August 7, 2015
Eddie sat in the dining room at his home in El Paso, late morning light bathing the room in a soft glow, coffee going cold in a mug emblazoned with the slogan An Army of One on the table before him, wondering just how his life had imploded so completely.
Three weeks after Eddie left Tony Stark behind in the medical center at FOB Patton, while on a routine mission to retrieve and transport a wounded soldier back to base, Eddie's helo was shot down.
He'd been functioning well enough after coming online, his senses stable, that he'd been returned to active duty immediately instead of being reassigned for training in the use of his gifts. That meant he'd heard the incoming missile before impact, but hadn't been able to isolate its trajectory soon enough to advise the pilot how to evade.
The crash following the missile impact knocked him out briefly.
When he regained consciousness, the Sentinel in him had taken over and taken care of business, resulting in the deaths of the entire attacking insurgent group at the cost to himself of three slugs, a handful of broken bones and a dislocated shoulder. But he got his team out alive - except for Greggs, the wounded soldier they'd been assigned to transport, who'd succumbed to injuries exacerbated by the crash - and that was what mattered.
After some debate, the Army thanked him for his service with a Purple Heart, a Silver Star, an honorable medical discharge, and a mildly uncomfortable flight back to Fort Bliss. Eddie wasn't sure whether his injuries or his sentinel status accounted for the mostly comfortable flight, but he wouldn't look that gift horse in the mouth.
It was everything else he was having trouble with. He'd planned to make a career in the Army, to serve his twenty and maybe more. One terrorist missile - he'd asked, but no one had told him which particular group was responsible - took the life he'd chosen away from him.
Finding a new career wouldn't normally be cause for his current state of despair. But…
Having no choice but to find a new career when his wife had walked out of his life - worse, their son's life - without a word?
Realizing that the person he'd thought he could count on at least to help care for Christopher while he recovered and settled in to that new career - as well as coming to terms with what coming online meant for him personally and them as a family - had found the whole thing just too much work and bailed after he'd been home only three days?
That was cause for despair.
Eddie had woken up that morning alone in bed, the sheets beside him cool. That wasn't surprising, thanks both to his sleep schedule still being half a day off what he'd been accustomed to and also still recovering from his injuries.
He'd stretched his senses, but there was no indication Shannon was in the house at 4:30 a.m.
A slow, stumbling search of the house told him the pantry and freezer were full, so she hadn't gone shopping. Not that many stores in El Paso were open at zero dark thirty.
Christopher was still sleeping, so she hadn't taken him somewhere. Not that there was anywhere to take him at zero dark thirty.
And there was an iPad on the dining room table. A note stuck to it read, in Shannon's curly handwriting, The password is his birthday.
That had clinched it. Shannon was gone. She'd left him, still recovering from injuries and surgeries, and with senses that still occasionally went haywire, to care for a disabled son alone when he could barely care for himself.
The thought of his son sharpened his senses, and Eddie relaxed when he heard the soft click of Legos snapping together. At four years old, Christopher wasn't very good at making anything beyond a kaleidoscopic patchwork of plastic blocks arranged somewhat like a wall, but Eddie figured more complex builds would come in time. Considering the number of sets already stacked in Christopher's room, he probably should start a savings account just for Legos.
The sound of Legos snapping together, backgrounded by Christopher's breathing and the steady thump thump thump of his heart allowed Eddie to relax, at least a little.
So many things still needed to be addressed, but he was here, and Christopher was here, and in those conditions, Eddie could handle everything else.
As soon as he figured out where to start.
If he were in Los Angeles, he'd start with his Tía Pepa, who was a paralegal. Even if she didn't have experience with the VA and the DOD, she'd know how to find someone who did.
Here in El Paso, though, his options were more limited. His mother's family, smaller than the Diaz clan, tended more toward medicine and finance than law. Finance…maybe one of his maternal cousins could help him set up that Lego account and manage his severance pay?
Eddie put that thought aside quickly. Even approaching someone on his mother's side of the family ran the risk of the request getting back to his parents, and he'd never let his parents know he needed help if he could possibly avoid it, not given how they'd treated Shannon and how they'd belittled his choice to serve.
They'd better not brag about that Silver Star.
Eddie jerked up at that thought. Not that he had it; he was quite accustomed to thinking sarcastic thoughts about his parents. No, what surprised him about this thought was that it sounded a lot like Tony Stark.
Well, at least his inner voice couldn't legitimately tell him to behave.
He wasn't certain that was a good thing.
