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They watch as Hel leads Tony to the elevator.
“What’s that about?” Pepper murmurs to Loki.
He shrugs. “I’ve no idea. Clearly, Hel has some plan in mind.”
“I bet I know what it is,” Bruce says, grinning.
“Stark’s too smart for that,” Fury says, sounding amused. “He knows Laufeyson promised not to eviscerate him… but he didn’t promise he wouldn’t do anything else.”
Bruce laughs.
“What are you going to do now, Bruce?” Pepper asks, sipping her drink.
“The first thing I’m going to do is go see my parents. And then…” He shrugs. “I feel like a new man… I have my life back.” He turns to Loki. “I can never – ”
Loki holds up a hand. “No, do not say it again, Bruce. I have told you, I require no repayment.”
“I want you to know that I’m not going to stop working on… ah, on that other project, Loki. Even if I don’t stay with the Avengers.”
Fury frowns. “You thinking of quitting?”
Bruce shrugs.
“We need you, Doctor Banner,” Fury reminds him. “For your brains as much as for the Hulk.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” Bruce says sincerely. “Like I said, I have a whole new life ahead of me now, and I need to think.”
“We are going to scry for your parents,” Hel says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Tony blinks. “You… what… how,” he says intelligently.
Hel smiles at him. “Come, sit close to me,” she invites.
He doesn’t move.
“Don’t you want to be able to see?” she asks. “You won’t be able to see from way over there, Tony.”
She has a point. Reluctantly, he gets up and moves to sit beside her.
Hel picks up the bowl. Now he can see that it’s as intricately chased as Loki’s, and that instead of emeralds and rubies, it’s got four amethysts set in its outer rim.
She begins turning the bowl in her hands, murmuring quietly in another language. The gemstones light up from within, and the water ripples.
“Hold out your hands, Tony,” she tells him, and he does.
She places the bowl so that it rests half in her hands and half in his.
“Now, think of your parents.”
He closes his eyes. “Mom…”
The ripples in the water grow, spreading.
“There,” Hel whispers, and Tony opens his eyes.
The little blonde girl shifts her backpack on her shoulder and digs in her pocket for her keys.
Carefully, so as not to make any noise, she fits the key in the lock and turns it. Slowly, almost silently, she eases the door open and tiptoes inside.
The television is on (the television is always on), and a huge snoring form lies passed out on the sofa.
There are empty beer cans everywhere; on the coffee table, on the floor, on the sofa. Cigarettes smolder away in ashtrays, unnoticed.
One day, the little girl thinks, he’s going to burn the whole place down.
The thought doesn’t trouble her terribly much.
She steals past him as quietly as she can, intending to go to her room and shut herself in there for the night. It’s unlikely that dinner will be forthcoming anyway.
“Goldilocks,” the mass on the sofa rumbles, and the little girl freezes. “Jus’ gonna ignore me, huh? Some daughter I got.” He hauls himself upright and gestures. “C’mere.”
She puts her backpack down and goes to him, reluctance written in every movement of her body.
“C’mere,” he repeats. When she is close enough, he reaches out and grabs her arm.
“Ow!” she protests. Without even thinking about it, he lifts his free hand and backhands her across the face so hard that she sees stars.
“Little bitch,” he growls. “Show some reshpek fer yer dad!”
“Yes, sir,” she mumbles. He shakes her, hard.
“Gowwan,” he finally says, releasing her. There’s a cooler on the floor near the sofa, and he jerks it open and drags out another beer.
“Gowwan ta yer room and yer books… think yer so smart. Useless, that’s what you are. Useless!”
She picks up her backpack and flees.
“That’s not my mom,” Tony says, raising his head from the bowl.
Hel looks up at him. “No?”
“No, it’s not. She wasn’t blonde… I don’t understand what I’m seeing… why I’m seeing this.”
Hel gives him a sad smile. “You will.”
The little blonde girl is now a blonde young woman.
She’s sprawled out across a bed. The sheets and blankets don’t look very clean.
A little blond boy comes into the room. He grabs her shoulder and starts shaking her awake.
“Mom, come on, wake up!”
She groans. “Go away!”
“Mom, someone’s at the door!”
“Tell ’em to fuck off.”
