Author's Note: A short idea I just had to start banging out. Set in the same continuity as the previous story in this series, His Part to Play, but many decades in the future. You don't have to have read that story to understand this, but it technically grows out of it.

I'm using the multiverse theory of time travel, by the way— the idea that Steve began a divergent timeline when he returned to the 1940's. But nothing in here is that different from anything depicted in the films, so it's not a huge issue.

1. The Ask

When Uncle Grant reached out to him, it came as a surprise.

It wasn't that they weren't on good terms. He wouldn't exactly say that they were close— not like he and Jarvis were, anyway —but he'd always been decent to Tony. He was a good, easygoing guy in general, if a bit reserved, the kind that people liked right away. And he'd had a way of coming out of the woodwork at the right moments in Tony's life. Bad breakups, public scandals, when his parents died. And on the rare occasion he was too ashamed to go to Jarvis— when he'd wrecked the Bentley on an underaged drunken bender, when he'd stolen a paper from another MIT kid —Uncle Grant would somehow know to turn up, to lend the non-judgmental hand he needed to put himself back together.

"Don't sweat it, kid," Grant would say, in his matter of fact sort of way. "You don't have to worry what I think of you."

Still, they weren't exactly buddies. In fact, it had been a while since Tony had heard anything from him. God knew Tony had enough going on in his own life, with Ultron, the Sokovia Accords, the fallout thereof. But Grant had been a little adrift since Aunt Peggy died. Not exactly gone to pieces; she was ninety-five, for God's sake, and she'd been too sick for too long. Grant, like everyone else, knew it was coming. But the only way to describe it was he seemed a little lost, like his life had become one big room he'd forgotten why he'd entered.

After a year or so he'd steadied; he was a rock of a man going back as far as Tony could remember. And his family rallied around him— his pack of grandkids and great-grandkids, and Tony heard even Beth and Jamie came back for a while from wherever they'd gone off to. He and Aunt Peggy were the last of them, that old crew that World War II bonded together. Tony's parents, the Jarvises, even the Howling Commandos had lost their last man before one of the Carters kicked it. But they'd been married for like sixty years, and the guy wasn't exactly the outgoing type. That woman had been practically his whole world, so it was only natural that he was a changed man without her.

Tony had been busy in the lab when the phone rang, so he'd come up to find the message waiting for him in his voicemail. "Hey, Tony, it's Uncle Grant. Hope you're doing all right. Do me a favor and give me a call when you have a minute. It's important."

When he had that minute, he did. The call connected on the third ring.

"Hey, kid. Thanks for taking the time."

"Eh, there was nothing good on TV. How you been, Uncle Grant?"

"Oh, you know. Making my way. Listen, I know you're a busy man, so I think I better get down to business."

"Uh, sure. Fire away."

"I need you to build me something."

"Sure thing, pal. You in the market for an Iron Man suit? Make you the fastest man in the dog park and best drive on the golf course."

He could hear Grant chuckle on the other end of the line. "No, thank you. But it is something I can't get many other places."

Tony listened in growing bemusement as Grant described to him what he needed. His brow furrowed, sure he couldn't have heard right. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack, son."

"What in the hell do you want that for?"

"I'm afraid it's tricky to explain."

"Considering a late in life career change?"

Grant laughed again. "Hell, no, sir."

"Good, because take it from me, retirement's a hell of a lot more fun."

"Don't got to tell me that. But I need the thing all the same."

Tony winced and scratched at the back of his neck. "You sure got champagne tastes, Uncle Grant. You sure you can't make do with a replica? I got some scrap around here I could paint up real pretty for you. Looking at it you won't know the difference."

"Sorry, Tony, but it's got to be the real thing." Grant sighed into the receiver. "I know it's a lot to ask. But I promise it's important. And if you won't help me out, it's going to make it a lot harder for me to get this done."

That was enough to make Tony snort. "Harder? You got another hookup that'll spot you the two hundred fifty grand?"

"Not on this continent. That's the problem. So will you help me?"

The earnestness in his voice did Tony in. "This really is important?"

"More than I can say."

One thing that could be said for Uncle Grant, when he said something, you believed it. Tony heaved a sigh. "You know, what the hell. What's a month's time and a quarter million dollars between friends?"

"Thank you, Tony," Grant said. "Can't tell you how much it means to me."

"Well, you better try," he grumbled. "Since I'm giving up my weekends for the foreseeable future."

"You're a good man, Tony."

When he said it, he made it sound like it was true.