A.N. Welcome to 'Influenced Out of Normality'. This story was dreamed up me and two of my sisters, Kakariki and DarkGhana, when we were camping February 2016 (we live in the NZ, so February is out Summer). I, Bakenandeggs, then went home and, when I'd finally finished writing my 'Harry Potter in the Claw of the Raven' series, wrote this. It's been a long time coming for all three of us and we are super excited to be sharing it with you.

This story is beta'd by Kakariki, and is dedicated to both her and DarkGhana.

0-0-0

"Sir?"

Tony tuned out JARVIS' voice as he concentrated on undoing the screws that attached the Fuel Sending Unit to the engine of the 1957 Chevrolet Bel Aire that he was working on. The concentration wasn't really necessary, even if the screws were damn hi-torque screws, but it seemed like JARVIS had spent the last...however many hours he'd been working on the car, interrupting him with bad news and Tony really didn't want to hear about yet another way that Obie had completely screwed him over.

When he'd gotten the screws out, Tony stuck the screwdriver in his mouth and yanked out the Fuel Sending Unit, tossing it over his shoulder for Dum-E to clean away. He grimaced down at the engine and grabbed a rag to wipe up some of the grease and grime so he could see what he was dealing with.

He didn't spend a lot of time fixing up old cars. Where was the innovation in restoring something to how it had been before? He preferred improving top of the line cars. There was something satisfying in finding new ways to make the cars faster. Not to mention that restoring old cars seemed like a waste if his, not inconsiderable, genius and skill. Anyone with a screw driver could fix a car - Tony Stark built robots.

In fact, the only other time he'd ever attempted to restore a car had been nineteen years ago when his parents had died. After the police officers had brought him the news of his parents' accident, he'd wandered down to Howard's garage and had found his father's latest project - a 1967 Ford Mustang - halfway restored. It had seemed like a decent enough distraction and, he'd spent the four days before the funeral finishing what his father had started. He still had the car, locked at the back of his garage at his parents' mansion in New York, but it hadn't been driven since the day of the funeral.

Obie might not have been Tony's parent, though there had definitely been days that Tony had wished he had been, and he might have attempted to kill Tony multiple times, but restoring an old car seemed like the best way to deal with the fact that he was gone. So he'd had JARVIS buy him an old car the day after he'd killed Obie.

Tony had no idea what he was going to do to help him deal with the fact that the closest thing he'd had to family in the last twenty years had been responsible for his three months in an Afghanistan cave - though, drinking himself into stupor seemed like a good option.

"Sir?"

Tony sighed and let go of the cylinder head with his left hand so that he could remove the screwdriver from his mouth. "What's up?"

"I have come across some information amongst Mister Stane's files that I believe you would wish brought to your attention."

Tony scowled down at the engine in front of him before grabbing a nearby cloth and beginning to wipe the grease off his hands.

"Do I need to look at it? Or can you just give me the overview?" He asked, moving out the garage as he continued to wipe grease off his hands. Maybe it was time to eat something. "What's the time?"

"It is two thirty six in the morning." JARVIS answered faithfully. "The date is the 28th of March 2010."

"Huh." Tony wiped at his face with the greasy cloth, he was pretty sure that the last time he'd eaten had been on the the 26th - the day after he'd killed Obie (and the day he'd announced to the world that he was Iron Man) - though, he vaguely remembered Dum-E shoving a smoothie in his face. Had he drunken it?

"Miss Potts has asked me to remind you that the press conference regarding Mister Stane's disappearance is scheduled for one thirty this afternoon." JARVIS continued, his voice switching from speaker to speaker to keep up with Tony as he made his way up the stairs. "She has arranged for Mister Hogan to pick you up at one."

"That's today? What's the cover story again?"

"Mister Stane's private aeroplane was reported to have disappeared while he was vacationing in Tahiti." JARVIS answered. "There was an extensive search of the area, but a piece of the wreckage was found washed up on one of the beaches yesterday morning."

"Have they called off the search yet?" Tony reached the top of the stairs and tried not to look at the couch that he'd been sitting on when Obie had pulled out his arc-reactor. "Hey, JARVIS? I think it's time we redecorated in here? Maybe a new colour scheme? Red and gold, maybe?"

"Of course, sir." JARVIS' tone was dry. "I will pass your request on to Miss Potts."

"Good idea." Tony agreed, stopping to glance around the room. "Tell her I want fish - they make red and gold fish, don't they?"

"They do, sir." JARVIS confirmed. "Regarding the search and rescue operation that is currently underway for Mister Stane: while they have not yet called off the search, the chances of Mister Stane being found alive are believed to be very slim."

