STARK MANSION, NYC - JULY 31, 1991 7:30PM
Tony couldn't help but be impressed as the narrow passageway that was revealed off of the study opened up almost immediately into a large, open workshop not that dissimilar from the one Tony kept in Stark Tower. However, this workshop immediately suffered, in Tony's opinion, from a lack of robots or any remotely sentient presence other than their own. Tony felt a sudden pang of loss as he thought about JARVIS, Dummy and You back at Stark Tower. He wondered if they missed him or even realized he had disappeared yet, if they would notice at all before he was home.
The space was also more wildly disorganized than how Tony preferred his spaces to be kept. Wires and tools were strewn every which way, and at least a dozen unfinished or broken machines took up space in the room, many of them clearly weapons with unknown purposes.
The only sign of any organization in the room was the presence of the file cabinets and bookshelves that lined the walls. Those books that had been deemed not suitable for the study were stacked or stored haphazardly everywhere. There were two enormous standing whiteboards and a standing chalk board, all covered in formulas, diagrams and drawings done in his father's familiar indecipherable shorthand, and every inch of wall space available was covered in blueprints, posters, memorabilia and, surprisingly to Tony, family photos. Adding to the chaos, some of the framed items were covered in post-it notes to the point where you could barely make out what they were supposed to be. One lone computer stood in the corner of the room, but it was turned off and it did not appear as though it got much use.
There were no cars in Howard's workshop. In fact, the workshop did not appear to open up to the outside of the property in any way. Tony smiled when he realized that this could be because his father knew how much Tony liked the cars growing up. Many of the cars in Tony's collection he had actually inherited from Howard. They had always worked on them together. Judging by the way his father kept his workshop, they wouldn't have stayed in pristine condition in this space for very long anyway.
Much like Tony's own workshop, there was a small cot bed and a mini-fridge. Unlike his workshop, however, there were also dirty dishes and old food still present. Tony assumed that no staff were ever allowed, or likely even knew about, the workshop, and so it got as messy as Howard let it get. Another reason, Tony reflected, that he loved his bots. They always took care of those things for him.
As Tony looked around, he felt strange, as though he were intruding on something very private. His own workshop was his sanctuary, and this was his fathers, one that he had never gotten a glimpse of growing up. His father had never shared it with him, for reasons Tony wished he knew. But here was, sharing it with people who, for all Howard knew, were strangers. How could his father have been that trusting? Tony thought about the way his father had embraced Steve as though no years had passed between them, about how even after everything that the man had been a part of - World War II, the Cold War, building weapons and managing government contracts the entire time, having his entire life play out in the press and media - the man still seemed so open and willing to put his faith in people. How was it possible? Tony could never be so genuine with people, could never have as many employees milling around all the time on any of his properties and be comfortable, could never accept things at face value when presented with them the way Howard seemed to. For the first time, Tony could clearly see the differences between himself and his father. He wished he'd understood those differences sooner.
Tony had spent so long hating his father leading up to the man's death that when he looked back on it, he couldn't remember what he had actually hated him for or when it had started. The hatred and antagonism had at some point just became the natural state of their relationship in Tony's mind. Had his own trust issues been part of the problem? When had they started? His mind wandered towards trying to find the answer, but his thoughts were interrupted.
"Wow," said Bruce, approaching a particularly large machine that looked vaguely like a sensory deprivation tank to Tony. "Is this what I think it is?"
Bruce was impressed, and that didn't happen very often. Things let him down far more often than they surprised him.
"That depends," said Howard, stepping towards a pile of wires and broken parts and diving into them trying to reveal something underneath, "on what you think it is. Bruce, was it?"
Bruce realized that they had yet to be properly introduced. It was strange to think about, that he needed to introduce himself to Tony's father, who also happened to be one of the greatest minds of the 20th century. It was intimidating, and it wasn't something he had ever expected to happen. Suddenly, the abstract nature of their situation solidified into something more tangible in Bruce's mind. "Yes. Bruce Banner. Doctor Bruce Banner. And it's really a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark. Truly."
"Well, I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but I really don't know that yet, do I?"
There was an awkward silence for a moment between Bruce and Howard, but Tony just rolled his eyes. He knew his father's sense of humour.
"Kidding!" Howard finally said with a cheeky grin, slapping Bruce on the back gently. "Now, you didn't answer my question Bruce. What do you think it is?"
