Tony stood at the podium and immediately hated everything about it.
The microphones were too close. The lights were too bright. Every reporter in the room was looking at him like he was a zoo exhibit that had suddenly learned to talk. And behind him, Obadiah Stane was radiating the kind of forced calm that usually preceded a stroke.
"Mr. Stark," a reporter called out. "Can you tell us what happened during your captivity?"
Tony's hand went to the arc reactor. Through his shirt, he could feel it humming. Alive. Keeping him alive. A constant reminder of the price of survival.
"I was kidnapped," Tony said. Simple. Direct. "By a terrorist organization called the Ten Rings. They wanted me to build them weapons. Jericho missiles, specifically. The ones I'd just demonstrated." His voice went flat. "The ones Stark Industries had sold to the U.S. military. Which the Ten Rings had somehow acquired."
Murmurs through the crowd. Cameras clicking. Obadiah shifted behind him.
"I spent three months in a cave," Tony continued. "Building what they thought was a weapon. Instead, I built this." He tapped his chest, over the arc reactor. The blue glow was visible through his shirt now. "An arc reactor. To keep shrapnel from shredding my heart. Because when the convoy was attacked, I was hit by a Stark Industries missile. One of mine. Built by my company."
The room went dead silent.
"I watched good people die," Tony said. His throat was tight. "People trying to protect me. People caught in the crossfire of weapons I designed. And I realized something while I was dying in that cave. I realized that I've been complicit. In suffering. In death. In making the world a more dangerous place."
"Tony—" Obadiah's voice was low. Warning.
Tony ignored him. "A man named Ho Yinsen saved my life. He was brilliant. Kind. Everything I'm not. And he died because terrorists had Stark Industries weapons. Died buying me time to escape." Tony's hands were shaking. He gripped the podium to steady them. "His last words were 'Don't waste it. Don't waste your life.'"
He took a breath. Felt the weight of what he was about to say settle on his shoulders.
"So I'm not going to waste it," Tony said firmly. "Effective immediately, I'm shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries. No more missiles. No more guns. No more contributing to the chaos I just escaped from."
The room exploded.
Reporters shouting questions. Cameras flashing like strobes. Board members somewhere in the building probably having simultaneous heart attacks. And behind him—Obadiah Stane, moving fast.
"Tony, what you meant to say—" Obadiah was at the podium now, one hand on Tony's shoulder. Friendly. Paternal. Completely fake. "—is that we're temporarily suspending weapons development. While we conduct a thorough review of our security protocols. To ensure that Stark Industries technology doesn't fall into the wrong hands again."
Tony turned to look at him. Saw the desperation behind Obadiah's smile. The fear. This was a man watching his empire crumble in real-time.
"No," Tony said clearly. "That's not what I meant. I meant permanently. No more weapons. We're done."
"Tony, you're not thinking clearly—"
"I'm thinking very clearly." Tony stepped away from Obadiah's grip. Addressed the reporters again. "I've had three months to think. About what Stark Industries represents. About my father's legacy. About what we've become." His voice hardened. "And I've decided that legacy ends now. We're moving in a different direction."
"What direction?" A reporter shouted. "If not weapons, what will Stark Industries produce?"
"I don't know yet," Tony admitted. "But it'll be something that helps people instead of killing them. That's all I've got so far. The rest—" He shrugged. "I'll figure it out. I'm good at figuring things out."
More questions. More chaos. Obadiah was trying to regain control of the situation, his voice rising over the din. Tony could see Pepper near the back, one hand over her mouth, looking like she couldn't decide if she wanted to applaud or scream.
Near her—Percy and Calypso. Watching. Percy had a small smile on his face. Approving. Calypso looked thoughtful. Ancient. Like she'd seen this exact scenario play out a thousand times across history and knew how it would end.
Tony caught Percy's eye. The kid nodded once. Support without words.
It helped.
"That's all I have to say," Tony announced over the noise. "Thank you for coming. No further questions at this time."
"Tony!" Reporters were still shouting. "What about the board? The shareholders? The military contracts—"
But Tony was already walking away. Off the podium, past the cameras, toward the exit where Pepper was waiting with an expression that suggested she had about seventeen different emotions happening simultaneously.
Obadiah followed. Of course he did.
