Konoewpl: Thanks a bunch! Yeah, there is a little issue on pride in the matter. From May, in particular. Peter's living situation will be discussed more in the coming chapters, so stay tuned! :)

Belbelanne: Obadiah can't be trusted with anything and them's just the facts.

Sitting in front of a Comfort Inn window, listening to distant car honks and cruiser sirens, watching rain splatter on the grimy Queens street down below, all while knowing that the mother of his child was being laid to rest at the same moment was one of the worst feelings Tony has ever experienced in his lifetime.

All that he'd received from the others was a single text from Ben very early that morning: Funeral is 11:00, Simmons Funeral Home. No questions, no assumptions, just point-blank. Tony hadn't even texted him back, because he had no idea how to.

Obie and Happy at least picked up that he wouldn't be in high spirits that day. Apart from breakfast, he'd neither seen nor heard from either of them. He wanted to say that he'd at least done something productive so far, but besides watching the news and cable television, the last few hours have been pointless.

Once, just once, for no reason whatsoever, he used his computer to search Mary's name online. He almost immediately found a result in an article titled "Queens Woman Killed in Three-Car Crash".

A car accident early Saturday morning resulted in the death of one woman and injured two others, police said.

Mary Fitzpatrick, 31, was riding in a taxi cab on Merrick Boulevard by Roy Wilkins Park in St. Albans at approximately 9:20 am when the vehicle was struck by a Nissan Altima.

Witnesses state that the driver of the vehicle, later identified as Fredrick Bass, had sped through a red light at almost twice the speed limit and struck the left side of the taxi, where Fitzpatrick was seated. The force of the collision pushed the taxi into a nearby vehicle. No passengers within the third vehicle were injured.

Bass—who later confessed to driving under the influence—and the driver of the taxi, Miguel Herrara, were both injured in the crash. Herrara was driven to the Jamaica Hospital Medical Center to treat a broken leg. Emergency responders pronounced Fitzpatrick dead on the scene, killed instantaneously.

Bass suffered minor injuries and was arrested for reckless driving, and faces charges of driving under the influence of alcohol and vehicular manslaughter.

That was it. Four short paragraphs, nothing else, no mention of Peter or Mary's friends. Four short paragraphs, and they somehow managed to dig a hollow pit in his chest that wouldn't go away.

One of the cons about being him, he guessed, was that he never stopped thinking even when he wanted to. He really tried to stop his mind from going on its path, but it was no good. He couldn't keep the images of Mary lying forever still in a coffin, or being lowered deep into the earth, or Peter dressed in a little black suit and weeping, weeping, weeping, out of his head. He thought that maybe later he would go to pay his respects and—well—he didn't know—give his last goodbye?

The only bright side of the morning thus far was that they finally got the results from the paternity test. Plot twist: Peter was Tony's son. Obie was probably nonplussed when he heard that bit of news.

The rain's stay was short, and at maybe twelve, sunlight finally started to shimmer down on the wet pavement. Ironically, Tony found his mind clearing up, too. It was still heavy, but at least he could get himself back into the present. He couldn't spend the whole day locked up in his hotel room feeling sorry for himself. Plus, it was Queens. He hadn't been back for a while and there was no harm in making the best of his time. It'd been an especially long time since he'd been back to Flushing Meadows, and he'd never before been without having to worry about camera flashes before. Why didn't he go incognito more often?

A shower, a change of clothes, a ball cap, a cough mask, a traffic-filled taxi ride, and two heads-up texts to Obie and Happy later saw him finally walking through Corona Park. The November chill had turned the trees gray and the leaves brown, but the freshly-clear sky made up for it. Plus, the quiet. He'd had quiet all morning, but not walk-through-a-park-by-yourself quiet. Listening to the distant sounds of children playing tag was miles above a police siren blasting past his window at two in the morning.

The wind was cool, the grass was still green, and Tony walked for so long his feet started to ache before he'd even realized it. Hoofing his way to the Unisphere wasn't that hard. Blessedly, the autumn rain had kept a crowd at bay, so now it was just stragglers and the occasional jogger.

He managed to sit down on a bench just as the fountains started up. At least he had new scenery to brood at.

It was as good as time as ever to think about what he was going to do, and how he had no idea what he was going to do. The best case scenario was that Ben and May would be able to take Peter in. In that case, after taking care of all Peter's money issues, he would just figure out his visiting schedule. He'd have to come on the major holidays—Christmas, New Year's, Thanksgiving—and then trips between that.