“She says she’s from DFACS. Come on, you have to get up!”
The blonde woman pulls herself out of bed and stumbles around. She spies a half-full bottle of vodka on the nightstand and reaches for it.
“No, mom!” the boy says, grabbing her arm. “You have to go see this lady!”
“Fuck her,” she slurs, and it comes out sounding more like fucker.
The little blond boy drags her into the living room and opens the front door.
The woman on the other side is wearing a nice suit and carrying a briefcase.
“Ma’am,” she says, stepping inside without being invited. “I’m here to talk to you about your son.”
Tony looks up from the bowl. “Hel, who is this woman?”
“Haven’t you guessed yet, Tony?” she asks without looking up. She makes a motion over the surface of the water, and it ripples again.
The blonde woman sits on a folding chair in a church basement, clutching a cardboard cup full of coffee.
She’s sitting in a circle with the others, sharing her story.
“My mom died when I was a baby. My dad was either at his job whenever he had one or at home drunk and abusive when he didn’t.”
She sips her coffee.
“I got pregnant at eighteen, dropped out of high school. My dad kicked me out, and I lived on the street for a while. Then I got on welfare, got a place. Had my son… and losing him is the reason why I’m here tonight instead of getting drunk in front of the television.
My name is Sylvia Jennings, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hello, Sylvia,” the room echoes back.
“I’m trying to get my life together, you know? I got my GED and I’m in nursing school at night. I’ve tried getting sober before, but it never stuck. Maybe… maybe this time I can make it.”
“Do you understand now, Tony?” Hel asks softly.
He feels like he’s missing something very important. It’s on the tip of his brain, if only he can shake the thought out.
“No,” he finally admits.
“Would you see more?”
“I… yeah, sure.”
“All right. So. Think now of your father.”
They turn their attention back to the bowl.
The little black boy sits at the kitchen table. He’s dressed in a baseball uniform.
“Is Daddy coming to my game today?” He asks. He swings his legs as he waits for his mother to answer.
“No, Freddy.” She puts a bowl of cereal down in front of him. “He’s working.”
“He’s always working,” the little boy says with a frown.
“Eat your breakfast,” his mother coaxes.
With a sigh, he picks up his spoon.
“Your daddy’s Chief of Surgery now,” his mother reminds him. “That’s a very important job with a lot of responsibility.”
“I know, Mama.” He begins to pick at his cereal in a bored way, still swinging his legs. “When I grow up, I’m gonna be a doctor too. I’ll work in the hospital with Daddy and make him proud.”
His mother smiles. “I know you will, Freddy.”
“Hel…” Tony begins.
“Hush now, Tony. Watch.”
“From dust thou came, and unto dust thou shalt return,” the minister intones.
“Amen,” the mourners repeat.
The little black boy is now a handsome young man. He stands next to his mother beside the still-open grave and puts his arm around her as the casket is lowered into the earth.
She sobs, and he puts his arms around her and pulls her close.
“It’s OK, Mama,” he whispers. “You’ve still got me.”
“I know, Freddy.” She wipes her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s gone…”
“I know, Mama.”
“He worked so hard. The stress just did him in.” She looks up at him. “I know you want to be like him, but promise me, Freddy. Promise me you won’t do the same.”
“I’ll try, Mama.”
“Hel, why are you showing me these people?” Tony asks. “I don’t get it.”
“I am showing you nothing.”
“Uh, no, I’m pretty sure you’re showing me these things.”
“The bowl is showing you these things, Tony. Not I.”
“Why?”
She smiles at him. “Do you truly not know? The bowl is showing you exactly what you asked to see.”
“No, I asked to see my parents!”
“Yes. Come. Look.”
Again, they bend over the bowl.
The young black man is older now, and wearing a long white coat and a stethoscope around his neck.
He’s standing at the nurses’ station with a phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, phone cord stretched out across the desk. As he speaks, he’s scribbling orders in a chart.
“Marilyn, I told you… no, I can’t get away. Melissa just has to understand that… no, I can’t just get someone to cover for me. This is important.”
Pause.
“No, no, I didn’t mean that her school play isn’t important… stop putting words in my mouth! I did not say that!”
Pause.
