AN: Any recognisable dialogue belongs exclusively to the Marvel Studios and Walt Disney Studios; Marvel Cinematic Universe


The Road to Hell (is Paved with Good Intentions)

Tony Stark; genius, billionaire, philanthropist. Tony, because Howard wanted a son, Natasha, because Maria birthed a daughter instead.


Chapter II – Exposure


Her heels echo off the concrete.

The hole they've thrown him in is dark, dank and cold; it reminds her uncomfortably of Afghanistan and she straightens her back, pushing that realisation into a corner of her mind filled with things she would rather forget.

"We ran his prints. We got nothing back, not even a name." The Warden, a balding man in an ill-fitting suit, tells her in French.

"Where are we going?" She asks, and inwardly winces, her accent grating even to her own ears. She's still fluent, but she's rusty and she can only imagine how sloppy she's gotten with the other few languages she was taught as a child.

"Over there." The Warden answers; he barely reaches her shoulder and has to trot to keep pace. "We're not even sure he speaks English. He hasn't said a word since he got here."

Tony nods. "Five minutes."

The Warden shakes his head. "Miss I cannot allow-"

"You can." Tony disagrees, gesturing to the door. "And you will."

With clear reluctance, the Warden motions for the door to be unlocked. "Five minutes." He agrees finally, and the door is opened.

Tony enters slowly; the room is larger than she expected, lit dimly with fluorescent lighting and a few degrees colder than the dismal corridor. He looks uncomfortable, half hunched over a bench at the far side of the room; they've stripped him of what little was left of the orange jumpsuit after the Arc powered skeleton burnt through it, leaving him only in his underwear. Cruelly, she thinks it's an indignity he deserves.

"Pretty decent tech." She murmurs, stepping further into the room. "Cycles per second were a little low, you could have doubled up on your rotations." Tony leans nonchalantly against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, level with the bench he sits on. "You focused the repulsor through ionised plasma channels. It's effective. Not very efficient… but it's a passable knock off."

Despite the jabs, he remains silent, an increasingly smug expression growing on his face. She wants to smack it off him, demand to know where he stole the designs that saved her life and created the Iron Woman. "I don't get it." She says finally. "A little finetuning and you could have made a solid pay check. You could have sold it to North Korea, China, Iran… or gone right to the Black Market." She eyes the cuffs on his wrists, the shackles on his ankles and the chain that binds them together – she sneers. "You look like you've got friends in low places."

"You come from a family of thieves and butchers." He says in heavily accented English, a cruel smile blooming on his lips as he stares at her. "And now, like all the guilty, you try to rewrite your own history and you forget all the lives the Stark family has destroyed."

He says her name like a curse, and she kicks off the wall, moving closer to the chained criminal, trying furiously, to ignore his poisonous words. "Speaking of thieves, where did you get this design?"

He smiles. "My Father. Anton Vanko."

"Well, I've never heard of him." She says, stepping toward the door; she's had enough.

"My Father," he begins again, "is the reason you're alive."

Tony stops. "The reason I am alive is because you had a shot, you took it and you missed."

"Did I?" He asks. "If you can make a God bleed, then people will cease to believe in him, there will be blood in the water… and the sharks will come. The truth? All I have to do is sit here and watch as the world consumes you."

Tony shakes her head and turns to face him. "And where will you be watching the world consume me from? That's right, a prison cell." She returns to the door. "I'll send you a bar of soap."

"Hey Tony." He calls, as she knocks for the door to be opened. "Before you go. Palladium in the chest… painful way to die."

She hears his laughter as she leaves, pushing through the crowd of curious men standing outside the door, his words ringing tauntingly in her ears.


"It's just unbelievable. It proves that the genie is out of the bottle and this woman has no idea what she's doing. She thinks of the Iron Woman weapon as a toy. I was at a hearing where Miss Stark, in fact, was adamant that these suits can't exist anywhere else, don't exist anywhere else, never will exist anywhere else, at least for five to ten years, and here we are in Monaco realising, 'These suits exist now.'"


"J.A.R.V.I.S what have you got for me?" She asks, leaning back in the Roadster, the comfortable ruby seats the inspiration for the colour of the suit.

