CHAPTER SIX- May 2036

Tony adjusted his suit as he stepped out of the limousine. He made no acknowledgement of the press and flashing lights; this was not that kind of occasion. He shook hands with the mayor, the governor, and the landscape architect. Natasha, Bruce, Wanda, and Bucky followed, all filing behind a nervous intern leading them to the platform set up on the grounds for the ceremony. Maria Hill was already behind the podium onstage. She began as everyone took their places.

"Good afternoon. Thank you all for coming today as we officially open the Memorial Garden on this, the eleventh anniversary of the tragic explosion on this very spot. We are here to honor the lives of the sixty-eight men and women who perished, and to celebrate the beauty of the natural world that continues on for those left behind after this devastating accident—," Maria read from her papers, head lowered.

Tony met Happy Hogan's eye from the security chief's position off-stage. Happy gave the slightest nod, gently tapping at his royal blue pocket square: Pepper's color. Tony faced front again, sniffed, and pushed up his sunglasses. He shifted his stance and returned both hands to his pockets, touching his thumb to the ring he still wore on his finger. The sky was not quite the right blue, and it was too hot, Tony noted.

"—And now Tony Stark will say a few words," Maria said, gliding out of his way to approach the podium.

Tony looked at the microphone like it was a cobra. He had only planned a sentence or two, neither of which he could recall now, but in true fashion he stepped forward and cleared his throat. "First, I'd like to thank all of the gardeners and landscapers, the contractors and builders who put together this…beautiful space. I'd particularly like to mention the architect, Daniel Toshirushi, whose uncle also died in the facility's explosion—" He forgot he wasn't supposed to explicitly associate the accident with the Avengers. "—he worked tirelessly to never ask me a single question about the layout or details." There was a small, rolling chuckle within the crowd. That should mull over his misstep.

The wind blew in the smell of flowers, making Tony pause in recognition of one in particular. What little idea he had of what he should say was blown away. "Except I did tell him to put daisies in because that's what Pepper told me to do. Those are her favorite…" He heard his mistake. "Were her favorite," he corrected. "It's what she would have wanted." He could feel Wanda's stare boring holes in the back of his head. "Pepper also used to tell me not to wing my speeches." Another smaller laugh. Tony looked down at his hands on the podium, his wedding band perfectly polished, golden like his late wife's hair. "I should have listened."

There was a stalled moment where Tony looked back out at the audience. His eyes found Steve Rogers and Sharon easily enough in the front. Steve gave the same small nod as Happy, and Sharon gave a press-lipped smile of encouragement. They were holding hands.

Tony took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "When we lose someone, as we all have and we all will, we are left with pieces of their lives, things they loved. Those little reminders are often painful as the…smell of daisies is to me, but they are beautiful. So thank you to everyone for this wonderful…tribute." Tony pinched his nose, sniffing, and adjusting his sunglasses again. "We are deeply moved by the good work of all those involved with this project."

He could not move away from the microphone fast enough, descending from the platform stage as Maria Hill scrambled to move the proceedings on to the unveiling of the memorial plaques. She began reading the names of the deceased. For those with military service records, Captain Barnes was charged with firing a blank. Maria paused between those last twelve names. Bucky propped the muzzle of his weapon against the rim of the vibranium shield, allowing a short, clear ring to accompany each shot.

Tony settled for standing beside Happy.

"Short and sweet, sir," his old friend said softly.

It made Tony more agitated than he expected. Normally, any praise of such a botched address was a standard jab from Happy. Today lacked Tony's comfortable sarcasm, and also lacked someone else. "Where is she?"

"Sir?"

"Sam. Where's the kid?"

"I thought Clint talked to you." Happy grew a noticeable shade paler. "Think it was supposed to be good news for…another time, but Sam's gonna study at Harvard. Apparently," he trailed hesitantly, "boarding school was not her first choice."

Tony barely heard him. He looked around, scanning for Wanda. He dreaded the conversation coming. "Are we done here? Cause I'm gonna—" He gestured to leave.