Eddie shook his head in a futile attempt to clear out the unhelpful thoughts. He'd be better off focusing on his sisters, one of whom might actually help him without being too judgmental about it. And without telling their parents.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted his musing. He wasn't certain whether he appreciated the interruption or not.
"Race you, Daddy!" Christopher called.
"No fair," Eddie called back. "You're closer, and you have two crutches while I've just got one cane!"
"Excuses are for losers!"
Eddie shook his head with a laugh and shoved himself to his feet, grimacing at the pain shooting up his right leg. A sudden movement after sitting in mostly the same position for the last half-hour was not pleasant.
He muted the pain and grabbed his cane.
A second knock, louder and more peremptory than the first, echoed before he'd cleared the dining room.
By the time he made it to the living room, where the front door stood at almost the exact center of the front wall of the house, Christopher had the door open.
From this angle, all Eddie could see was the open door and his son standing there with one hand on the knob and his head tilted back so he could look up at their visitor - no, visitors, Eddie corrected himself as he focused on his hearing.
Beneath the steady thumping of four heartbeats - Christopher's plus three visitors - he heard a very faint electronic hum. Eddie frowned as he limped toward the door.
The hum teased at his awareness, as though he should recognize it, but he'd remember if he'd ever heard that specific sound before.
"Mijo?" Eddie asked. "Who is it?"
Christopher turned his head - only his head, which Eddie thought was somehow significant - to face him, and at first all Eddie could think was wide eyes.
"Christopher?" he asked.
"Daddy," Christopher said as seriously as a four-year-old could. "Why is Iron Man here?"
"Quien? Who's Iron Man?" Eddie hurried forward as quickly as his injured leg would let him.
"It was all over the news," Christopher said. "Mommy watched it."
Which didn't really answer the question, but to a four-year-old, the answer probably made total sense. Eddie tried not to smile as he came to stand beside his son.
His smile fell into confusion when he saw the person standing on his front stoop.
What the hell was Tony Stark doing in El Paso, Texas?
"So." Stark pulled a pair of blue-tinted aviator sunglasses down his nose. "Mind telling me why I got a notification that my sentinel was being transferred back to the States?"
Eddie felt heat creep across his cheeks, but manners compelled him to step back and invite the man and his two companions - a petite red-haired woman in a crisp pantsuit and a heavyset dark-haired man in an equally dark suit - inside.
"Coffee?" Eddie asked. "Or tea?"
Stark's empathic senses washed over him. Eddie felt that he ought to glare at Stark, but figured the effort would be wasted.
"You're in no shape to make either," Stark said bluntly. "Happy?"
"Are you territorial about your kitchen?" the big man - Happy, presumably - asked.
"Daddy can't cook," Christopher said solemnly.
Stark cracked up. The woman with him looked like she was trying not to do the same.
Happy just grinned. "I can't, either. But I make a mean cup of coffee."
"I can't cook yet, mijito," Eddie corrected. "But I'll learn. And no," he added to Happy. "No territoriality about the kitchen."
Nor, really, anywhere else. Shock reverberated through him at that realization. He needed to think about it, maybe talk it over with his abuela or someone else he could trust, but his priority right now was healing so that he could take care of Christoper.
"What should I make for your son, sentinel?" Happy asked.
"Leche o jugo?" Eddie asked.
"Leche, por favor. Y galletas?"
Eddie turned a stern look on his son. "You do not need cookies right now. He wants milk," he added to Happy.
"On it," Happy replied.
"Please." Eddie gestured the other two toward the dining table.
"That's a hellacious amount of paperwork," Stark observed. "I didn't have nearly as much when I came online."
"You're not military," Eddie shot back, then blew out a breath. "But most of that is separation paperwork, not related to my onlining."
Stark stared at him as he sat down, tucking his sunglasses into the collar of his AC/DC T-shirt as he did. "They gave you a Silver Star, and they let you go?"
"They didn't want to," Eddie said. "But my injuries qualified me for a medical discharge. I made some noises about my guide not being military - as evidenced by my not having a single match in the DOD system - as a reason. I think they were still going to fight me, until Bender - he was one of the ones on the mission where we met - mentioned, oh so casually, that I'd come online the same time as you. In my CO's hearing."
"And they assumed you're his sentinel," the woman said. "You didn't correct them?"
"It was never my job to correct my superiors outside of my immediate specialty," Eddie said as seriously as he could muster, offering a hand to steady Christopher as his son clambered onto the chair beside him. "And since we were not under fire with an emergent medical situation…"
The woman laughed, and Eddie found himself grinning in response. His senses didn't reveal anything unusual about her, though he didn't believe she was wearing a scent masker or any other so-called countermeasures.