It wouldn't be that hard, especially since his holiday plans consisted of being with Rhodey and/or Obie, drinking, going to a big blow-out party, etc. He'd have to bring gifts at Christmas and, oh, Peter's birthday! They'd have to be great presents, too, to make up for…everything. Options for going out were limited if he wasn't in some kind of disguise, so he'd have to research what places took anonymous and private bookings. They could hit up the Macy's parade. Halloween would be a great time, too. Parents went trick-or-treating with their kids in full costume all the time. Not only that, but Tony could get them the best Halloween costumes ever seen on God's green Earth.

If he couldn't make it to Queens, there was always the option of getting Peter somewhere else. Ben, May, and Richard could be invited, too. The Fourth of July would be a great time for a beach resort, they could go anywhere in the world for New Year's, and hell, any time was a good time for Disney World and…

and…

and…

…and who was he even kidding.

Every time he saw Peter, his kid would be a little older, a little taller, a little smarter, a little different. Tony wouldn't be seeing him grow, he'd be seeing him change. Every visit would have time just for recapping what had last happened in Peter's life. Phone calls wouldn't make up for it.

Tony had no right, but he wanted to see Peter grow up, and wasn't that ironic? About four days ago, he thought the world was ending, and now the idea of not seeing his son regularly was making him anxious.

He knew why, too. He'd probably known for a while and had just been too cowardly to even think it.

Tony didn't want to be a father like Howard Stark.

Oh, he would never put Peter through the absolute hell of being compared to someone he'd never met his whole. It didn't matter if it was the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan or whoever the hell else; Tony lived through that hell for years and it still left a bile taste in his mouth. And he'd never make Peter feel like a failure. He'd known Peter for not even seventy-two hours and he already knew he was a great kid, a smart kid. He wouldn't shoot down his every accomplishment and insult him to his face under the excuse of "constructive criticism".

He'd be checking off every other box, though. Not being around when Peter needed him? Check. Making every moment together feel like an awkward business meeting? Check. Keeping Peter forever asking why his father never did, never does, or ever will stay? Check.

God, his life had changed so much in less than a week. Tony never thought he'd be a father, so he was woefully unprepared to be one, and he had nothing to go by.

Suddenly, he saw pink.

"Picked it up from the gift store."

Obie waved it under his masked nose until he finally took it. It was a little dome of glass on a wooden base, no longer than his middle finger. A branch of full cherry blossoms was frozen within. Still had the price sticker on it and everything.

Tony huffed a laugh while Obie sat down beside him. The fountains died down for a break, leaving the Unisphere completely unconcealed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Obie asked. Tony was very, very unused to seeing him outside of a business suit, let alone in denim pants and a T-shirt. No one would recognize Obadiah Stane like that.

"You get three guesses, and the first two don't count."

Obie snorted and leaned back against the wood. "Alright. Well, let me start and we'll see if that gets some conversation out of you. I wanted to apologize for being such a jackass."

"Want-ed? Past tense?"

"Alright, smartass." He was almost smiling as he said it, though. "I'm serious. I was being insensitive and I'm sure I was making you feel like crap. I humbly extend an olive branch."

"So eloquent." Despite his scoff, some relief filled him. He'd already decided to just ignore Obie's bad mood, but finally having some backing from the person he'd been expecting it from to begin with helped. "What was getting you so riled up, anyway? Jealous?"

Obie just shook his head. "I don't know, Tony. I try to keep my cool as much as I can, but this is a rough time we're in. The Jericho Project, the media, the war, it's like we can't sneeze without Time putting it on the front cover!"

"Like you've got to tell m—oh, hey, pretzels! Let's go."

Obie didn't even protest as Tony stood up and beelined it for the cart across the way. He just fell in step beside him and continued, "If we were different people in a different life, I would have congratulated you as soon as I found out. Would have bought you all the 'It's a Boy!' banners you wanted. But we are who we are, and if we get caught even whispering the word 'son', we get caught in a landslide."

Tony was fishing for bills in his pocket, and didn't look up from his counting when he replied, "What's that to us, though? From our end, that's just some more bathroom gossiping to deal with."

"Ah, come on, Tony. You know more than anyone people will find whatever way they can to judge you. The fact is that you have a kid you never knew about, but the opinion will be that you're a deadbeat who can't take care of a kid, so how can you protect all of the United States?"

"I hear you, but I've given up on caring. Plus, I might even get some more nicknames. Have you heard about 'Merchant of Death'? Tell me that's not an amazing name."

With the vendor close enough, Obie quieted for just a minute. Tony forked over a few bills, the glass box was opened, and they were both handed hot-and-fresh salted pretzels, praise the Lord. Obie waited until they were a good length out of earshot (and until he had a good mouthful) to keep going.