"Tony." The paternal tone was gone now. Just urgency. Barely controlled panic. "We need to talk. Right now. You can't just—"
"Conference room," Tony said. "Five minutes. Pepper, get the lawyers. This is going to be complicated."
"Complicated," Pepper repeated. "Tony, you just declared war on your own company."
"Not war. Evolution." Tony was already moving. Knew where he wanted to go. Needed to go. "Come on."
He led them through the building—past confused employees, past board members trying to intercept him, past security guards who weren't sure if they should stop him or salute. Pepper followed. Percy and Calypso too, keeping pace easily. And Obadiah, bringing up the rear, his face getting redder by the second.
They ended up in one of the lower level labs. Tony's favorite lab, actually. The one where his father had worked. Where Howard Stark had built things that changed the world.
And in the center of that lab—taking up half the space, gleaming and obsolete and beautiful—sat Howard Stark's arc reactor.
It was massive. Maybe fifteen feet in diameter. A ring of metal and machinery that had once powered this entire building. State of the art in the 1970s. Quaint now. Inefficient. But still working after all these years, because Howard Stark didn't build things that broke.
Tony stood in front of it. Stared at the pulsing blue light that matched the one in his chest.
"Your father built that," Obadiah said. He'd followed them in, was standing near the door. "Howard's greatest achievement. The arc reactor that made Stark Industries possible."
"I know what my father built." Tony's hand went to his chest again. Felt his own arc reactor. Smaller. More efficient. Better. "I also know it was just a publicity stunt. Clean energy. Unlimited power. That's what Dad promised. But it was never cost-effective. Never practical. So it sits here, powering one building, while Stark Industries makes billions selling weapons."
"Because weapons are what keep this company alive," Obadiah said. His voice was strained. "Tony, your father built an empire. Defense contracts, military partnerships, technology that protects American soldiers. You can't just throw that away because you had a bad three months."
Tony turned. Looked at the man who'd helped raise him after Howard died. Who'd run the company while Tony partied. Who'd turned Stark Industries into the merchant of death operation it was today.
"It wasn't a bad three months," Tony said quietly. "It was a revelation. I saw what we do. What I do. I saw a man die because terrorists had my weapons. And I decided right there, in that cave, that I wasn't going to be that person anymore."
"So you're going to destroy everything Howard built."
"No." Tony gestured at the massive arc reactor. "I'm going to finish what he started. He wanted clean energy. Wanted to change the world without killing people. He just never figured out how to make it work. But I can. I will."
Obadiah stared at him. Then at the arc reactor. Then back at Tony. "You're insane."
"Probably. But I'm also not wrong."
"The board will never approve this. The shareholders will sue. The military will pull our contracts. Tony, you'll bankrupt us."
"Then I'll bankrupt us." Tony's voice was hard. Final. "Because I'd rather go broke trying to do the right thing than get rich making weapons that kill people."
Silence. Heavy and suffocating.
Pepper was watching Tony with something that looked like pride mixed with terror. Percy and Calypso stood near the door, giving them space, but clearly listening to every word.
Obadiah ran a hand over his bald head. "I need time. To talk to the board. To prepare them. To figure out how we transition away from weapons without destroying the company completely."
"Fine. You have time." Tony turned back to the arc reactor. "But this is happening, Obie. One way or another. I'm done making weapons."
"Even if it destroys everything?"
"Especially if it destroys everything." Tony touched the reactor casing. Cool metal under his fingers. "Because maybe everything *needs* to be destroyed. Maybe we need to start over. Build something new. Something better."
"Like your father tried to do." Obadiah's voice was bitter now. "Howard had the same idealistic streak. Thought he could change the world with clean energy and good intentions. Look where it got him."
"Dead in a car accident," Tony said flatly. "Yeah, I know. But at least he tried. At least he wanted something more than just profits and body counts."
"He abandoned that dream, Tony. Put the arc reactor in this building and went back to making weapons. Because that's what worked. That's what kept the company alive."
"Well, maybe I'm not my father." Tony turned to face Obadiah fully. "Maybe I'm going to actually follow through. Figure out how to make the arc reactor practical. How to use it for something other than a museum piece. How to—"
He stopped. Because an idea was forming. Not complete. Not polished. But *there*. In the back of his engineer brain.
