New Year's Eve, 2004

BIRDIE DIDN'T BELONG AT THIS PARTY. She felt out of place in the large penthouse at the too loud party, wearing the pretty and expensive black dress that probably cost more than her own life.

"Elizabeth Catherine Walsh, why aren't you drinking?" a familiar voice demanded, slightly slurred and a bit too loud.

Birdie turned to find a familiar blonde making her way towards her, only somewhat staggering in her six inch heels, a champagne flute in her hands, her beautifully done nails tapping lightly against the glass. In her sleek red dress, she was the picture of beauty and Birdie felt both immense pride and a hint of jealousy.

"The hospital could need me," she pointed out, tapping her clutch which held her phone that was turned all the way up, prepared to signal her out of the party and back into safer territory.

Jayne, smart as she was no matter how drunk, was not to be fooled by the straw like quality of the blatant lie, crossing her arms and cocking out her hip, not spilling a drop of her drink.

"You're not on call and you specifically asked for this day off, because I had informed you weeks in advance about this party, and you had agreed to be my plus one," she huffed, clearly displeased by her friend's attempt at shirking the party.

Birdie sighed, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen out of its bun. "What am I doing here, Jay? These people, they're yours, not mine."

Jayne looked hurt by that comment, more sober than Birdie must have given her credit for. "You're my people, Birdie. I just want you to have fun. Your boyfriend wasn't here for you on Christmas, I wanted you to enjoy yourself on New Year's."

Birdie couldn't help but sigh, agreeing and appreciating the sentiment. "You're right. You're right, you've been doing so much for me and I've just been making I difficult." She scoffed, shaking her head, "I can't believe it. What's even worse, he's still just my boyfriend. I'm thirty-four, Jay."

"Hey," the other woman said, kind, but firm, "We are not gonna let him ruin your holiday more than he already has."

She took Birdie's hands in her own. "Don't you two have some agreement about how you can cheat on each other if it's a one time opportunity?"

Birdie blanched. "That's just a joke, a way of showing the trust and communication we have, it's not—"

"That's never been specified," she interrupted, "Look. Just tonight. Just for tonight, he doesn't exist. Just for tonight, your life is not ruled by him. He didn't ruin your holiday and keep you from your family while he went to his, he didn't make you feel awful right before he left, nothing. Tonight, it's just you."

Birdie bit her lip, remembering the words he had said to her before he left. She nodded firmly. "Yeah. Yeah, he gets his one nights all the time, so should I."

"Good," Jayne said, hugging her friend briefly before ushering her over to the bar, "Now that we're settled, I have someone who's been asking about you since the party started."

"Why didn't he just approach me himself?" Birdie hummed, searching for the person whose company she would soon have to endure for however long she had to.

"I gave him some advice, I had to see what you would do first," Jayne hummed, smiling when they approached a man in a suit so nice that Birdie didn't feel worthy to look at it.

"Tony," Jayne practically sang, giving Birding a light push forward, "This is my friend Elizabeth."

"Call me Birdie," she said, giving the man one of her best smiles, trying not to eye him so openly.

He was attractive, there was no denying, and he seemed to ooze a kind of charm that was perfect for the setting; normally, his charm might have infuriated her, but right then she couldn't have enjoyed him more, and he hadn't even opened his mouth yet.

"How do you get Birdie from Elizabeth?" Tony asked, shifting to stand closer to her, tilting his head in a way that was almost cute.

She shrugged playfully, feeling a little ridiculous in the whole situation. "Well, you can get a lot from Elizabeth, just depends on what you're asking."

"Haven't heard that in years," Jayne said, her voice an airy hum, handing Birdie a drink. "Have fun, you two. Good luck, Tony."

Tony laughed softly, watching her go for a brief moment before turning back to Birdie. "Tell me about yourself, Birdie, and what exactly should I be asking for?"

º º º

Birdie laughed, still cradling the drink Jayne had handed to her. She didn't know how much time had passed since she started talking to Tony, but she found that she didn't care. She was enjoying herself immensely.

Because he was actually interesting. She expected him to inevitably bore her with talks about his job—which was standard conversation, she had to admit—or ruin everything with an unwarranted remark of any sort of topic, but he knew his way around conversation, he knew what he was doing.

What was most interesting, however, was what she heard someone whisper to Jayne just within earshot.

"He never sticks with one girl for one party, he always likes to flirt around. Who's your friend?"

Birdie was ashamed to admit it, but Tony's presence was just what she needed. A man with a reputation of jumping around just at one party choosing to only talk to her, that did wonders for her ego.

It also helped to know that, if anything were to happen, it would be brushed aside quickly enough.

It was also no problem that he was very good looking.

Tony motioned to her drink, which was barely half empty. "Not much of a drinker?"

She shook her head. "No. I would say it's because I could be called to the hospital, but they have no reason to."

Tony smiled, his tone teasing. "Stuck at this party for New Years, what a shame."