"Anton Vanko was a Soviet physicist who defected to the United States in 1963." J.A.R.V.I.S begins. The A.I brings forth numerous articles as he speaks, shuffling them forward and back, magnifying the grainy pictures and the ominous titles. Soviet Scientist Vanko defects. "However, he was accused of espionage and was deported in 1967." Soviet Scientist Accused of Spying. Vanko Guilty! Soviet Physicist Deported.

Each article is more damning than the last, but there's a traitorous, awful part of her that wonders; how much of what was written... was true? "His son, Ivan, who is also a physicist, was convicted of selling Soviet-era weapons grade plutonium to Pakistan and served 15 years in Kopeisk prison." Scientist Arrested for Selling Plutonium. Russian Physicist Convicted. "No further records exist." Ivan Vanko Dies in Prison Escape Attempt.

She stares at the holograms until the words begin to blur and her head begins to ache; Ivan Vanko was not a good man, this she knows, but she can't help but wonder, just how big of a hand her Father had, in sending him down this path. Tony sighs, on the list of questions she'll never have answered by her Father, this doesn't even make the top ten.

"Tony, you gotta get upstairs and get on top of this situation right now." Rhodey's voice echoes in the silence, but she's exhausted, spent, and has no desire to listen to a lecture – so she remains, staring at the screens with Ivan Vanko's mugshot staring back at her. "Listen." She hears the door close, and Rhodey's shoes click. "I've been on the phone with the National Guard all day, trying to talk them out of rolling tanks up the Pacific Coast Highway, knocking down your front door and taking these. They're gonna take your suits, Tony, okay? They're sick of the games. You said nobody else would possess this technology for twenty years. Well, guess what? Somebody else had it yesterday. It's not theoretical anymore! Are you listening to me?" He grabs her shoulder and forces her to look up at him; his face twists and she recognises the worry in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Tony shrugs. With Ninety percent of her blood poisoning her, she thinks it's frankly a miracle she doesn't look worse. "Let's go." She says softly and scoots across the seat, opening the door and stepping out. Her legs give out after the first step – she clutches at the Roadster's door in an attempt to avoid the concrete floor.

Rhodey's at her side in an instant, lifting her easily despite their similar stature. "Hey, hey! You all right?

Tony leans on him heavily. "Yeah, I should get to my desk." She murmurs, berating herself internally; she wasn't usually such a masochist, the core in her chest should have been changed hours ago. "See that cigar box?"

Rhodey nods. "Yeah."

"It's palladium."

Rhodey sits her down and reaches for the Cigar box. Tony drags her shirt up and over her shoulders, letting it hang on one arm as she twists the Arc Reactor and removes it easily from her chest.

The palladium core pops out, and Tony glares at it hatefully even as she reaches for the core in Rhodey's hand. He hesitates."Is that supposed to be smoking?"

"If you must know," she begins slowly, every action without the reactor in her chest requiring maximum effort, "it's neutron damage. From the reactor wall."

He lifts the reactor from her hand and pulls the still smoking palladium core out. She watches his face as he examines it; worry is still present, but it's lined with an undercurrent of fear. "You had this in your body?" Tony doesn't answer, but she can feel his eyes burning on her back; he'd seen. The lattice of raised black veins spreading further with every percentage on the blood toxicity reader... it's the only true outward indication that this time, it's something more than a bender, something more than a fucked-up headspace or her raging daddy issues. "And how about the high-tech crossword puzzle on your neck?"

Tony lies easily, and without remorse, despite knowing Rhodey won't buy a word of what she's selling. "Road rash."

"Uhhuh." Rhodey nods but hands the reactor back despite her unfulfilling answer.

"Thank you." She says finally, as the Arc Reactor splutters back to life in her chest. She pulls her shirt back on, breathing just a little easier as she reaches for the solution J.A.R.V.I.S synthesised. She can still feel his eyes on her as she takes a sip. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm looking at you." His voice is no louder than a whisper, but in the absolute silence, he might as well shout. She risks a glance over her shoulder, and immediately regrets her decision; he looks… devastated. "You wanna do this whole lone gunslinger act and it's unnecessary. You don't have to do this alone."

"You know, I wish I could believe that." Tony replies softly. "I really do. But you've gotta trust me. Contrary to popular belief, I know exactly what I'm doing."

He doesn't believe her; it's broadcast plainly in the disapproving set of his jaw and the folding of his arms. It's unsurprising, his disbelief in her lies and she can't blame him because she is winging it and she is isolating herself.

