Wow, okay. Hi guys. So I suck at setting deadlines for myself and actually sticking to them. I'm so sorry. I know this is like a year and a half late. But hey! At least there's a second chapter to this one (unlike my other story). So I actually split this chapter in two, not because it was long, but because I wanted to actually get you guys something, if you're even still reading this. Yeah, anyway, I'm sorry.

As soon as everyone else went into the viewing room Natasha turned to him and quietly asked, "How are you?" Tony opened his mouth to reply but she interrupted him. "Don't say 'you're fine', we both know you aren't." She narrowed her eyes at him.

Tony studied her for a second before answering. "I have a headache. Nothing I can't handle." He was reluctant to say that much, but he knew she would be able to tell if he lied.

Natasha nodded. "If you're sure." She turned to follow the others and said out of the corner of her mouth, "Let someone know when it's too much."

Although it did apply, he got the feeling that she wasn't talking about his headache anymore. "It's so sweet to know you care."

She glanced back at him, hearing the sarcastic tone, and raised her eyebrows. "Someone has to." She walked into the viewing room and left him staring at her from the hallway. He shook off her strange behavior, he would think over it later. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and reached for the door handle.

When Tony entered the room, the first thing he heard was: "I'm glad someone finally showed up! I've been waiting in here for hours." Fully inside the room, Tony surveyed his father and noted that he wasn't wearing any handcuffs. Tony scoffed. As if Howard needed a weapon to do any damage. On the table in front of him was an empty glass. "And if you wouldn't mind, I'm dying for a refill of scotch."

Sitting down opposite the man, Tony snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's not going to happen." Once he got his hands on alcohol he was about as compliant as a Dum-E with a fire extinguisher. It was too late for that, but he wasn't going to add to it.

"Fine. Who're you, then?" The other man shot him a dark look, and his foot started tapping on the floor. The rhythm beat itself into Tony's head, amplifying his migraine.

"You don't recognize me?" Tony raised his eyebrows, internally screaming he was right. Suck it, Fury.

"I'm happy to say I don't."

"I'm so hurt, dad."

His face screwed up and distaste colored his lips. "Anthony?"

Tony smiled thinly. It was a joke to think Howard would be happy to see him.

"How-"

"Are you here?" He pushed past any questions Howard had. "We don't know. They were hoping that our 'familial bond' would draw it out of you." Tony rolled his eyes. "So, you want to shed any light on that?"

Howard ignored him and said "You haven't changed a bit, aside from your appearance. You're just as frustrating as you used to be."

"And you're just as much of an asshole as I remember." At least Howard was consistent. The man scowled.

"Could you at least make an effort to use the manners your mother and I taught you?"

"I have no recollection of that ever happening. And even if it did, I don't have to- you're in interrogation." His father had made his childhood hell, this was his chance to return the favor. "Just answer the question: What is the last thing you remember?"

"I was conducting an experiment."

God, this was going to be this like pulling teeth. He resisted the urge to rub his temples. "An experiment on what?"

"Time travel, what else would it be?" Howard retorted sarcastically.

"What was the date?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, they would like to know what day to send you back to, but that's up to you. They could send you to the stone age for all I care." If that happened, Tony would throw a party filled with all the booze he could buy.

"October 1985." His father scowled.

"See, that wasn't so hard." Tony smiled sardonically. He couldn't wait for this to be over.

Howard only glared harder.

Behind the one way glass, Natasha was smiling fondly. She knew of Tony's deep dislike for his father, so when SHIELD found Stark Sr. and wanted Tony to be the one asking questions, she knew this was going to happen.

"Why is he being so contrary?"

"We threw him to the wolves, Steve, how else should he react?" It was Bruce who spoke. Natasha turned to look at him and noticed how annoyed he looked. The scientist's arms were crossed and his eyebrows furrowed. For such a usually calm person, he was remarkably aggressive-looking at the moment.

Steve was taken aback. He frowned, "What do you mean?"

This time Clint interjected. "It's no secret that Stark has issues with his father. Most of us do, Steve. You and Thor probably had the best relationship with your parents."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "I grew up in the Depression."

"You at least had your mother, most of us had shitty parents." He was interrupted when Tony walked back into the room.

"Stark, what are you doing?" Fury growled.

"You asked me to get intel. I got it, job done, I left." He enunciated strongly and threw himself down on one of the chairs. He lounged over it, expression dark and his hands twitching as if fiddling with imaginary machinery.

Fury looked incredulously at him. "We still need the details of how he built the damn machine, Stark. You're not done yet."

"Well, I need a break. Someone else can go do it." Tony glared at the director, exhaustion creeping into his voice.

Fury growled. "Fine. Agent Romanov, get in there."

Natasha raised her eyebrows and leaned back in her chair. Folding her hands on the table, she answered, "I'll go in when the techs have accumulated the questions I need to ask. Until then, I have no reason to."

"Will someone just do as they're damn told today?" Fury threw his hands in the air and stalked out.