“Yeah, I know she’s got the lead role. Look, I’ll do my best, but I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep.”
Pause.
“Just… take video, OK? And tell her I’ll make it up to her, I promise.”
Pause.
“Marilyn, just calm down and – hello? Hello? Dammit!”
He reaches across the desk and slams the phone down.
He’s still writing in the chart when a nurse approaches. “Doctor Phillips?”
“What?” he asks without turning around.
“Doctor Meyers thinks that Mister Simpson in 425 has a bleed. They’re taking him back to surgery.”
“Damn,” he swears under his breath. He stops writing and hands her the chart. As he hurries away, he calls over his shoulder, “Call the OR and tell them I’m on my way!”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Do you see now, Tony?” Hel asks. She puts the bowl down on the table, and the water goes still and dark. “Do you see?”
The pieces are beginning to come together in his head, but he’s not sure he believes the picture that they’re forming.
“Is this… Hel, are we talking about reincarnation?”
She smiles. “Yes.”
Tony is at an absolute loss.
“I don’t believe in reincarnation,” he finally says.
She shrugs. “And you don’t believe in an afterlife, either.”
“That’s right,” he agrees immediately.
“Or magic,” she continues in a teasing tone.
“Or magic,” he agrees.
“And yet here you sit with the Queen of Niflheim, viewing your parents’ new lives in a magical bowl.”
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Throwing reality in my face like that. It’s just rude.”
She frowns. “I’m sorry, Tony,” she says quietly, and looks down at her black-gloved hands, folded neatly in her lap.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said that. Some people… some people don’t know how to take me sometimes.”
She laughs. “Oh, you were making a joke. I see!”
Tony decides that he seriously needs alcohol if he’s going to deal with any more of this. He rises to his feet and goes to the bar.
“So… these people. This Sylvia Jennings and Freddy Phillips… they’re real people, and they’re walking around somewhere out there with no idea that they used to be Maria and Howard Stark?”
He collects a decanter full of scotch and two glasses and returns to the sofa.
“Yes,” she agrees. “Though I understand that some of your kind do recall previous lives. And some dream about them, but do not remember or understand upon waking.”
He pours out two drinks and hands one to Hel.
“And… have I had past lives?” he asks, sipping his scotch.
“Perhaps.” She gives him an enigmatic smile. “If it were for you to know, you would remember.”
“Gee, thanks.” He sips his drink and thinks for a moment. “They seem to be repeating the same mistakes,” he finally says.
She nods. “Some repeat their mistakes nearly countless times, until they get things right at last.”
“Sylvia might be heading in that direction,” he says thoughtfully. “It looked like she was at an AA meeting… and she mentioned going back to school. Maybe she’ll get sober this time around.” He looks at Hel. “What do you think?”
She shrugs. “I do not know, Tony. I have watched Midgard for more years than you can imagine… your kind does manage to get it right about as often as they get it wrong… so who can say? I certainly cannot.”
“I wonder what mistakes I’m repeating… if I’m getting it right this time.” He holds up his scotch glass and looks at it carefully. “Yeah… probably not,” he finally says, and downs the whole thing.
The party is wrapping up.
Fury is saying goodbye and Clint and Natasha have disappeared up the hallway together, hand in hand.
“Miss Potts,” JARVIS says.
She turns away from Steve. “What is it, JARVIS?”
“Miss Lokidóttir requested that I tell you and Mister Laufeyson that she requires your help with Mister Stark.”
Pepper and Loki exchange a look.
“What kind of help?” Pepper asks.
“She did not say.”
“Where are they, JARVIS?” Loki asks.
“They are in Mister Stark’s living room, Mister Laufeyson.”
“All right, tell her we’ll be right there,” Pepper says. She and Loki walk to the elevator.
“I wonder what has happened,” Loki says, and he sounds worried.
Pepper just shakes her head.
The elevator dings and the doors open.
Hel is sitting on the living room sofa, an obviously very inebriated Tony sobbing against her chest. Her arms are around him, and she’s murmuring into his hair.
“Oh, geeze,” Pepper says softly. And then, in a normal voice: “All right, Hel, it’s OK. We’re here.”
Hel looks up at them, her face lighting up with relief.
