This version of Leigh Balci walks beside him completely confidently in her three inch heels. Her chin-length honey blonde hair practically glows in the noonday sun, complementing the gold and green of her professional business suit set. It's still ever so slightly fanciful, despite the jewel tone colors, because the blouse she's wearing underneath the suit jacket is scattered with gold dragonflies. Tony doesn't know what to make of her, but he does know one thing.
He is going to protect her.
"How much do you know about me?" she asks after a full ten minutes of the half hour walk to her apartment. This Leigh is just as patient.
"Not as much as I thought," he says wryly. When she looks at him in (adorable, captivating) confusion, he elaborates. "Every universe is slightly different, that's kind of the point. For example, in mine, about five years ago, we reversed the- what do you call it? The 'blip?'"
She stops, reaching out with a steel grip on his arm. He looks down to see that she has fully manicured nails, something his Leigh never bothered with.
"Tell me you're serious."
"I'm serious. Everyone came back." He doesn't elaborate further, mostly because his tongue seems to have signed an NDA that is preventing all possible references to his wife's sacrifice from becoming a burden for this version of Leigh Balci to carry. She's carrying enough.
"How is that even possible?"
Tony takes an Olympic-grade leap over the Sarlacc pits full of painful answers. "It's probably as simple as, the Tony Stark in this universe is dead." He starts walking again, knowing she'll follow. She does.
"Well, your answer trashes my theory."
"Which one is that?" he asks, looking down at her. When she smiles up at him, it feels earned.
"That you can't really be Tony Stark. You can't fake that kind of confidence."
This time he's the one who stops in his tracks, watching her walk along with perfect balance on shoes his Leigh would have already taken off to carry in her hand. Tony takes the opportunity to kneel, set his briefcase on the ground, removing the time travel nanosuit bracelet.
He hears her walk back to him. She simply waits for him to explain, offering no complaint about his confusing actions, no rebuke for not asking her to wait. Tony locks the briefcase back up tight without taking out the gun, though he'd meant to. No reason to scare her- his Iron Man suit has more firepower anyway.
"This is a method of escape, if it becomes necessary," he says, straightening up and holding the nano bracelet next to the one on his wrist to show her he's wearing one too. "If you are afraid, if someone's trying to hurt you, you hit this button here, hard. It won't work if you just bump it."
"Do I need both parts?" Leigh asks, reaching out, tracing a finger across the other, simpler band around his wrist.
"No, that's-" Tony's throat catches. "That's something else." It's his Leigh's bracelet, the one he'd stolen from her an hour before her death. He's planning to give it to Ember on her tenth birthday, if he can manage to give it up. It's been on his wrist so long he forgets it's there, most days.
"Okay," she says. Taking a deep breath, she holds out her right wrist in the same way his is currently positioned, palm up.
The skin there is, of course, bare.
"Turn over?" he asks. She can see he's affected by something, but obeys him. Tony sets the bracelet on, watches it until it blinks green four times, the signal that it's settled and ready. He tugs down her suit jacket sleeve to hide it, his fingers brushing against her skin. She sways toward him at the contact.
Strange was right. When it goes wrong, nothing has to explode for it to be a catastrophe.
He's an asshole, Tony knows. For the rest of his life, he could argue to every single human being he came across that he did not, manifestly did not do the things he's done and will do on this day so that he could have his wife back, and no one would ever believe him. Only time will tell if he'll believe it.
"So I slam my hand down on it?" she asks, her eyes serious.
"A body-conforming suit will slide out, including a helmet that covers your face, and yes, that one is configured to do both at once- activate the suit and then time jump."
"Might have been better to have it designed so you could activate with just one hand, but I'll take it," she says, walking away from him.
She's probably right.
Tony jogs to catch up with her. "How did your world get to this point?" He gestures at one of the many surveillance cameras he's seen along their walk so far.