Bruce exhaled the breath he realized he'd been holding, nervous, and looked back at the machine. He still couldn't believe what he was looking at. "I think it's the radiation chamber from Project Rebirth. I recognize it from the photographs."
Howard continued to chuck metal parts and wires about the room, digging for something.
"You're a fan of Cap, I take it?" he asked.
"No, actually. Well... not no, exactly. Everyone's a fan of Captain America, really..."
"Tell that to my kid." Howard interrupted with a chuckle. Tony rolled his eyes again. He felt like he was reverting quickly to a surly teenager in his father's presence. The man was not wrong, though. Tony had never been a member of the Captain America fan club growing up, probably because he had grown tired of hearing so many stories about the man. He knew he probably owed Steve an apology. He had been unfair to him when they met for that very reason.
Bruce continued. "I'm actually more of a fan of the project itself. Of your work, and of Dr. Erskine. What you accomplished was incredible. And I say that having met Steve and seen the results firsthand."
"Well," said Howard, "I would really give most of the credit for how Steve turned out to Steve, to be honest. I didn't do all that much really, I just pitched in where I was needed. And Dr. Erskine would have been the first to tell you that Steve could just have easily have ended up a psychopathic madman given the way his experiment went the first time around. It was pure luck and finding the right man for the job that made Project Rebirth a success, that's all. That's why they've never been able to replicate the results. And believe me, they've tried."
Bruce reached out and touched the radiation chamber, felt how cool the metal was to the touch and tried to picture a young, skinny Steve Rogers inside it, tried to recreate the experiment in his mind. The memories quickly turned towards his own, similar experience. The day of his accident. The room seemed to vanish for a moment. He regained control with a shiver and came back to reality. "I'm well aware of how lucky you got, Mr. Stark. Believe me."
Tony looked at him with understanding in his eyes, which also contained far too much pity for Bruce's comfort, before they noticed that the crashing of objects hitting the ground had ceased.
"Eureka!" exclaimed Howard, and Bruce and Tony saw that the man had revealed a small safe. "Gentlemen, the object which has brought us all here. I give you the Tesseract." He turned the combination and opened the safe door, and the familiar gentle blue light flooded the room.
"Let's get to work!" Howard said, rubbing his hands together with far too much enthusiasm for what they were about to do. And they got started.
STARK MANSION, NYC - JULY 31, 1991 8:00PM
Once Pepper and Natasha had finished their meal, they had decided to begin their search for clues regarding Tony's mother in the bedrooms. They began with the master bedroom that Howard had shown them on the tour, but Pepper quickly had to agree with Natasha. It was obvious that it was not currently in use. There were very few clothes in the dresser drawers or closet, and no dirty laundry or even laundry basket. The attached bathroom had no toiletries. The Starks were definitely not sharing a marital bed at the moment, but Natasha and Pepper were unable to deduce much else.
In the hallway, Natasha asked Pepper to be the lookout for any staff who might wander by, and pulled out the lockpick she always kept tucked into her bra. It was time to widen their search to rooms they hadn't already seen. Pepper was nervous, but Natasha was quick, and she worked to unlock the door across the hall from the master bedroom. As the door finally opened, Pepper saw a maid exit one of the rooms at the end of the hall, and quickly shoved Natasha through the door with a squeak, shutting it behind them before they could be spotted. The door slammed, but thankfully the maid did not follow them in to see what they were up to. She must not have noticed which room they had entered.
Pepper stumbled around for the light switch in the dark, and finally found it. She was not prepared for the guilt that overwhelmed her when the light came on. The room that they were in clearly did not belong to Howard or Maria. The Ferrari poster on the wall and MIT banner gave it away as belonging to Tony. This was not where she had been intending to end up.
"Now this is interesting," said Natasha. Clearly she wasn't burdened with the same conflicted emotions as Pepper and sauntered into the middle of the room, looking around eagerly.
"No," said Pepper, "this is not interesting. This is intruding on Tony's privacy. We shouldn't be here."
"I'm surprised to hear you say that," said Natasha. "I thought you wanted answers about his mother. We might find them here. And other things." She raised an eyebrow at Pepper, lifting up the corner of Tony's mattress and pulling out an obviously well-read copy of Hustler. "Hustler. Huh. I thought the man had more class than that."