“I did not know what to do,” she admits. “I cannot leave him like this, but I cannot stay much longer.”
She tilts her head up, and Pepper can see the black creeping up the visible part of her neck to her jawline.
“It’s fine, Hel,” Pepper assures her. She and Loki approach the sofa together. Pepper puts her hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Tony?”
He takes a shuddering breath and looks up at her. “Pep?” He brings a hand up to wipe his cheeks. “Loki. Loki! Shit!”
He pulls away from Hel so fast that he almost tumbles off the sofa. “Dun ’visssserate me! You promised, ’member?”
Loki rolls his eyes.
“I din even kiss her! She was icin’ my scotch for me… innur mouth.” He gestures wildly for emphasis. “That’s not kissin’!” He looks to Pepper for support. “Right?”
“Come on, Tony,” Pepper says, grabbing his flailing arm before he manages to hit anyone. “Time for bed.”
He grins wolfishly at her.
“Don’t start,” she warns him, trying to pull him to his feet. He’s dead weight. “Help me out here, Tony.”
And now Loki is there, taking Tony’s other arm. “Stand up, Stark.”
Tony looks at Pepper. “I dun wanna go ta bed with Loki,” he says querulously.
“That is fortunate,” Loki tells him dryly, and effortlessly hauls Tony to his feet. “Though I do make a very attractive woman.”
Tony blinks at him. “Seriously?” His tone is openly speculative.
“Loki, don’t get him started,” Pepper warns, and Loki laughs.
Mischief.
Pepper rolls her eyes.
“G’night, Hel!” Tony calls as Pepper and Loki pretty much drag him from the room. “’Member tell your dad not to ’vissssertate me for kissin’ you.”
They drag Tony into his bedroom and dump him unceremoniously on the bed.
Loki sighs. “How did you do it, Pepper? All those years?”
“I honestly have no idea,” she confesses as she bends to remove Tony’s shoes.
“I hate to think what the state of his liver must be like.”
Pepper finishes with Tony’s shoes and socks, and then begins on his pants.
“He hates sleeping in his clothes,” she explains, and pulls Tony’s pants off in one smooth motion.
They stare.
“OK, so, no underwear,” Pepper says, blushing and biting her lip. “Yeah… probably should’ve expected that, actually.”
Together, they manage to maneuver him under the covers, and then Pepper pulls his shirt off over his head.
Loki stares at the arc reactor glowing in Tony’s chest. After a moment, he leans over and taps it with one long finger.
“That’s what’s keeping him alive,” Pepper tells him.
Loki nods.
She pulls the covers up to Tony’s chin as one would a small child, and bends to kiss his forehead.
“Goodnight, Tony.”
“G’night, Mom,” he mumbles.
Loki snorts. “Goodnight, Stark.”
“’Night, Loke,” Tony mumbles. “Dun visserenate me, ’kay?”
When they go back out to the living room, Hel is still sitting on the sofa. She’s staring down at her hands, neatly folded in her lap.
They sit down on the sofa across from her. Loki reaches across the table and picks up Hel’s half-full glass of scotch and takes a sip.
For a moment, no one speaks.
“Icing his scotch for him, Hel?” Loki finally asks, arching an eyebrow.
Hel bites her lip. “You know, rather like the ice cream… that’s where I got the idea. From Natasha… well, from you and Pepper, really, I suppose.”
Loki sighs. “I am a bad influence on my own child.”
“What happened here tonight, Hel?” Pepper asks softly. “How did he get to be such a mess?”
Hel sighs. “It is my fault.” Her eyes dart to the silver bowl on the table.
“You were scrying,” Loki says.
“Yes.”
“What did you see?” Pepper asks, leaning forward in her seat.
Hel bites her lips. “I showed Tony his parents.”
Loki chokes on his scotch. “You did what?” he manages to get out between coughing.
“I know… I shouldn’t have,” she admits. “But he always seems so sad…”
Loki seems about to question this, but then he simply leans back against the sofa and takes another sip of scotch.
“Yes,” he finally says. “I suppose he does.”
“Your heart was in the right place, Hel,” Pepper says. “I know you didn’t mean to upset him.”