Tony snorted as he made his way to the kitchen. "No kidding. Is there anything food around?"

"I believe that Mrs. Huerta placed a casserole in the refrigerator for you, sir. She asked me to tell you that she and her family are praying for the safe return of Mister Stane."

Tony threw open the fridge door, before retrieving the the only container that could possibly hold a casserole. There was a note on the top of it explaining how to reheat it. "Do I know Mrs. Huerta, JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir." JARVIS answered, his tone disapproving. "She is the woman that Miss Potts hired to clean the house."

"Ah," Tony nodded, as he placed the container into his microwave to reheat it. "Short woman? Smiles a lot? Old? Pepper's way of punishing me for sleeping with the last one?"

"She is four years and seven months younger than you, sir."

"I prefered the last one."

"So I gathered, sir." JARVIS' tone was disapproving again.

"Well, tell her thanks, will you?" Tony asked. "Not the last one, I can't even remember her name, but this Mrs. Huerta. Not for the prayers, hell, I can't imagine anything worse than Obie being alive after all, but for the food."

"Of course, sir." JARVIS agreed.

Tony watched as the casserole dish spun around in the microwave, before making his way towards the coffee maker that he knew would contain hot and fresh coffee. Hooking the coffee maker up to JARVIS had been one of the best ideas that he had ever had.

"So what's this information you…" Tony broke off. "JARVIS, where's my coffee?"

"It is two forty three a.m., sir, you have a press conference in ten hours and forty seven minutes, and you have not slept in sixty one hours and thirty three minutes. Perhaps you would prefer a different form of drink?"

Tony glanced up at the nearest camera incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"A hot chocolate, perhaps, sir?" JARVIS suggested. "Studies have shown that…"

Tony interrupted him with a groan. "JARVIS, you're making me tired just listening to you."

"I suspect that your tiredness has more to do with the fact that you have not slept in sixty one hours and thirty four minutes, sir." JARVIS told him mercilessly.

"You're as bad as Pepper." Tony told him, narrowing his eyes at the camera. "Fine, I'll have a hot chocolate."

"As you wish, sir." The coffee machine whirred into life.

"You don't need to be so smug about it." Tony complained, moving back towards the microwave that was still spinning.

"My apologies, sir. In future I shall endeavour to remove any smugness from my tone."

Tony glared at the camera again. "It is far too late for this level of smart-assery, JARVIS."

"I am what you programmed me to be, sir."

"I have no idea what I was thinking." Tony commented, leaning against the counter and waiting for the microwave to countdown the final ten seconds. "I must have been drunk."

"That does seem likely."

Tony retrieved the casserole from the microwave, and his hot chocolate from the coffee machine, and settled himself on one of the barstools - it wasn't the most comfortable of places to eat, but at least Obie hadn't tried to killed him there.

Tony spooned a mouthful of casserole into his mouth and moaned happily. "Wow, this is great. Mrs. Huerta has just become my favourite cleaner of all time, but don't tell Pepper. She'd never let me live it down after all the fuss I made when she hired her. Now, what have you got for me? What has Obie done now?"

There was a long silence and Tony looked up from his casserole in concern. "JARVIS?"

"My apologies, sir." JARVIS answered immediately. "On the 6th of June, 1993, Mister Stane transferred one hundred thousand dollars from the Stark Industries discretionary funds to…"

"He wasn't funding a terrorist group, was he?" Tony interrupted, horrified at the very thought. "JARVIS, tell me he had nothing to do with 9/11."

"Not that I am aware of, sir." JARVIS assured him. "Mister Stane transferred the funds through multiple shell companies and eventually into the account of a Miss Jessica Margaret Lavelle."

Tony swallowed his mouthful of casserole. "A woman? Did he have an affair with her or something?"

"No, sir." JARVIS denied. "A further fifty thousand dollars was transferred to Miss Lavelle on the first day of every year since that date."

"And what do we know about this woman?" Tony asked.

"Miss Lavelle was born in Los Angeles on the seventeenth of August 1973," JARVIS began. "She attended Los Angeles Elementary School…"

"Fast forward, JARVIS."

"Of course, sir. She moved to Sunnydale, California in June of 1993 and married a Mister Anthony Peter Harris on the twenty eighth of September that year. Less than two months later she gave birth to a boy on the eleventh of November 1993, who she named Alexander Lavelle Harris."

Tony almost choked on his casserole. "She was a bit young for Obie, wasn't she, JARVIS? She would have only been seventeen and he would have been forty three. That's illegal in California."

