Tony,

I'm not going to postulate some falsehood that you and I have had a healthy father-son relationship over the years, as it would be doing both of us a disservice to our genius. Don't roll your eyes at me, young man, I saw that.

Tony stopped and looked towards the ceiling, turning his chair back and forth as he searched for something that hopefully wasn't there. "Creepy, old man," he muttered, returning his focus to the letter in his hands.

I want you to know a few things before you and I can never speak again, Tony. I'm doing some highly experimental and highly volatile work right now, and the day may come that I don't return home. I'm not being dramatic, and I'm not being egomaniacal; the work is that risky. But before that day comes, I want you to promise me that you will always take care of your mother. I feel some guilt in asking you to do anything for me when I've been a less than exemplary father to you, but I know that this request is one that you will accept. I know that you love her, Tony, as do I, and I would never dare to trust anyone more than I trust you with this responsibility.

Now that I have that out of the way, there's just one more thing that you need to hear from me. You are so important to me, Tony, and I can never apologize enough for my role in you not knowing that. I'm an ass, and I readily admit that to you. I'm a shit father. I've spent so many years chasing a ghost and giving more attention to a man that I have no chance of finding, that I've missed the years of seeing you grow into the man that you are today. I've missed so much, and for that, I'm sorry. You don't have to forgive me, and I don't really expect you to. Just let me have the blame, Tony. My actions are my own, and no one else's.

I do love you, son. I always have and always will, even after I'm gone. I only hope that I was given the time to see you be the man that I know you can be. I hope that you will have a family one day and that you can be everything that I wasn't. Actually, I know that you'll be so much more. I am very proud of you, Tony, and to have you be the one to carry our legacy.

Dad

Tony folded the paper slowly and slipped it back into the envelope with a quiet sniffle and a rub of his free arm over his eyes. "Dammit," he whispered, "that wasn't what I was expecting."

"Are you okay, Grandpa?"

"Always," he mumbled his standard answer, though he knew that he wasn't; he was so far away from being okay that he couldn't see it anymore. "Hey, kiddo, could you do a favor for me? Could give me just a few minutes on my own to think about this? When I'm done I'd like to take you out for ice cream or whatever you want, for being such a big help to me."

"Are you gonna cry?"

"Maybe a little."

"Okay," Brooklyn agreed, standing with her arms out to him for the hug that he wanted so badly but was actually dreading; he knew that as soon as they connected, he wouldn't be able to hold back anymore. Tony stepped forward and took her into his arms, and sure enough, the dam broke. "It's okay, Grandpa," she tried to soothe him gently, "we're all here to help you."

"I know."

"We all love you. Even Uncle Clint, but he won't admit it out loud."

"I know that too, sweetheart, thank you."

When she finally released him and took her leave, Tony sat at the table in silence, his eyes searching back and forth over the piles of belongings until something caught his eye; it shone a strange color of blue under the lab lights and through the thick glass of the vial that held the viscous concoction, and it surprised him that he hadn't seen it before now. Uncovering it completely with a swipe of his hand over things that were merely an inconvenience anymore, he gasped at the realization of what he was holding.

"Holy shit. It can't be."

~~~

After your doctor's appointment, you and Steve returned to the compound after a drive home in complete silence; you stared out the window as he drove, watching the scenery pass by but with no recollection of what you had seen once you arrived. You were both agonizing over similar problems; he was certain that if there was anything wrong with Maggie, it was on him, while you were sure that your own admission that you hadn't wanted her in the beginning was now fate punishing you in the worst way. Maybe you were both thinking too far ahead, and maybe it really was all going to be fine, but you weren't allowing yourselves to see it at all.

When he pulled the truck into the garage and shifted into park, he turned off the engine but didn't move any further; you both sat motionless and in a daze, staring straight ahead to avoid the conversation that hung between you like a lead balloon.

"(Y/N)," he whispered after several minutes, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For whatever it is that I've done to her."

"Steve, don't do that," you urged, sliding your hand reluctantly across the leather seats to reach his, though you still stared forward, "we both have blame. I didn't want her. I was ashamed to admit to you that I had wished that she wasn't coming, when you left on that mission. I wanted the team more than her."

He didn't answer, and you thought that the shock of your admission had finally been too much for him to take. When you eventually turned to actually look at him, he was almost unrecognizable to you in his despondency, and you felt sick to your stomach at the realization that you hadn't noticed just how much this was affecting him until that moment. A loud groan filled the cabin of the truck and he pushed himself back into the seat, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in anguish. "I didn't either, (Y/N). I mean, I did, and then I didn't. I just couldn't let you go through that again after seeing what having Allie did to you, and my want to have another one had to be put aside. When Anthony told me that you were having her, I panicked and hoped that he was wrong."

"And now?" you asked softly, not even sure how you'd answer it yourself.

"Now..." he sighed, turning to look at you for the first time, "now I'm just terrified. That's all there is."