"It wouldn't just be a personal thing, though. It's like a seed that gets planted, first it's just soccer moms gossiping at the hair salon, then it's hosts on talk shows that only come on Sunday nights, then it gets higher and higher until our partners start questioning you. I'd like nothing more to just kick 'em in the teeth and tell them to piss off, but that wouldn't be an option, would it?"

Honestly, Tony was only half-listening, because he just realized that it's very hard to eat a pretzel with a coughing mask. The only thing he could do was pinch some off and stuff it underneath, which was worth it.

"So you were stressed out?" With a mouthful of pretzel, the last word came out as ow.

"More than I like admitting. I'd ask how you weren't, but honestly, you've looked halfway between panic attack and constipation for the past few days."

"Please write poetry. Anyway…Guess I was just more worried about Peter. Literally since the second I started to breathe, I've had cameras flashing in my face and microphones shoved down my throat. People I'd never met a day in my life acted like aunts and uncles visiting on the holidays. But at least I became a person. I don't know if Peter would ever get that blessing. People would start thinking his first name is 'Tony', middle name 'Stark's', last name 'Son'."

Obie nodded along with no rebuke, his brow even creasing together in agreement. "Oh, yeah. God, that poor kid."

"You haven't talked to him yet, have you?"

"I asked if he liked any sports."

"What'd he say?"

Obie opened his eyes wide and shrugged his shoulders.

Tony chuckled. "He's smart. Can't get more than ten words out of him at once, but he's smart. May said he loves to make people laugh."

"You know, his birthday was only a month ago. I was thinking, if you want to really make a good impression, you can make up for it."

"Didn't I already get him an R2D2?"

"Hear me out: an actual R2D2."

Tony laughed aloud at that. He was feeling significantly better already. He may or may not have actually been considering that idea, too.

The two of them went on in silence for a stretch, making a full half-circle around the Unisphere before they started to break off from the turn. The sun was at its highest now, probably, what, twelve? One? The funeral was probably over by then; they may or may not have returned home already.

"I was thinking about maybe helping May and Ben out with Peter. May said she wasn't too big on the 'charity', but I think I can insist."

Obie crumpled up the napkin in his hand and tossed it into a nearby garbage bin. "That would be best. They're already family, right?"

"Right." That last comment gave him inexplicable and probably unjustified offense, so Tony just took it and went on. "What I'm really wondering is how I'm going to go about visiting and all that."

"Huh. You going to visit?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Somehow visiting him regularly sounds a hell of a lot easier than preparing a 'Goodbye Forever' speech."

"Mm-hm." Obie's jaw worked side to side for a moment. More cogs, less serious ones and not as heavy, were spinning behind his eyes again. "Not going to be easy. You're going to have to come up with a lot of cover stories. I don't know if anyone will buy you going on vacation to Honolulu for Father's Day."

As if Tony would be spending Father's Day with the kid. Father's Day was for fath—well. Uh…

"Thing is, I'm trying to figure out how to make it as regular as possible. I don't want Peter to think I'm just coming because it's holiday tradition, you know?"

He wasn't looking at Obie while he said it, so the silence that followed confused him. Obie was watching him with eyes half-narrowed and a mouth that was neither smiling nor frowning. It was impossible to pin what he was thinking.

"What?"

"You're taking this very seriously."

"Didn't we just have a conversation about how we've both been taking this very seriously?"

"I'm talking in moral terms, not business terms. First you just…know that he's your kid, then you have to see him, and now you're thinking about how you're going to see him for the rest of forever."

"He's my kid, Obes. Don't know what else to say."

"You remember when Hobbs found out he had that daughter with the woman from Nepal?" Hobbs was a member of the board, a man who was all business and transactions until he left the building. Once he had a beer in hand and 2004 New Year's glasses on, he would say anything and everything. "He didn't sweat a drop, he just sent enough for a college fund and some pretty dresses. End of story."

"I'm not Hobbs."

"Yeah, that's what's surprising me."

"So you thought I was going to slide over a couple grand and let that be it?"

"Tony, the first thing you did after we found out someone strapped a bomb to your car in Philadelphia was go to a bar and order a Daiquiri. Can you blame me?"

"Happy carried me away like a princess to a castle. I felt safe!"

Tony crumpled up his own napkin, and Obie groaned.

"Alright," he went on. He and Tony both ducked their heads when a jogger passed by a little too close for comfort. "You'll help Ben and May take care of Peter. You'll visit…let's say twice a month, not including holidays. We'll map out the schedule so we don't have to cancel too much. If they need anything, they'll have straight access to your phone number. We'll have a lot of NDAs signed. Happy ever after."