"To the point where I'm afraid that simply calling a number has gotten me on a list?" Leigh asks bitterly. "The Sokovia Accords opened a Pandora's Box. It turned out there were quite a few 'advanced humans' in the world, even a hidden boarding school full of kids whose parents sent them there to both learn how to control themselves and to properly hide in society. Then, Thanos happened." She shakes her head, tucking her honey blonde hair back behind her ears. When she swaps her bag to her other shoulder, Tony offers to carry it, but she shakes her head. "I don't know if you're licensed to carry what I've got in there," she tells him.
He hopes this Leigh never had to shoot an intruder. Her life is crazy enough.
"They didn't let the advanced humans out of their confinement-"
"A floating prison?" Tony asks, frowning.
"Multiple ones, yes. It wasn't in enough time. That may actually have been the point, though- they were released, didn't succeed in stopping Thanos, and the result was a severe, extreme backlash. There were… executions," she whispers.
"Hit the button," Tony says. They've reached the street she lives on, and thanks to the headset he's wearing, he can see that there are three people inside her apartment. A black van is driving up the road, and it looks like they're braking by the reflection of their lights in the parked cars behind them. "There are people in your apartment. I can see heat signatures. You live alone, don't you?"
"Yes!" she gasps. "But-"
Tony grabs her hand and drags her behind him, running up between two buildings. He can hear the sounds of more than one vehicle braking. He taps on his ARC reactor, letting go of her hand to allow the suit to cover him.
"Tony." Alt Leigh has thrown herself against the dirty wall behind them. "How do I know this isn't some sort of trick? A, a test, a-"
He pulls out his phone, taps it a few times, throws a holographic image between them, and hands the device over. The image is of the whole Balci family, including he and Ember. Because Miriam Balci is extra, something he'd delighted in discovering, she always has a metallic balloon display in her living room of the holiday and year, without fail. It says, ' Christmas 2027!'
"I can protect you," he says.
That's when a metal net flies out from some projectile weapon behind them, filling his helmet with lightning and paralyzing him.
The sound of her time travel suit activating and the shouts of surprise from his assailants gives Tony a deep sense of self-satisfaction. He gives himself over to the vibrating misery of electric stimulation, knowing that if they manage to knock him out, his suit will automatically activate, sending him back home.
8888888888
"Who are you?"
It's the fifth time this man has asked, and the only reason Tony's still answering is that he's strapped down to the floor of a police van and unable to activate his time travel suit. He has to give this universe's version of Leigh Balci credit- she was right. Needing two hands is a flaw in the design.
"Your mom," Tony answers, again.
He gets kicked in the head again, but the Iron Man suit is designed for that, and he isn't knocked out. In retrospect, Tony should have retracted the helmet the first time he mouthed off, because that strike probably would have been enough to knock him out without brain damage. At this point, the goon is so angry Tony would be risking his life to retract it now.
At least the damaged, miserable version of Leigh that grew up here is now beyond their reach. He will be too, soon.
"How did you fake your death?"
"I ate my Wheaties," Tony says, tiredly.
"What did you do with the girl?"
"I ate her, too."
The truth is that he could use his Iron Man suit to get free, but these guys deserve to feel inadequate, outgunned, and infuriated. They'll be watching footage of these twenty minutes for decades, and it'll do them absolutely zero good.
"WHO ARE YOU?" the goon finally screams, his face red, veins popping out on his neck and forehead.
"I'm IRON MAN, what are you? Stupid?"
It's so easy to get out of there that Tony's 100% certain someone will get fired. He activates his time travel suit from 200 feet up.
8888888888
He lands on the Quantum Tunnel platform across from a stunned and terrified version of Leigh Balci. Tony holds out his arm with the time travel suit controls on it and shows her which one to hit to retract her suit. She does that, her knees buckling underneath her.
He retracts his own and rushes to help her over to the expensive desk chair he has set up at the computer down here. Then Tony backs up and crouches down to watch her as she adjusts to her new surroundings.
"How do I know this is… someplace else?"
"Fair question. What would prove it to you?"
"If I can walk out the door of this place without a brand, a chip, handcuffs, an edict, nothing," she says, her eyes wide. Tony's rage rises. If she lets him, he'll burn all evidence of that universe from his technology, as if it never existed. "Okay, that's encouraging in and of itself, the look on your face," she adds. "You look like you're ready to set my whole universe on fire."
