𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎 meet Maria Stark.

"She was young," Tony had said once, when Charlie had asked him about her. "A lot younger than Howard. She tried, really hard, and it showed. She wasn't really prepared to be a parent, but she did her best."

Now, Tony Stark had always been a man of many words. The lack of things he had to say about his mother- bittersweet, albeit fondly, only fed Charlie's curiosity.

Charlie really only had three female influences in her life: Aunt Peggy, Pepper, and Natasha- all incredible, badass women who paved the way for not only her, but the world. But they did spend a lot of her childhood working or far away from home, and had more of an obligation to her parents than to her.

Maria, Charlie liked to think, would have been a maternal figure who would have been there every step of her life.

She had to have been an incredible woman. Tony had turned out a wonderful person and an amazing parent- gentle but funny, brilliant, and lovingly devoted to his family. And Charlie knew damn well he didn't get that from Howard.

Seeing Maria here, now, alive and rosy-cheeked, playing piano and not just in a still, rare photograph- Charlie didn't know how to react.

The soft music echoed through the theater as Charlie watched her grandmother, her brows furrowed.

The woman was beautiful and soft-looking, blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. She had Tony's long fingers, gliding deftly over the piano keys, fingers that Charlie wished she had inherited from her own birth mother. Charlie could see so much of her father in this woman with every passing second right now; she could see why he admired her. Why he had given Charlie his mother's name as one of her middle names.

"Try to remember the kind of September," she was singing, her voice sweet and soft. "When grass was green..."

Howard walked into the room, and Charlie felt herself scowl before she could stop it.

She turned her gaze to the edge of the hologram, where she could see a thin, blue, vibrating line between reality and the past. It was similar to the tech she had on her face right now, shaping her features into someone else- a combination of Stark tech and S.H.I.E.L.D tech to keep her disguised.

The pencil skirt she wore, along with the empty clipboard in her hands, was supposed to make her look like an assistant- inconspicuous enough to the massive crowd of college students on the other side of the stage.

Howard would certainly approve.

Maria, bless her heart, had stopped singing, though she still played the piano. "Wake up, dear, and say goodbye to your father."

Charlie watched as a young version of her father groaned, ripping the blanket off his head.

Howard looked down with distaste. "Who's the homeless person on the couch?"

Tony chuckled drily and staggered to his feet, donning a Santa hat and sleepy eyes. He looked so young here- only four years older than Charlie.

"This is why I love coming home for Christmas.." he said, pointing at Howard. Charlie could see right through that nonchalant mask he had up. It hurt, the way Howard treated him. It always did. "Right before you leave town."

Maria spoke again, and Charlie found herself entranced at her grandmother. "Be nice, dear, he's been studying abroad."

Howard, naturally didn't look impressed. "Really, which broad? What's her name?"

"Ass," Charlie muttered, glaring. She felt an arm nudge her side and she looked up, seeing Pepper's stern face looking down at her. Even though they both wore heels, Pepper always towered over her.

Tony pretended to think for a moment. "Candice."

And ew, Charlie did not need to hear about Tony's teenage escapades.

Howard yanked Tony's hat off his head, Tony wincing slightly as a bit of his hair was pulled. His father didn't seem fazed.

"Do me a favor?" he said distastefully. "Try not to burn the house down before Monday."

Teenage Tony, ever the deflector, looked between his parents, bouncing on his heels. "Okay, so it's Monday. That is good to know. I will plan my toga party accordingly. Where you going?"

"Your father's flying us to the Bahamas for a little getaway," Maria said, her eyes closed as her fingers glided across the piano.

Charlie swallowed hard, looking down at her feet.

She knew what this memory was. She could see her present-day Dad across from her on stage left, looking at his younger self with an indecipherable expression. This was on December 15, 1991, right before Howard and Maria Stark were killed in a car accident.

Pepper's hand rested on the small of her back, bringing Charlie's attention to her nails digging into her thumbs. Charlie cursed and quickly clenched her hands into fists, trying to hide the blood.

Pepper wordlessly handed her a tissue.

"We might have to make a quick stop," Howard was saying.

Teenage Tony snorted. "At the Pentagon. Right? Don't worry, you're gonna love the holiday menu at the commissary."

Maria's eyes closed briefly, her fingers coming to a stop and resting in her lap instead. Charlie felt a pang or sympathy for her; having to be the middle-man between her husband and her son couldn't have been easy.

"You know," Howard said harshly, "They say sarcasm is a metric for potential. If that's true, you'll be a great man some day."

Charlie watched as both Tony's chins tilted up defiantly. If only Howard knew how right he was, no matter how backhanded the remark was.

"I'll get the bags," Howard said, thrusting Tony's Santa hat at the floor. He walked out of the room with perfectly still posture, leaving his son to slump his shoulders the second he was gone.

Maria stood, approaching her son with kind, tired eyes. She reached up and rested her palms on either side of Tony's face, waiting until he looked at her.

So that's where Tony got the gesture from. Charlie felt a sweet kind of sadness.

"He does miss you when you are not here," she said, rubbing Tony's cheeks gently with her thumbs. "And frankly, you're going to miss us. Because this is the last time we're all going to be together."