"Okay." Rhodey says finally and she grimaces – he shouldn't have to bury another friend. It's no consolation, she thinks, that this time he'll at the very least, have a body to bury. "Okay."


"If this was your last birthday party that you were ever going to have… how would you celebrate it?

"I'd do whatever I wanted to do. With whoever I wanted to do it with."


Tony reclines in the inside of the donut, her head aching and her body the same.

J.A.R.V.I.S with pettiness she doesn't remember programming, unhelpfully replays the recorded footage of the destruction wrought at the Malibu Mansion, the clash between Rhodey and herself more damning than any of the shenanigans she was reamed for by her A.I's namesake in her youth. "Enough J.A.R.V.I.S," she groans finally, "I am well aware of what occurred last night, I do not need a replay of the highlights."

"Whilst we are on the topic of lights Miss Stark, I have organised for a contractor to come at the earliest availability." J.A.R.V.I.S speaks, and idly, Tony wonders just when she allowed J.A.R.V.I.S to change his volume at will. "Next month."

She rolls her eyes and removes her helmet, popping another powdered donut into her mouth. Any other time she'd perhaps find it amusing that she's being punished by her Artificial Intelligence system... but her head throbs and she just wants to eat her damn donuts in peace.

"Ma'am! I'm gonna have to ask you to exit the donut."

Tony almost falls out of the giant ring. She peers over the edge and groans audibly, setting aside her half-eaten box of donuts she swings her legs over the edge. "You've got to be fucking joking."

"Inside Stark." Fury demands and feeling like scolded school-girl, Tony palms her helmet and drops, landing in an easy crouch. She follows a few steps behind as he strolls casually into the Diner; she's more than a little envious of the way he commands attention, even when there is no attention to be received. He directs her to a booth and not waiting for her acceptance, slides into the booth first, reclining easily in the corner. "Coffee?"

The seat creaks as she drops into it and she nods, accepting the offered cup. Tony doesn't speak until she's drained three-quarters, her hungover mind unwilling to truly deal with Nick Fury without coffee in her lagging system. "Y'know, I've already told you I don't want to join your super-secret boy band." She says without preamble; it's a bold-faced lie and they both know it, Natasha Stark was never and would not ever, be approved for the Avenger Initive – and why would she want to be?

"No, no, no. See, I remember, you do everything yourself." Tony rolls her eyes as he speaks. "How's that working out for you?"

"It's… It's… It's…" She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I don't wanna get off on the wrong foot. Do I look at the patch or the eye? Honestly, I'm a bit hung over. I'm not sure if you're real of if I'm having–"

"I am very real. I'm the realest person you're ever gonna meet." Fury snaps, tired of her babbling after only a few seconds.

"Just my luck. Where's the staff here?"

Fury leans forward and hooks a finger in the neck of her suit and drags her closer to gain a better look at the high-tech crossword puzzle. "That's not looking so good."

"I've been worse." She lies with a nonchalant shrug.

Footsteps echo in the empty Diner but Tony ignores them, returning her focus to her coffee; it's probably Phil. "We've secured the perimeter, but I don't think we should hold it for too much longer."

Tony looks up, the voice striking in its familiarity. "Ohhhhhh." She groans."You're fired."

Natalie raises a brow. "That's not up to you."

"Oh, by all means." Tony grumbles sarcastically as Natalie sits.

"Natasha, I want you to meet Agent Romanoff."

"Can't say I'm entirely surprised." Tony declares and drains the cup. "Your dresses were too tight."

Agent Romanoff frowns. "So are yours."

Tony shrugs. "It's my company."

"Once we knew you were ill, I was tasked to you by Director Fury." Agent Romanoff continues, ignoring Tony's previous comment.

"Of course, you were." She grumbles, glaring at the man across the table.

"You've been very busy." Fury begins, unaffected by the glare. "You made your personal assistant your C.E.O, you're giving away all your stuff; you let your friend fly away in your suit!" He leans forward. "Now, if I didn't know any better…"

"You don't know better." Tony snaps, despite knowing Fury is right. The chrome suit Rhodey misappropriated is one of a kind; it was made, especially for him. If she's going to die, then Rhodey's taking up her mantel. "I didn't give it to him. He took it." It's the truth; only, because she hadn't yet had the chance to gift it to her best friend.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Fury held up a hand. "He took it? You're Iron Woman and he just took it? The little brother walked in there, kicked your ass and took your suit?" He looks to Agent Romanoff. "Is that possible?"