“No, I did not,” she whispers. “I only wanted to make him happy.”
“Oh, Hel,” Pepper sighs. “I know.” She’s dying to ask about Tony’s parents, but now’s really not the time.
“Will he be all right?” Hel asks.
“He’ll be fine, trust me. This certainly isn’t the first night I’ve had to pour him into bed.”
Loki smiles at this. “No, it is not.”
She looks at him, suddenly remembering.
“Oh my God, that’s right!” she exclaims. “The night of that benefit… when you just showed up and scared me half out of my mind!”
“Good times,” Loki says, grinning.
Hel smiles fondly at them. “You are good for one another.”
Pepper beams happily. “I think so.”
Loki appears to think this over. “I haven’t decided yet,” he finally says.
Pepper elbows him in the ribs, and he laughs and leans over to kiss her.
Hel rises to her feet. “I really must go.”
“See you soon?” Pepper asks.
Hel smiles. “Yes, soon. Goodnight, Father.”
“Goodnight, Hel.”
And she’s gone.
“Wake me when we get there, Happy,” Tony says, sinking back against the leather seat and closing his eyes behind his sunglasses. He’s asleep before the car even begins moving.
He has fitful dreams about kissing Hel and icy cold scotch and Loki standing over his bed, tapping one long finger on his arc reactor.
He jerks awake when Happy gets out of the car.
“We’re here, Mister Stark,” he says, and opens Tony’s door for him.
Tony climbs out of the limo and surveys his surroundings.
It’s a neighborhood much like any other in Queens; little two-family row houses crammed together, barely enough space for a single-car driveway between them.
Tony consults his phone, double-checking the address. He spies the correct house, ambles up the walk to the door and rings the doorbell.
He hears activity inside. The door opens and he finds himself face-to-face with the little blond boy from Hel’s bowl… only now, he’s several years older.
The child’s blue eyes open wide in amazement.
“Who’s at the door, Calvin?” a female voice calls from inside.
“Mom? It’s… it’s Iron Man!”
“Calvin, don’t fool around. I’m tired. I had a long day, and – ”
“No, Mom. Seriously, it’s Iron Man.”
Tony hears a sigh of exasperation from inside the house, and approaching footsteps.
And there she is: Sylvia Jennings. She’s a few years older and a few pounds heavier than the woman Tony had last seen in the bowl, but it’s unmistakably her.
“Hi,” Tony says, putting on his best charming grin and extending his hand. “I’m Iron Man.”
Her mouth falls open in astonishment.
“I told you so, Mom!” the child crows triumphantly.
She blinks up at Tony. “I…” She finally recovers herself enough to shake his hand. “I’m Sylvia Jennings,” she tells him. “And this is my son Calvin.”
“Yeah, I know.” He’s still trying to think up a plausible explanation for appearing on their doorstep out of the blue like this.
“Did you get my letter already?” Calvin asks. “I can’t believe it! I just sent it yesterday!”
Oh, bless the child! Tony immediately goes with it.
“Yeah, I sure did!” he says, beaming brightly. “So I was in the neighborhood and decided to pay a visit!” He realizes as he’s saying this that as soon as word gets out, his fan mail volume will probably quadruple. His secretaries are going to murder him in his sleep one day.
“Can you stay for dinner?” Calvin asks. Then, belatedly: “Can he, Mom? Can he?”
Sylvia sighs. “Of course he can… if he wants to.”
“Come in, come in!” Calvin says, grabbing Tony’s arm and dragging him inside. “I want to show you my science fair project!”
Calvin’s science fair project turns out to be a rather clever little contraption that harnesses the power of wind to light up a small light bulb.
“I made it with parts from a fan I got at a yard sale,” Calvin tells Tony proudly. “Want to take it in the backyard and see if it’s windy enough to work?”
“Sure,” Tony grins. He’s not good with children, but he’s good with science and gadgets and building crazy things. He’s in his element.
They haul it outside, and there’s just enough of a breeze to make the small light flicker.
“You know,” Tony says thoughtfully, studying it. “If you were to attach a little storage battery here,” he says, pointing, “and a switch here, you could leave this outside and let the wind charge it up for you, and then take it inside, flip the switch, and lights on!”