The arc reactor in his chest. Small. Portable. Efficient. Powerful enough to keep him alive. Powerful enough to run the Mark I armor.
And this reactor. Howard's reactor. Massive. Inefficient. But proven technology.
What if he could scale up his design? Make it bigger. More powerful. Enough to power... what? Buildings? Cities?
What if he could prove clean energy was possible?
"You're doing the thing," Pepper said. "The thinking thing. The dangerous thinking thing where you get an idea and disappear into your lab for three days."
Tony blinked. Focused on her. "I need to work. Right now. I need tools and space and no interruptions."
"Tony, we have a board meeting in two hours. About the weapons division. About the press conference. You need to be there."
"Postpone it."
"I can't just—"
"Yes, you can. You're Pepper Potts. You can do anything." Tony was already moving toward the exit. "Tell them I'm dealing with medical issues related to the arc reactor. Tell them I need time to recover. Tell them whatever you need to tell them. But I'm going to my lab. And I'm going to fix this."
"Fix what?" Obadiah demanded. "Tony, what are you talking about?"
"The reactor." Tony gestured at Howard's creation. "All of it. I'm going to make it work. Make it practical. Prove that we don't need weapons to survive." He smiled—sharp and reckless and probably crazy. "I'm going to do what my father couldn't. I'm going to change the world."
"You're going to bankrupt us first," Obadiah said.
"Maybe. But at least it'll be interesting."
Tony left. Didn't wait for permission. Didn't care about the board meeting or the shareholder panic or the media circus. He had an idea. And when Tony Stark had an idea, the rest of the world just had to keep up.
Behind him, he heard Pepper's heels clicking as she followed. And further back—Percy and Calypso, moving like shadows.
In the lab, Obadiah Stane stood alone in front of Howard Stark's arc reactor. His expression was troubled. Calculating. Looking at the massive machine like it was a problem to be solved.
Or eliminated.
But Tony didn't see that. Tony was already three steps ahead, his brain spinning with possibilities. With the future. With everything he was going to build now that he'd stopped building weapons.
The arc reactor pulsed in his chest. Blue light. Steady rhythm. Keeping him alive.
And Tony Stark smiled, because for the first time in three months—maybe for the first time in his entire life—he knew exactly what he was supposed to do.
*Don't waste it.*
He wouldn't. Not a single second.
Time to change everything.
---
The drive to Malibu should have been relaxing. Ocean views, California sunshine, the kind of scenery that appeared in tourism brochures. Instead, Percy spent the entire trip watching Tony fidget like a caffeinated squirrel.
"You okay?" Percy asked from the back seat of the sleek black car. Not Happy driving this time—some other Stark Industries chauffeur who'd been terrified to make eye contact.
"Fine. Great. Excellent." Tony was bouncing his knee. Tapping the arc reactor through his shirt. "Just thinking about power output calculations and miniaturization ratios and how to scale up the design without losing efficiency and—" He stopped. "Sorry. Brain won't shut up."
"ADHD?" Calypso asked. She was watching the ocean pass by with fascination. Three thousand years on an island, and now this—endless civilization, cars, buildings, the modern world rushing past.
"Probably. Never officially diagnosed. Too busy being a genius to sit still for psychological evaluations." Tony's leg was still bouncing. "You get used to it. Or you don't. Mostly people just learn to tolerate me."
"We're already tolerating you," Percy pointed out. "The jury's still out on whether we'll keep doing it."
"Fair."
They turned off the Pacific Coast Highway onto a private road. And suddenly—there it was. Tony Stark's house.
Except "house" was a massive understatement.
It was built into the cliff face. Glass and steel and architectural ambition made manifest. Three stories of pure modern design, cantilevered over the ocean like a middle finger to gravity and building codes. The front was almost entirely glass—floor-to-ceiling windows that probably cost more than most people's entire homes.
"You live here?" Percy heard himself say. "This is where you *live*?"
"Home sweet home." Tony was already out of the car before it fully stopped. "Come on. Let me give you the tour before my brain explodes from not working on the reactor."
They followed him up the steps. The front door was—of course—not a normal door. Some kind of high-tech scanner. Tony pressed his palm against it, and the door slid open with a soft *whoosh*.
And then a voice spoke. Male. British. Coming from everywhere and nowhere.
"Welcome home, sir. Shall I activate the house systems?"