"Yeah." Tony nodded. "That sounds good."

"Alright?"

"Alright."

"All good?"

"All good."

Obie suddenly pressed a hand against his chest to stop him. He still had that not-smile, not-frown expression on his face.

"So," said Obie, "why are you still upset?"

Tony tried to shrug, but he probably just jerked his body instead. Trying to avoid Obie's eyes just made the older man gaze him down harder. "Can't really think of anything that's going to make me click my heels right now."

"No, no. We found a solution, you still think there's a problem. Spill."

Trapped in a corner. Tony huffed, and the sound alone seemed to please Obie. Sometimes Obie's ability to read him like an open book was a blessing. Sometimes it was a pain in the ass.

"I'll say something I don't say often: I don't know." Obie let him keep walking while he rambled on. "I've broken this down to the most black-and-white, step-by-step formula that I can, and it still bothers me."

"Tony, you didn't know he even existed until a few days ago. It's not like you abandoned him—"

"This isn't about the past. I can't change the past. I know I didn't abandon him then, but I cannot map out a single scenario where I avoid abandoning him now."

"I shouldn't have used the word 'abandoned'. That's not what this is. It sounds like you're throwing him to the wolves, or something."

"You don't know what's going through his head right now."

"You do?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Then educate me."

And Tony did, succinctly, his voice rising just a hair more with each word until he was almost shouting at the end.

"He's probably gone his whole life wondering why his dad wasn't around, and now he has an answer: his dad didn't know he existed. His dad doesn't know his favorite color, or his favorite book, or his favorite anything. But no problem, right? Now Dad's here, so now they can finally get started on some good old father-son bonding, right? Nope! Any and all excitement that he's worked up is now going to be popped like a balloon, because guess what? Dad's not staying. He's just visiting, and he's going to visit again, but it's never going to count, it's never going to be real. He's never going to be able to see him without making sure his schedule isn't full first. He'll be so distant that Peter's going to be confused about what the word 'father' means, because he thought a father was someone who stuck around and loved you and told you so, not some guy who 'stops by every now and then'!"

Obie listened along until he was finished, and didn't speak for a moment after. Embarrassment took its unfamiliar hold on Tony quickly, and he pulled himself together. He was not about to have a breakdown about his daddy issues on a trip to fix his…daddy issues.

When Obie did answer, it was very calmly with a little lace of satisfaction. "So this is a personal thing, just so we're clear?"

Tony marched on ahead, and he swore he almost heard a laugh. He took back what he'd been thinking before. Obie's presence was not comforting him in the slightest. In fact, as Obie stepped up his pace just enough to fall in line with him again, he felt his blood pressure rise a few digits.

"First of all, you have got to stop acting like Howard was the worst monster who ever lived."

"I'm not having this conver—"

"Second of all, I am going to ask you—as your friend—to please accept that there's nothing else you can do here." Obie's voice had become softer. If his intent was to calm him down, it worked well enough. Still embarrassed, Tony felt some of the heat cool in his veins. Overreaction wasn't the way to go here. "You didn't ask to have a son, you didn't know you had a son. You feel like there are so many expectations you have to meet, but you're the one who made them up to begin with. Peter will be fine, Tony, and safe. He'll grow older and he'll understand everything better."

There went the last of Tony's fight.

A sudden fatigue fell on him, running his hand down his face. Obie reached out and clasped his shoulder in comfort. The weight he was carrying on his shoulders was eased by the weight on his shoulder. Crap. If a dad-grab on the shoulder eased him up this much, he might consider paying someone to friggin' snuggle him.

"I don't envy you. This is a really unfair situation and it's no one's fault. A solution is a solution, just because it doesn't feel good doesn't mean it won't work. Look on the bright side of things: you're setting him up for a hell of a good life. He's never going to have to worry about money, he's going to have great people taking care of him, and he comes from the biggest brain of the modern day."

"Yeah. Yeah…" Tony ran a hand down his face again, and Obie's hand squeezed a little more. "Sorry. I guess I just needed to vent a little."

"You won't find any blame from me. I'm just surprised you haven't blown a gasket already. I'm going to help you every step of the way, remember that. We're going to set this kid up so he's one step away from living at the mansion."

"Perfect. 'If only we weren't us', right? Then maybe he actually could."

He and Obie scoffed at the same time, the latter following with, "Yeah, right."

"I just mean if we didn't have to worry about the press and everything. I'm joking, Obes. It's not going to happen."

"Yeah, I know you're joking."

Tony squinted at him, but all Obie did was tilt his head a little to the side and ask, "What?"

"Now I feel like you're the one not saying what he wants to say."