She glanced away, choosing her next words carefully. Screw it. "That depends, how is my night going to end?"

Tony raised his eyebrows, surprised but not deterred. Pointing to the clock, which read ten 'til midnight, he said, "With a kiss, at least."

"Do you have something else in mind?" she asked, and she had to wonder where all this was coming from, but didn't feel like figuring it out just then.

Tony opened his mouth, then paused. "Just how drunk are you?"

She motioned to the two waters he had drank sometime during her conversation. "Still less than you."

With that, he took her by the hand, tugging her away from the bar and towards the hallway, and it was then that she realized just how sore her feet were from standing.

She said as much and he smirked, casting a quick glance to he living room, only to find all the seats taken. "Well, at least we can sit where we're going."

He led her into a room, closing the door and locking it, but not pulling his hand away until she nodded, letting him know that it was okay.

She sat down on the bed, removing her heels and sighing. "I have to say, you sure are good at distracting."

He sat down next to her, leaning back against his hands. "You're beautiful."

She scoffed, looking away. "You tell that to all the girls you wrangle into bed?" She held up a hand, stopping him before he answered. "I don't want to know."

He reached out and took her hand, cradling it in his own in a touch so sweet it couldn't have been genuine.

They sat there as the time went on, Birdie thinking about what she was doing, only to remember that she had always been on the other side, the side that stayed home while Mark went out and had fun, probably with other girls whose perfume she could still smell when he came home in the morning.

Mark who had mocked her after she slept with him just before he left, got angry with her when she asked why he had to go and leave her alone for the holidays.

Then she remembered that he didn't exist. At least, not for that night. Tomorrow, maybe. But not now.

The sound of counting shocked the two back to reality.

"Fifteen...fourteen..."

Tony jerked his thumb towards the door. "You wanna go back out?"

She shook her head as the counting became louder as more people joined in; this wasn't her crowd. He wasn't her crowd.

"Nine...eight"

He dropped his hand, simply looking at her. "Can I get a kiss from Elizabeth?"

She smiled at the ridiculousness of it all. Of the situation, of herself, of him.

An odd way to end and start a year.

"Three...two..."

"Yes."

He leaned forward and kissed her, and the cheers seemed to be drowned out, fading into a background noise.

Maybe, in another circumstance, she could have imagined that the cheers were for her, for choosing to give herself the same freedom she gave Mark, for enjoying herself, for getting through another year.

But then Tony was pulling away and peppering kisses along her neck and asking for permission and all she could think about was that this was her one night and she was going to enjoy herself.

Just one night.

º º º

She woke up before he did, under the covers and out of it. She was glad she didn't drink.

She looked over at his sleeping form, wondering how she hadn't fully understood that she had been with Tony Stark until she was running her hands through his hair, enjoying herself too much to have to give herself a reminder to.

She reached into her clutch and texted Jayne to pick her up, the blonde answering immediately.

She slipped out of the room and down to the lobby of the building without a problem, finding Jayne waiting for her at the bottom.

"Are you okay?" she asked, because Jayne knew Birdie, knew better than to crack a joke, not then.

She glanced bag towards the elevator, trying to crush the rising guilt and hope that maybe he would wake up and look for her, wondering why she just left, forcing herself to remember that Tony Stark was a playboy and she shouldn't care, because he wouldn't either.

"Yeah," she whispered, "I'm fine."

She gave her friend a shaky smile, repeating the words Tony had whispered in her ear just before she fell asleep.

"Happy New Year."

○ ○ ○

2005

Birdie fiddled with her wedding ring as she stared at the little boy who was fussing in her husband's lap, crying and throwing his toys.

Even after their legal marriage which occurred a month after she found out she was pregnant, not long after he came home, and even after their ceremony which occurred months before, she still had trouble grasping the concept that she was married.

Every time she looked at that little boy, she was reminded of how his father had been ecstatic to hear she was pregnant, despite all expectations otherwise. Of how he became the perfect husband in the blink of an eye, despite human behavior. Of how that week alone had simply vanished from her mind.

"What's wrong?" her husband asked, clearly struggling to stay calm, worn out by her boy's fussing.

Her baby just shouted, throwing the toy he had been given across the room.

"Wanna watch TV?" Mark tried, grabbing the remote, starting to flick through channels, searching for something.

He stopped on a press conference which had grabbed his interest, if only for a moment, and Birdie couldn't help the short catch in her breath when Tony Stark's face filled her screen.

He was reading from a notecard, everything about him being so familar, and yet, so different from the man she had met.

He was saying something that seemed to cause a stir, but all she could focus on was how her baby had stopped fussing the moment he appeared on screen.

She watched as he wriggled out of his father's hold, enthusiastically crawling towards the TV, babbling happily as he pressed his hands to the glass, standing on shaky feet.

