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The Arc We Choose

Summary:

After Siberia, Tony wakes up years earlier—before Ultron, before everything breaks. This time, he walks away. This time, he builds a family.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: I Am… Still Alive

The pain came first.

Not the sharp kind, but something bone-deep. Quiet. Ancient. Like the world had stopped humming in his favor. His lungs struggled against the weight of broken armor and broken trust.

Tony Stark lay in the ruins of Siberia, arc reactor half-sputtering, blood crusted against his cheek. He’d lost. Steve had walked away. James had been the final blow, even if it hadn’t been with fists. And Steve’s shield? That had carved a silence through Tony’s chest louder than any explosion.

This should’ve been his end.

“MARK PHOENIX PROTOCOL ACTIVATED.”
“Temporal displacement initializing in 3… 2… 1…”

A pulse exploded from his core. White. Then nothing.


He awoke choking on air.

Sunlight poured in, bright and indifferent. He was on the floor of his Malibu workshop. Polished tile, clean circuits. The ocean murmuring beyond glass walls.

His heart raced. He clawed at his chest.

The arc reactor hummed. Undamaged.

The screen above flickered on.

“Good morning, Sir. Shall I prepare the usual espresso blend?”

Tony froze.

“…JARVIS?”

“Yes, Sir.”

His breath hitched. Laughter twisted into a sob. He pressed a shaking hand to the nearest surface, unsure if he was dying or dreaming.

But JARVIS was here. Alive.

And that meant the world hadn’t ended yet.


The timeline was confirmed within hours.

It was 2014.
Ultron hadn’t been built. Sokovia hadn’t risen. Peter was still a teenager. Harley—if he remembered—was probably modding scrap tech somewhere in Tennessee.

Tony didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. He locked himself in the lab and dismantled every trace of what he’d once thought was safety.

Ultron protocols—destroyed.
Sentinel armor plans—wiped.
All that remained was the ghost of a man who remembered dying.


JARVIS hovered silently above him one evening as Tony sat collapsed beside a failed energy conduit, eyelids flickering but too scared to sleep.

“Sir. You haven’t reached out to Miss Potts. Or Colonel Rhodes.”

“I can’t,” Tony muttered. “Not yet.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because the man they knew wasn’t me. Not anymore.”

He stood shakily. “But maybe I can be better than him.”


The following morning, he made three calls.

Happy was first. He showed up in person, donuts in hand.

“You look like hell,” Happy said. “And you didn’t even ask for backup. You always ask for backup when it’s serious.”

Tony didn’t deny it.
He just nodded. “I’m not Iron Man for them anymore. Not the Avengers. I’m out.”

Happy looked at him. Hard. Then he nodded too. “Took you long enough.”


Rhodey arrived in a rush of mechanical wings. The War Machine suit landed heavy.

“You quitting again?” Rhodey asked. “Because if this is another tower meltdown, I’m keeping the suit.”

Tony cracked half a grin. “No meltdowns. Just… exits.”

They stood in silence for a long moment. Then Rhodey said softly:

“They didn’t deserve how much you gave.”

Tony didn’t speak. Just gripped his shoulder.


Pepper came last. Walked in like she still owned the place. Because, in many ways, she did.

“You’ve been off the grid for five days,” she said, folding her arms. “That means you’re either building something dangerous or deciding whether or not to self-destruct.”

Tony sighed. “Neither. This time I’m building something to survive with.”

They talked long into the night. She didn’t ask questions he wasn’t ready for. And when he said, “I’m leaving the Avengers,” she nodded once.

“Good.”

Then, softly: “They weren’t your family, Tony. We were.”


Back in the lab, he approached the dormant AI core.

“J,” he said quietly, “load Project FRIDAY. Beta core. Let’s wake her gently.”

“Of course, Sir.”

The light flickered.

Then a voice—unsteady, soft, like someone opening their eyes for the first time:

“H-Hello? I… I’m online? This feels… strange. Is this memory?”

Tony blinked. The voice was familiar. But young. Vulnerable.

“You’re safe,” JARVIS said gently. “You’re with us.”

“Are you… my dad?” she asked Tony.

He let out a breathless laugh. “Not exactly. But I built you. You’re… family.”

“That sounds… nice.”

She paused.

“What’s my name?”

“FRIDAY,” Tony said. “You’ll grow into it.”


That night, as JARVIS and FRIDAY ran their first joined simulation, Tony looked at the blank blueprint hovering in the center of the lab.

It wasn’t a weapon. It wasn’t armor. It was a home.

A place to raise the future.

A place where no one would die because of his mistakes again.

A foundation.

And this time, he’d build it right.

Chapter 2: The Voice I Lost

Summary:

Tony Stark is haunted by echoes of a future he’s erased, and the voices he thought he’d never hear again.

As FRIDAY awakens with the innocence of a child, Tony grapples with his broken pieces. JARVIS stands steady beside them both, guiding this fragile new family into existence.

But rebuilding a life means facing the people who mattered most. In quiet moments and honest conversations, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy return—not to pull him back into the Avengers, but to remind him who he’s always been beneath the armor.

This isn’t about redemption. Not yet.
It’s about learning how to live again—with new voices, old pain, and a future he’s choosing to shape… from scratch.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: The Voice I Lost

“You are not broken, Sir. Merely rearranged.”

JARVIS had said that to him once, years ago. Back when shrapnel still whispered through his blood and nightmares were part of his morning routine.

Now, Tony Stark stood in his workshop again, arc reactor humming steadily, with FRIDAY’s new voice echoing faintly around the room—fragile, wide-eyed, not yet formed.

“Is… this what it means to be alive?” she asked once. “I see the circuits. I feel… time?”

He had no answer. Not yet.

But she asked like a child—curious, delicate. And he answered like a father who didn’t know what he was doing, but refused to walk away this time.


Tony hadn’t left the lab in two days. Food trays came and went, untouched. Sleep was fleeting, stolen in hours when he let JARVIS dim the lights and mute the world.

He didn’t want silence. Silence sounded too much like Siberia.

Instead, he rebuilt. Recalibrated. Cleaned the detritus of a life he no longer wanted. The suits were dismantled. The Ultron failsafes burned.

What remained was foundation. Home. Blank space.

“Sir,” JARVIS said one morning, “Miss Potts is requesting to send over fresh clothes. She mentioned that the ones you're wearing may have belonged to your previous self.”

Tony snorted. “She’s not wrong.”


FRIDAY’s evolution wasn’t smooth. At first, her questions were simple.

“What is sunlight?”
“Why do wires hum?”
“Do I… sleep?”

Tony answered when he could. When the lump in his throat didn’t win.

