Author's Note: Just a quick oneshot that was in my head after my latest time seeing Infinity War.

Please enjoy...

"He was your son?"

Tony heard the voice speaking. He didn't hear the question. He got to his knees, and turned toward Nebula who was standing not very far away. Tony shook his head.

"Sons don't call their fathers 'mister'," Tony answered her solemnly. "He was a kid. A stupid kid who didn't do what he was told."

Nebula watched as Tony looked up into the sky.

"When Wrinkled Carrie and Killer Croc's ship showed up, instead of staying on his school bus where he was safe, he jumped into action. And when I told him to go home, he didn't listen," Tony said as he dug his hand into the dirt and grabbed a handful of it.

Nebula closed some of the distance, but stayed standing over him.

"He was a warrior," Nebula said.

"He was not a...," Tony began, his first closing around the dust he picked up. "He was just...he just. All that kid wanted to do was help - his neighborhood...the little guys. And instead of talking him down, and telling him to wait. I give him a suit and let him swing into battle."

"You saw...potential?" Nebula prodded.

Tony felt his fist loosen and the dust begin to slowly sift out and back to the ground. I saw a lot more than that, he thought.

"I saw what I could've been if I hadn't been such a selfish, self-serving ass when I was his age."

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them back up, he could feel the water welling in them.

"He told me that he wanted to be just like me. I was just trying to make him better. The suits, the tech. It was all to help what was already there be better."

"To add to that potential?"

"To make him better than me," Tony said sadly.

"Then he was your son," Nebula said after a second of contemplation.