"Don't do that, baby, you'll hurt your eyes," she mumbled, rushing over from her laundry to pull him away, trying not to look at the screen, wondering why he immediately began to fuss again.

"Just let him go, this is the first he's stopped crying all day," Mark said, raising an eyebrow as the little boy went back to the screen.

Birdie just stared at her little boy who seemed to be having his own little conversation with a man she hadn't seen in well over a year.

Interesting how life worked, it seemed.

○ ○ ○

May, 2010

Birdie hadn't been able to sit in hours. She and all the other nurses barely paid attention to shifts, as was one of the situations where shifts and pay didn't matter because the level of devastation just couldn't accommodate, not to mention that no one would ever think about leaving the work to other people, not with a clear conscience.

"Birdie, are you alright?"

Birdie looked up from where she was bent over the toilet in one of the stalls, throwing up despite having had nothing to eat in who knows how long. She was shaking, unable to ward off the sounds of the screaming people in the waiting room, the sound of the flatline, the sight of dead body after dead body after dead body.

There was a knock on her stall. "Birdie, it's Rosie, let me in."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Go away, Rosie."

A sigh. There was the sound of someone sitting on the floor, on the other side of the stall, and Birdie decided to just ignore her, continuing to dry heave into the toilet.

"I've seen terrible things in my life," Rosie said, her voice echoing through the bathroom, "Here, at home, it doesn't matter, it's always around."

"How do you deal with it?" she croaked, taking a deep breath, "It's disgusting. It's awful."

Rosie swallowed thickly. "I don't know. Maybe it was pure spite. Maybe it was the hope that things would get better." She choked, struggling to breathe. "My best friend just died, I was in the room—"

Birdie paused, her heart aching and her entire body numb. "Rosie. I am so, so sorry."

"But I'm still going," the woman continued, brushing off the pity, "I'm still—I'm still gonna get up and go help because there will be some people we can save, and things will get better. Because people need us, Birdie."

With a sigh, Birdie rose to her feet, stumbling into the door, opening it to find the woman smiling at her from the other side, her eyes puffy and her smile pained, but it had heart.

"Okay," Birdie whispered, not because she agreed, but because Rosie needed to hear her say it.

Rosie might be able to go on, but Birdie Walsh would not.

○ ○ ○

Halloween, 2013

"No more pictures, mom, I wanna go!"

Birdie lowered her camera as she smiled fondly at her son and his cousin who were dressed as Iron Man and Captain America, respectively. Ethan, two years older than his cousin, had humored him and chose to spend Halloween with him rather than his friends, something that Birdie was grateful for.

"Be careful," she called out as they ran ahead, letting her trail behind them. She wished Mark was with her, but he was working and she had somehow gotten that day off, so she was watching over the kids.

"Birdie!"

She turned to find one of the moms from school waving her over to a group, all of them doing what she had been as well. She smiled when she saw Remy grab Ethan and tug him over to the other kids, proudly showing off his costume to the others, talking a mile a minute; he might have taken a little longer to start talking, but the moment he did, he never stopped.

"Oh, is he supposed to be Iron Man?" one of the mother's cooed, a hand over her heart as she caught sight of the boy, "That's precious."

"Tony Stark is one attractive man," another mother commented, earning a titter of laughter from the others as they quietly chastised her with no real bite.

"He looks a lot like him," yet another one said, clearly surprised, "Honestly, Birdie, how'd you manage that?"

"He talks just like him too," one of the others said, "I came in once during book reports, it sounded like he was selling a product, he's such a good public speaker."

The mothers started making more comparisons between Remy and Tony, and Birdie couldn't help the rising feeling in her stomach, telling her that something wasn't right.

○ ○ ○

New Year's Day, 2016

"Mom, where's dad going?"

Birdie sat numb on the couch as Mark's words echoed in her ear, shaking her to her core, unable to differentiate between Remy's pestering and the ringing in her ears.

"Mom!" Remy shouted, his tentative smile gone and replaced with a frown filled with fear and denial.

He caused this.

"Your dad, he...he's going away," she whispered, unsure I she was actually speaking or imagining the whole thing; she begged for the latter.

"Why?" Remy demanded, now distraught, "Where's he going?"

Birdie shook her head, raising her hand to her mouth to bite her nails, a habit she had quit so long ago. Grabbing her hand and placing it into her lap, she took a deep breath.

"I don't know," she whispered, "I don't know."

"What did he mean?" the boy sniffed, clutching his arm from where his father had roughly grabbed him, shoving him aside, snarling at his very existence, "I'm not his son?"

Birdie shook her head, swallowing a sob. This couldn't be happening. Part of her knew, but another part didn't understand.

"I don't know."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I am so sorry for such a long first chapter, but it was the best I could come up with, and I'm honestly very happy with it, so I hope you don't mind.

The story won't be all sad, there will be happy parts too, but we're gonna have to get through next chapter before that actually starts.

Thanks for reading and I hope you stick around!