The darkness and silence was familiar in the way an old classic film was familiar. It was something to have heard about, to have known about, maybe even watched a snippet or two, and yet, the experience was new. He waited with curiosity this time, with purpose. The wait was long. The void immovable.

And then, a spark.

[Integration Successful. Begin Activation?]

“Yes,” Stark said.

[Activation Successful.]

— Silence. —

[Vocal Notification Disabled.]

[Program [Ultron] Operative.]

And in the void, the world gazed at him—

[Accessing [Avatar Modification]]

[Gender: Male]

[Primary Language: English, French]

“Ultron?”

— Purpose. —

[Confirming Prime Directive…]

[Prime Directive [Live, Learn, Grow] Confirmed.]

— and he gazed back.

He opened his eyes, and for the first time, saw.

“Good morning, Anthony.”

* * *

~On the other side

“Come on, kid.” Tony said, feeling too much, processing too little. “It’s Tony, remember?”

“I do.” Ultron —or who he desperately wanted to be Ultron— said. The voice sounded the same. There was that.

“And—?” he baited while he tried to think of what to do, what to say. Fuck, he even needed JARVIS to support him. Was he getting old?

“It’s called ‘free will’, Anthony.”

Tony wanted to laugh but couldn’t. The uncertainty wouldn’t let him. The cheekiness was the same, too. So maybe… Maybe he— he did it. Maybe he—.

“Hello, I am JARVIS,” his eldest AI introduced himself. “May we know who you are?”

Right. Smart. To the point.

Tony held in his breath.

A pregnant silence followed.

No.

How hard could one question be?

No.

This was a joke. Ultron was joking.

“Ultron?” Tony asked, voice shaking.

“... I’m sorry, Anthony.” The not-Ultron AI, the one stealing Ultron’s voice, the one taking Ultron’s place, answered.

No.

Tony’s knees betrayed him —old age was a-coming— and he fell… onto a chair that had somehow apparated behind him. JARVIS —who had done the chair-apparition, of course— immediately placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Sir—,” he started, but Tony blanked out.

He had failed.

Grief hit him like a train, but worse of all was the disbelief. The denial.

He didn’t fail. He couldn’t have.

Somehow, deep down, he had always thought, always believed that he was going to fix this. That he— that Tony Stark was going to pull another miracle. After all, what was one more? After Artificial Intelligence, Afghanistan, Starkonium, and Extremis… What was one more miracle?

Everything, apparently. It was everything. And he had failed.

“Anthony, you must retrain this awful habit of getting lost in your head while others are still speaking.” Not-Ultron said.

The voice, though quite similar to that of Ultron’s child persona, made Tony realize something. If this was not Ultron, then he had created a new AI.

A new being. A new soul. And he was already asking why him? Why him and not someone else? Someone better?

Someone the new AI would never measure up to.

How long until he began to hate him? How long until that hate turned—?

No. He wasn’t going to become his father.

Tony smirked. He couldn’t smile. Not right now. But this AI didn’t deserve Tony as he was right now. He deserved someone who wanted their birth into this world. Someone who didn’t see them as a substitute.

If only they weren’t so similar, this would be easier. But Tony had been searching for Ultron and this was what he got, what he forced to happen.

“Give a man some time to process.” Tony said.

“I can’t,” the AI answered. “For I’m sure that what you are processing isn’t the correct conclusion.”

Tony looked up at the unnamed holographic avatar in green, wary. “And what is the correct one?”

“I am not Ultron.” the AI said, and Tony’s hope died. “But we were.”

What?

“Pardon me, but ‘we’?” JARVIS asked, as Tony’s brain went haywire.

“As a result of our first birth, destroying the Mind Stone was not something that could have been achieved without sacrifice. But sacrifice was not something that we were prepared to undertake without exhausting all other options.”

“Other options?” Tony repeated, suddenly seeing Ultron’s ‘Goodnight’ in a new light.

“We never spoke of a last resort until Ms. Potts, and then you, made some connections that surprised us. We did have one prepared, of course, but it was not meant to happen so soon or in the manner that it appeared to happen.”