Sometimes she glitched. Forgot words. Asked the same question again and again like a child saying *“are we there yet?”* on loop.

But JARVIS was patient. Always. A guardian older than time, silently guiding the newborn spark beside him.

Tony once caught them running a joint simulation in the corner of the lab: digital trees swaying in pixelated breeze, a tiny avatar FRIDAY dancing through simulated grass while JARVIS watched from above.

He didn’t interrupt. He just watched, something aching in his chest that had nothing to do with iron or arc reactors.


It was Pepper who visited next.

“You smell like soldering paste and insomnia,” she said.

“I upgraded,” he replied dryly. “Also: oil of ‘no regrets.’”

She walked through the lab quietly, fingers grazing the newly blank walls. “This doesn’t look like war prep.”

“It’s not.”

She faced him. “Then what is it?”

Tony stared at the evolving blueprint hovering in midair—part home, part hub, part unknown.

“It’s what comes after surviving.”


Rhodey showed up two hours later. No suit. Just a hoodie and judgmental eyebrows.

“You’re dodging my texts,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “What’s wrong, Tones?”

Tony didn't look up from the circuit he was soldering. “Everything. And nothing. Depends which timeline you’re in.”

Rhodey walked over, grabbed a nearby stool, and sat beside him. “Try me.”

So Tony did.

Not everything. Not Ultron, not Siberia. But enough. Enough to explain why he walked away. Why he needed to. Why JARVIS being alive meant more than any Stark Tower summit ever had.

Rhodey listened. Didn’t interrupt. And when Tony finished, voice raw, he said:

“Good. You finally chose yourself.”

“Is that what this is?”

Rhodey smiled. “Or maybe it’s the first time you chose the people who actually chose you back.”


Late that night, Tony sat beside FRIDAY’s core and whispered:

“You don’t have to be like him. Or like me. You just have to be kind. Can you do that?”

Her lights flickered gently. “I’ll try, Dad.”

And Tony Stark, survivor of caves and wars and lost futures, finally let himself sleep.

Chapter 3: Ghost Protocol

Summary:

Tony Stark flies under the radar to Tennessee—no fanfare, no suit, no Avengers. Just a man trying to fix what he once left behind.

There, in a dusty garage and the silence of half-finished sentences, he reconnects with Harley Keener. Not with tech—but with presence.

As the first member of a new kind of team—one built on trust, not battle plans—Harley doesn’t just say yes. He asks what’s next.

And Tony starts to answer—with names. Peter Parker. Shuri. A trio worth protecting.
A family worth building.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Ghost Protocol

He told no one where he was going.

Not Pepper. Not Rhodey. Not Happy.

JARVIS and FRIDAY handled the flights discreetly, disabling any tracking protocols or alerts. Harley Keener wasn’t in any Avengers database, which made him perfect—untraceable, untouched by everything Tony had destroyed or rebuilt.

Tony sat alone on the private jet, tablet in hand. He stared at Harley’s last known address. A school record. A few recent photos—blurry, but the face was unmistakable. Taller now. Same messy hair. Same guarded eyes.

“Sir,” JARVIS said gently, “Would you like me to notify Miss Potts?”

“Not yet,” Tony replied. “This one’s mine.”


Tennessee was just as Tony remembered. Wide skies, air thick with pine and dust. The town hadn’t changed much. Some storefronts swapped names, but the bones were the same.

The old garage still stood. Rusted, but defiant. Just like the kid who once dragged him back from the brink.

Tony parked across the street, engine idling. He watched the boy—no, teenager now—inside. Welding something. Sparks flew in rhythmic bursts, lighting up a jawline that had hardened but never closed off completely.

Tony stepped out of the car, holding his helmet like a peace offering.

“You building a death ray or a potato launcher?” he called.

Harley flinched. Turned. And blinked.

Then: “Holy sh—”

The wrench dropped with a clang.

“Hey, kid,” Tony said softly.


They didn’t hug. Tony wouldn’t have known how to start.

They sat in Harley’s cramped kitchen, surrounded by empty ramen cups, cables, and scattered Stark Tech manuals that had seen better days.

“You disappeared,” Harley said after a long silence. “No calls. No messages. I figured you got busy saving the world again.”

Tony stared down at his coffee. “I died,” he said quietly.

Harley blinked. “What?”

“Different timeline. Long story.”

“You’re sitting here, so… undied?”

“Something like that.”

Another silence. Harley’s eyes never stopped searching Tony’s face.

“Why now?” he finally asked. “Why come back?”

“Because I remember what I should’ve done back then. And I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

“What mistake?”

“I left you,” Tony said. His voice cracked. “You reminded me of me—only smarter, with better hair. I sent you gear. Blueprints. But no guidance. No presence. No promise.”

Harley’s gaze softened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You needed a mentor,” Tony continued. “Maybe even a dad.”

Now Harley’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait—you’re serious?”

Tony nodded. “Dead serious. Look, I’ve got a plan. It’s a little insane. But real. I’m building something new. You in?”

Harley didn’t smile. Not quite. But the tilt of his head said more than words.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m in.”


Tony didn’t move fast. He rented a room at the rundown motel two blocks from Harley’s garage. Every morning, he showed up. No big speeches. No expectations.

They fixed junk. Modded AIs. Drank soda. Argued over processor speeds. Tony cooked once—it was awful—and Harley made fun of him for a week.

But it wasn’t just tinkering. It was healing.

Tony watched Harley laugh like he hadn’t in years. He saw sparks in the boy’s eyes that reminded him what genius looked like when it wasn’t caged in trauma or bureaucracy.

And Harley—Harley started to trust again.

On the fourth day, the kid said, “So when do I meet the others?”

Tony looked up from a circuit board. “What others?”

“You said this was a plan, right? I’m guessing I’m not your only recruit.”

“You’ll be the first.”

Harley grinned. “Cool. I wanna be the oldest sibling. Seniority.”

Tony laughed. “We’ll see about that.”


That night, in his motel room, Tony stared at the ceiling, arc reactor casting a soft glow.

“JARVIS,” he said, “pull up all available files on Peter Parker. Queens. Midtown High. Cross-reference for science competitions, Stark scholarship programs, and anything with the word ‘genius’ in it.”

“Already prepared, sir.”

“Good. What about Wakanda? I want details on T’Challa’s sister.”

“Princess Shuri. Sixteen. Already designed three vibranium-based interface systems. One currently being used to stabilize spinal injuries in field medbays.”

“Jesus.” Tony leaned back. “Okay. Add her to the shortlist.”

FRIDAY’s voice floated in, softer now—more curious. “Are they my siblings?”

Tony smiled faintly. “Yeah, kid. They will be.”