"Why are we getting worked up over a joke?"

"I'm not worked up. Are you worked up? I'm just curious."

"Tony. Anthony. Come on." Obie waved his arms out. He was finally smiling, but he didn't seem amused so much as defensive. It was very dry. "You could be a random Joe in the suburbs and it wouldn't happen. Let's be realistic."

"Realistic about what?"

Obie's arms and his smile dropped at the same time. "I'm not going to say it."

"Say what?"

"Nope; this is getting too serious. You said we were joking."

"We are joking."

"Are we?"

"Yes, now tell me the punchline."

There was a long, long moment of Obie just staring him down, not moving an inch. Tony urging him on just made him blink. Add 'very confused' to Tony's descriptors for that moment, right beneath 'inexplicably annoyed'.

"You can't take care of Peter," Obie finally sighed.

"I know that, I was talking in theoretical. This entire conversation has been an up-and-down rollercoaster, and I'd really appreciate it if we could get on the same page here."

"The 'page' that I'm on is that theoretically or otherwise, you can't and couldn't take care of Peter."

Tony's head snaked back. "Why?"

"You know why, but let's get on that 'same page'. Raising a kid is a pretty big deal and you're not cut out for it. Not because you're busy or famous, it's just because you're you. I'm really not trying to insult you here, Tony. I'm just stating facts. It doesn't matter."

Outrage—outrage?—sparked in Tony's chest and spread down his torso. If not for the mask, Obie would have seen his teeth gritting together behind his lips. He couldn't even get his own thoughts organized, his mouth was running faster than his mind was.

"You just decided that?"

"I didn't decide anything. I didn't decide the sky is blue, and I'm not deciding that you wouldn't be able to—"

"Well, no, because that's for me to decide, isn't it?"

Obie deflated at long last. It was like the past few minutes had aged him twenty years, even his voice dipping low in exhaustion. "Alright. You say what you think, then."

Tony agreed.

That was probably why he was so angry.

He wouldn't be able to take care of Peter and he already knew that. It wasn't Stark Industries or his busy schedule, it was just him and him alone. He was immature, irresponsible, and a whole lot of other negative i-words. Even if he'd known Peter since he was born, raised him from the moment he first opened his eyes, he wouldn't have been good for him. Not being a father like Howard Stark didn't make him a good father by default.

But Tony always had a childish part of him that couldn't be killed, and that childish part just didn't like someone saying what he knew out loud. Yes, Obadiah, he was well aware that he'd be a shit father. Doesn't give you the okay to say that.

While he was stewing there with steam puffing out of his ears, Obie just waiting for him to wave his little white flag, Tony thought about the horrid experience that it would be to be his kid—always feeling unimportant, unwanted, unloved. That wouldn't change no matter how many birthday parties they would throw, or how many Christmas mornings they'd have, or how many A+ papers Peter brought home…or how many first days of school he'd go through…or…or…

"I would."

Obie was already walking away. "Yeah, sure."

"I would. Not trying to brag here, I just think I'd be a pretty fantastic dad."

"Mm-hm."

"I know it'll break your heart to hear it, but I don't need your approval. Me and him will get along just fine without it."

Ten feet away now, Obie just threw a look over his shoulder. "Who's 'him'?"

"Peter."

"Yeah, you don't need my approval to go see your kid. I'm not really into this conversation anymore, sorry. I have stuff I have to take care of." Obie pulled his phone from his pocket, flipped it open. "Hey, since we're in NYC, why don't we find a good pizza joint? I saw about fifty on the way over here."

"I don't need your approval to take care of him."

"It's not happening, so it doesn't matter. Let's try 'Big Joe's'. Sounds promising."

"No, it's happening. You should feel proud, you've changed my mind in ten minutes. New record."

Obie had been clicking the buttons on his phone to text Happy, and was murmuring it under his breath, "Big…Joe's…meet in…thirty…" He didn't even so much as look up at Tony. "Changed your mind about what?"

Tony walked past him.

"Peter's going to live with me."

He made it a good twenty feet ahead before he heard Obie's voice call, "What?"

"It's not like I don't have the room. You go on ahead and save me a couple slices, alright? I have to go have a talk with the Parkers."

That wasn't the end of it, of course. Obie marched after him and kept marching until Tony found sanctuary in a taxi cab. He tried every trick he could, from pretending like they were still joking to the good old "Ah, come on. You're just saying things." Tony, feeling simultaneously better and worse than he'd felt for a while now, didn't pop a vein once. Calm and collected, it only made Obie more annoyed by the second, until he was huffing steam when Tony shut the door on him.

It didn't matter. Tony had already made up his mind.