Thanks to McRaider, elizabeth14, jack2724, Zenappa, I am psycowriter andShara Raizel for their reviews!

I got this done and decided to let you guys read early. Hope it's worth it ;)

Chapter 3

"Hello, Miss. Carter?"

"Speaking."

"My name is Janet Davis, PA to Mr. Howard Stark. I believe you are acquainted with him?"

"Yes. We worked together."

"Of course. I was wondering if… you are in a friendship capacity with Mr. Stark. That is, he is in a bad place at the moment and I was hoping that you could offer some support. I didn't know who else to call, he won't listen to any of us..."

Once again Peggy was to meet with Howard under less than favourable circumstances.

A vehicle courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D dropped her off outside the vast doors of his house. Well, mansion. She turned away from the doors and glanced around the grounds. The car had entered through a tall set of shining black iron gates. It travelled along a straight gravel road bordered by neatly mown grass before curving right into the courtyard she was looking at from her position at the front of the property. A stone fountain sat in the centre and two luxury cars to the right of her. One was a sleek chrome saloon and the other sportier, in cobalt. However in the darkness that came with dusk they appeared almost sinister, the leering shadows cast by the cars coupled with the trickling of the water against the stone.

She wondered what it felt like to live here alone.

Suppressing a shiver she returned to the door and rang the bell. Silence followed. She counted to five before ringing again. Then she curled her brown leather gloved hand into a fist and knocked firmly. After another length of silence she became annoyed. She understood that he was hurting, but standing in the cold at almost ten at night after being on her feet since the early morning was eroding her patience. She had been called for a reason.

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, staring straight into a security camera nestled in an alcove to the top left of the door. Making her voice as commanding as possible, she spoke directly at it: "Howard, let me in. It's freezing out here."

Still nothing. Her eyes flashed in annoyance. "Fine. If you want to shut yourself away, then it's your choice. I don't know why I even agreed to come here."

Why would he ever listen to her, of all people? She turned on her heel and made to leave, right as she heard a crackling voice emanate from somewhere above her head.

"Peggy?"

She peered back at the camera. "Yes," she paused, softening her voice.

"Please let me in, Howard."

She sighed internally. The lighting was low, the majority coming from a gently burning fireplace which cast flickering shadows against the wall behind her.

It was obvious that he had been drinking.

He was slumped in a chair, fiddling with a small metallic contraption of some sort. His tie was loosened and top button undone, along with those of his left cuff. Oddly enough, his shirt was still tucked in. His face was worse. His jaw was lined with stubble, obscuring the sharp shape of his moustache. Some of his usually well-kept locks stuck out, while some hung over his forehead. His posture longed for sleep. The only contradiction was his eyes, sharp and glinting brown-black in the firelight as he stared at the gadget, jaw set tight. He spoke first.

"Janet sent you, didn't she?" He gave an empty chuckle.

"Apparently you wouldn't let anyone else in, so it appears she made a good choice."

He nodded absent-mindedly. "She's a good one, good head on those shoulders," he cocked his head, "Pretty head."

This was Howard putting up his walls, ready for the onslaught he must expect from her. She came closer. "What's brought this on? You've never been this bad."

He diverted his gaze to her. It seemed hollow, inducing another shiver within her. "You wouldn't know though, would you? I could've been doing this every night without anyone finding out."

She felt somewhat relieved. At least it was the first time, that much he'd given away. His thoughts didn't seem quite coherent, as though a few had been wading through his mind for a while and had branched off as he fell deeper into the haze.

"It doesn't matter. Obadiah can't talk, with his stash of single malt," his voice wavered, "It's just so much easier, simpler. Always has been," he sniffed, "Mar- She was always getting at me, telling me to lay off the booze..."

"She was right-"

"Don't talk about her!"

Peggy was cut off as Howard suddenly stood up, throwing the handful of metal at the wall beside her, making her flinch and duck to the side as it smashed on impact. Thank God for her army training. As she calmed her hammering heart he put his hands to his face, exhausted.