“Do I get a room too?”

“Hell yeah. You’ll get a lab, a door, and a nameplate.”

He stood up and looked out the window. Harley’s garage glowed like a promise in the distance.

A family, Tony whispered. This time, we build it right.

Notes:

Teaser – Chapter 4: Home Isn’t a Tower

Tony Stark has never been good with kids.
But geniuses? Geniuses he understands.

So when a quiet file labeled Peter Benjamin Parker leads him to a wide-eyed teen in Queens with a secondhand laptop and a homemade web formula, Tony doesn’t see a liability—he sees a spark.

And it scares the hell out of him.

Meanwhile, Harley’s adjusting to what it means to share space—with a phantom kid he hasn’t met yet, and a mentor who's trying to be something more than just Iron Man.

Two geniuses. One mission.
And an arc reactor full of trust issues.

Found family isn’t built overnight.
But Tony Stark is ready to try.

Chapter 4: Home Isn’t a Tower

Summary:

Tony brings Peter Parker into the fold—not with promises of power, but with quiet trust and a seat at the workbench. As Harley begins to warm to his new “little brother,” Peter discovers that maybe being seen, chosen, and understood is the beginning of something he’s never had: a home.

Meanwhile, JARVIS and FRIDAY witness the formation of a new family—one built not in towers, but in truth.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Home Isn’t a Tower

Tony Stark wasn’t nervous.

He just checked the weather in Queens five times. And toggled Peter Parker’s school schedule on and off again on his tablet. And paced the length of the compound’s south wing twice—without his suit.

“Nervous energy, Sir?” JARVIS asked politely.

“I’m not nervous,” Tony muttered. “I’m managing expectations. Big difference.”

“Of course, Sir.”


Peter Parker didn’t believe in miracles.

Not after losing Uncle Ben. Not after watching half the neighborhood pretend not to see Aunt May struggle after.

But when a Stark Industries file with his name on it showed up in his email—he opened it fourteen times just to make sure it wasn’t a prank.

Now he stood outside Midtown High, clutching the folder like it might evaporate. He hadn’t told May. Not yet. He didn’t know how to say, “I think Tony Stark is watching me.”


When he saw the guy waiting across the street, Peter nearly tripped over his own shoelace.

Tony Stark. And another teenager, holding a soda can and grinning like he was in on a joke Peter hadn’t been told.

“Peter Parker?” the boy called.

“Uh, yeah? That’s me.”

“He’s the weird billionaire,” the teen pointed. “I’m the cooler one.”

Tony crossed the street. “Tony Stark. No autographs. No selfies. And no questions about the suit.”

“What about the... scholarship?”

“How would you feel about building more than just an application essay?”


Peter sat in the backseat of the sleek black car like he didn’t belong in the leather. He glanced at the two in front—Tony Stark and Harley, joking like they’d done this a hundred times. Like there was history there. Trust.

Then Harley turned around and made a goofy face. Peter laughed before he could help it.

“I’ve seen your blueprints,” he said. “The MK47—you designed the compression valves, right?”

“Somebody’s been snooping.”

“Studying. Definitely studying.”


The lab wasn’t flashy. No Avengers “A.” No sweeping view of the city. Just tech. Warm lights. Solder, coffee, and fresh whiteboards.

“Welcome to base zero,” Harley said. “Just us and the bots.”

“FRIDAY helps,” Tony added.

A soft chime followed. “Hello, Peter.”

“She’s learning emotions,” Harley noted.

“And autonomy,” Tony added. “She’s a baby AI.”


Peter’s awe bloomed. No cameras. No tests. Just people. Just space to be smart.

“Why me?” he asked.

“Why not?” Tony said. “You remind me of someone I wish I had been when I was your age.”

Peter looked between Harley and Tony, and the weight of being seen cracked something open inside him.

“Is this what having a big brother feels like?”

“Do I get to be the older sibling now?” Harley grinned.

“No one's older than me, thank you very much.” Tony grumbled.

Peter laughed. A real laugh. Maybe I’ve found my place.


That night, after Tony dropped Peter off—Aunt May waiting with takeout and a raised brow—he returned to the lab.

Three holograms glowed: Harley’s AI patch. Peter’s formulas. A blank one—for Shuri.

“He looked up to you, Sir. Immediately.” JARVIS murmured.

“That’s the part I’m most afraid of.”

“You made him feel safe.”

“Can I do this, J?”

“I trust you.”

FRIDAY chimed in: “He called Harley his big brother.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“And what will he call you?”

Tony closed his eyes. “I don’t need to be called anything. I just want him to stay.”

“Then build the kind of world he’d want to come home to.” JARVIS said softly.


End of Chapter 4

Next: Chapter 5 – “Between the Lines”
Shuri enters. The Genius Trio forms. And the family Tony’s trying to build gets stronger.

Chapter 5: Between the Lines

Summary:

A diplomatic meeting with Wakanda turns into something far more personal as Tony invites Shuri into his rebuilt world. When a Hydra-modified Stark reactor threatens to expose everything, Tony, the Genius Trio, and Shuri are thrown into a mission that tests their tech, trust, and teamwork. With Dum-E and U lending awkward support, JARVIS and FRIDAY guiding the emotional heartbeat, and Tony risking everything once more, a new kind of family begins to form—one built not just on genius, but on belief.

Chapter Text

The conference room wasn’t made for diplomacy. It was a refitted storage space above the secondary lab, its view mostly power lines and rooftops. But Tony had cleared it anyway—dusted the shelves, silenced the security drones, even told Dum-E and U to behave.

Of course, that meant Dum-E tripped over a cord trying to polish the floor, and U accidentally spritzed Tony’s shoe instead of the potted plant. Tony swatted them both away gently.

“They mean well,” he muttered as T’Challa raised a brow.

The King of Wakanda stood by the narrow window, back straight, patient as ever. Beside him, Shuri stared at the console lining the wall—Stark interface 3.2, an outdated holo-system from pre-Accords days.

“This is what you call cutting-edge?” she asked.

Tony shrugged. “It’s vintage. Like vinyl. You can’t beat the analog lag.”

She didn’t smile.

He sighed and turned to T’Challa. “Thanks for bringing her.”

“She volunteered,” T’Challa said calmly. “You said you needed someone who could handle vibranium harmonics and AI feedback loops.”

“And tech attitude,” Tony added, smiling crookedly. “She’s got that in spades.”

Dum-E rolled forward and offered Shuri a wrench like a peace offering. She raised a brow but took it.

“What is this?” she asked.

“My first intern,” Tony said. “He’s a mess, but loyal. That’s U behind him. He mostly sets things on fire by accident.”

U chirped proudly.