Charlie's heart climbed into her throat. She looked at the present day version of her Dad, unable to see his expression from here.

"You know what's about to happen," Maria pleaded. "Say something. If you don't, you'll regret it."

Tony stared at his mother as Howard walked back into the room. Then, more looking at Maria than his father, he spoke. "I love you, Dad. And I know you did the best you could."

Maria looked satisfied. She leaned in to kiss Teenage Tony on the cheek.

When she leaned back, disappearing from view, present- day Tony took that as his cue.

He walked into stage, his hands quickly finding his pockets. "That's how I wished it happened." He looked to the side dramatically. "Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, or BARF."

Charlie snickered and Pepper merely sighed, unable to hide the amused glint in her eyes.

"God, I gotta work on that acronym. An extremely costly method of hijacking the hippocampus to . . . clear traumatic memories. Huh." Tony leaned down to blow out the holographic candle on the piano. It took two tries; he shrugged and Charlie had to hide her smirk behind her hand.

The hologram began to dissolve as Tony walked slowly across the stage. "It doesn't change the fact that they never made it to the airport... or all the things I did to avoid processing my grief, but..." He took off his sunglasses, waving them in the air. "Plus, 611 million dollars for my little therapeutic experiment? No one in the right mind would've ever funded it."

He stood in the middle of the stage now, facing a massive sign above the crowded auditorium. "Help me out, what's the MIT mission statement?" The students quickly took to reciting it with him, "'To generate, disseminate... and preserve knowledge. And work with others ... to bring it to bear on the world's great challenges.' Well, you are the others. And, quiet as it's kept . . . the challenges facing you are the greatest mankind's ever known. Plus, most of you are broke."

Charlie watched as her father spoke so effortlessly to the room, the way he paused for dramatic effect at just the right times. "Oh, I'm sorry. Rather, you were. As of this moment . . . every student has been made an equal recipient of the Inaugural September Foundation Grant. As in . . . all of your projects have just been approved and funded."

Pepper's jaw dropped as the crowd erupted into cheers, students screaming and turning to each other in awe.

"Did he really just do that?" she asked faintly.

Charlie looked at her apologetically; the P.R nightmare that was about to erupt was most likely going to keep Pepper her the office for days.

"He did," Charlie said, patting her on the back. She, personally, wasn't at all surprised. Tony had real soft spot for these students; if he could change their lives, why wouldn't he?

(Or maybe, they reminded him of a past prodigy he took in as his intern, the domino affect of which lead to the adoption of his daughter .)

"No strings, no taxes... just re-frame the future!" Tony shouted over the noise. "Starting now. Go break some eggs."

With the crowd still going crazy, he turned on his heel, clapping his hands together and exiting the stage.

"That was... extremely generous, Tony," Pepper said, shooting him a look as he approached.

"Thank you," Tony beamed. He caught Pepper's expression and turned to Charlie, whose feet were aching in her heels. "You don't look too impressed, Ms. Assistant."

Charlie clutched her clipboard. "I'm hungry. And I'm wearing someone else's face. Can we go home?"

Tony made a tsk-tsk noise. "So impatient." His hands were stuffed in his pockets; Charlie picked up on his anxiety almost immediately. "Let's sneak out of here, shall we?"

Charlie frowned slightly, unsure why he was so wary all of the sudden. Another front he'd put up for the public, tumbling down the second he felt he was safe. "Yeah. Wanna head to the restrooms?"

Tony seemed to understand. He glanced at Pepper, who waved her hand.

"Go. I'll hold the press off long enough for you to get away."

Tony nodded immediately. He stuck out his hand to Charlie, who made sure no one else was watching before taking it, letting him lead her down the hall and towards the elevator.

Standing in front of the doors, Tony pushed the "up" button more times than he needed to.

"You okay?" She asked quietly.

Tony looked at her for a moment, opening his mouth and closing it again. Finally, glancing away, he muttered, "Just got a feeling. Something's off."

Charlie frowned, not wanting to invalidate his feelings, but she figured he was just probably off of the triggering memory he'd just relived. The event that had lead to his intense, self-sacrificial work ethic- it had to have had an affect.

Charlie, getting more and more concerned, reached up to pull of the A.I mask disguising her face.

Tony quickly reached up and knocked her hand away, before trying to play it off as tucking her hair behind her ear. His eyes flickered to something behind her. "Someone's coming. Not yet."

Charlie nodded in understanding, straightening her posture and praying she looked like an assistant.

A short Black woman walked their way, dressed in somber clothes with an unnervingly mellow pace.

The woman glanced at Tony, before slowly turning her attention to the elevator. Charlie and Tony exchanged a quick glance; nether of them recognized her.

"That was nice," The woman said, her tone heavy. Her name tag read Mrs. Spencer. "What you did for those young people."

Tony looked wary, but he spoke with ease. "Ah, they deserve it. Plus, it helps ease my conscience."

Most people would have laughed at that, as it was definitely Tony's intent, but the woman didn't seem amused. Instead, she smiled darkly. "They say there's a correlation between generosity and guilt. But if you've got the money... break as many eggs as you like. Right?"