~~~

"Hey, Vanilla Ice," Sam called out to Bucky from across the lounge, "have you seen Cap come back yet?"

"Do I look like his mother?"

"If you do, then she must have been a damn ugly woman."

"Fuck off."

"Language," Sam gasped, clutching his chest. "What would your son say, Mrs. Rogers, my goodness."

"Again, fuck off."

Sam laughed and dropped onto one of the stools at the bar, pointing to one of the small refrigerators behind Bucky to get his attention and to get his friend to do his bidding. "Come on man, toss me one."

"Get it yourself, lazy ass," Bucky snapped, tossing his bottle cap into a nearby garbage as he drank his own cold beer in front of Sam unapologetically. "You ain't broken."

With a few choice mumbled curses, Sam stood and made his way around the bar, pushing Bucky aside with a shove of his shoulder, "I hate you." When he finally found the bottle that he wanted, Sam stood again and tapped the top of it against the edge of the steel railing to pop the cap from it, but when his eyes followed it as it rolled across the surface, something else caught his attention. "Buck," he nodded towards his target, "what the hell is he doing?"

Bucky lowered his bottle and turned to see Tony hurrying up the stairs towards his lab, almost in a panic, but the one thing that didn't escape his focus was the blue vial in his hand. "Oh, shit," he exclaimed, dropping his beer carelessly and letting it spill everywhere in his urgency to stop Tony from whatever stupid decision he had just made. "Come on, Sam!"

Sam followed his friend, the two of them impressively crossing the expansive room in a matter of seconds to reach Tony and rip the vial from his hands before he could even realize that they were there.

"Hey, that's not yours," Tony hissed, "give it back."

"No, Tony, this isn't the cure that you think it is," Bucky warned, glancing at Sam to put the serum out of his sight, "so whatever genius idea you think you have, forget it."

"That's all I do anymore, Barnes! I've forgotten everything! I can't live like this, and if that blue goo can fix my busted head, then I'm taking it!"

"No, you're not," Sam joined in, "because you've seen how this stuff goes wrong, Tony, you just don't know that you have. Trust us when we tell you that this is a bad idea. I know how hard this must be for you-"

"You don't know anything!"

"Hey, what's going on?" Steve's voice echoed through the room around them. You followed closely behind as he approached them, but once you saw what Sam was holding in his hand, you quickly made your way towards him to take the vial away, which he readily gave to you.

"Dad, where did you get this?"

"It was in my dad's stuff. Somehow he knew that I would find it when I needed to. (Y/N), please, tell me that you understand this. This could fix everything...make me...me, again."

You rolled it between your hands as you watched the liquid shift back and forth with you, finding yourself mesmerized by both the unusual beauty of the color, but also by the sheer terror that it brought you, knowing the harm that this little vial full could do. "I understand," you mumbled quietly, "that it can fix a lot of wrongs. But I also know that it can create so many more."

"You weren't a wrong, (Y/N)," Tony urged, taking a step forward towards you that was quickly blocked by Bucky's arm, "and what about Steve? It made you both. What if it can fix me? Aren't I worth trying?"

"Of course you are, Dad. But not like this." When Tony's expression dropped and grew cold, you took the final steps towards him and all but pushed Bucky aside to get to him. Holding the vial up for him to see, you smiled softly and took his hand in your free one so that he would stop his anger from building and actually listen to you. "I'll help you," you agreed, to the rest of the group's dismay, "but we're doing this the right way. Bruce can work on formulas to use as little as we possibly need to, okay? That's the only way that I'll go along with this. We control it, not you."

"You mean that you control it," he hissed though clenched teeth, now angry as you had seen him in a long time, but you weren't about to break.

"Yes. I control it," you agreed. "You are in no condition to make this kind of decision, and I'm sorry, Dad, but I'm not afraid of you."

"You clearly have no respect either."

"Tony, come on," Bucky shook his head, "that's not what's happening here. She's trying to help you do this safely, for your own good."

"Right. I've heard that before. But fine, have it your way, (Y/N). I'll go along with it, but if your way doesn't work, then you give me what's left and you go be a mother to your actual children."

"Hey, that's about enough," Steve finally stepped in, pushing forward and in front of you, "and I think you should apologize. I know that you're having a hard time, Tony, but that's no reason to talk to her like that."

"I didn't ask what you think," Tony challenged back, stepping even closer. "I don't care what you think, Rogers."

"Stop it," you tried to say, but it came out almost inaudible as you felt the tightness building in your throat. It wasn't the best timing that your anxiety had ever chosen, but as it would turn out, this moment might be just perfect. "Please..." you tried again, but your stomach had other ideas, effectively stopping the fight immediately as the four men stared at you in disbelief.

"Jesus, (Y/N), can you do that on command now?" Sam chuckled, amused that he had been completely missed by the projectile this time. "If so, we need to work that into a battle plan for when you come back. We'd never lose."