While he used to thrive on the noise and energy of the crowds, Tony Stark was surprised to find that he loved the quiet. He enjoyed the nights after Morgan had gone to bed, when he and Pepper could settle in, read, or, in Tony's case, tackle a problem from a different point of view.

He was standing in the kitchen at the sink, washing dishes. The task was comforting somehow. It had a beginning, a middle, and a definitive end. He grabbed the handheld sprayer, and released a burst of water into the air, splashing some items in the area. Then he almost dropped the plate.

Setting the sprayer back into the sink, he picked up a dish towel and dried the plate quickly, setting it on a drying rack. His eyes had caught a glimpse of a picture—the picture.

It was a framed photograph of him, posing with Peter.

The two were smiling from ear to ear, and both had an arm behind the other, with their hand behind their heads, middle and index fingers extended like bunny ears.

Great minds think alike. God, he loved that kid. Was it because they were so much alike?

Tony stared at the photograph, and then carefully wiped the glass with the wet dish towel and returned it to its spot.

He felt so many things whenever he looked at the picture. Sadness. Remorse. Anger. Pride. Affection. Friendship. Responsibility.

But tonight, Tony felt something else. It was like a light switched on inside his brain, in a place that had been dark for some time.

“I've got a mild inspiration,” he decided with a sudden burst of energy.

* * *

The lights were dim in Tony Stark's library. He stood at a work table in the center of the room, as a hologram hovered in the air above its surface. Walking beside the table, Tony looked at the hologram carefully, watching as it twisted and turned into a different shape.

“I'd like to see if it checks out,” Tony declared into a microphone. “So, I'd like to run one last sim before we pack it in for the night. This time, in the shape of a Mobius Strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing.”

The second voice belonged to Tony's artificial intelligence, Friday.

Before Tony's eyes, the hologram started to shift, as the computer model that he requested came into being. He reached out and touched the hologram, which responded to the motion of his fingers.

“Right, give me the eigenvalue of that particle, factoring in spectral decomp. That'll take a second,” Tony said, sounding almost bored. It's not like he really expected anything to come of this. It was just a thought he was following down a rabbit hole. He picked up a bottle of soda from the table, and took a drink while Friday worked the problem.

“Just a moment,” Friday responded, courteously. The hologram shifted once more.

“And don't worry if it doesn't pan out,” Tony added. “I'm just kinda—”

“Model rendered.”

Tony's eyebrows went up. He was certainly not expecting Friday to finish what he knew to be an intense, nearly impossible series of calculations. And yet, here they were.

Even more amazing were the words Tony saw in the hologram before him:

MODEL SUCCESSFUL

“Shit!” Tony exclaimed.

“Shit!” came a small voice from just outside the library.

The sides of Tony's mouth extended outward, like he was saying “oops,” as he put his finger over his lips, shaking his head. He peeked around the door to see a not-at-all sleepy Morgan sitting on the stairs.

“What are you doing up, little miss?” Tony asked.

“Shit,” Morgan replied, smiling.

“Nope. We don't say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it. It belongs to her.” Distraction always worked best for him in a tight situation.

“Why are you up?” Morgan asked.

Tony pointed at the hologram in the library. “ 'Cause I've got some important shit going on here! I got something on my mind.” Model successful. It couldn't be. Could it ?

“Was it juice pops?” Morgan asked innocently. But not really.

Tony gave Morgan a look. “Sure was. That's extortion. That's a word.”

Then he walked over to Morgan, leaned over, and took her by the hand, pulling her off the stairs. He looked over his shoulder, back into the library, at the hologram.

The hologram for a time-travel device.

“What kind you want?” Tony checked, as they headed for the kitchen. “Great minds think alike. Juice pops exactly was on my mind.” Time ... could wait.

* * *

He had asked Morgan for the grape, but there was no way she was giving it up. So Tony settled on the pineapple, which was still pretty good. They ate their juice pops, and Morgan finished first. Taking her up the stairs, Tony picked Morgan up, and threw her gently into her bed. For a moment, she was flying, and she loved it.