"Mister Alexander Harris is not Mister Stane's child, sir." JARVIS told him.

"Thank goodness for that." Tony sighed in relief. "So why was Obie paying her off?"

There was a pause. "It seems as though Mister Alexander Harris is your child, sir."

This time Tony really did choke. "What?" He gasped out, between coughs. "This really isn't the time for your sense of humour, JARVIS."

"It appears that you met Mrs. Harris at a party on the 2nd of February, 1993, sir." JARVIS sounded apologetic. "When she discovered that she was pregnant she attempted to contact you, but was intercepted by Mister Stane who…"

"Paid her off." Tony concluded. "Are you sure the kid's mine?"

"Mister Stane insisted that a paternity test be run, sir." JARVIS told him. "I have sent the results of the test to your phone."

Tony grabbed for his phone and brought up the document in question. There was a four columned table which seemed to have the technical details but, aside from noting that one of the columns bore his name and the words 'alleged father', Tony skipped down to the bottom.

"Probability of paternity - 99.9996 percent." He read. "And you've confirmed that this is my DNA?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any chance that it's a forgery?"

"No, sir." JARVIS denied. "I have compared the report with the one stored in the DNA Diagnostic Centre's database and they are identical."

Tony's mouth twisted in amusement. "Did some hacking, huh, JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir."

Tony stared unseeingly at the phone in front of him. "I have a son?"

"So it seems, sir?"

"And his name is Alexander?" Tony double checked.

"Alexander Lavelle Harris, sir." JARVIS confirmed. "It seems that he was claimed by Mister Harris."

"So he doesn't know about me?"

"Not that I can tell, sir."

"I have a son." Tony repeated in amazement. "What do you know about him?"

"Alexander Lavelle Harris was born at Sunnydale General Hospital at two thirty seven in the afternoon, on the eleventh of November 1993." JARVIS began. "He attended Sunnydale Elementary School, Sunnydale Junior High School, and he is now a Junior at Sunnydale Highschool."

"Whoever named those schools ought to be fired." Tony commented, picking up his spoon again. "How are his grades?"

"His GPA is currently 3.4." JARVIS informed him. "Though those grades have been achieved in his school's highest tracked classes."

"He goes to a school named 'Sunnydale High'." Tony pointed out. "How many tracks can their school really have? What else? Is he healthy?"

"Yes, sir, though he appears to visit the emergency room more frequently than could be deemed normal for someone of his age."

Tony glanced quickly towards the nearest camera. "Why?"

"Aside from an incident in January of 1997 that was diagnosed at Rheumatic Fever, the main cause appears to be broken bones, sir."

"Rheumatic Fever?" Tony frowned. "Doesn't that damage your heart?"

"Yes, sir. Though Mister Alexander's heart was believed to be unaffected by the disease."

Tony let out a relieved sigh, before turning his attention to the second part of JARVIS' answer. "And you said broken bones?"

"Mister Alexander broke his left ulna in November of 1999 and his right radius in March of 2001." JARVIS explained. "In September of 2008, he fractured his fifth and seventh ribs…"

"He fractured his ribs?" Tony echoed. "How?"

"The medical report does not offer an explanation, sir."

"Any chance it was his father?" Tony asked worriedly.

"No, sir." JARVIS denied, much to Tony's relief. "While the medical reports for his broken ulna and broken radius did indicate that Mister Harris was suspected to have been involved, no such suspicions are mentioned in his later medical reports."

"So his father used to hit him, but he doesn't anymore." Tony concluded, his hand clenching into a fist.

"Mister Harris' involvement was never proven, sir."

"Tell me about this 'Mister Harris'." Tony ordered.

"Mister Anthony Peter Harris was born in Sunnydale, California in on the 17th of December, 1957." JARVIS began.

0-0-0

It was well past dawn when JARVIS eventually convinced Tony to go to bed. Tony had wanted to put up a protest, as he had each of the other times JARVIS had suggested it, but his head was swimming and JARVIS had assured him that there was no more pertinent information to be learned about his son's life. The problem was, Tony decided as he stared at the ceiling above his bed, he didn't just want to know the pertinent facts - he wanted to know everything!

He had a son, an actual, living son, and…

And that was where he got stuck, because he had absolutely no frame of reference as to what to do with that information (other than have JARVIS stalk the boy). Should he contact the boy's parents? They sounded like pieces of work. Should he report them to the child services? Should he sue for custody?