"You're not far off," Tony says. His heart's on fire, melted down to be forged into something else. That's not what he wanted, but there's nowhere to store it right now, where her influence won't reach. The whole situation is ruinous, a severe miscalculation on his part. "C'mon."
He reaches around outside the hidden doorway for the flashlight he'd mounted on the wall in the basement and gestures for her to precede him. She frowns at the floor and takes off her shoes, tucking them into her first and second fingers in a familiar gesture that tugs at repressed memories. Her steps are more sure on the stairs up to the main level, and Tony can't help but smile when he sees the look on her face to find that, instead of some sort of government facility, she's emerging into a home.
"This is where you live?" she asks, clearly entranced.
"Yeah." There are pictures of his family up here, and that needs to be addressed. "Leigh."
"Mm?" She's drifting toward the front door, which is good, but this is not a conversation that can wait.
"There are some things I need to tell you."
"If it's some kind of neural stimulus and I'm actually in custody, I don't want to know," she says firmly.
"Do you make up half of those?" Tony blurts out. "Because, damn. That's no kind of life."
Alt-Leigh turns to look at him, her expression sheepish. "Yes, I make some of those up. It's a coping mechanism."
"But your universe is still a hellhole, are we clear on that, at least?"
"I've been in yours for… what? Five minutes? Any universe with this house in it would seem like heaven. Give me a minute, Iron Man," she says, her tone gently chastising. "Let me look around." Her hand hovers on the door, but her gaze is caught on the shelf of books against the stone wall, near the fireplace.
The shelf has a picture of his Leigh and three year old Ember, on her birthday.
He walks over in front of the bookcase when she starts toward it. "I told you that I was close with the Leigh Balci from this universe?" She nods. "I don't want anything personal from you," Tony says, carefully. "I didn't know you were living in a disguised gulag and in dire need of rescue when I chose your universe. But I'll be honest: I was married to her. We have a daughter."
Tony watches her process this information. To his surprise, she blushes, rather than seems angry. Her expression does become more guarded, though.
"Did she die of cancer too?"
"No," Tony says. He looks away, to the side, anywhere but at her familiar face and unfamiliar eyes. "Her death was part of bringing everyone back. To reverse the- the 'blip.'"
"You said that was five years ago?" Alt-Leigh backs away from him, toward the front door again. "What would you say to me if I asked you how many versions of me you've brought here since then?"
He reminds himself of the world they'd just left behind ten minutes ago. It's a reasonable question, if asked by someone who was raised there.
"Just one."
"Why me?"
Tony goes for honesty. "Because you had the least to lose."
She laughs. "You had no idea how little it was, did you?" A haunted, miserable look crosses her face. "What the hell do I do now?" She covers her face with both hands, another familiar gesture. Seconds later, she's dropping them as if she knows there are no better answers written on her palms. "Tell me what your plan was." The steel is back in her tone, despite her broken body language. She's clutching the doorknob, now, as if a desperate flight into the wilds of West Virginia is her own personal Plan B.
"Find a version of my late wife who is dying of something incurable. Convince her to live the last months of her life here, with us, with all of her family. Give my daughter a chance to know a version of her mother, to be able to say goodbye, in a way Ember never had a chance to. Same for that version of Leigh's parents, her sisters, her brothers. It was-" he shakes his head, "Unconscionably naive. Had you lived in any kind of a normal world, I probably would have realized that sooner, and given up."
Tony would like to believe that's true, but the secret, shameful last step of his plan will remain unvoiced, because he knows it's even worse than what he's already spoken about. That was always something he'd planned to keep to himself for months, yet. Even if everything had worked out as he'd originally, ridiculously planned. He's not even sure, now that he's rescued this woman, that he could ever, ever ask her to perpetuate it. Even if she's his (original self's) only shot.
"And, what? That's supposed to have been some kind of gift, just because I'm dying? I am, aren't I? I mean, they told me I am, but it's one thing to be told that by a doctor, and another to be told that by a, a time traveling widower," she gasps.