Percy's hand was on Riptide before he could stop himself. Calypso had tensed, staff halfway to manifesting. Both of them scanning for threats, for the source of the voice—
"Whoa, whoa!" Tony held up his hands. "Friendly! That's JARVIS. My AI. Artificial intelligence. He runs the house. He's not a threat."
"AI," Calypso repeated slowly. Her eyes were darting around, trying to locate speakers. "Artificial... intelligence. You created a thinking machine?"
"Technically, yes. Though 'thinking' is generous. JARVIS operates within programmed parameters. He's sophisticated, but he's not actually sentient." Tony was already moving deeper into the house. "JARVIS, meet Percy Jackson and Calypso Atlas. They'll be staying here for the foreseeable future. Full access to non-restricted areas. Do not activate security protocols against them."
"Understood, sir." JARVIS's voice was calm. Professional. "Welcome, Mr. Jackson, Ms. Atlas. If you require anything during your stay, please don't hesitate to ask."
Percy exchanged a look with Calypso. Her expression was somewhere between impressed and disturbed.
"This is..." Calypso trailed off, still searching for the source of the voice. "This is on par with Daedalus. Or Hephaestus's automatons. A consciousness spread throughout a structure, animating it, giving it purpose."
Tony stopped walking. Turned to stare at her. "That's... actually a really accurate description. Most people just think 'computer voice, neat.' You're comparing JARVIS to mythological craftsmen."
"They're not mythological," Percy said. "They were real. I've met Daedalus. Kind of."
"You've—" Tony's brain visibly stuttered. "You've met Daedalus. The Daedalus. Labyrinth guy. Wings of wax. That Daedalus."
"Technically it was an automaton with his animus in it," Percy explained. "His life force. He'd stored his consciousness in a laptop—"
"He stored his consciousness in a *laptop*?" Tony looked like Christmas had come early. "Ancient Greek inventor figured out consciousness transfer and stored it in consumer electronics? That's—that's—" He pressed both hands to his temples. "I need to know everything about this. Everything. How did it work? What kind of storage medium? How did he maintain coherence? Was there degradation over time?"
"Tony," Calypso said gently. "The universe where that happened no longer exists. And Daedalus died—truly died—during the Second Titan War. Whatever knowledge he had is gone."
Tony's excitement dimmed. "Right. Dead universe. Everyone you knew is dead. I'm—sorry. That was insensitive."
"It's fine." Percy's voice was flat. "But yeah. Daedalus figured out how to put his soul in a machine. Used it to keep himself alive for thousands of years. Eventually, he got tired of living and let himself die for real."
"Consciousness in a machine," Tony repeated quietly. His eyes had gone distant. Thoughtful. "Life Model Decoys. That's what the military calls them. Remote-operated duplicates. But what if they weren't just remote-operated? What if they could be... autonomous. Carry a copy of someone's consciousness. Not a transfer—that's ethically nightmare territory—but a copy. A backup."
"Tony," Calypso said. "You're doing the thinking thing again."
"Right. Sorry. Filing that away for later." Tony shook himself. "Come on. Let me show you the important stuff. JARVIS, lights."
The house came alive. Lights brightening gradually, revealing the interior. Open concept, because of course it was. Living room flowing into kitchen flowing into what looked like a bar area. Everything clean lines and expensive furniture and that carefully curated "I'm rich but also have taste" aesthetic.
And the windows. Gods, the windows. The entire ocean-facing wall was glass. Waves crashing against the cliff below, sky stretching to the horizon. It was beautiful in a way that made Percy's chest ache.
"Bedrooms are upstairs," Tony said, gesturing vaguely. "Pick whichever ones you want. They're all basically the same. King beds, ensuite bathrooms, ocean views. JARVIS can show you around later." He was already moving toward a staircase that went *down*. "But first—the workshop."
They followed him down. The stairs were steel and glass, descending into what should have been darkness but was instead lit by ambient blue light. And at the bottom—
Percy stopped. Just... stopped.
It was a lab. Obviously a lab. But calling it a lab was like calling the ocean "damp." The space was massive—taking up what must have been the entire lower level of the house. Workbenches covered in tools and parts and things Percy couldn't begin to identify. Holographic displays floating in mid-air, showing schematics and calculations. Robotic arms mounted to the walls, currently idle but looking ready to spring to life.