Agent Romanoff shakes her head and Tony shifts her glare to the imposter. "Well, according to Miss Stark's database security guidelines, there are redundancies to prevent unauthorised usage."

"How many of my systems did you get into Rushman?" Unauthorised usage, she scoffs internally. It's her suit, she can allow anyone she damn well pleases to use it. "What do you want from me?"

Fury raises an eyebrow. "What do we want from you? What do you want from me?" Agent Romanoff stands, and Tony keeps the spy in her peripheral vision. "You have become a problem, a problem I have to deal with. Contrary to your belief, you are not the centre of my universe. I have bigger problems than you in the Southwest region to deal with." Romanoff returns, and Tony sees a glint of silver in her hand. "Hit her."

Tony tries to duck, but her sluggish mind refuses to comply, and she's jabbed harshly in the side of the neck. "Oh, God, are you gonna steal my kidney and sell it?" She heaves, and suddenly finds that her breathing becomes easier, the burning in her chest receding to a dull ache. "Could you please not do anything awful for five seconds?" Tony demands of Rushman and returns her glare to Fury. "What did she just do to me?"

"What did we just do for you? That's Lithium Dioxide. It's gonna take the edge off. We're trying to get you back to work."

Tony recognises a quick fix when she sees one but reaches for it like a drowning man reaches for the shore. "Give me a couple of boxes of that. I'll be right as rain."

"It's not a cure, it just abates the symptoms."

Fury shakes his head. "Doesn't look like it's gonna be an easy fix."

Tony rolls her eyes. "Trust me, I know. I'm good at this stuff. I've been looking for a suitable replacement for palladium. I've tried every combination, every permutation of every known element."

"Well, I'm here to tell you, you haven't tried them all."

She raises an eyebrow and waits for an explanation; it doesn't come. "Are you going to elaborate or…?"

"Sir," Rushman, Romanoff, whatever her name is, interjects, "we need to move, we have held the perimeter too long as it is."

Fury nods. "Is the nest secure?"

"The nest?" Tony asks.

"Yes Sir." Agent Romanoff nods. "Agent Coulson has his agents stationed and ready."

Fury stands, sliding from the booth easily. "Think you can find your way home without causing an international incident Natasha?"

Helmet on and visor down, Tony glares at Fury, the suit's eyes glowing. "Don't call me Natasha, Nicholas."

She stalks from the diner, Fury's patronising laughter ringing mockingly in her ears and is in the air in an instant; this is where she is meant to be, safely encased in the suit, flying at hundreds of miles per hour… the closest to free she'll ever be.


"Higher, Further, Faster baby."


The nest, as it turns out, is her Malibu Mansion.

She loops the perimeter, Coulson's black suited Agents stand at attention, living statues guarding the boundary of her property and, she finds as she lands, multiple points throughout the mansion. The armour opens, and she steps from the suit, her slacks rumpled, and her silk shirt torn. She gingerly picks her way through the mess; chunks of concrete torn from the ceiling litter the floor, shards of glass from the blown-out windows, cables hang, ripped and torn from the walls.

"Fuck me." She murmurs as she finally enters her suite; it's just as trashed as the rest of the mansion, her bed broken in half and her windows similarly blown-out, but she finds her ensuite intact, and gratefully peels her clothes from her body and steps into the shower. The water refuses to heat, and she shivers under the spray, not for the first time regretting that she programmed J.A.R.V.I.S with all the sarcastic wit of his namesake.

"Miss Stark, Director Fury has arrived and is waiting for you in what's left of the foyer."

The water cuts out, and Tony scowls at the ceiling, J.A.R.V.I.S having control of the mansion working against her. "Good, let him wait." She replies, eyeing herself critically in the mirror. She looks sickly, just a little too pale and a little too thin to be well. With shaking fingertips, she traces where puckered skin meets metal. Would it have been easier, she wonders, if she had died in that cave in Afghanistan?

Dressed now, in an obnoxious silk robe she'd rather die than admit belonged to her Father, Tony plasters a disarming smile on her lips as she strolls into the foyer, finding Fury lounging comfortably in a chair dragged from the deck. "Comfortable?" She asks, dropping into the empty chair beside him. He nods regally, and she rolls her eyes. "I believe you were going to give me an explanation."