Calvin is staring up at him, hero worship emanating from him in nearly palpable waves. “Really? You think it’d work?”
Tony grins. “We can try!” He ruffles Calvin’s hair. “C’mon, let’s get Happy to take us to Radio Shack… they should have everything we need!”
They’re still tinkering away with their wind-powered nightlight when Sylvia calls them inside for dinner.
“OK, Mom!” Calvin calls, and Tony bites his lip.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Calvin is staring at him. “Your mom died, didn’t she? And your dad, too.”
“Yeah, in a stupid fu… foolish car crash.”
“I’m sorry,” Calvin says softly.
“Thanks, kid.”
“Calvin!” Sylvia calls. “Come on!”
“We’re coming, Mom!”
“Yeah, Mom!” Tony yells before he can stop himself.
Calvin grins at him.
The heavenly smell in the kitchen is very familiar to Tony, and he frowns.
“What’s for dinner, Mom?” Calvin asks.
Tony answers for her: “Hamburger, macaroni, and tomatoes.”
Sylvia stares at him oddly. “How did you know?”
Tony shrugs. “My mom… that was the only thing she knew how to cook. Learned it from a roommate in college… it’s easy and it’s fast and it’s cheap.”
Sylvia laughs. “Yeah, it is. And here I thought I’d made it up myself!”
No… you remembered it, Tony thinks to himself.
She begins getting glasses out of the cupboard.
“What would you like to drink, Mister Stark?”
“Iron Man drinks scotch!” Calvin announces before Tony can even open his mouth.
“Oh.” She frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t have any alcohol in the house,” she says.
He shrugs, but he’s secretly glad to hear this. “That’s fine. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Diet Pepsi?” she asks.
He shrugs again. “Sure.”
“Chocolate milk, please,” Calvin says.
“Ooo, I think I’d like to change my drink order,” Tony says, and Sylvia laughs.
“So, what do you do?” Tony asks Sylvia over dinner.
“I’m a registered nurse. I used to work at Manhattan Midtown, but – ”
“But Doctor Doom burned it down,” Tony finishes for her. “Yeah, I was there.”
“Iron Man saved the day!” Calvin proclaims triumphantly.
Tony snorts. “Not really. Actually, it was Loki.”
Calvin looks shocked. “Loki?”
“Yeah. Hard to believe, right? But he’s been helping us out a lot lately… in fact…” He leans forward and lowers his voice conspiratorially, “if you promise your best promise not to tell another single soul, I’ll tell you a secret.”
Calvin leans forward in his seat. “I swear my best promise, Iron Man. I won’t tell anyone, not even if they torture me!”
Tony makes a show of glancing around, as though they might be overheard. And then he leans in close and whispers in Calvin’s ear: “Loki’s on the good side now… he’s joining the Avengers!”
“No way!” Calvin yells.
“Way!” Tony grins. “But you can’t say anything, because we haven’t announced it yet. Outside of the Avengers, you are the only person who knows about this… and I know I can count on you to keep it quiet!”
“You sure can, Iron man! Wow!” The child is grinning like it’s Christmas morning, and Sylvia smiles fondly at him.
“So, what’s the secret, Calvin?” she asks.
“Nope, sorry, Mom. I can’t tell anyone, not even you!”
Tony laughs. “Good man!” He looks at Sylvia. “He’s a great kid.”
She beams. “Thank you, Mister Stark.”
“What are you doing now, since the hospital’s closed?”
She shrugs. “I’ve been picking up hours at St. Ignatius over on Queens Boulevard when I can… it’s not regular work, but it’s the best I can do.” She looks at him. “You own Manhattan Midtown,” she says.
“Yeah… or what’s left of it. It’s a long story.”
“I heard. I wasn’t working there when you bought it, though.”
He nods. “We’re working on rebuilding. I’m not sure when we’ll reopen.” He shrugs. “On the bright side, we’re starting from scratch. It’ll be an all-new facility with state-of-the-art equipment. Everything brand new and bleeding edge.”
She smiles. “Sounds wonderful.”
“And everyone who wants their job back… their jobs will be waiting when we reopen.”
A look of immense relief crosses her face. “Thank you, Mister Stark. A lot of us weren’t sure…”
“Well, you can tell ’em you had dinner with Iron Man and got the scoop.”