And in the center—a car. A beautiful silver sports car, partially disassembled, surrounded by more tools and more schematics.
"This is where I work," Tony said. There was something different in his voice now. Reverence. "This is where I build things. Where I think. Where I—" He stopped. "Where I figure out how to be better than I was yesterday."
Calypso was staring at the holographic displays. Reaching out to touch one, her hand passing through the light. "This is extraordinary. The visualization. The precision. It's like..." She searched for words. "Like being able to see the thoughts in your head. Made solid. Made *real*."
"That's exactly what it is." Tony moved to one of the workbenches, already pulling out tools. "I think in three dimensions. JARVIS helps me render those thoughts. Makes it easier to work through problems. See flaws. Iterate designs."
Percy was examining the robotic arms. They looked expensive. Sophisticated. Also slightly singed in places. "What do these do?"
"Help with fabrication. Assembly. Precision work that human hands can't manage." Tony was pulling out components now. Small, intricate pieces that gleamed with their own inner light. "Also, they catch me when I fall. Sometimes. Dummy's success rate is about sixty percent."
"Dummy?"
Tony gestured to one of the arms. It waved. Actually waved, like it was greeting them.
"You named your robot arm Dummy," Percy said.
"I name all of them. Dummy, U, Butterfingers. They're helpful. Mostly. Sometimes they spray me with fire suppressant foam when I'm not actually on fire, but nobody's perfect."
Percy felt a smile tugging at his lips despite everything. This was so perfectly, absurdly Tony Stark. Brilliant and chaotic and oddly endearing.
Calypso was still fascinated by the holographic displays. "You said your first priority is creating a better arc reactor? For your chest?"
"Yeah." Tony's hand went to the arc reactor automatically. "This one was built with cave materials. Palladium core, basic shielding, barely functional. It's keeping me alive, but it's also slowly poisoning me. Palladium toxicity. I've got maybe a year before it kills me."
"A year," Percy repeated. "That's—Tony, that's not okay. That's really not okay."
"I'm aware. Which is why I need to build a better one. More efficient. Better shielding. Possibly a different power source altogether, though palladium is the most stable option for sustained fusion reactions at this scale." Tony was already pulling up schematics. "I've been running calculations. I think I can improve the power output by at least thirty percent while reducing the toxic byproducts by—"
"I might be able to help," Calypso interrupted.
Tony stopped mid-sentence. "Help how?"
"The shrapnel. In your chest. That's the real problem, isn't it? The arc reactor is just keeping it from killing you. But if the shrapnel were removed..."
"Then I wouldn't need the reactor," Tony finished. "Yeah. But the shrapnel's embedded in tissue. Wrapped around blood vessels. The surgeons said removing it would kill me faster than leaving it in. There's no way to—" He stopped, looking at her. "You're saying you can remove it."
"Maybe." Calypso's expression was uncertain. "I have some medical knowledge. Healing arts. Divine medicine, mostly—what Asclepius taught, what Apollo's children learned. But it's three thousand years out of date. I'd need to study modern medicine first. Understand current techniques. Make sure I'm not making things worse."
"Divine medicine." Tony's voice had gone very quiet. "You're talking about magic. Actual magic."
"I'm talking about healing that works with divine power instead of just mortal tools. Yes." Calypso met his eyes. "The Mist makes people forget, makes them see what they expect to see. But it doesn't actually change reality. My healing does. I can close wounds that shouldn't close. Mend bones that should take months. Remove things that modern surgery can't touch."
"But you need to study first," Percy said. "Update your knowledge. Make sure you're not accidentally killing him with three-thousand-year-old medical practices."
"Exactly." Calypso looked at Tony. "I'm not making promises. This might not work. But if you're willing to let me try—after I've studied, after I'm confident I won't make things worse—then maybe we can solve the shrapnel problem permanently."
Tony stared at her. Percy could see the engineer brain working. Calculating odds. Weighing risks. Wanting desperately to believe but afraid to hope.
"You'd do that?" Tony asked finally. "Risk it? You barely know me."
"You're letting us stay here," Calypso said simply. "Giving us a place to recover. To figure out our next steps. This universe isn't ours. We don't belong here. But you're helping us anyway." She shrugged. "The least I can do is try to help you in return."