Tony took a last bite of his juice pop, then pulled his shirt sleeve down, until it covered his hand. “Here, wipe,” he commanded, and then helped Morgan to wipe her mouth clean from the grape juice pop. Then he placed his hand on her face, and playfully smushed her down into the pillow as she snuggled back into it in response.

“Good,” he approved. “That face goes there.”

“Tell me a story,” Morgan begged, doing everything she could to draw out her time with her dad.

“A story,” Tony contemplated, knowing exactly what Morgan was trying to do. She was very much his daughter and could charm others as well as he could. He was proud. “Uh, once upon a time, Morgoona went to bed, the end.”

“That is a horrible story,” Morgan decided.

“Come on, that's your favorite story.”

Tony leaned over the bed, and gave Morgan a kiss on her forehead. Then he sat back, looking at his daughter.

“Love you tons,” Tony professed. She was his world. The one he was required to protect.

“I love you three thousand,” Morgan replied.

Tony put the juice pop stick back into his mouth. Then he bent down, reaching his hand inside the lampshade to turn it off. With a click, the light went out, and the two were in near darkness, only the light from the hallway shining into Morgan's bedroom.

Standing up, Tony then walked over to the door. “Wow,” he whispered. “Three thousand. That's crazy.” His world.

Then, in a normal tone of voice, he quickly added, “Go to bed or I'll sell all your toys.”

Morgan nestled her head into her pillow, laughing.

“Night-night,” Tony said.

* * *

“Not that it's a competition, but she loves me three thousand,” Tony bragged. He had walked into the living room, and found Pepper sitting on a sofa, reading. He noticed that she was reading by candlelight.

“Oh, does she, now?” Pepper was not the least bit surprised or upset.

“You were somewhere in the low six to nine-hundred range,” Tony joked, fiddling with the juice-pop stick in his mouth.

Pepper laughed, her eyes still focused on the book.

“Whatcha reading?” Tony questioned, as he looked past Pepper and into the library, at the hologram. Model successful.

“Just a book on composting.” Amazing what one starts to take an interest in, given the circumstances.

“What's new with composting?” Tony asked, but he couldn't take his eyes off his discovery.

“Interesting science—” she began.

“I figured it out,” Tony blurted. He had to tell her.

Pepper took her eyes off the book, and looked up at Tony. He pulled the juice-pop stick from his mouth.

“By the way,” Tony said, belatedly changing the subject.

Pepper regarded him warily. “And, you know, just so we're talking about the same thing ...”

“Time travel.”

“What? Wow. That's ... amazing,” Pepper tried to process the information. “And terrifying.”

“That's right,” Tony agreed. Terrifying for what this could mean. To the world. To them.

Sighing, Pepper moved her hand over Tony's. “We got really lucky.” She knew his thoughts almost before he did. She could always read him.

Tony looked at the ceiling. Morgan. “Yeah. I know.”

“A lot of people didn't,” Pepper added. There had been so much suffering and loss.

“Nope. And I can't help everybody,” Tony said, unconvinced. But he wasn't fooling either of them.

“Um, sorta seems like you can,” Pepper pointed out.

Tony tilted his head. “Not if I stop.” So much of him hoped she would tell him to stop. Give him a reason for the three of them to stay hiding from the world in their beloved little family unit.

Pepper laughed out loud at that one. She knew he couldn't stop even if she did ask him.

“I can put a pin in it right now and stop.” Please , he thought, tell me no. Let's just make it go away.

“Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my entire life,” Pepper admitted. She was half joking and half serious. She knew where this decision could lead.

Tony gave a little laugh. “Something tells me I should put it in a lockbox and drop it to the bottom of the lake and go to bed.”

“But would you be able to rest?” Pepper asked him seriously.

Tony knew the answer to that one before Pepper even finished the question. W6CcwU9AbIqmCAsrfey9rmK1BWTXT+OUAcCGX0zKCBL3khZTmaADMNPbe5ExjNqm