Tony doesn't move toward her, holding out his hand to beg her to stay put, not to run, despite what she's just said.
There is, of course, nowhere to run to.
"Context. Important context: this is the only universe where we've managed to bring everyone back. The only one. That's why. Not because- Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm sorry."
"So am I," she says, sinking down into a pile of misery against the door. "I was drowning, back there. My oldest brother's best friend was a so-called mutant. Tore the family apart. Besides he and I, none of us are on speaking terms. The family I have left are as lost to me as if they'd turned to dust that day." There are tears streaming down her face unchecked, now. "I was going to die alone. Alone, untrusted at work, doing designs I hated . And then, I run into this guy, and it was so lovely to be looked at like a person worthy of…" she shakes her head. "In my mind I wove multiple ridiculous scenarios about how that would go? This- this was not one of them. But I'm grateful. So grateful."
Her shoulders rock with the strength of what is obviously grief, but Tony can do nothing but watch. It's excruciating. The seconds tick by, and he understands that he absolutely deserves what he's feeling. That if this went on for hours, it would still not be enough. This is what Strange had warned him about.
Finally, she slumps back, clearly exhausted. "Coming here- it's both more terrifying and more wonderful than anything I could have come up with- but I literally have no idea what to do."
Tony has no right to fucking speak, but he does, anyway. It's a whisper, but a forceful one. "Just don't make me send you back there."
She smiles at that. "Okay."
"Tell me what you want," Tony says, "-and I'll do it. If I can't figure it out, give me time, I'll invent a way. I'm- it's my thing."
"I'm figuring that out," she says, shooting him an assessing look. "She was your graphite, wasn't she? Your boron, your heavy water. Your moderator. You're a nuclear reactor, and to save the world, you gave up the thing that kept you in check. Ever since then you've been spewing radioactivity without anyone to stop you, and going to my universe was your nuclear meltdown."
It's such a Leigh thing to say, and so true. All he can do is nod, helplessly.
"Just like a meltdown, there's no way to unwind this."
Tony shakes his head.
"I want to know where I stand. To know that, I need to know where you do."
Tony will be forever grateful for whatever combination of genetics and upbringing that has made this woman so generous. Though, he does remember her saying she'd woven herself imaginary worlds that involved him, just from a few minutes' worth of interactions. She's not wholly uninvested.
"We're in West Virginia. I live here with my seven year old daughter Ember. Her mother was Leigh Balci Stark. She died in October 2023, when Ember was three. Right now Em is in Pennsylvania with the Balci family. It's the week leading up to Easter, 2028."
Alt-Leigh's hand creeps up to cover her mouth. "And all of them are alive?" she asks in a cautious whisper.
Tony nods.
"How long were you married?"
"Just under four years."
"She's lived without your wife longer than with, at this point?"
He nods, his teeth clenched. Last year had been hard, for that reason.
"Did she know what you were planning to do?"
Tony doesn't answer, 'she's seven,' because nothing else in regards to the woman seated on the floor across from him has been done with anything resembling logic, either. "No."
"How do you anticipate she'll react?"
Tony's thought about this for years. His answer always changes, but in the end, he always comes back to a simple fact: Ember's whole life has been defined by events that should be impossible.
"She'll be confused, try to make sense out of it," he says, his head moving in an approximation of Em's certain bafflement. "But, the evidence of what's happened will be in front of her, and no matter how crazy life has gotten, she's always been able to orient herself to provable truth. She'll know you're not her mother, if that's a concern."
The Leigh that is not his wife nods, as if what he's just said is some kind of normal, sage truth.
"Are you thirsty? I'm thirsty," Tony says. He gets up and heads straight into the kitchen. He is thirsty, but he wants to give her agency. She can walk right the fuck out, if she needs to. Except- fuck. He sneaks a look out into the room, sees that she's standing, now. "If you're noping out, wait, because you should know: She's famous. Your face. My wife. Is famous."
"Because she was your wife?" she asks.
