There are moments in every man's life when he's given the choice to do the right thing or do nothing.

He had no idea were the words came from, but they kept playing over and over again in Tony's head as he faced the reinstated Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., his friends and teammates, and his one-time lover.

"Here's the thing," he said casually. "I've been talking to some of my execs. With all the rebuilding projects and what not Stark International is so very busy with all around the country, not to mention the world really, I'm afraid we just don't have the time or resources to accommodate all these government contracts you keep throwing at us. In fact, between running the company and the Ultimates, I don't think I'll have time for any of them in the foreseeable future. Like the next sixty years, maybe."

A very optimistic statement for a man suffering from cancer, and also the biggest pile of steaming bull shit anyone in the room had ever heard. As Fury himself once said, Tony Stark could conduct a multilingual business deal, satisfy a girlfriend over the phone, and memorize a six hundred page military briefing all at the same time. He'd turned multitasking into an art form, and he was the master.

"You can't be serious," the general looked indignant. "How drunk are you?"

"Totally sober," Tony assured him, "which, for both of us, is infinity worse than the alternative."

This was the first right choice he'd made in a long time, as far as Tony was concerned. No matter how physically sick he felt, how much he wanted to gulp down a glass of scotch or vodka or something, he'd promised himself – and his son – seven days of sobriety, and he was nothing if not stubborn.

"You're bluffing," Fury challenged, glaring at him through his one good eye. "You've done some pretty stupid things a woman before, but giving up millions worth of contracts..."

"Don't you concern your shiny bald head with why I'm doing it. All you have to worry about is that this is going to hurt you and Uncle Sam a lot more than it's going to hurt me. Walk away, Nick. Call off your dogs and walk away, or I swear you'll be begging Reed Richards for tech. Kid's smart, but I don't think he's too much into weapons."

No one could have guessed what was going through his head. Tony was not entirely sure why he was doing this. It was not for Carol. At least he did not think it was. He tried not to look at her at all, keeping his full attention on Fury. After several long seconds worth of a glaring contest, the general gritted his teeth but seemed to concede.

"What do you want, Stark?"

Nothing you can give, Fury...

"You should be asking what the lady wants. Just off the top of my head, I'd say some maternity leave would be nice. Then you two can sit down and draft up some sort of peaceful solution to this little misunderstanding."

He could feel everyone staring at him, but Tony was no stranger to being the center of attention and was quite good at projecting an air of calm self-assuredness even when his insides felt like jelly. He needed a drink...

Nope, not going there...

"What's it gonna be, Nick?"

Fifteen seconds later, S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone with little more than a, "We'll be in touch." Tony let them pass by him, sharing a pointed look with Fury, and then he was alone in the room with the other Ultimates and Carol. From the corner of his eye, he could see Steve grinning from ear to ear, looking very much like a proud parent whose wayward child finally did something right.

Don't be too proud of me just yet, Cap...

"Okay," he smiled at the two remaining men. "Mission accomplished. Maiden... excuse me... damsel rescued. Thanks for coming. See you later."

Clint was clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes, but he did start for the door. He passed through but paused when they were face to face, and Tony could easily read the "for the love of God, don't do anything too stupid, Stark" look on the other man's face. He had seen it often enough before, after all. Steve also nodded his farewell to Carol and looked ready to leave, but he actually stopped.

"Tony..."

"G'bye, Steve."

"Just don't..."

Don't do anything Hank Pym might have done, Tony thought, but aloud he said. "Go. Away."

Steve must have had a lot more faith in him than he did, because the captain was finally gone, and Tony turned to face the woman in the hospital bed. Carol had probably managed to make a detailed study of every square foot of wall and floor in the room, anything to avoid looking at him. That bothered him, because no matter how tense the situation, he would have never before called her a coward. For his part, Tony still did not know how he felt. Pissed off, was the easy answer. Furious at her for running, for not getting in touch with him. Damn it all, did she really think so little of him?

Why are you so surprised, Stark? a voice inside his head taunted.

"Thanks," was all she finally managed to say.

For what? Blowing up that building and nearly killing you and the kid?

"I didn't do it for you, sweetheart."

The way he'd said it, what should have been an endearment felt like an ice-cold grip around her throat, but she did finally look up at him, eyes demanding. "Then why?"

"You would've kept me from my kid," he replied. "And I'm trying not to be that big of a bastard. Not that I would know, but I figure a mom's a good thing to have, even if it's you."

Tony had never known Maria Stark. She had died on the operating room table, technically before he was even born, and it was difficult to miss someone he'd never really known except perhaps the idea of her. All he knew that his father had initially given up his company, everything he had, to be with her. As an adult and after countless failed relationships including the colossal disaster of his engagement, Tony often found that part difficult to understand.

"This has nothing to do with you," Carol's sharp voice broke through his thoughts.

"Really?" he did not even pretend to take her seriously, "'cause short of an alien impregnation – which, given your last boyfriend and the crowd we generally hang with, I'll admit might have crossed my mind as a possibility – I'm pretty sure that's my kid."

"Of course he's yours," she sounded exasperated.

"Then why?" he turned her own question on her waving a hand to indicate the expanse of the room. "Why did you do... any of this?"

Because you are a bastard, the taunting voice returned. When have you ever shown an ounce of maturity? Anything to make her think she could rely on you if this happened?

"I would've..." he paused, speaking more to his inner demons than to her, but Carol did not notice the change. She glared.

"You would've what, Tony? Done the right thing? Please, tell me what that should have been, because I didn't know then and I sure as hell don't know now."

Tony did not know either. He would have liked to have been able to say he would have known then, but the more he thought about it, the less certain he was. Knowing himself as well as he did, there was a good chance he might have done the complete opposite of the 'right thing', whatever the hell that was. There was only one part he was absolutely certain of.

"Coming to me would have been right," he said with finality.

Carol gave him an unreadable but clearly grim look. "I might have, if I ever felt like I could."