A big thank you to elizabeth14, I am psycowriter and TheNightFury for their lovely reviews. You guys give me reason to write! I'm going to try to update weekly but whether I stick to that remains to be seen ;)

On with the story…

Chapter Two

The next few weeks had merged together as Howard lost what little routine he had. This time, no-one down at Stark Industries had any qualms about him taking time off. They all knew it had nothing to do with the wild, colourful antics that had defined their boss in the past. In fact, a significant proportion of those antics had dissolved with his marriage to the lovely Maria Collins Carbonell, something the employees hadn't expected but were pleased by all the same.

Simply put, Howard's life had changed irrevocably. He had lost a wife and gained a child. Nobody knew this, as the hospital had a strict policy on outside reporting and Howard refused to answer any questions as left at nine-thirty the next morning. He headed home, showered, changed, and went straight to Stark Industries. The fact that an accident had occurred involving Mrs. Stark had circulated on the company rumour mill. He received several looks of sympathy and a few of concern, but felt it most strongly from Janet as he walked in to the office.

He couldn't get through a week without her to remind him about meetings, contracts, numerous events (pretty much everything his job entailed). She was organised, smart and didn't buy any of his smooth talk. With her intelligence came a finely tuned sense of right and wrong and a dry sense of humour, which she didn't hesitate to use against him when he was in the wrong.

She was sitting at her desk in a neatly pressed and modest cream skirt suit, tapping at the keys of her computer. Obadiah was seated in the chair on the opposite side of her desk in a much more relaxed position with his legs crossed and elbows on either armrest, hands steepled in front of his face. She looked up and rose straight away. Obadiah looked past his fingers and raised himself from the chair.

"Howard, how's Maria? And what happened last night?" he asked.

He sighed and diverted his gaze to the ground. He would have to put words to the tragedy. Obie he already had faith in, and Janet had been his PA for the past two years now. He knew he could trust her. He looked back up to both her and his business partner and good friend.

"Not here," he said, and led her by the elbow into his office followed by Obie, before turning and closing the door shut firmly behind him.

He rubbed his jaw tiredly.

"Mr. Stark, is everything alright?" she reiterated, "You should sit down…"

"No, I'll stand," he walked behind her and leant a hand against his desk for a moment.

She turned around, foreboding rising in her stomach and glanced at Obadiah, who had his hands in his pockets and an uneasy look on his face. Howard turned to face them both.

"There was an accident at the lab," he paused to gather himself, "It, it made her go into labour early."

Janet clasped her hand to her mouth.

He couldn't bear to say it out loud. But he couldn't keep it a secret forever.

"Sh-she didn't make it."

Janet gasped from behind her hand. Obadiah just stood, stunned to silence.

Howard turned to face the large windows spilling bright morning light into the room from behind his desk. Down below there several smaller buildings, a few of which housed the research and development departments. It was relatively busy, with dozens or employees making their way in and out in their formal business attire. The sky was blue, not a cloud in sight.

Obadiah was the first to recover. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, went over to Howard and gripped his shoulder comfortingly. "I… I'm sorry, Howie. I can't believe it."

Janet spoke after. "If there's anything, anything at all you need, I'm here. You know that."

Howard turned back and forced a smile at them. "Now that you mention it, coffee would be great."

She smiled sadly and left.

He dropped into his chair and rubbed his eyes for the hundredth time that morning. They were bloodshot and rimmed darkly with fatigue.

Obadiah made a last supportive gesture before he left, "You don't worry about a thing. I've got everything handled here – take off as much time as you need."

He walked to the door and made to push down the handle, but hesitated. He returned his gaze to rest on that of Howard. "And… the baby?"

Howard gave the first genuine grin of the day. "A boy. Tiny. But strong. He'll make it – he is a Stark, after all."

Anthony had been born three and a half weeks prematurely.

Howard dealt with numbers every day, crunched them for a living. But never in this nature. Numbers aren't as reliable on the biological side of things, not like in engineering or physics. There are so many unpredictable, immeasurable variables. Howard thrived on control, so he couldn't stand the immense uncertainty regarding his own child.

It was thanks to the remarkable skill of the surgical team and post operation care team that Anthony had survived the first few nights. Very few children did. He had made sure that if there the slightest change in Anthony's condition, then the hospital would give him a call at home, or leave a message with Janet. This had resulted in a few scares over the first week. His tiny body was very delicate and prone to failure until he grew strong enough to cope on his own without machines to assist his budding heart and soft weak lungs. His skin was pink and his body looked too small in the sterile white baby clothes provided by the hospital, complete with soft cap. He was fed through tubes. The collective image knocked the wind out of his father. It both repelled and drew him to the bedside.

Howard would spend a few hours at some point during the day simply sitting in the room with the baby, sometimes at the opposite end of the room with his folder of drafted blueprints of his newest innovations. Very occasionally he would cross the room to stroke the skin of Anthony's cheek or run a gentle finger through the downy dark wisps on his head. Just to make sure he was no illusion.

Howard couldn't believe his son was in this condition, or that he even had a son. It was so surreal.

His son.

Howard Stark, industrialist, mastermind, entertainer, father. The little person barely a metre away relied on him for absolutely everything. To raise him, to look after him, to nurture him. And, God, he'd never felt so scared. This couldn't be his life, going from not having a care in the world to such profound, crushing responsibility. He felt like running a mile and pretending the past week had never happened.

But thinking such ugly thoughts made him burn with shame. Anthony was Maria's parting gift, the only link to her left. Half her and half Howard. Anthony brought the possibility of a better, brighter future, he realised.

As the days progressed, Howard looked forward to that future more and more. There was nothing else left.

It was all procedure, he told himself, they'll work it all out.

The consultant paediatrician had ordered a number of scans after observing no change in Anthony's condition. He couldn't breathe on his own. They had said at first that it would take time for the body and circulatory system to strengthen, but after almost three weeks of being assisted by a ventilator they had concluded that something was indeed amiss. He's made it this far, he'll be fine. He let his head loll backwards and rest against the laminated display on the wall behind his seat. Dr. Peterson had called Howard in to discuss the results of said scans.

Howard hadn't liked the tone of voice she had used. He hadn't liked it because he couldn't gather anything from it. Doctors were skilled in the art of the blank mask. You can't tell if it's good news or bad news or something in between. He felt like they were hiding things from him (which they were doing in his best interests, of course) and he couldn't help but detest it. Then again, he mused to himself, he did the same with board members, the government and even Obadiah.

He tapped his foot against the tiled floor. A nurse informed him that the doctor would be another fifteen minutes, and suggested he get something to eat from the café on the ground floor. He had gotten a black coffee with one sugar and laboured it until Dr. Peterson arrived.

She led him into her office. There were four different certificates hung on the right hand wall in shiny russet frames. There was a paperweight in the shape of a dolphin on her desk. She walked behind it before offering him a seat. He remained still, eyes focussed but tired.

"It's bad news. Isn't it?"

Calling Howard blunt was an understatement. She only smiled in response, lips pressed together. She proffered her arm in front of her and repeated.

"Please take a seat, Mr. Stark."

Sorry to leave you hanging, guys.

Soooo... what do you think is wrong with baby Tony? And if it sounds OOC/cliché/waffly, then let me know

It takes a minute to read but merely a moment to review!

Anxious Owl (^,^)