"Yeesssss," he prevaricates. "But no. From her death. There were stones of power, full set equals the ability to bring everyone back. One was obtained through an act of sacrifice." He holds out the cup of water, which she takes. "A soul for a soul. After the battle with Thanos, the world learned about what she did."
He uses the passive voice because while he's made his peace with the furor around Leigh's sacrifice, it was absolutely not his decision.
"So I am free to leave, but if I do, people will think I'm her? And they'll think… what? That you were lying?"
"With my reputation? They'll think I went back in time and got her," he smiles, tipping his head to the side.
"Didn't you?" Her expression has no small amount of condemnation.
"No. You are your own person. My wife is irreplaceable." He leans on the kitchen island and holds her gaze. They look at each other for a long time, long enough for Tony to see her as more than a pale, broken reflection of the Leigh he was married to. The differences are more than cosmetic. He understands that, now.
"I believe you," she says, finally.
Tony shakes his head, takes a long sip of water, and puts the glass down hard enough to make a loud sound that echoes throughout the room. "No one else will."
8888888888
They agree to some time apart, a few hours, at least. She goes outside and settles into the hammock, hugging the pillow there and simply looking up at the trees. Tony takes his camera and heads into Ember's room to document the progress of her Lego city. It's farther along than he'd expected, meaning she's probably using the LED flashlight he'd given her to stay up late working on it.
Tony supposes it's genetic. He used to do the same thing, but with machines.
As always, he photographs the buildings before carefully opening them up to reveal the decorating his daughter has done inside. That it's populated now is a result of her grandparents' discovery of the project and their purchase of many sets of Lego people. The last time Tony had checked the houses, there were only a few, but he'd seen that she had a notebook with little doodles that stood for each of the figurines. Ember had been delighted by the task of creating a whole society, complete with relationships, professions, and families.
Now, as he checks the houses for the results of her handiwork, Tony is impressed and delighted by what he finds.
Until he realizes something.
Most of the households are made up of odd numbers. The Lego people are all the same size, their ages and professions denoted by their markings. Still, he starts to understand that Em has structured families and couples, but most of the families are single-parent, just like hers. The majority of the female figurines aren't with the families. They're alone in classrooms, in science labs, at hospitals, in grocery stores.
Ember has constructed a world without mothers.
Tony holds himself together until he's put everything back, checking his camera when he's not sure if he's done it properly. Then, he walks downstairs and collapses onto his couch and loses it. About twenty minutes into his meltdown, because that's what it absolutely is, he digs his noise cancelling headphones out of the magazine rack beside the couch and puts them on. Tony blasts metal music and tries to forget that anything but music exists, including himself.
8888888888
He wakes up completely disoriented.
Part of what does it is that he's never fallen asleep on this couch before. Tony's a man of creature comforts, always has been. This couch is not comfortable, not in that way, because that's not what it's for. There's a sink-in-and-stay-awhile couch up in the rec room upstairs, and he'd slept there for weeks after he'd realized that he could still smell Leigh's scent in the bed they'd shared. So when Tony wakes up in his living room and can definitely smell dinner, he has a moment of complete confusion. This isn't eased by hearing Leigh's voice.
"Your breathing changed. Are you okay?"
Understanding slams into him, and he gasps.
"What? What is it?" Alt-Leigh asks, swiftly moving into the room. She mutters under her breath as she searches for the switch to turn on the lamp beside where he's sitting.
"Sorry," he says, forming the word out of the mothballs his mouth is filled with.
"Don't be," she says. With actual amusement, she adds, "At least, not about this." She gestures to the collapsed pile of limbs he's still configured in. "You probably needed it. I'm pretty sure you were held together with popsicle sticks and tar."
"What am I smelling?" he asks, again feeling as if he's only speaking with a concerted effort, picking the words off of a fast-moving conveyor belt.
"Meatless spaghetti with canned sauce. I can only assume based on the dates on the bottles that you're doing the best you can with the training you have."
Tony blinks at her. "Thank you," he says. "You didn't have to-"
"I know. Also, if you're allergic to anything I've put in it, that's too bad. That's your penance for stealing me from my miserable, lonely existence."