"Plus," Percy added, "you shut down your weapons division. You're trying to do better. That matters. People who try to do better deserve help."
Tony's hand was on the arc reactor again. Not anxiously this time. More like... reverence. Hope. "Okay. Yeah. Let's do it. You study modern medicine. I'll build a better arc reactor as a backup plan. And when you're ready—when you're confident—we'll try removing the shrapnel."
"Deal." Calypso extended her hand.
Tony shook it. His grip was firm. Grateful. "Thank you. Seriously. Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. I might accidentally kill you."
"At least it would be interesting."
Percy watched them—this genius billionaire and this ancient titaness, making a deal that involved magic and medicine and possibly saving Tony's life. And he felt something in his chest that wasn't the Curse of Achilles or divine power or anything supernatural.
Hope.
Maybe they could make this work. This new universe, this new life. Maybe they could help Tony become whatever he was supposed to become. And maybe—just maybe—they could figure out how to protect this world from the kind of cosmic horror that had eaten theirs.
"JARVIS," Tony said, still holding Calypso's hand. "Pull up every medical textbook in the database. Cardiothoracic surgery, trauma medicine, anything related to foreign object removal from soft tissue. Prepare a study curriculum for Ms. Atlas."
"Right away, sir." JARVIS's voice was calm as ever. "Shall I also prepare updated diagnostic scans of your chest cavity? To provide Ms. Atlas with current data?"
"Good idea. Yeah. Full scans. Three-dimensional imaging. Make it detailed." Tony finally let go of Calypso's hand. "Okay. You study medicine. I build a better reactor. Percy—" He looked at the demigod. "—you make sure we don't forget to eat or sleep or do other basic human maintenance things. Because I'm about to disappear into work mode and historically that ends with me passing out from malnutrition."
"I can do that," Percy said. "I'm good at forcing people to take care of themselves."
"Perfect. We're a team." Tony clapped his hands together. "JARVIS, full workshop protocols. I'm about to build something that doesn't kill people for once. Let's make it count."
The holographic displays flickered to life. Schematics appearing in mid-air—complex, beautiful, incomprehensible to anyone who wasn't Tony Stark. The robotic arms whirred to life, ready to assist. And Tony dove in, his hands already moving, his brain already three steps ahead of reality.
Percy and Calypso stood back, watching.
"He's going to be impossible to live with," Calypso observed.
"Probably," Percy agreed. "But at least he's trying. That's more than most people do."
"You like him."
"Yeah. I do." Percy smiled slightly. "He reminds me of Leo. One of my friends from camp. Son of Hephaestus. Could build anything, fix anything. Always had grease on his face and some half-finished project in his hands."
"Past tense," Calypso said gently.
"Yeah. Past tense." Percy's smile faded. "Everyone's past tense now. Except us."
Calypso took his hand. Squeezed. "We're building something new. That's what survivors do. We take what's left and we build something new."
"Is that what we're doing? Building?"
"I think so." Calypso watched Tony work, watched him create, watched him pour his grief and determination into metal and light. "I think that's exactly what we're doing."
They stood there in Tony Stark's workshop, in a universe that wasn't theirs, watching a man try to become better than he was. And for the first time since Ogygia fell, Percy felt like maybe—maybe—they were going to be okay.
Not fixed. Not healed. But okay.
And sometimes, okay was enough.
---
**"Sir,"** JARVIS's voice interrupted several hours later. Tony had lost himself in work—completely lost himself, the way he always did when a problem consumed him. The new arc reactor was taking shape. Smaller than the cave version but more powerful. Better shielding, improved power regulation, reduced toxic output.
It was beautiful.
"What?" Tony didn't look up from the holographic schematic he was manipulating.
"You have not eaten in seven hours. Mr. Jackson has prepared food and insists that you 'stop playing with your glowing chest circle and eat something before he drags you upstairs.'"
Tony blinked. Looked around the workshop. When had it gotten dark? The windows—what few there were down here—showed night sky. Stars. The ocean black and vast below.
Percy was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding a plate. "JARVIS tattled on you. Come eat."
"I'm in the middle of—"
"I don't care. Calypso's been reading medical textbooks for six hours straight and she actually stopped to eat. You can too."