Happy seemed a little shocked. "There's a walk-through photo op—"

"Photoshop me in," Tony said. "Have Yates pull the car around." He was lucky the crowd was too busy applauding the tribute to catch him slipping away. His chest was getting tighter, his breathing hard to control.

He slid into the car, a false sense of safety dying when Wanda slid in right behind him.

"Don't start," he demanded, loosening his tie.

"What was that?" Wanda shrieked, spreading her arms between seats to corner Tony inside the vast space of the limo. "Tony?!"

"Seriously, not today." He tried to look out the window.

"Tony, tell me you know the difference," Wanda pleaded. "When did you discuss flowers with Pepper?"

"Over coffee one morning," he replied, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

"What morning? What year?"

"I don't know. The one where we drank coffee!"

"How old was Sam? Was it before she was born or after?"

"I don't remember, okay? Please back off." Tony put up a hand to encourage her to sit down on their ride home.

Wanda sat back and crossed her arms. For nearly a decade, she had put Tony under her power's influence to imagine his best times with Pepper. She thought it would help him heal. It was cathartic at first: she heard sobs from his room as the illusions wore off, but he always emerged focused and balanced. It kept him working instead of ruminating for weeks on end. There had been months when the team was so entrenched in a fight and its aftermath that he wouldn't ask, but recently it had gotten especially bad. The tense he used to speak about her, rare as that was, was present tense. Wanda thought that he might not be remembering anymore but making up new experiences with his dead wife. The line had been crossed for her.

"That's it, Tony," Wanda declared. "I won't do this anymore."

Tony felt the bottom of his stomach fall out. "You can't do that."

"You don't remember what's real anymore. She's not here. Pepper is gone, and the dreams I give you can't change that. This has gone on long enough."

"I know what's real," Tony insisted, "and I know she's..." He couldn't say it just then, dead, it wouldn't come out.

Wanda changed her tone to soothe him. "I don't believe this is helping anymore, and I'm not sure the dreams ever did."

Tony snorted. "Because sleeping at night isn't helpful? Feeling like there is still someone in this world to save, that's definitely not a motivator. Ya know, Vision would want to be remembered."

"You are not keeping me on your side," Wanda pushed through gritted teeth.

Tony sat back and stared out the window, wishing he had just worn his nano suit. He wanted nothing more than to fly away from this mess. "I'll move on when you move on."

He thought through conversations with Pepper. Truthfully he could not remember which had become a recounting of a real event or what was his mind's creation in to fill the time until Scarlett Witch's spell. Pepper had once told Tony that he couldn't tie his shoes without him. Now, Tony knew she was absolutely right.

"Friday, call Barton." The impulse passed as quickly as it came. What would I even say? "End call."

All those years ago, when the words first fell out of his mouth, it was Pepper: I'm trying to protect the one thing I can't live without. She was clear blue eyes, strawberry blond hair, and Tony Stark's one thing. When Pepper was pregnant with Samantha, he would stare at her face, watching her reaction to kicks and pains and food. When Pepper gave birth, he watched her face as she met her baby for the first time. He watched Pepper play with Sam, he watched Pepper read to Sam, and he watched Pepper become elated at seeing another little plus sign on a pee stick. It was always Pepper. He never said it aloud, but it was always him and Pepper. The rest wasn't his one thing.

Him surviving without her was never planned; he still wasn't sure it was possible. Tony was a barely-living, vague approximation of a human being on a good day, a cocktail of sarcasm and snacks running low like the end of a party. Tony surviving with Pepper's child was the worst case scenario, a horrible joke. A boy he could treat like himself, like Howard had treated him, making adjustments as necessary for hygiene and humor development; a girl was all Pepper's area of expertise. He had no plan for that.

Young Tony Stark had been sent to boarding school by Sam's age, but before that, life with his father had been about staying out of the way and life with his mother about distracting her from her husband's philandering and drinking. That wasn't the life Tony wanted for his kids—kid, just the one, he always had to remind himself. With the Bartons Sam had far more than Tony could provide, more than he had been provided, and in a sick way, that made Tony jealous.

But he couldn't really complain, he reasoned, because Harvard wasn't shabby at all. Tony watched the world go by, content in the notion that he had made the right call for Sam. She was much better off if he stayed away.