Fuck.

Charlie swallowed hard. This woman had an intent. Judging by the way Tony half-smiled, turning more pale by the minute, he knew it as well.

He darted forward and pushed the elevator button again, licking his lips. He glanced at the Mrs. Spencer. "Are you going up?" he offered.

Mrs. Spencer's expression had turned angry. "I'm right where I want to be."

Her hand darted into her handbag, up to the wrist.

Alarm bells went off in the both Charlie and Tony's heads. With a sharp intake of breath, Charlie quickly grabbed the woman's wrist in a harsh grip, before she realized Tony was trying to pull her behind him.

And really, wasn't PTSD a bitch?

Something in Mrs. Spencer's expression had clicked. Charlie quickly let go of the woman's arm, praying to God that she hadn't hurt her.

"Okay," Tony breathed. He was still clutching onto Charlie's hand; she let him, knowing he probably needed an anchor right now. "Okay. Sorry, it's an occupational hazard."

Mrs. Spencer titled her head. "I work for the State Department," she said, and Charlie had no fucking idea where this was going. "Human Resources. I know it's boring... but it enabled me to raise a son. I'm very proud of what he grew up to be."

Charlie didn't miss the way she lay a heavy emphasis on the word son as she finally pulled her hand out of her purse, bringing a photograph with it.

Mrs. Spencer shoved it at Tony's chest. The billionaire had been left speechless, his face white and his eyes wide.

"His name was Charlie Spencer," she hissed. Her eyes were full of tears. "You murdered him."

Charlie's heart dropped into her stomach, feeling instantly nauseous. "N-no. No, he didn't. What- what are you talking about?"

Tony's grip one her hand had tightened into something almost painful as Mrs. Spencer's eyes settled on hers, contorted in disgust.

"You were there too, Charlotte," She said. Charlie flinched at her name; of course this lady would see right through her disguise. "In Sokovia. Not that it matters in the least to you, Stark- not even when you brought your own child into battle, killing mine."

Tony let out a small noise of horror.

"You think you fight for us?" Mrs. Spencer scoffed. "You just fight for yourself."

Tony shook his head, still clutching the photograph to his chest. Charlie wanted nothing more than to take his hand and hide him away from the world, not make him sit here and listen to the words straight out of his nightmares, the words he told himself every day.

Mrs Spencer wasn't done yet. The grieving woman's voice had lowered dangerously. "Who's going to avenge my son, Stark? He's dead- and I blame you."

Charlie's heart was thumping in her ears. She felt the familiar sharp sting of pain and knew she was destroying her thumbs right now, but she welcomed the hurt. It was grounding.

Tony was staring after the woman's retreating back, his fingers curling over the photo of a child he'd killed- he'd killed a child, a kid, what if he-

"She's wrong," Charlie stammered. "She wasn't there, she doesn't know- you, me, and Bruce made Ultron to protect people, after what happened in 2012. It's not your fault, Dad, you have to know that."

Tony swallowed visibly, blinking rapidly. "Bubs..."

"She wasn't there," Charlie repeated, now saying it more for herself than anything. "She has no idea what that was like- how many people we saved."

Tony was clutching the photograph, his eyes settling on his daughter. "This could have been you, kiddo," he said softly.

Charlie went silent.

Tony reached down and put his hand on Charlie's shoulder defeatedly.

He looked away for a moment. "We should go home. The team is on a mission in Lagos, And I've got a feeling... I wanna be there when Steve gets back."

"I still wish I could have been an analyst for them. Lagos would have been the perfect job," Charlie said, trying to change the subject. She was shaken, and Tony clearly was too, but she needed to get his mind off of this before it destroyed him.

Because the scary thing was, Mrs. Spencer was right.

Whether or not it was Tony's intent, it was his robots that had killed that boy last year.

And it could have just easily been Charlie. If anything had gone differently, it would have been her that had been killed, and her parents would have been the ones haunted by a mistake that had cost their baby's life.

"You, missy, are supposed to be recovering from a concussion," Tony said, giving her a stern look. The elevator doors dinged and finally opened. "You've got a week left before you're cleared. I gonna keep you safe, at least, if I can even do that anymore."

The joke fell painfully flat. Tony swallowed, looking at the ground.

Charlie tugged his hand, leading her Dad into the elevator. "Come on," she said softly. She waited until the doors closed behind them before peeling off the mask, scrunching her nose. "We can make it home before Pops gets back."

A/N

This chapter seems filler, but there's a lot of vital stuff here.

Mrs. Spencer made some really good points. I've seen people hate her, but I can't. She's not exactly wrong. Although, a lot of people think that Tony's ego is the reason he made Ultron, but he literally saw aliens in the wormhole in New York. He knew the world was hopelessly outnumbered, and he knew the world needed a shield.

And, of course, the parallel of Mrs. Spencer's son and Charlie. Both were kids, in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that's something that's going to really stick with Tony.

Next chapter is where things start going downhill. Things are going to get very rough from here on out. Polarize is not a very happy book.

See y'all soon! Drink some water and let me know what you think!