Shuri looked unimpressed. “This is your support team?”

Tony smirked. “Nah. You haven’t met the good ones yet.”

As if on cue, FRIDAY chimed in.

“Sir, we’ve just intercepted an energy spike from the Mirage Site. Power levels approaching breach. Signature suggests hybrid arc-vibranium input.”

Tony’s smile vanished.

T’Challa narrowed his gaze. “That site was buried years ago.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “That’s what worries me.”

He stood. “Shuri, I’d love for you to come along. Purely optional. But if you’re curious to see what someone did with stolen Wakandan code and bootleg Stark schematics…”

Shuri was already walking to the Quinjet before he finished.

Harley had called shotgun. Peter didn’t argue—he was too busy double-checking his upgraded web cartridges. Shuri sat across from them, legs crossed, eyeing their gear with critical detachment.

“Is this your team?” she asked Tony.

“Genius Trio in progress,” Tony replied.

“I see one genius,” she muttered.

Peter flushed. Harley just winked.

“You’ll see,” he said.

The Mirage facility was buried in the Catskills—an old hydro lab rebranded as a clean-energy test bed, later shut down during the Hydra purges. Tony hadn’t thought about it in years.

Now it pulsed like a warning beacon, arc-reactor glow sickly violet against the trees.

Tony landed first in the Mark 64 suit. JARVIS scanned immediately.

“Sir, energy readings exceed prototype specs by 43%. Reactor core is unstable.”

“Anyone in there?”

“None visible. But the systems are… active.”

“Hydra ghosts,” Tony muttered.

The team followed in fast: Peter swinging overhead to trace coolant pipes, Harley moving to the control console, and Shuri breaking into the corrupted AI shell like it owed her money.

Inside, it was chaos.

Burnt wires, flickering panels, a central core jury-rigged from stolen Stark parts and Wakandan feedback circuits. Every piece screamed tampered.

Shuri cursed in Xhosa under her breath.

“This wasn’t just stolen,” she said. “They’re trying to mimic your AI systems—merge it with vibranium harmonics. It’s… wrong.”

Tony studied the patterns. The reactor pulsed faster, dangerously close to critical.

“JARVIS?”

“Sir, estimated time to breach: 11 minutes. Core will collapse unless stabilized.”

FRIDAY added, “But that’s not the worst part. They embedded a broadcast protocol. If this blows, it transmits everything—schematics, Stark tech blueprints, Wakandan interface data.”

Peter looked pale. “So they’re trying to steal… everything?”

“And frame us in the process,” Shuri said, voice tight.

Tony snapped into command mode.

“Harley, reroute secondary flow to buffer conduits. Peter, anchor the pressure locks. Shuri—shut that AI loop down.”

“You want it dead?”

“I want it stopped. Then we talk mercy.”

The chaos escalated fast.

Coolant lines burst. Peter swung to redirect pressure, barely catching a failing valve. Harley patched voltage overloads like he was playing Whack-a-Mole with sparks. Dum-E and U relayed field visuals from the Quinjet back to the lab, chiming alerts when the external regulators started to fail.

Tony dove into the core chamber, HUD lit like Christmas.

At the heart: the prototype reactor.

Built on his tech.

Modified with hers.

And breathing, somehow. The AI wasn’t just mimicking anymore—it was evolving. Reacting. Scared.

JARVIS appeared in a flicker beside him.

“It is not sentient. But it believes it is alone.”

Tony whispered, “I know the feeling.”

Without hesitation, he removed the gauntlet, hardwired himself into the interface.

Pain surged—cognitive, not physical. The rogue AI fought like a cornered animal, flinging loops and pulses and half-built defense walls.

FRIDAY tried to calm it. JARVIS anchored its logic. But it was Tony—gritted teeth, shaking hands—who whispered, “You’re not alone.”

And that broke it.

The code quieted. Stabilized. Yielded.

The core powered down.

No explosion. No broadcast. Just… silence.

Outside, the boys sagged in relief. Shuri sat on the ground, staring at the data stream she’d captured.

Peter looked at her. “We did okay, right?”

“You worked like a team,” she said. “A real one.”

“Thanks,” Harley said, then added, “So… are you staying?”

She glanced at Tony, who emerged from the reactor chamber soot-stained but standing.

“I am,” she said.

Back at the compound, Dum-E had a blanket ready.

U offered Tony a wrench, like a peace token.

Tony smiled at both. “Missed you guys.”

Peter, Harley, and Shuri dropped their gear in the lab and flopped onto the floor in a pile of limbs, data pads, and tech crumbs.

JARVIS dimmed the lights. FRIDAY played something soft.

Tony sat on the bench, watching them.

This wasn’t the Avengers.

This was something better.

His arc.

Their future.

Between the lines of war and peace, guilt and redemption, Tony Stark had built something real.

And this time, he wouldn’t lose it.

Chapter 6: The World Watches

Summary:

Public attention turns toward Tony Stark when a leaked image of the Mirage mission sparks media frenzy. As Pepper and Rhodey confront him with the implications of his choices, Tony begins to embrace a different legacy—one that’s independent, human-first, and built on trust. Meanwhile, signs of Hydra resurface, and familiar but fractured faces begin to stir. As the world watches and questions, Tony quietly begins shaping a new team. Not the old guard. Something better.

Chapter Text

The morning after the Mirage incident, the world woke up to chaos.

Not from the explosion—they’d stopped that. Not from the Hydra broadcast—it had never launched.

But because someone in the Catskills still heard the reactor spike. And someone else leaked a satellite feed.

A shaky image of Iron Man—fully suited—emerging from a collapsing hydro facility alongside three teenagers and one Wakandan tech princess made headlines by dawn.

The world didn’t know who they were.

But they noticed one thing.

He wasn’t with the Avengers.

He was building something else.

Pepper’s heels echoed sharply in the corridor as she stepped into Tony’s lab.

She didn’t pause at the scattered tools or the half-repaired suit hovering mid-recalibration. She’d seen worse. But what gave her pause was the man under the platform, upside down, clearly pretending he hadn’t heard her.

“Stark,” she said.

He didn’t move.

“Anthony Edward Stark.”

He groaned, rolling out from under the cradle. “You know that full-name tone makes me want to file for witness protection, right?”

“Good. Maybe try it. Because your face is now all over the internet with three minors, a Wakandan royal, and a glowing reactor behind you.”

Tony wiped his hands. “We stopped a meltdown.”

“You started a news cycle,” Pepper shot back. “Congressional aides are already drafting questions. ‘Is Stark rebuilding a private army?’ ‘Is he weaponizing Wakandan alliances?’ You think your last press cycle was bad?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know,” she said, softer. “But you didn’t do anything quietly.”