Tony looked at his work. At the partially completed arc reactor. At the calculations still running. "Five more minutes. I'm almost—"
Percy set the plate down on the nearest clear surface. Walked over. And physically took Tony by the arm. "Now. We're eating now. You can come back after."
"I'm not a child who needs to be managed—"
"Then stop acting like one."
Tony opened his mouth to argue. Saw Percy's expression—calm, firm, the kind of look that said he'd literally drag Tony upstairs if necessary—and decided resistance was futile.
"Fine. Food. But then I'm coming back down."
"Sure you are," Percy said, completely not believing him.
They went upstairs. Calypso was at the kitchen island, surrounded by tablets and books, making notes on what looked like actual paper. She glanced up as they entered.
"He fought you?"
"A little. Nothing I couldn't handle."
"I'm right here," Tony protested. "I can hear you talking about me."
"Then you can hear us telling you to sit down and eat." Calypso pushed a plate toward him. Pasta. Simple. Smelled incredible. "Percy cooked. Apparently, he's good at that."
"Camp Half-Blood survival skills," Percy explained. "You learn to cook or you eat burnt offerings meant for the gods."
Tony sat. Took a bite. It was good. Better than good. "Where did you learn to make this?"
"My mom. Sally Jackson. She—" Percy's voice caught. "She taught me. Before everything."
The grief was there. Raw and real. Tony recognized it. Knew it intimately. The weight of people who should be here and weren't.
"She'd be proud," Tony said quietly. "Of who you are. Of how you're handling all this."
Percy's smile was small and broken. "Thanks. I hope so."
They ate in silence for a while. The kind of comfortable silence that came from shared trauma. From understanding that sometimes words weren't necessary.
Finally, Calypso spoke. "I've been reading about modern cardiac surgery. It's extraordinary. The precision. The techniques. What you can do now that we couldn't three thousand years ago." She looked at Tony. "I think I can help you. Not immediately—I need more study. But I think it's possible."
"How long?" Tony asked.
"A few weeks. Maybe a month. I want to be absolutely certain before I try anything."
"A month." Tony touched the arc reactor through his shirt. "I can wait a month. I've waited this long to not die from shrapnel. What's another few weeks?"
"Plus," Percy said, "it gives Tony time to build his better reactor. Have a backup plan in case the divine healing doesn't work."
"Always have a backup plan," Tony agreed. "Engineering 101."
They finished eating. Tony did try to go back to the workshop, but Calypso physically blocked the stairs.
"Sleep," she said. "Real sleep. In a bed. Not passed out on a workbench."
"I've slept on workbenches. They're surprisingly comfortable—"
"Tony."
"—if you don't mind the occasional robot arm poking you—"
"Tony."
"Fine! I'll sleep. In a bed. Like a normal person." Tony held up his hands in surrender. "JARVIS, set an alarm for six AM. I want to be back in the workshop first thing."
"Very good, sir. Shall I also remind Ms. Atlas and Mr. Jackson to physically restrain you if you attempt to return to the workshop before sleeping?"
"JARVIS, you're fired."
"I'm afraid I cannot be fired, sir. Ms. Potts has given me standing orders to ensure your survival. Even against your own preferences."
Tony glared at the ceiling. "Pepper's fired too."
"I will be sure to inform her, sir. She will be devastated."
Percy was grinning. "I like JARVIS. He's got your number."
"Everyone's a comedian." Tony headed for the stairs. "I'm going to bed. Where I will sleep. Normally. Without any workshop detours."
"We don't believe you!" Calypso called after him.
"You shouldn't!" Tony called back.
But he did go to bed. Actually went to bed. Lay in the darkness of his Malibu bedroom, listening to the ocean crash against the cliff below, and felt the arc reactor pulse in his chest.
Alive. He was alive.
Yinsen had died for that. Had died so Tony could have this second chance.
*Don't waste it.*
Tony touched the reactor. Felt its rhythm. And made a promise to the ghost of a good man.
"I won't," he whispered. "I'll figure this out. The reactor. The company. How to be better. All of it. I promise."
The ocean answered with waves and darkness.
And Tony Stark, genius billionaire, survivor, and walking middle finger to death, closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
Tomorrow, he'd change the world.
But tonight, he'd rest.
Because even Tony Stark needed to sleep sometimes.
Even if he'd never admit it.
---
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