Fury leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That thing in your chest is based on unfinished technology."

Tony shakes her head, disagreeing immediately. "No, it was finished. It has never been particularly effective until I miniaturised it and put it in my…" She taps her chest.

"No." Fury refuses. "Howard said-"

"Howard said." Tony scoffs.

"Howard said," Fury repeats, "that the arc reactor was the stepping stone to something greater. He was about to kick off an energy race that was going to dwarf the arms race. He was on to something big, something so big that it was gonna make the nuclear reactor look like a triple-A battery."

"Just him," She asks, "or was Anton Vanko in on this too?"

"Anton Vanko is the other side of that coin." Fury answers, gesturing with his hands as he leans toward her. "Anton saw it as a way to get rich. When your father found out, he had him deported. When the Russians found out he couldn't deliver they shipped his ass off to Siberia and he spent the next twenty years in a vodka-fuelled rage. Not quite the environment you want to raise a kid in – the son you had the misfortune of crossing paths with in Monaco."

It grates on her, the way Fury speaks as though he knows exactly what occurred between her Father and Vanko; is it memories he speaks from she wonders, or knowledge gained the same way she attained hers, through copious government databases and newspaper articles. "You told me I hadn't tried everything." Tony steers the conversation back to what was said at the Diner. "What do you mean I haven't tried everything? What haven't I tried?"

"He said that you were the only person with the means and knowledge to finish what he started."

Howard Stark, who hadn't even bothered to turn up to her M.I.T graduation, said she, the daughter he never wanted, was the only one able to finish his greatest unfinished piece of technology… it's unbelievable. "He said that?" She attempts to confirm.

"Are you that person?" Fury asks, sidestepping her question. "Are you? 'Cause if you are, then you can solve the riddle of your heart."

"I don't know where you get your information, but he wasn't my biggest fan."

Her scepticism in Fury's words must have shown, for he leans back in his chair and changes tactics somewhat. "What do you remember about your Dad?"

"He was cold, he was calculating." She gestures aimlessly, unsure how to continue. "He never told me he loved me. He never even told me he liked me, so it's a little tough for me to digest when you're telling me he said the whole future was riding on me and he's passing it down. I don't get that." She laughs sardonically. "You're talking about a guy whose happiest day was when he shipped me off to boarding school."

"That's not true."

"Well, then, clearly you knew my Dad better than I did." She mutters, and downs her glass; it's only water, sparkling though it may be, it doesn't have the burn or taste she craves.

"As a matter of fact, I did." She thinks he couldn't have dug the knife deeper into her heart if he tried. "He was one of the founding members of S.H.I.E.L.D." Fury says, checking his watch.

"What?"

"I got a two o'clock."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait." Tony demands, hurriedly rising alongside Fury. "What's this?" She asks, when two more suit-clad Agents appear, placing a large container at her feet.

"Okay, you're good, right?"

"No," She shakes her head, "No, I'm not good."

"You got this? Right?" Fury asks, a smirk rising to his lips. "Right?"

"Got what?" She exclaims as he turns his back. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to get!"

"Natasha will remain a floater at Stark with her cover intact."

"Natasha?"

Fury continues as though he didn't hear her, shrugging on his jacket and gesturing to Phil. "You remember Agent Coulson, right?"

"Yeah?" She answers, bewildered.

"And Natasha, remember…" Fury says, turning back to her. "I got my eye on you."

Tony stares after him, fighting the urge to gape as Fury wanders off, and Natasha sidles up beside her.

"We've disabled all communications. No contact with the outside world."

"You can't do that." Tony snaps, annoyed.

Natasha grins. "I just did." She looks to Phil. "Good luck."

She leaves without a backwards glance and Tony throws her hands up as Phil stares at her impassively. "Is this some kind of sick joke?" Fury's right hand doesn't answer, even as Tony fixes him with a mutinous glare. "Fine, send one of your goon squad for coffee; none of that Starbucks crap, I want a café made, honest to god cappuccino ASAP."

Phil shakes his head, and Tony decides she's taking him off the Christmas gift registry for good. "I'm not here for that. I've been authorised by Director Fury to use any means necessary to keep you on premises. If you attempt to leave or play any games, I will tase you and watch Supernanny while you drool into the carpet. Okay?"

Tony scowls. "I think I got it, yeah."