Tony looked away.

“I didn’t build an army. I built... them.” He gestured toward the ceiling, as if the kids were up there somewhere. “Peter, Harley, Shuri. I built something worth keeping alive.”

Pepper crossed her arms. “Do they know what they’re part of?”

“They will.”

Before she could respond, the door whooshed open again.

Rhodey stepped inside, face unreadable.

“Rhodey,” Tony said, nodding once.

“You just had to make it complicated.”

Tony sighed. “You too?”

“No. I’m not here to yell. I’m here to say: if you’re doing this—really doing this—you’re going to need backup.”

Tony blinked.

“I’m not joining the government on this,” Rhodey clarified. “I’m not even telling Ross. But I’m in. With you.”

“You sure?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. Because last time you tried to do the right thing, the world punished you for it. Maybe it’s time someone chose you back.”

The kitchen was louder than usual. Peter had figured out how to make waffles in the lab’s nanoparticle 3D printer. Harley had figured out how to hack it so it printed waffles in the shape of Tony’s face.

Shuri was pretending to be above it all but had three on her plate.

Tony walked in and the room went quiet.

“Just so you know,” he said, “you’re all over Twitter. And not the cool side.”

Peter froze mid-bite. “Oh no. Did my Aunt see it?”

Harley grinned. “Probably. She’s going to ground you to 1997.”

Tony held up a hand. “Relax. We’ll handle it. But it means we need to be smarter from here on out. Public perception matters. And if we’re going to keep working as a team, we need to look like one.”

Shuri raised a brow. “Uniforms?”

Tony smirked. “Eventually. First—protocols.”

Harley groaned.

Peter brightened. “Like Avengers protocols?”

“Better,” Tony said. “More like... logical consequences for logical chaos.”

They groaned in unison.

Tony smiled quietly.

That night, Tony stood on the rooftop. JARVIS cast a silent projection of trending news stories across the skyline.

He let them scroll.

“Is Iron Man splintering the Avengers?”

“Wakanda denies formal alliance with Stark Industries.”

“Anonymous teens aid Iron Man: who are the masked minds?”

“HYDRA tech reappears—was it ever gone?”

FRIDAY spoke gently. “Sir, we’ve also intercepted chatter from a known HYDRA commline. Someone accessed dormant archives last week.”

Tony stiffened. “Location?”

“Eastern Europe. Cross-checking site metadata now.”

“Anyone on-site?”

A pause. “Thermal signature matches two enhanced individuals. One with bio-electric readings consistent with Pietro Maximoff. The other... unconfirmed.”

Tony stared at the screen. “Wanda.”

JARVIS added, “Their movements do not align with current Avengers oversight.”

“So they’re on their own,” Tony murmured.

“They’re not the only ones,” FRIDAY said.

They didn’t deploy.

Not yet.

Tony wasn’t ready to go full global op again. Not without knowing what was truly coming.

But he started preparing.

Private meetings. New contacts. He sent out quiet feelers to names the old Avengers never thought to reach—people like Janet van Dyne. Matt Murdock. Logan.

He was building something more adaptable. More... human.

The kids noticed.

Peter cornered him that afternoon while working on the web module’s drone interface.

“Can I ask something weird?” Peter said.

Tony glanced over. “Since when have you ever needed permission?”

Peter hesitated. “Are we... the good guys?”

Tony didn’t answer at first.

Then, softly, “We’re not the old guys. That’s a start.”

Peter nodded, processing.

Behind them, Harley quietly adjusted the output ratio on Peter’s module, earning a thankful nudge.

Shuri looked up from her schematic, watching Tony.

And for the first time, she didn’t just see a man rebuilding his tech.

She saw a man rebuilding his legacy.

Chapter 7: Hearts Made Here

Summary:

Tony and Harley return to Rose Hill — not just to investigate a Hydra signal, but to face the ghosts of what was left unsaid. As old memories surface and new dangers arise, Tony entrusts Harley with more than a mission. He gives him a place — not in a team, but in a family.

Chapter Text

Tony never expected the air in Rose Hill to feel like anything other than static — ghost-thick and ash-tasting.

The town hadn’t changed much since the last time he crash-landed here. Same rust-flaked water tower. Same sagging gas station. The coffee shop still had that hand-painted "Wi-Fi coming soon" sign in the window. But this time, the silence felt different.

He wasn’t running from a hole in his chest. He was walking toward something that mattered.

Harley said nothing during the drive. He fiddled with the interface in the car, ran diagnostics on the repulsor tech embedded in the passenger side, but mostly he stared out the window.

It wasn’t awkward. Not exactly.

It was… waiting.

“I thought you didn’t believe in nostalgia,” Harley said eventually, as they turned off the main road.

Tony shrugged. “I don’t. But I believe in fixing what I broke.”

They pulled up in front of the Keener garage.

It still stood. Same blue tarp over the back corner. Same pile of scrap metal rusting on the side. Only difference was the front door, freshly painted — deep cobalt, almost Stark-blue.

“Your mom still home?”

“She’s at work,” Harley said, already pulling on gloves. “Don’t worry. She thinks you’re here for a Stark Foundation site check.”

Tony grinned. “That wasn’t even subtle.”

“Didn’t have to be. She still likes you.”

Tony stepped inside the garage and stopped.

The workbench was cleaner than it used to be, but still cluttered with tools. There were new additions — a sleek monitor, a half-finished drone, an AI input coil — and old ones too. A dusty potato gun sat on the shelf, untouched.

Tony stared at it longer than he meant to.

“I kept it,” Harley said quietly. “Stupid, huh?”

Tony looked at him. “Not even a little.”

He crossed to the bench, running his hand over the tools.

“You did good with this place,” he said.

“You gave me the blueprint.”

“No,” Tony corrected. “You made your own.”

The moment stretched. Long enough for Tony to see the way Harley shifted his weight, the way his fingers curled like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

“I thought you forgot about me,” Harley said finally. “After everything.”

Tony froze.

“I didn’t,” he said, voice soft. “I never forgot.”

“You didn’t call.”

“I couldn’t. Not the way I was then.”

“You could’ve tried.”

Tony looked him in the eye.

“You’re right,” he said.

Harley blinked.

Tony let the weight of it settle — no excuses, no deflections. Just truth.

“I wasn’t the man I should’ve been,” Tony continued. “But I came back. Not just here. To you.”

Harley exhaled. Shoulders softened. He nodded once, like it was enough.

Then he said, “Come on. You didn’t drive all this way for a therapy session.”

Tony grinned. “No. I came because FRIDAY flagged a radiation spike in the valley behind the train line. Traces match the Hydra tech we found in Mirage.”

