened. Because all this happened because she erased herself from the timeline and now didn't exist.

Because she had been a naïve idiot when she made that deal with Loki.

She knows Ivan wouldn't approve of what she's doing, wouldn't allow her to punish herself if he could, but he doesn't get a vote in this right now. She knows that she could've helped somehow if she'd been there, but she hadn't, and he's the reason for her absence in the fight for her parents' lives.

And she knows he knows what his fault is, because he keeps his distance for the next few days.

Oddly enough, after over six months of near-constant togetherness, Anna finds that his absence makes her apartment unexpectedly and stiflingly empty.

The bastard.

The day after Christmas, she receives a rather pleasant Christmas gift in the form of a phone call from her father.

"Anna-girl!" he greets cheerfully. "Just the girl I wanted to talk to."

She finds herself smiling despite the tug in her chest reminding her he doesn't know—cannot know—that she's his daughter. "Wow," she says into the phone, "barely one day since I revoked that restraining order—Merry Christmas, by the way—and you're already calling."

He gives a humorous chuckle. "I wanted to thank you in person, maybe write you a brand new Christmas carol as a personalized thank you, but something told me that wouldn't be a good idea just yet."

"You should listen to that something of yours," she says, knowing full-well that he was referring to J.A.R.V.I.S. "In fact, just because I lifted your restriction does not mean I suddenly want to see you any time soon."

Liar, Uncle Thor's voice reverberates through her head.

Shut up, she tells it.

"Lies!" her father calls accurately. "Oh, but anyway, quick question," he adds. "I just wanted to know, time-traveler to present-time dweller, do I ever have kids in the future? How many? Boy or girl? How many boys and/or girls? And," he says with an air of finality, "did you know them?"

Okay, that? Hit her right in the gut and thoroughly fucked up her thought pattern. It takes her a few seconds to recover from the surprise, which was pretty much the staple in regards to the majority of their conversations—or at least, the ones that revolved around the future. Before she forced herself to place the restraining order on him, they used to have pretty awesome talks about science and technology, which Anna was still deliriously thrilled about, but the future? Well, that just gives her a headache.

"Stark," she sighs, rubbing her forehead at the highly ironic question, "what part of never again did you not understand?"

"Sweetheart—" Her heart skips a beat at the endearment. "—you said you never wanted to see me again, which is why I call. Besides," he tacks on in a cajoling tone, "I know you didn't mean that and I forgive you for it. C'mon, Anna-girl," he whines, "just a little hint. Pleeeeeeeease?"

She huffs and clamps down on the laughter that almost follows and wonders if her mother had ever felt this conflicting mix of annoyance and fondness with her. "For the last time, I'm not a time-traveler from the future, which means I have no idea if you ever had kids," she lies, adds "Get that through your thick, crazy head, Stark" and snaps her phone shut hard enough to break it. "Fuck."

She glares at her broken phone for several long moments before retrieving the sim card, tossing the thing into the trash and heading into the bathroom to shower so she could go out and buy a new one.

On New Year's Eve, she hoofs it over to Grand Central and spoofs the Stark secure server into redirecting the security feeds from Stark Tower to her laptop. She's dead-set on watching every floor, because she's not about to leave things to chance, not with Tony Stark's original time of death drawing near. J.A.R.V.I.S. tries to block her, but twenty-one years of living with him around has taught her how to bypass him without sending up a red flag, so she gets the access she needs to keep an eye on her parents for the next few hours.

They're having dinner now, the two of them and Uncle Rhodey and Bruce, and for the first time since she's known him, she sees how open Bruce Banner can be without Betty Ross at his side. There's no audio—she wants to keep her presence in the network as minimal as possible—so she doesn't hear what her father is saying, but it makes his companions laugh. Her mother sets her glass down on the table as she tries in vain to hide her laughter with a hand, but Bruce is guffawing freely as Rhodey covers his eyes, clearly the embarrassed party.

Their private celebration goes on unhindered, and no one will ever know that when the clock struck eleven fifty-two, Anna had stood up and held her breath, waiting for something that will never come.

Not this time, anyway.

She sags in relief when the clock strikes midnight and nothing happens to her father, and she laughs to herself as she watches them greet each other a happy new year and toast their glasses together, even as a voice in her head reminds her that she should've been born within the next three minutes.

She trails her fingers over the screen where her would-be family was breaking into laughter and tells that pesky voice that this scene playing before her was worth the life she gave up to make it happen.

In the beginning of this mission she'd given herself, she'd thought that erasing her existence would save him from the death he faced.

Near the end, she started thinking that Tony Stark wasn't supposed to see the day his daughter came into the world.

After the end, she realized she had it right both times.