Agent Coulson nods. "Enjoy your evening's entertainment."

He too leaves, and childishly, Tony pokes her tongue out at his retreating figure before turning and glaring at the plastic container at her feet.

Property of H. Stark

"Hey! Tweedledee and Tweedledum," She calls to the two nameless Agents stationed a few feet away, "If Fury wants me to figure this out, that box needs to be moved inside. Get to it boys."

Somewhat surprisingly, the two men comply, easily lifting the container and following a step behind her as she directs them downstairs to her Lab'. Glass litters the steps and she sighs, thinking perhaps she should keep a contractor on the Stark Industries payroll permanently.

"You can put it down over there." She points to the carpeted area to the far left of her lab. They place it down gently and step back. "Thank you, Gentlemen. You know, I'd tip you, but I think S.H.I.E.L.D. would frown on that."

The men remain aloof and she rolls her eyes as they leave; boring, she thinks as she sinks to her knees beside the plastic container. She opens it without ceremony, the latches falling away easily – it's… not… what she expected, after all Fury's talk of secrets and riddles. Blueprints she recognises as the Arc Reactor in its earliest stages bare both her Father's name and Anton Vanko's, yellowed newspaper clippings she identifies as the very same J.A.R.V.I.S showed her days ago, a flyer for the original Stark Expo, film reels marked with dates she doesn't know the significance of and notebook after notebook, filled with her Father's elegant handwriting. But it's not these that cause her to sit back on her heels, a sharp jab of pain striking through her heart, no, it is two pristine copies of the original Captain America comic books, emblazoned with the face of a man her Father had never forgotten, but failed to find. She knows his name, remembers his story from the tales Edwin spun as he tucked her into bed as a child or Auntie told when she'd scraped her knee and asked for a reminder on how to be brave… before, she grew to resent the man her Father loved so much more than she.

She sets the comics aside and slowly gets to her feet, intent on finding the old projector she knows is down here somewhere. It's stashed away, the outdated technology still in pristine condition, hidden out of sight on a shelf filled with forgotten machinery. Her Father's voice soon reverberates and though it's been years, Tony feels like a child again as she listens, inadequate, unwanted, useless, in furthering the Stark legacy.

"Everything is achievable through technology. Better living, robust heath and for the first time in human history, the possibility of world peace. I'm Howard Stark, and everything you'll need for the future can be found right here."

She flips carefully through the pages of an old notebook, the year 1945 is emblazoned in the top right corner of the outside cover and on the inside, sketch after sketch of the same cube alongside dimensions and calculations surely far ahead of her Father's time.

"City of the Future? City of Tomorrow? City of…" Her eyes flick to the screen as her Father shakes his head and returns to his first position. "I'm Howard Stark and everything you'll need in the future can be found right here. So, from all of us at Stark Industries, I would like to personally… Natasha, what are you doing back there? What is that?" She looks up again as her name is called and watches as her younger self winces, a tiny model building held in her hand. "Put that back. Put it back where you got it from! Where's your mother? Maria?" Tony's hoping for a glimpse of her mother all golden blonde hair and high cheekbones, but it's an assistant that retrieves her younger self… she tries not to be disappointed. "Go on. Go, go, go, go."

"All right, I think we got the uh… I'll… I'll… I'll come in and…"

The film flickers, the screen blanking for a moment as the projector whirrs and the next film starts. Her Father is sitting now, a crystal tumbler of what she presumes is the Whiskey he so favoured, in his hand.

"Are you waiting on me?"

A countdown begins, and the scene changes again. "So, from all of us at Stark Industries, I'd like to personally show you… my ass. I'd like to… I can't… This is… I can't… We have this, don't we? This is a ridiculous way… Everything…is achievable through technology." Tony sets the notebook aside when she reaches blank pages, her Father obviously never again continuing this line of work. She rubs at her temples, feeling a headache coming on; this stuff, this junk is useless, filled with half-finished thoughts scrawled messily in the margins of notebooks and inventions her Father never saw realised.

"Natasha?" Her attention returns to the projector so quickly she fears she's given herself whiplash. Her Father leans against the diorama of the 1974 Stark Expo. "My little Antionette... You're too young to understand this right now, so I thought I would put it on film for you. Some days I fear I will not live to see you grow the woman I know you will become, but I need you to know. I built this for you. And someday you'll realise that it represents a whole lot more than just people's inventions. It represents my life's work. This is the key to the future. I'm limited by the technology of my time, but one day you'll figure this out. And when you do, you will change the world. What is and always will be my greatest creation… is you."