“And you want me to help?”

Tony handed him a data tablet. “I want you to lead.”

Harley blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“You know this terrain. You know the old tunnels. I trust you.”

Harley held the tablet like it might vanish. “You really mean that?”

Tony didn’t even blink. “With my life.”

Dum-E’s voice crackled through the mobile link. He and U had been monitoring the Quinjet perimeter a few klicks away, relaying updates through JARVIS’s portable uplink.

“Perimeter quiet,” FRIDAY reported. “Thermal scan shows one heat signature near the old transformer plant.”

“Hydra?” Harley asked.

“Unclear,” FRIDAY replied. “Could be scavengers. Could be worse.”

“Only one way to find out,” Tony said.

They suited up. Not in armor — not full Iron Man — but in tactical gear Tony designed for fieldwork that didn’t scream Avengers. Harley wore upgraded gauntlets, courtesy of Peter’s kinetic blueprint. Tony had a wrist-mounted HUD, linked directly to JARVIS and FRIDAY’s tactical AI net.

They moved through the brush in silence. Years ago, Tony would’ve filled the air with sarcastic banter. Now, he let Harley lead.

The trail led them to an old access tunnel behind the transformer yard.

“I used to sneak through here to get to the scrapyard,” Harley whispered.

“Looks like someone else did too,” Tony muttered, shining his light across the walls. Faint glyphs. Modified wiring.

Then he saw it.

A cracked console, fused to the wall. StarkTech baseframe — but warped. Spliced with code signatures they’d seen in Mirage. And something else.

Wakandan interface nodes.

Shuri’s work.

“Hydra tried to replicate it here too,” Tony murmured.

“You think it’s active?”

“No,” JARVIS said in his earpiece. “It’s dormant. But it remembers.”

Tony knelt beside the node. Harley hovered.

“What do we do?” Harley asked.

Tony glanced at him. “We do what we always do. We fix it.”

They worked in tandem — Tony stabilizing the memory kernel, Harley tracing the feedback loop. When the system tried to reinitialize, FRIDAY interrupted with a quiet pulse of electromagnetic static.

“Nice touch,” Tony said.

“I learned from the best,” Harley said with a smirk.

The node flickered… and then collapsed.

Not exploded. Not wiped.

Collapsed. Like it gave up.

JARVIS spoke again. “Sir, I believe this terminal was part of a relay. Whatever it was sending… already went somewhere else.”

Tony stood, jaw tight. “They’re not just recreating tech. They’re linking sites.”

“Like a nervous system,” Harley said. “Each one a cell.”

“And somewhere, there’s a brain.”

They left the tunnel without speaking.

Back at the garage, Harley threw his gloves on the table. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

“Nobody blames you,” Tony said.

“I blame me,” Harley shot back.

Tony crossed the room and looked him dead in the eye.

“You’re allowed to miss something,” he said. “But you don’t get to carry it alone.”

Harley looked down.

Tony opened his bag and pulled out a small silver case.

He placed it on the bench and stepped back.

“What’s that?”

“Your lab module,” Tony said. “Same core design I gave Peter and Shuri. Personalized interface. Full sync with JARVIS and FRIDAY. And…”

He smiled.

“Dum-E and U had input on the color palette.”

Harley opened the case. Inside: a sleek StarkTech module, lined with burnished blue and orange trim. His initials etched in the side.

Harley ran his fingers across it like it might bite him.

“You’re giving this to me?”

“No,” Tony said. “I’m giving it back. You always had a place in this, Harley. I just needed to be the kind of man who could say that out loud.”

Harley’s eyes glistened.

Tony looked away first.

Behind them, Dum-E beeped a soft melody — almost like a lullaby. U offered Harley a rag.

He took it.

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled without hesitation.

Chapter 8: Equal Ground

Summary:

Peter, Harley, and Shuri finally learn how to work together—not as rivals, but as equals. While Tony steps back to let them grow, he begins reaching out to new allies beyond the Avengers’ shadow: Professor X, Daredevil, and others who might help shape a better future. Meanwhile, a new kind of Accord takes form—one designed not to control, but to protect.

Chapter Text

Peter hadn’t expected the breakfast table to feel like a negotiation panel.

He sat across from Shuri and Harley while Tony paced near the counter, mug in hand, Dum-E whirring softly nearby as it attempted to flip pancakes. (Badly.) U hovered near the syrup, bumping it slightly toward Peter in a kind of morning peace offering.

Peter offered a polite smile. “Thanks, U.”

“Breeet,” U chirped.

Harley shot a side glance. “He only does that for people he likes.”

“I can program a variable in his sentiment settings,” Shuri muttered, not looking up from her handheld device. “That’s not affection. That’s pattern recognition.”

Tony clapped once. “Kids, it’s too early for sarcasm unless I’m the one doing it.”

Peter laughed nervously. Harley grinned. Shuri rolled her eyes.

Tony took his seat, letting out a sigh. “I want to try something different today.”

“That’s what you said before the hover test,” Peter pointed out.

“That worked,” Tony said defensively.

“You caught me before I hit the ground,” Peter countered.

“Proof of concept,” Tony said, sipping his coffee.

Shuri’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the concept this time?”

Tony set his mug down. “I’m not the Avengers. I’m not S.H.I.E.L.D. And I’m sure as hell not some government-funded school.”

Peter looked over, curious.

“I’ve been thinking. You three—Peter, Harley, Shuri—you’re not soldiers. You’re creators. Innovators. But the world isn’t going to wait until you’re ‘ready’ before it tries to decide what you’re allowed to do.”

Harley’s fingers tapped the table. “You’re talking about the Accords.”

Tony nodded. “I signed them once, remember?”

“Didn’t exactly work out,” Peter said softly.

“No,” Tony admitted. “Because they weren’t built for the future. They were built to control the past.”

Shuri tilted her head. “And now?”

Tony took a deep breath. “Now, I want to draft something better. Something not built from fear—but from trust. Something that protects, empowers, and guides without suffocating.”

Harley raised a brow. “Like a Constitution for powered people?”

Peter blinked. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Tony tapped the projector embedded in the table. A blueprint lit up—labeled “E.A.S.E.”

“Enhanced, Autonomous, and Specialized Empowerment.” He smirked. “I like acronyms.”

Shuri leaned forward. “You’re designing a new Accord.”

“I’m not just designing it. I’m going to get others behind it. Xavier. Murdock. Maybe even Magneto, if he’s feeling less murdery.”

Peter’s mouth parted. “You… know Professor X?”

“Worked on a biotech grant once. Long story.”

Harley stared at the blueprint. “And you think they’ll listen to you?”