"And that's why you got the notification that I was being transferred stateside," Eddie concluded.
"Devious," Stark said. He grinned. "I approve."
Any reply Eddie might have made was interrupted by the arrival of Happy with four mugs, two held by their handles in each hand.
"Black." Happy put one down in front of Stark. "Milk, no sugar," went to the woman - whose name, Eddie realized, he still didn't know. "Also black," went at an empty space, and then Happy met Eddie's gaze. "How do you take it?"
"Black is fine," Eddie answered, and Happy put the fourth cup in front of him before disappearing back to the kitchen and returning with a small glass of milk which he placed in front of Christopher.
"Thank you," Christopher said, and Eddie echoed it before taking a sip.
He set his cup down. "I know you didn't come here just because you got that notification - a call would've done. So, what's up?"
"Probably nothing you should talk about right now," the woman said, her tone gentle but the words sharp. When Eddie looked up at her, she merely inclined her head briefly toward Christopher.
Christopher looked up at Eddie. "Do I need to put on my headphones?"
Stark cleared his throat. "That might not be enough."
Eddie frowned at him. "Why not?"
"Because there's no need to broadcast emotions all over him."
Eddie scowled. "I can shield-"
Stark cut him off. "Not very well you can't. Not right now, anyway. I can feel your pain."
"I've dialed that down."
Stark just raised an eyebrow at him. "And when I'm in pain, I get cranky. Crankier," he added before the redhead could do more than open her mouth to speak. "And cranky plus other emotions? Yeah, pretty sure neither of us will shield as well as we should. And he's latent."
The last three words were barely audible over the hum from Stark's chest, but Eddie only nodded. Since he'd been back, his senses had teased him with an extra awareness of Christopher. He'd thought that meant Christopher was latent, so Stark's words were only a confirmation.
But, since Stark had brought up the problem, Eddie figured he should solve it. "What do you suggest instead?"
"I could take him to the zoo," Happy offered.
"Oh, can I go, Daddy?" Christopher bounced a little in his seat. "The deer have had their babies!"
Eddie could only blink, surprised that his son knew anything about baby animals, but before he could respond, the woman straightened.
"The rental car doesn't have a car seat," she said.
"You can take my truck," Eddie said. "Keys are on a hook beside the door."
"Yes!" Christopher shouted.
"Go to the bathroom before you go," Eddie murmured. Christopher squirmed down from the chair and hurried down the hallway as quickly as he could with his crutches.
Eddie turned to Stark. "I have to offer to pay for this."
Stark waved it away. "I'm the one causing the inconvenience. It's on me."
Ten minutes later, after Eddie gave Happy brief instructions while Christopher was in the bathroom, and with Happy's promise to bring food back with them, Happy and Christopher were gone. Eddie supposed he should feel more wary about letting his son go off with a stranger, and he probably would if the stranger were anyone other than Tony Stark's bodyguard-cum-friend.
Happy had refilled their mugs before he left, and now Eddie turned to the redhead.
"Apparently I forgot my manners. Eddie Diaz." He offered his hand, figuring she already knew that, but it would prompt her to introduce herself.
She took his hand in a firm, brief grip. "Pepper Potts. I'm Tony's assistant."
"Mucho gusto." He smiled and nodded to her before turning back to Tony.
"So - you're here because…?" he trailed off.
"Two reasons." Stark sat forward. "First, I've been having dreams. Blue dreams."
"And?" Eddie asked. "Those are pretty common for…." He trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence or if he'd already said too much.
Stark waved a hand. "Pep knows I'm a guide."
"Not my place to assume."
"Happy knows, also," Potts murmured. Then, "If you don't mind, perhaps I can help organize your paperwork while you two talk?"
Grateful for any assistance with the plethora of forms, Eddie waved her to it and focused on Stark. "What about these dreams?"
"I don't know." Stark lunged to his feet and paced the dining room that suddenly felt much smaller than it actually was. "I'm on the psionic plane, and I'm searching for something."
Which wasn't much to go on at all. Maybe Eddie could narrow it down a little. "Is your spirit guide with you?"
"Not mine," Stark said. "You know mine's a raven. But I'm seeing a bald eagle."
"Is it leading you somewhere?" Eddie asked.
Stark paused at the far end of the dining room, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe? It doesn't feel that deliberate. It feels like I have to…not lead, but certainly not follow. There's something I have to find, only I don't know what and I don't know how."
"Okay." Eddie took a sip of coffee, then said, "Why are you telling me?"
"Because Blair said I need a sentinel I can trust to help me look. That's you."
Eddie blinked. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Why wouldn't it be you? Why would it be anyone but you?"