"God, I'm sorry."

He walked to the bar at the side of the room, shoulders hunched. She followed him, more cautiously than before. She made her voice as level as she could and mustered up all of her diplomacy.

"It's... alright. Just tell me what's wrong."

Glass clinked as he poured a generous measure of brandy into a short glass. "What's right? She's gone. It, it feels like nothing matters anymore."

He brought the glass to his lips.

"Of course it does. You still have so much. You're healthy," within reason, she added mentally, eyeing the glass, "You're successful and most importantly - you have a son."

He stopped drinking, the burn no longer as comforting as it had been for the last few hours. Now it made him want to retch. She picked up on the change in atmosphere. "He is alright, isn't he? He'll be coming out soon?" she knew Anthony had to be kept in the hospital, but that was expected; he was premature. What had changed?

"Howard, what's wrong?"

He turned away quickly. She jogged around to force him to look at her. "You can trust me."

She stepped back slightly and gave him space to consider her. He seemed more lucid. Perhaps he always had been. His eyes hardened. "Chances are he won't be coming out."

She waited, lips parting slightly in shock. It all came out in a torrent, his voice thick with grief. "The bleed. It was in the wall around him. It built up so fast and pressed against his skull, his brain," he rapped his own head, knuckles trembling, "Brain damage. That's why he isn't getting any stronger."

Her breath caught in her throat. Anthony Stark was brain damaged. Howard knocked back the remaining contents of the glass and dragged the unbuttoned cuff across his lips. "According to the doctor, there's a less than ten per cent chance he'll reach five years old if he doesn't improve now. Even if he does, he could be mentally disabled or paralysed or..."

He slowly laid the glass back down on the side of the bar and let his fingers linger there. "I had so many plans...," he traced the rim with a fingertip, "All gone. Just like that. Everything," he gestured around the room, "Would've been his. He would've been the new face of Stark Industries."

He held up his hands and drew them sideways, the family name up in lights above his eyes. His arms dropped to his sides, eyes glistening as a few droplets dripped down his cheek. He turned away, just as Peggy erupted with a reserve of courage she didn't know she had. She gripped his arms and pulled him around with surprising strength.

"Hey," she fixed him with a hard stare, "Since when did you give up without a fight? When did you become so willing to lie down and accept defeat?"

His face stiffened in anger. "You don't know what you're talking about Peggy. I'm not some green weak-kneed private. You don't have the first clue what this is like."

"Oh, really?" she countered, eyebrows raised, "You think I don't know what being helpless feels like? You were there beside me when everyone else told me Steve was never coming back."

She was stamping on raw nerves now, both his and her own, "When everyone told us to move on and forget him. Tell me, did we forget him? Did you? "

He swallowed but held her stare. She pulled back. "No. I didn't think so."

They both looked away and gathered themselves. He breathed heavily and ran his hand through his hair, his emotional reserve spent. She was glad he didn't see her wipe her own eyes. Then again, she supposed she wouldn't have minded. Steve had been a third shadow whenever they had been together for so long. Deep down, neither had truly accepted his death. An air of awkward calm settled over them, as though they hadn't been practically shouting at each other. She adjusted the collar of her coat, weary and feeling more emotional than she had expected to be with a Stark.

"Just give him a chance. Don't lose him too."

He quirked his mouth, his charisma returning to soften his eyes as he stretched his shoulders back. "Well, well, Miss. Carter, I never had you down as one for pep talks."

She gave him a veiled smile. She could only hope that this new-found optimism wasn't for nought. Belief held no weight on the scales of Anthony's life.

"I'm not. Now hit the showers, Stark, you smell like a brewery."

Hope you enjoyed.

This chapter was quite in depth for these two characters, so please review and let me know if it sounds good or not.

Till next time duckies,

Anxious Owl (^,^)