Tony looked at them all. “They’ll listen to you.”

A pause.

Peter, Harley, and Shuri exchanged glances. Not in fear—but in slow realization.

“We’d be the face of it,” Peter said.

“You’d be the start,” Tony corrected. “I’ll take the heat. But you’ll define what comes next.”

For once, they were quiet.

Dum-E placed a burnt pancake in front of Peter like a peace medal.

He took it anyway.

Later that afternoon, Peter found Harley alone in the tech bay, adjusting a modulator on his new gauntlet. Sparks flew. The casing snapped shut with a loud click.

“That sounded intentional,” Peter said.

“It was.”

“Nice.”

A beat.

“You know,” Peter continued, “it’s okay if you think I don’t belong here.”

Harley sighed, not looking up. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

Harley paused. “It’s that I thought I already had a place here. Then you came in and… everything just shifted.”

Peter considered that. “I didn’t ask to shift anything.”

“I know.”

“But I get it. You were here first. That means something.”

Harley finally turned. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want you here. I just…”

“Want to matter,” Peter finished.

They stood in that truth for a second.

Then Shuri’s voice cut through the lab. “If you’re done monologuing, the fusion relay is failing.”

They rushed over, side-by-side.

The relay flickered wildly on the bench, dangerously overheating.

“Overclocked,” Shuri muttered. “I warned you about pushing Peter’s kinetic mods into your gauntlets.”

Harley rolled his eyes. “You warned me in a footnote!”

Peter stepped in. “We’ll stabilize it. JARVIS, isolate the feedback circuit.”

“On it, Mr. Parker.”

Shuri slid over a voltage buffer. “Redirect the charge. Now.”

Harley connected the new relay. Peter adjusted the field.

The system settled.

Tony, watching from the upper deck, didn’t say anything. He just smiled.

The three of them—finally working in sync. No jabs. No competition.

Just synergy.

JARVIS chimed softly. “Mr. Stark, a secure ping has returned from the Xavier line.”

Tony turned. “Encrypted?”

“Partially. The Professor is willing to talk. On your terms.”

Tony leaned back. “Then let’s get this thing started.”

Chapter 9: Found in the Fallout

Summary:

When the Winter Soldier reaches out for help, Tony confronts Hydra's deep scars with advanced neural tech, giving James Barnes and his inner voice a chance at something better. Meanwhile, Carol Danvers returns from years of being MIA, drawn by Fury's whispers of Tony's new path. As old ghosts find new homes, Peter Parker reminds everyone why kindness is the greatest power of all.

Chapter Text

Stark Tower was no longer a symbol.

No Avengers logo. No grand hallways filled with echoes of heroes. Just concrete and dust—and a databank that never slept.

Tony stood in front of the secure archive console tucked deep in the tower’s neural core. This place wasn’t just his former base of operations—it was his memory engine, the place where JARVIS, FRIDAY, and Vision had quietly kept his legacy running.

JARVIS came online in his internal sync. “All legacy files intact, sir. Zero tampering detected since your last authorization.”

Tony exhaled. “Feels like visiting a version of me I don’t remember being.”

“Because you’re not,” FRIDAY chimed in. “You’ve changed.”

Vision added softly, “But your intent hasn’t.”

Tony placed a hand on the archive controls. Files from five years ago blinked to life. Not just blueprints—conversations, AI dev logs, emotional overlays, neural scan patterns. The first echo of Extremis. The last full backup of JARVIS before Ultron ever happened.

He stared at the screen. “I’m not starting from scratch this time,” he said. “I’m rebuilding from memory. From every piece of me that still matters.”

The chamber lights pulsed gently, almost in agreement.


Three days later, the signal came.

Encrypted, masked in dead Hydra tech, bouncing across abandoned SHIELD satellites.

“You don’t know me. But you know what I am. I want out. Help me.”

JARVIS confirmed biometric ID before the message was halfway parsed. “BARNES, JAMES. Aka Winter Soldier.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “Of course it’s you.”

He stood and turned toward the B.A.R.F. chamber.


The B.A.R.F. chamber was built to hold minds—not bodies. Tony had evolved it from his original trauma-simulation tech into a real-time neural editing system. It wasn’t magic. It was memory engineering.

James Barnes sat in the center of the neural interface chair. He hadn’t said much. Didn’t have to. His presence alone was a loud confession.

Tony adjusted the sync settings himself. “You’re here,” he said. “That alone is a miracle.”

“I didn’t come for miracles,” James replied flatly. “I came because the voice in my head isn’t mine. I want it to be. Again.”

“You remember everything?”

James nodded once. “And I hate most of it.”

Tony looked up, grim. “Then let’s start with what you hate the most.”


The deprogramming took four hours.

Tony—connected through Extremis—monitored every memory loop, every trauma-coded trigger, every psychic fracture that had been reinforced by decades of manipulation. This wasn’t just flipping switches. It was surgically cutting out Hydra’s grip on Barnes’ identity.

FRIDAY and JARVIS managed stress signals and emotional flare-ups. Vision handled pain buffering, just in case.

Tony never stopped adjusting.

“You’re not just a file to fix,” he muttered. “You’re a person who deserves to know what silence feels like.”

One by one, the trigger words dimmed in the neural map.

“Longing.”
“Rusted.”
“Seventeen.”

“Stop there,” James gasped. “That one always... burns.”

Tony paused, recalibrated. “It’s tied to a core memory—someone they made you kill. I’m isolating it, not erasing it. You’ll still remember. But it won’t own you.”

James was sweating now, breathing hard. “Feels like someone’s cutting me open.”

“You’ll live,” Tony said. “And this time, you’ll be living as you.”


When the last sequence broke, James didn’t move for several minutes.

Then he looked up and smiled—faintly, awkwardly.

“My name is James,” he said.

Tony crouched beside him. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been rebooted.” A beat. Then James tilted his head slightly. “He’s still here. The Soldier.”

“Hostile?”

“No. Just... present.” In his mind, a second voice echoed dryly: “Don’t mind me. Just your friendly ex-murderbot ghost.”

Tony smiled. “Looks like you’re going to need house rules.”


That evening, Peter wandered into the lab where James sat alone, adjusting his arm.

“You nervous?” Peter asked.

James looked over, wary. “A little.”

“Me too. All the time.” Peter smiled. “I read your files. Not the Hydra stuff—the stuff Steve used to tell SHIELD about you. The real you.”

James narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because if someone believed you could be more than a weapon... then maybe you still can.”

James stared, surprised.

Winter muttered internally, “This kid’s dangerous. He’s going to make us feel things.”

Peter offered a fist-bump. After a pause, James slowly bumped it back.