Eddie's cheeks warmed at the trust Stark projected. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice would come out steady when he answered, "Because you have a sentinel out there that's much better for you than I am, for one - more compatible. And, right now, I can't do much. I have months of PT ahead of me."
Stark came back to the table and knocked his coffee back like it was a whiskey shot. "I don't know that you have to do anything. It might be enough if you're just…there. Blair wasn't clear on that."
That was the second time he'd mentioned Blair, and Eddie only now realized what he meant. "You talked to Blair Sandburg about it?"
"Who else?" Stark asked. "I mean, the local Alphas are okay, but I don't know them. I'm sure as hell not going to trust them with my personal stuff."
"But you do know Sandburg?"
"More than I know the Alphas. I consulted with Jim Ellison about making our equipment as Protector-friendly as possible. Of course Blair was there for those discussions."
"Oh." Of course Eddie knew Stark was wealthy and had connections everywhere, but it was an intellectual kind of knowing. Now, presented with the reality that Stark could just call up the Alpha Prime pair when he wanted to, Eddie understood it at a deeper level.
"So?" Stark asked. "You willing to help?"
There was only one answer he could make. "Of course, if we can work it around my PT…and Christopher's."
"Can't his mother help with that?" Stark asked, then winced. "Sorry, rude."
"But fair," Eddie said, and had a brief debate with himself. Christopher won, of course. "And until this morning, I would've said yes."
"What happened this morning?"
"This morning-" Eddie took a breath, let it out slowly, hoping his voice wouldn't crack as he finished the sentence "-I woke up and she was gone. Just gone. No letter, no text, no call - just a sticky note telling me the password to the tablet with Christopher's medical records."
The slap of paper against wood had him turning to face Potts, whose expression had turned murderous and who had obviously just smacked a small subset of the stack of paperwork on the table.
She didn't say anything though, so he turned back to Stark - who looked equally murderous as he whipped out his cell phone. "Full name, date of birth, any idea where she might've gone?"
"…What?" Eddie stared at the other man.
"Social Security number if you know it," Stark added, still scowling, his fingers poised over the phone.
Eddie was completely certain he shouldn't give out that information - well, other than her name, because their marriage certificate was part of the public record - but before he could say as much, his doorbell rang.
He cursed himself for not paying attention as he fumbled for his cane. Otherwise, he'd have heard the vehicle arrive, the driver approach, and not been surprised by the doorbell.
"Let me?" Potts offered.
After a moment, Eddie nodded. It was too soon for Happy to be back with Christopher, and he wasn't expecting family, so it was probably a door-to-door salesman or someone else he really didn't want to deal with.
With a brief smile, Potts rose and headed for the door.
"Spill," Stark ordered.
Eddie looked at him dubiously. "What are you going to do if I do?"
"Ruin her life."
Eddie blew out a breath. "Look, she's…gone. And she left in the worst way I can imagine her leaving. But that doesn't mean I want her life ruined."
Stark looked supremely skeptical at that, but all he said was, "What do you want, then?"
"Eddie?" Potts called - though not overly loudly - from where she stood at the door. "It's a delivery, and they need your signature. Is it okay if the delivery person comes inside where he can see you, and I'll bring you the tablet to sign?"
The sentinel in him relaxed, which was surprising because he hadn't realized he'd tensed.
"Yes, that's fine."
Stark shifted in his chair so that his face couldn't be seen from the door, but it would be obvious to the delivery person that Eddie and Potts weren't alone together.
Eddie confirmed his identity verbally to the delivery person - a young man about college age, Eddie estimated - and signed the tablet. Potts completed the exchange with polite efficiency and, a moment later, brought Eddie a manila envelope.
Eddie could feel his companions' curiosity, even though Potts had returned to the stack of paperwork and Stark appeared to be focused on his phone, as he ran a finger under the envelope flap and tore it open.
Inside he found a letter from a law firm he'd never heard of - which would be pretty much all of them, since he'd never had need of one before - explaining that Shannon wanted a divorce and outlining her minimum terms.
Both Stark and Potts were careful not to crowd him, to keep their expressions more concerned than curious, though their scents revealed…well, he wasn't sure what, exactly their scents revealed. He'd had basic training in controlling his senses before the Army discharged him, but no training in differentiating or identifying anything he smelled or tasted.
If he were in their place, though, he'd be burning with curiosity and concern. He was tempted to catalog that scent under those categories, but shoved the urge away for now. For now, he only needed to decide what to do, what to say, in this moment.
The decision was shockingly easy.
"Shannon wants a divorce."