The film ends, her Father's soft smile branded across her mind as the projector dims and she's left in the dark. All at once, her sadness turns to anger; why couldn't he have shown even an ounce of this pride when she was a child? What is and always will be my greatest creation… her glass joins the rest of the debris littering the house, shattering into shards when she throws it at the wall opposite.


"When Miss Stark announced she was indeed Iron Woman, she made a promise to America. We trusted that she would look out for us. She obviously did not. And now we learn her secretary, a woman named Virginia 'Pepper' Potts, has been appointed as C.E.O of Stark Industries! What are her qualifications? She has done little to manage this terrible disappointment dealt by Tony Stark and you have to wonder, should we leave the Iron Woman weapon and Stark Industries in such incapable hands?"


"Pep, Pep, Pepper!" Tony exclaims into the phone. "Pep please, just trust me okay, this is going to be fine!"

"No Natasha this is not fine! Do you even understand the fires I've been trying to put out? Do you know how hard it is, when all you are doing giving me is gasoline?"

Tony winces, and waves her hand at the Agent's turned delivery men bringing in what was left of her affects from the office that is now Pepper's at Stark Industries. She was intending to go herself, but the very idea of Pepper's ire stoked and focused in her direction was unappealing to say the least – her self-preservation instinct may be damaged, but it isn't entirely broken. Tony stops, her eyes widening and her head tilting to the side as she spies the 1974 Stark Expo diorama, miraculously intact and being placed carefully in the middle of her Lab; she cups a hand around one eye. "Pep, I'm sorry, I've gotta go." She says absently, hanging up amidst Pepper's aggravated protests. What was it that Howard said?

"Gentlemen, thank you for your time, I can take it from here." Tony speaks, dismissing the still lingering Agents. "J.A.R.V.I.S." She begins again as she heaves the heavy glass case off the top of the diorama with the less than helpful aide of U and Dum-E. It's covered in a thick layer of dust, but, it's just as she remembers. "Could you kindly Vac-U-Form a digital wire frame? I need a manipulatable projection."

J.A.R.V.I.S scans the model, slowly but surely mapping the diorama building for building, sidewalk for sidewalk, tree for tree – layered with the blue projection, Tony thinks the piece her Father built suddenly beautiful. "1974 Stark Expo model complete, Ma'am."

She lifts her hands, and the projection rises with them. "Uh, how many buildings are there?"

"Am I to include the Belgium waffle stands?"

Tony rolls her eyes at the ceiling and turns, letting the projection hover in the clear area before her. "That was rhetorical. Just show me." With a snap of her fingers she directs the projection to spin and lift upright as she retrieves her wheelie chair. "What does that look like to you J.A.R.V.I.S?" She asks as the projection stills, the centre of it hovering before her in the air. "Not unlike an atom." Tony murmurs, reaching forward. "In which case the nucleus would be here. Highlight the unisphere." She traces it with a finger, J.A.R.V.I.S helpfully turning the aforementioned area gold and expands it within her hands. She rolls backwards, and stares at the projection contemplatively. "Lose the footpaths. Get rid of them." She swipes them away.

"What is it you're trying to achieve, Ma'am?"

"I'm discovering… uh, correction. I'm rediscovering a new element, I believe." She rakes a hand through her hair, wincing as she tugs a knot loose. "Lose the landscaping, the shrubbery, the trees." Each order is accompanied with a flick of her hand, erasing the irrelevant areas. "Parking lots, exits, entrances. Structure the protons and the neutrons using the pavilions as a framework." J.A.R.V.I.S does so, and she clasps and unclasps her hands, expanding the unisphere once more. Sitting in the centre of the blue and gold nucleus projection, Tony fights the urge to laugh. "Dad… dead for almost twenty years, and still taking me to school." She claps, and the projection shrinks until she can hold it between her thumb and forefinger.

"The proposed element should serve as a viable replacement for palladium." J.A.R.V.I.S intones.

Tony allows herself a smile. "Thanks, Dad." She whispers.

"Unfortunately, it is impossible to synthesise."

Tony laughs. "Don't be such a downer J.A.R.V.I.S! Get ready for a major remodel, fellas. We're back in hardware mode."