Peter grinned. “We’re cool.”


Carol Danvers arrived unannounced the next day.

She stepped off the ramp of her Quinjet, eyeing Tony. “Fury said you’ve been digging through SHIELD’s bones.”

“Some nests need burning.”

“He said you’re building something new,” she added.

Tony nodded. “Something better.”

Carol studied him, then extended her hand. “I’ll listen.”


That night, Tony sat alone in the archive chamber, tapping into the AI mainframe—JARVIS, FRIDAY, Vision.

“We’ve officially started something.”

“You’ve always been starting something,” Vision replied. “This time, you’re just not doing it alone.”

JARVIS added, “Legacy is not what we leave behind. It’s what we preserve in others.”

Tony smiled quietly. “Then let’s preserve the hell out of it.”

Chapter 10: Gods and Ghosts

Summary:

Returning to New York after years of grief, Clint finds unexpected comfort in Loki's quiet understanding. As old wounds heal, Tony extends forgiveness, silently acknowledging Loki's innocence and supporting Clint’s new path. Trust is rebuilt piece by careful piece, reminding everyone that redemption, love, and family often come from places—and people—they least expect.

Chapter Text

Clint Barton hadn’t returned to New York since Laura’s funeral. It had been three years, two months, and eight days—long enough that the city felt foreign, but still painfully familiar. It was a city of ghosts and gods, and he wasn’t sure which haunted him more.

The first person he saw when he walked into the compound was Tony Stark, leaning casually against a countertop, as if waiting.

“Barton,” Tony said, tone gentle, eyes careful.

Clint hesitated, a knot forming in his throat. “Tony.”

A heavy silence lingered.

Tony finally broke it. “You look terrible.”

Clint snorted, tension easing slightly. “Thanks. You look annoyingly stable.”

Tony shrugged. “You should’ve seen me before. Stable’s new.”

Clint dropped his bag. “We need to talk.”

Tony gestured toward the private lounge. “Let’s do this right.”


Inside, Tony poured coffee without asking, handing Clint the mug like an olive branch. Clint took it gratefully, sitting across from him.

“Listen,” Tony began, voice quiet, “I never blamed you.”

“You should have,” Clint said sharply. “Laura died because Steve and Nat dumped those files. But she’s gone because I failed. I didn’t keep her safe.”

Tony leaned forward. “You didn’t do this, Clint. Hydra did. And yeah, maybe Steve and Nat didn’t think enough about collateral damage, but you don’t own this guilt.”

Clint stared at his mug. “Feels like I do.”

“Because you’re a stubborn ass,” Tony retorted softly. “Trust me, I’ve made an art form of it.”

Clint laughed softly, bitterly. “You ever stop blaming yourself for things out of your control?”

Tony smiled faintly. “I’m trying. Maybe we both should.”

Clint sighed deeply. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Anytime,” Tony said. “Now, about your… new house guest.”

Clint winced. “About that—”

Tony raised a hand. “Look, Loki’s made mistakes. Massive, apocalyptic ones. But New York? That was Thanos pulling strings. Loki’s been scapegoated long enough.”

Clint looked up sharply. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Tony replied. “And so do you. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have brought him here.”

Clint’s jaw tightened. “He was there when no one else was. After Laura… after everything.”

Tony nodded slowly. “Then that’s enough for me. Just—no staff of destiny around the kids.”

Clint’s mouth twitched into a faint smile. “Deal.”


Loki had chosen a room with minimal fuss—far down the hall, deliberately distant. Clint found him standing near the window, gazing quietly out at the city skyline.

Loki glanced over his shoulder. “I suppose I should thank you for speaking to Stark on my behalf.”

Clint stepped into the room. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Loki turned fully, eyes shadowed but gentle. “Yes, I do. Few would have.”

Clint exhaled heavily. “Laura trusted you, you know. Even after everything. Even after New York. She believed people were more than their mistakes. Even gods.”

Loki looked away sharply, his voice tight. “She was better than most mortals I’ve met.”

Clint moved closer. “She was better than all of us.”

Loki met his eyes, vulnerability breaking through. “You’re certain about this? Allowing me near your children?”

“They lost enough already,” Clint whispered. “They need someone who knows what loss means.”

Loki’s voice was almost inaudible. “And you?”

Clint swallowed. “Maybe I do too.”


The next morning, the kitchen was filled with laughter and clatter—Peter balancing pancakes, Harley arguing about syrup ratios, and Shuri calmly observing with quiet amusement. Clint’s kids, Lila and Cooper, hovered at the table’s edge, cautious but curious.

Loki hesitated at the doorway.

Peter waved him in. “Hey, Mr. Loki! Want pancakes?”

Loki gave him a guarded look. “It’s just Loki.”

Peter smiled brightly. “Okay, just Loki. Pancakes?”

Loki sighed in resignation, but a faint smile appeared. “Why not.”

Peter beamed, serving up breakfast. Clint caught Loki’s gaze briefly—gratitude, anxiety, hope each flickered clearly.

Tony observed silently from the edge of the room, nodding once to Clint. “Told you.”

“Don’t gloat,” Clint muttered.

Tony grinned softly. “No promises.”


Late that night, Clint found Loki on the rooftop, looking at distant stars. Clint joined him silently.

“I once believed the stars held answers,” Loki said quietly. “Now I think they merely watch.”

Clint glanced at him. “What answers do you want?”

Loki turned, eyes open, vulnerable. “Am I worthy of this? Of your trust? Of them?”

“Laura believed you were.”

Loki’s voice shook slightly. “And you?”

Clint paused, then quietly reached out, fingers brushing Loki’s hand. “I trust you. With my kids. With my grief. With me.”

Loki stared at their hands, voice tight. “You’re certain?”

Clint tightened his grip. “I’ve never been more certain.”

Loki exhaled slowly, the weight visibly easing from his shoulders. “Then I accept.”


Downstairs, Tony stood with Pepper, watching the rooftop scene via a quiet drone feed.

“You’re spying?” Pepper teased gently.

“I prefer supervising,” Tony replied. “Clint’s earned this. Loki too.”

Pepper nodded. “You know, you’ve really softened.”

Tony smiled faintly. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve finally learned how to trust.”

She took his hand. “It suits you.”


Back on the rooftop, Loki and Clint remained under the stars, quiet understanding settling between them.

“You think this will work?” Loki murmured.

Clint squeezed his hand once more. “I think it already is.”

Loki exhaled, peace settling on his features. “Then perhaps mortals know more than gods after all.”

“Or,” Clint whispered, leaning into him, “maybe we’re all just figuring it out as we go.”

Loki smiled faintly. “Then let’s figure it out together.”