Would the boy, Xander, even want to meet him? Should that make a difference? Did he really want to feed Xander to the press? Being a Stark had it's perks, sure, but it wasn't all sunshine and roses. If people found out that Tony had a son, Xander would not only have to handle seeing his face on the cover of magazines, but there was also a good chance that there would be kidnapping attempts. Tony had already been kidnapped three times by the time he was Xander's age and four times since then - the latest of which had definitely been the worst. Did he really want the Ten Rings to find out about Xander?

No. Hell no, but that didn't mean that Tony didn't want to meet him. So he needed to find a way of meeting the boy without the press finding out and, preferably without the Jessica and Anthony Harris knowing about it and asking for more money. It wasn't Tony wasn't willing to provide more money for Xander's care, after all, one day the boy would inherit Stark Industries, but from JARVIS had found the money Obie had send them every year had been spent on alcohol and smokes - not on Xander. Tony would rather give the money directly to the boy.

So Tony needed a plan for meeting the boy without anyone finding out. Good thing he had nothing better to do than stare at the ceiling and think.

0-0-0

"Sir?"

Tony groaned and tried to bury his head into the pillow beneath him.

"Sir?" JARVIS repeated mercilessly. "It is twelve thirty in the afternoon, of the 28th of March 2010. You have a press conference in an hour. Mister Hogan will be here to pick you up in thirty minutes."

Tony groaned again as JARVIS opened the curtains, letting the light in. "How long was I asleep?"

"Four hours and thirteen minutes, sir."

"And I have how long?"

"Twenty nine minutes, sir."

"Wake me up in ten."

"Sir? It is now forty one minutes past twelve. Mister Hogan will be arriving in nineteen minutes. Sir?"

Tony groaned as he rolled out of bed. "You're a menace, JARVIS."

"Yes, sir. You now have eighteen minutes."

Tony staggered into the bathroom and winced at his reflection. He wasn't even sure he'd looked this bad when he'd come back from Afghanistan. Not only was his skin was almost translucent, but the bruising around his eyes made it look as though he hadn't slept in weeks.

It was the quickest shower and shave Tony had ever had, but he somehow managed to be dressed by twelve twenty five. He looked in the mirror again and grimaced, sure his hair looked better but he still looked like the walking dead.

"Mister Hogan has arrived, sir."

Tony retrieved the pottles of concealer and foundation that he kept in his bathroom drawer and slipped them into his pocket. "Is my coffee ready, JARVIS? And if you even consider suggesting hot chocolate I'll donate you to a community college."

"Yes, sir." JARVIS answered, as Tony jogged down the stairs and towards the kitchen. "And Mister Hogan has a breakfast burrito waiting for you in the car."

"Happy brought me breakfast?" Tony asked, swiping his coffee from the coffee maker and pouring it quickly into a travel mug. "Don't you think he should have bought me dinner first?"

"He did so on my request, sir."

Tony glanced towards the nearest camera in surprise. "Breakfast this morning, hot chocolate last night, did I accidently put you in charge of my diet, JARVIS?"

"You did not, sir. However, as no one else was willing or able to take responsibility for it, I chose to step into the void."

"I am an adult, you know, JARVIS." Tony pointed out, shutting the front door behind him.

"So your birth certificate claims, sir."

"Bossy and sassy." Tony grumbled. "Where did I go wrong with you?"

"Good afternoon, Mister Stark." Happy was holding the back left door of the car open.

"Is it?" Tony asked doubtfully, snatching his breakfast burrito out of Happy's hand. "I'm not convinced that it's the afternoon, and I'm ninety three percent sure that it's not a good one."

He climbed into the car, placed his coffee in the drink holder, and began to unwrap the burrito as Happy shut the door behind him and made his way to the driver's seat. "Are there vegetables in this?"

"No, sir." Happy turned the keys in the ignition and slowly pulled away from the house.

"Are you sure?" Tony peered suspiciously at the open end of the burrito and, using his thumb and forefinger pulled a mushroom slice out. "What do you call this then?"

"I believe that is classified as a fungi." Happy told him, looking back through the rear vision mirror.

Tony popped the mushroom into his mouth with a glare, before taking a bite out of the burrito and placing it beside him. He retrieved the makeup pottles from his pocket and took the cover off the mirror attached to the seat in front of him.

"Are you feeling alright, sir?" Happy asked. "You look as though you haven't slept since Tuesday."

"I'm fine." Tony used the sponge to apply the concealer to the darkest bruises around his eyes. "And I have slept, I woke up half an hour ago."

"Hmm," Happy didn't sound convinced. "Pepper asked me to tell you that it wouldn't be a bad thing if you looked a little off your game. She says it will show that you're worried about Mister Stane."