She doesn't sleep; she's got mere days left on her clock and so she makes every hour count as she jackhammers through layers of concrete, runs cable after cable and pays exorbitant amounts of money to get what she needs delivered within the day. Until finally, she's ratcheting the last bolt into place and praying that the bubble in the level will move just that little bit to the left.

"You broke my Perimeter."

Tony shakes her head, unconcerned as Phil enters the now remodelled Lab. "Wrong, I hired delivery men."

"You are incorrigible."

She rolls her eyes. "I've played nice with your Agents, hell Phil, I even tried to tip them."

"What's this doing here?"

Tony glances over her shoulder and scowls. Clutched reverently between shaking hands, Phil stares shocked at the bare-bones prototype shield, the iconic red, white and blue of Captain America. Tony hates it on sight.

Still… she gestures Phil forward, adopting an oblivious air. "That's it, bring that to me."

"You know what this is?" He asks and she's almost offended; it's a stupid question really, does Howard Stark's daughter recognise Captain America's shield.

"Uh huh, it's exactly what I need to make this work." She pulls the shield from his hands and spins it easily. "Lift the coil." Phil hesitates. "Go, go, put your knees into it." She demands, and slides the shield into place, unable to ignore the petty satisfaction that shoots through her watching the prototype buckle as the coil straightens. She grins. "Perfectly level. Anyway, I'm busy. What do you want?"

"Nothing." He shrugs. "Goodbye. I've been reassigned. Director Fury wants me in New Mexico."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Fantastic? Uh, Land of Enchantment."

Agent Coulson nods. "So I'm told."

"Secret stuff?"

"Something like that. Good luck."

Tony drops her gaze, fiddling with the level. "Goodbye… and thanks."

Phil nods again. "We need you."

"Yeah, more than you know." She quips.

Phil smirks. "Not that much."

She shakes her head as he leaves, and returns her attentions to the coils, inserting the prism and attaching a wrench to the wheel to aide in turning it. Leaning over the nearby console, Tony locks the key into place and smiles as the coils begin to hum.

"Initialising prismatic accelerator." J.A.R.V.I.S intones, and the hum turns into a high-pitched whirr. Tony strains against the wrench, the rattling of coils as the energy coursing through them grows making it difficult to maintain her grip. "Approaching maximum power."

At J.A.R.V.I.S's statement, she pulls, the wheel the wrench is attached to turning slowly, the whirring becoming a high-pitched screech. The beam cuts deeply into the wall, a fire sparking along the line left behind. "Whoops." She mutters, quickly moving to the other side of the wrench so she can push. The beam dissects a mustard coloured cabinet she doesn't remember ever filling and burns halfway through the bookshelf next to it before it hits the triangular core. The sound changes again, the piercing noise growing louder and louder until all she wants is to clap her hands over her ears and cover her eyes to block the almost blinding light emanating from the creation of the new element. She reaches forward to cut the power, but the switch refuses to engage.

Panic floods her veins. "J.A.R.V.I.S! Override!" She shouts, the noise growing louder again. "Shut it off J.A.R.V.I.S! Shut it off!"

"I am afraid my attempts will be futile Ma'am."

"Just keep trying!" She grits, abandoning all attempts to turn the wheel, and ducking behind the coils. She screws her eyes shut behind her safety glasses and presses the heels of her hands against her ears, trying and failing to block out the sound.

Tony's stomach turns and suddenly everything… is silent.

"J.A.R.V.I.S?"


"How many did we win?"

"One."


Fourteen million six hundred and five possibilities… fourteen million six hundred and four losses.

The emerald bands around his wrists complete another turn and Stephen Strange makes his decision; Thanos and his children, they can have this reality. He can have this team scattered and broken across the universe, he can snap his fingers and erase half of all life… but for as long as the Time Stone is suspended in the eye around his neck, Stephen will not allow just one possibility, where they win.

They've noticed him now, his power slipping and his head snapping roughly from left to right and he sees her; angry, disillusioned, ruined by the war and heartbreak – even in the aftermath, in the endgame… it won't be enough.

"Strange!"

"United we stand…" The stone flips, and the bands around his wrists break. "…divided, we fall."


AN: Fourteen million, six hundred and five possibilities and only one, where Doctor Stephen Strange intervenes at the beginning.

May 23rd 2019: Revisited to fix a few things.