She walks back into the kitchen, leaving Tony to stare after her in complete, numb shock.
Even though he made a resolution hours ago not to compare the two, he can't help but think about the pragmatic way his Leigh had adjusted to being stuck with him in the bunker he'd pulled down on them. By the time they'd left, he had completed the process of falling for her.
Fuck, Tony thinks to himself. That wasn't- He didn't-
A conglomeration of voices in his head, genderless, with vocal aspects of Natasha Romanoff, Stephen Strange, Aleshia Rhodes, and Branson Harriot admonishes him.
What did you THINK was going to happen, you colossal, naive idiot?!
Not this.
And you call yourself a genius.
What he should do is pull back from her. It would be the respectful thing to do, the not-creepy, not- 'hey just steal a version of your wife from another universe, it's cool' thing to do. But she is absolutely alone here, bereft. There is no one else. And he may be many things, but he never wanted to be cruel.
"Stop thinking so hard and eat, for fuck's sake."
NO. Stop! Tony tells his heart when it flutters on hearing her affectionate insult.
"Like trying to stop a meteor from burning up in the atmosphere," he mutters to himself. He'd called his Leigh a meteor, once. He'd never realized how accurate he'd been at the time- they're impermanent by their very nature. "Coming," he says. He doesn't add the 'dear,' but the weight of it hangs in the air anyway. Fuck.
Leigh deserves so much better than this, Tony thinks. Both of them.
"I don't know where you eat. I set the island, instead of the table, figuring that probably wasn't a memory you already had," she says, her hands fluttering unspoken apologies around the set-up.
"That's thoughtful."
They eat in silence for a while. The whole time, he both tries not to stare at her, and tries to make sure he's not never looking at her, understanding that both might be hurtful. It would be easier, Tony thinks, if he weren't involved at all. He's a backhoe doing the task of a chisel.
"We need to figure out what to call me," she says after exactly ten minutes pass.
"Did you make an itinerary?" he asks. "Shit, that sounded bitter. But- did you make an itinerary?"
"Not where you could read it," she says, smiling around her fork. "Licia? Lauren? Though, maybe we should steer clear from using L names. So easy to slip into the familiar."
"My best friend's wife is named Aleshia," he tells her.
"What about Fianna? Fia? That's what my parents wanted to name me before settling on Felicia. It's Irish; they went there on their honeymoon."
"I didn't know that," Tony says, surprised.
Her smile is gorgeous. "There, see? Something new."
"Fianna," Tony says, trying it out. Her eyes are downcast, she's looking at her plate when he says it, but no matter what name the woman answers to, he knows her. He knows her body, her responses, at least most of them . She likes it. More than she expected. "We can pick something el-"
"No," she interrupts. Alt-Leigh- Fianna meets his eyes bravely. Her cheeks have a very slight but obvious tinge of pink to them. "I feel a connection to it. I- it doesn't feel like it's not me."
"Okay," he nods.
They finish the meal in silence, but Tony thinks that his thoughts have never been so loud, so obviously picked up, even by this woman who cannot accurately be described as a stranger. He wonders if she knows just how much he can sense about her body language, how well he knows her in so many different ways. It's as if their every communication has five interleaved layers of meaning to it.
"Let me," he says, when she starts to gather up their used dishes. She lifts her hands away but watches him with a perceptive look that tells him he won't like what she says next.
"You keep treating me like I'm broken. You're right. But you're not treating yourself with the same deference. It's as if you can't see how much you need fixing."
"If I'm broken, that's my fault, and my business."
"Bullshit," Fianna says. "More popsicle sticks and tar. It's long past time for you to fill that in with flesh, Tony Stark."
"I don't know how," he admits, throwing his hands out at his sides.
"Well, you asked me what I wanted. You said you'd do anything, invent something, if you had to. That's what I want, since I'm stuck here with you, now. You have to stop allowing yourself to be so broken."
Tony stares at her in horror, thinking about Ember's Lego society full of single fathers. He shakes his head, speechless.
"It's like you don't know me at all," she laughs. "You already rescued me, Iron Man. A life for a life, right?"