She laughs. “I will.”
Tony leans back in his chair. “When you worked there… did you happen to know a Freddy Phillips?”
She frowns.
“Doctor Phillips? Yeah, I knew him. He’s an excellent doctor… the best in the field. If you have a brain tumor he’s your go-to guy. He’s a horrible human being, though. Total arrogant jackass. His wife left him not long ago… she finally got fed up with him, I guess. Why?”
“Oh, someone mentioned his name to me the other day, and I was wondering,” he says casually.
Sylvia stands and begins clearing the table.
“Let me help,” Tony offers immediately.
“No, sit,” she tells him. “You’re our guest!”
“What’s for dessert, Mom?” Calvin asks.
“Key lime pie,” Sylvia replies. “Do you like that, Mister Stark?”
“Sure,” he lies through his teeth. “But you know what? I’m so full that I think I’m going to pass. Dinner was so delicious that I ate way too much!”
Sylvia grins happily.
Tony gets in the back of the limo and settles back against the seat.
As Happy starts the car moving, Tony takes out his phone and makes a call.
“Yeah, Franklin. It’s me. Listen, I want you to set up a college account for a kid named Calvin Jennings. Make sure there’s enough in there to cover any college anywhere. He’s twelve. His address is…”
The next day, Tony and Happy head out again, this time to an exclusive building on Central Park West.
“Tell him that Tony Stark is here to see him,” Tony tells the doorman. “His boss.”
After conferring with someone on a telephone, the doorman waves him inside.
“Forty-seventh floor, Mister Stark,” the doorman tells him helpfully.
“Thanks, man.” Tony pulls out his wallet and causally hands the guy a fifty.
The elevator deposits him directly in front of the correct apartment. He knocks sharply on the door, and it is opened immediately, as though the person inside had been expecting him.
Well, obviously he had; the doorman had told him Tony was coming.
“Mister Stark,” says the black man from Hel’s bowl. He’s older now, and balding.
Tony’s eyes light up with recognition. “I remember you!” he exclaims. “You took over after I fired that Scott asshole!”
“Yes. I guess I should thank you for my job. Would you like to come in?”
“Sure, thanks.”
The apartment is beautiful, and much more like what Tony is accustomed to than Sylvia’s cozy little row house.
“Care for a drink?”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“What’s your poison? And call me Freddy.”
“Scotch.”
Freddy goes over to a side table where a decanter sits on a tray with several glasses. He pours two drinks and motions for Tony to have a seat on the sofa.
“So, I hear you’re rebuilding the hospital,” Freddy says, sitting down next to Tony and handing him a scotch.
“Yep.”
“Chin-chin,” Freddy says, clicking his glass against Tony’s.
“Sure.” They drink.
“Any idea when you’re reopening?”
“As soon as possible. We’ve got the plans drawn up and the builders and contractors lined up… we’re going to break ground next week.”
“Great. That’s great to know.”
Tony’s eyes find the pictures on a side table. “Your daughter?”
“Yeah,” Freddy says, sipping his scotch. “Melissa. She’s nine. I don’t see her much… I work a lot.”
“One day, you’re gonna look up and she’ll be getting married,” Tony says.
Freddy laughs. “You sound just like my ex-wife.”
Tony shrugs. “She’s right.”
Freddy looks at him oddly. “Do you have kids?”
“None that I know of,” he says, smart mouth in perfect working order as usual. “But if I did… I’d make time for them.”
“Are you trying to tell me how to parent my kid, Mister Stark?”
“No, sir. It’s just that… I grew up with an absentee dad and a drunk mom… and I know what it’s like to feel pushed aside and ignored.”
Freddy finishes his drink and puts the empty glass on the coffee table. “Thank you for taking the time to visit, Mister Stark.”
It is an obvious dismissal. Tony finishes his drink in a gulp, puts his glass next to Freddy’s, and stands.
“No problem. You’ll be hearing from people when we’re closer to reopening.”
“All right. I look forward to it.” He walks Tony to the door.
“Remember what I said,” Tony says.
“Yeah,” Freddy says, and shuts the door in his face.
FINIS.