Pepper made a noise of disagreement. The Hustler certainly didn't surprise her. Not only had she been Tony's girlfriend, but she'd walked in on enough of his sexual escapades over the years to know that class was not something anyone should associate with the man in the bedroom. In fact, he'd been kicked out of the Playboy Mansion personally by Hugh Hefner for lacking exactly that.
"Apparently you can't read people as well as you thought," she told Natasha.
There was a silence between them, but it was more comfortable than it had been in the past. Pepper refused to move past the doorway, but couldn't help but look around. Natasha chose to rifle through the various thick physics textbooks and science fiction novels on the bookshelves, one at a time, systematically.
"It makes me uncomfortable," Natasha finally said.
"The Hustler?" Pepper asked, surprised.
"No, Tony. You're right. I can't read him the way I should be able to. He's too unpredictable." Natasha replied. "Did he tell you that I initially advised Fury that he shouldn't be a part of the Avengers Initiative?"
"No," Pepper told Natasha, honestly. "He didn't. But then he neglects to tell me a lot of things. Like that he was dying of Palladium poisoning. Or that he'd been approached for the Avengers Initiative initially. Or that he'd been building new suits. Or that he'd decided to fund the Avengers personally and cut ties with SHIELD. You could fill the Grand Canyon with the things Tony doesn't tell me. When was this?"
"After everything with Vanko and Hammer. Determining whether or not Tony was suitable for the Avengers was the entire reason Fury asked me to pose as his assistant. And I told Fury that it was a bad fit. I read the situation wrong. Read Stark wrong. And I don't think he's forgiven me for it."
Pepper observed Natasha for a moment. The woman was, as usual, a blank slate. However, Pepper had known her long enough to know the subtle signs in her body language and expression that demonstrated that the woman felt genuinely sad about what had happened. "Natasha," she said, "I'm sure that Tony understands. You caught him at a pretty insane point in his life. He wasn't exactly making the best choices at the time."
"Still," Natasha replied, "I can't keep going like this. I can't live in Stark Tower, work in the field with him, have his back and expect him to have mine, without being able to read him. I have an opportunity to get in his head here - to learn what I need to know. I intend to take it. If you feel guilty about helping me, then maybe you shouldn't be here."
Natasha went back to her search, picking up some of the physics textbooks from the shelf and rifling through their contents. Pepper turned and hesitated for a moment, her hand on the door handle, before turning back around. "No," she said firmly. "I'll help. After everything that man has put me through, I think I'm actually owed some answers. And he won't give them to me himself. Besides, what he doesn't know won't hurt him."
Natasha continued to look through the books. Pepper didn't know what she was looking for. She walked over to the bedside table and picked up a framed picture sitting there. It was of Tony at a science fair or exposition of some kind. He was very young, maybe eight years old, and he was standing next to a robot that was taller than him that reminded Pepper of a very rudimentary version of Dummy. She picked up another photo, which was inexplicably placed with the photo facing the desk. It was also of Tony as a child, only he was much younger, maybe three. He was sitting on the lap of the woman who Pepper recognized from photos as Maria. Unlike the other photos that Pepper had seen of Maria in public, Pepper couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the faraway look of sadness in the woman's eyes. Her son looked up at her, beaming with affection, oblivious to whatever was going on in his mothers mind as the photo was taken. Finally, a third photo, the largest of the three, showed Tony with a person Pepper could not place. He was perhaps six or seven, and the man was tall and thin with blonde hair, perhaps in his late 20's or early 30's. He was dressed impeccably in a suit, and Tony was on his lap while they sat on the mansion's front steps. Similarly to the photo with Maria, Tony was beaming up at the man with affection. Unlike the other photo, this man was beaming right back, clearly enamored with the boy. The photo was also crinkled in the frame, and had clearly been torn and then taped back together with scotch tape in multiple places. It bothered Pepper that she had no idea who this man was. An uncle? A family friend? Clearly, he had been important to Tony.
She heard a book cover slam behind her, and Pepper turned around to see Natasha staring at something that had fallen out of one of the books she had been checking. The book, Pepper saw, had been hollowed out inside. On the desk were the contents that had been hidden in the book - condoms, several mickeys of various types of alcohol, pills of various shapes and sizes, and a baggie of what looked to her eyes like cocaine. Pepper could only sigh. Tony's bad habits had clearly formed early, even improved over the years. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the smiling little boy in those photos to make him the conflicted and difficult man he became.