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Tony Stark has too much to lose, and time travel seems just too far out of reach. And yet, he thinks of the people he lost and...Damn his superheroness. He just can't help himself.
And the fact that he actually figures it out? He really is a genius, now isn't he?
As he closes the door to Morgan's room, he says, "Go to bed or I'll sell all your toys. Night night." He smiles at the sound of her giggle through the walls.
"I wonder how much you'll make off those toys."
Tony frowns as he looks down the hall, a figure shrouded in shadow sitting at the window, one leg in the house with the other outside. He flicks on the light, illuminating the figure's scarred face. "You know, this is how horror movies start, Mal."
No one has heard from her since they all parted. Tony woke up five years ago to desolation, to utter hopelessness. She was waiting just outside his room. The moment he met her gaze, she left. Not even Natasha could find her. It was as if she disappeared into thin air.
"Nice to see you too, Tony."
"Why are you at my window?" He asks as he leans against the wall and crosses his arms.
"They came by today."
"And how do you know that?"
"The same way I know that Barton's off to Japan, and Natasha's hanging by a thread. Steve is somehow leading a group of some kind and telling them to move on when he's been in love with the same woman for eighty plus years. Thor is ninety percent beer and yelling at kids in their mothers' basements. Banner's stuck between himself and the Hulk, and you...you're here with your wife and daughter."
Tony purses his lips. "Want some tea?"
She arches the only brow that can move. "You want me in your house?"
"Well, you're a mysterious person, and I have a hypothetical for you."
Her spine straightens for a moment as she watches him. Slowly, she fully climbs into the house and closes the window behind her, following Tony to his kitchen where he sets a kettle on the stove. Her eye darts around the room as she sits at the island, clasping her hands together and rubbing her thumb over her palm.
"So, miss Baba Yaga," Tony grins as her eyes widen. "How long have you been watching me?"
"When have I not?"
"Better question. How long have you been talking to Morgan?" She looks away. "Kind of hard not to figure out it's you when a three year old talks about her imaginary friend who has one eye full of milk and the other full of chocolate."
She sighs and shakes her head. "Paranoia is difficult to push away."
Tony shrugs as the kettle begins whistling. He pours a mug and slides the tea over to Malka who catches it with one hand. The other grasps it tightly as she sniffs before sipping. "I'm not poisoning you."