Tony looked up from his mirror. "Should I be concerned at the way you are all conspiring behind my back? First JARVIS organises my breakfast and now this? Besides, how did Pepper know that I wouldn't be looking naturally fabulous?"

"I couldn't say, sir."

It was exactly twenty five minutes past one when Happy pulled the car up in front of Stark Industries, and twenty seven minutes past one when Tony entered the antechamber off the Press Room where Pepper was waiting for him.

"Sober and on time." Pepper commented, with a smile. "I'm impressed, Happy."

"Hey!" Tony protested. "He didn't do anything except drive. Where's my coffee?"

"The press conference starts in three minutes." Pepper pointed out. "You don't have time for a coffee."

Tony ignored her and zeroed his gaze in one of the people in the room he didn't recognise. "You, what's your name?"

The man looked taken aback. "Graeme Riddler. I'm your press secretary."

"I have a press secretary?" Tony asked, mostly just to see the man's colour rise. "Anyway, I need coffee. Any coffee, though I would prefer that it was actually drinkable."

Riddler's expression was incredulous, but then he turned to the woman standing near him. "Leah, go get Mister Stark some coffee."

The woman flushed at Riddler's tone, but nodded and quickly left the room.

"Delegation." Tony observed, turning back to Pepper. "I'm told it's a good skill to have."

"And one you have in spades, Mister Stark." Pepper commented dryly.

Tony looked around the room. "Who are all these people?"

"They are some of Stark Industries Public Relations team." Pepper told him. "They're here whenever you hold a Press Conference."

"They weren't here last time." Tony pointed out, though that was probably to ensure that Agent Coulson could give him his cover story in private. "Anyway, I need to talk to Pepper, so everyone out!"

Riddler looked startled. "The Press Conference is about to start, Mister Stark."

Tony turned to him and held up a finger. "One, it's my Press Conference so it'll start when I say it starts. Two," He held up a second finger. "I'm not actually needed for the first part anyway so feel free to start without me. Three," His third finger joined the others. "The Press Conference doesn't start for a minute and a half, and four," Tony put up the fourth finger. "The sooner you get out, the sooner I can talk to Miss Potts, the sooner I'll be ready for the Press Conference. So, get out! Happy, you can stay."

Tony watched the SI Public Relations Team scurry out of the room with satisfaction. "And send in my coffee when it arrives!" He called after them.

"The press conference starts in less than a minute." Pepper commented disapprovingly as the door shut behind the staff.

"Only because Riddler wasted my time." Tony pointed out. "Anyway, I need you to do something for me."

Pepper looked suspicious. "The last three things you've asked me to do have involved me blowing up the arc-reactor, stealing computer files from SI, and putting my hand in your chest."

"They were my computer files," Tony pointed out. "So it wasn't stealing."

"They were Mister Stane's computer files." Pepper retorted. "And he tried to kill me because of it."

"Semantics." Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Anyway, this time I don't need you to steal anything. I need you to organise four science weekends for high schoolers. I need one of them to be held in LA. And I need one class to win an all expenses paid ticket to each one, and I need the LA one to be won by the highest tracked Junior class at Sunnydale High."

Pepper blinked. "What?"

"And I need you to make it look as though I've been planning it for ages." Tony added. "Or, at the very least, as though I have no ulterior motives."

"Do you have ulterior motives?" Pepper asked curiously.

"Of course I do." Tony answered. "I always have ulterior motives."

"You want me to arrange four Stark Expo's for high-schoolers for the Summer of 2011?" Pepper asked. "Why?"

"Not 2011," Tony shook his head. "This summer."

"That's three months away!" Pepper exclaimed.

"Or four, or five. Depending which month you put them in." Tony agreed. "Also, I think we should make them an annual thing."

"It's impossible." Pepper shook her head. "There is no way…"

"Of course there is!" Tony interrupted her. "Not only are you entirely brilliant, but you'll have JARVIS' full co-operation. The two of you could probably take over the world before next month if you really put your minds to it." He paused and pointed a finger at her. "Which you shouldn't or, at least, not without inviting me to help."

Pepper's mouth opened and then closed again when there was a knock on the door.

"Is that my coffee?" Tony called.

"Yes, sir." A woman called tentatively. "Also, Mister Riddler has asked me to let you know that it is time for the Press Conference to start."

Tony strode towards the door and threw it open, before accepting the coffee from the woman. "Thank you, Leah." He stepped back and waved the Public Relations Team back in. "Alright then, let's get this show on the road.".