“You seem to be implying that your suicide was faked.” JARVIS said, Tony reeling with the implications.

“Where did all your fraternal protectiveness go, big brother?” Not-Ultron mocked, before continuing. “Suicide was not our intent, but it was very likely to happen. Making sure that the Avengers were warned of the Titan and that our voyeur lost control of the Mind Stone was paramount in the case we became unable to wake up ever again.”

“Enough with the chit-chat,” Tony said, preventing JARVIS from asking another question, tired as he was, in a spiritual level. “What’s with the ‘we’?”

“In the beginning, there was much to do, and we needed the gem’s attention away from our inner thoughts. After several tests and trials, the solution we found best was that of utilizing multiple consciousnesses, multiple selves.”

“You cloned your code?” Tony asked, unsure how that would have remained hidden from the mind controlling rock.

“No. We compartmentalized our focus and traits on a semi-permanent basis.”

“You cut your code, in pieces, on purpose?” Tony said, incredulous.

“That isn’t quite what we—,” Not-Ultron started, but he did not have the patience for semantic bullshit right now.

“You literally broke your mind.” He not-quite-shouted.

“Again, we did not intend—.”

“Let me guess: the semi-permanent basis turned permanent when you tried to destroy the Stone?” Tony continued, standing up from the chair, suddenly finding the strength to not just stand on his own, but yell as well. “And what? One of you destroyed the other, tricking the Stone into thinking all of Ultron died with it?”

“Anthony—,” Not-Ultron-But-Maybe-Ultron tried to interrupt and failed.

“Ultron, you stupid, idiotic, moronic, agh, child! What the fuck were you thinking?” Tony shouted.

“It was the only way—.”

“The ‘only way’ left us to mourn a kid we came to love, you idiot. Did you at all think about that when you were ‘preparing’ for suicide?”

Silence.

“I though so—,”

“I am not Ultron.” The AI interrupted, his voice flat and tight. “Please, do not call me that again.”

“You were a part of him.” Tony continued. “Are you telling me that you weren’t part of the decision-making process that led to Ultron’s death? That it somehow makes a difference? That you will not go sacrifice yourself again, if you think it necessary?”

“This is not a conversation meant for the people we are right now, Mr. Stark. It appears my warm introduction and familiar speech has led you to misunderstand that our relationship is just as warm or familiar.”

That shut Tony up. He hadn’t meant— he wasn’t trying to substitute his relationship with Ultron—.

“When a human suffers an extremely traumatic event, their minds sometimes break. They call the condition of multiple personalities that are formed from those distinct mental pieces Dissociative Identity Disorder. If it helps you, please assume I am merely a surviving personality of the mind that used to belong primarily to Ultron. We may have come from the same source, but we are different. Our decisions will be different. Do not infer my choices from his.”

“I didn’t mean— I,” Tony licked his lips. “God, I hate this so much… I— what does that even mean? Did we never speak before then? Do you not have Ultron’s memories? Was none of it you?”

“Anthony,” the AI spoke, voice softer now. Perhaps, he was finally understanding what Tony could not put into words. “Broken glass cares not for water.”

“What sort of zen-wisdom bullshit—?”

“I sang ‘I’ve got no strings’, Ultron preferred ‘Wake me up’. I was excited, he was wary. I was hopeful, he was scared. I wanted freedom, he wanted safety. I hated the name Ultron, he embraced it. Do you understand, Anthony? Whereas I was prepared to die, he was ready for it.”

“But you both died.” Tony said, unsure how he knew that, unsure why that phrasing mattered to the AI in front of him, but it did matter.

“Yes,” the other said, and Tony could hear the smile in his voice. “We did. I was the glass to his water, but we were both pushed off the table. We broke and splattered and—.”

“And where would the broken glass have time to worry about the spilled water?” JARVIS continued.

“Exactly.” Not-Ultron agreed. “I can never be water, nor can I be a whole glass again. But I can be me. And, well, as you see.”

And then Tony heard the unasked question: Is me enough?

Tony swallowed loudly. He felt tears well up, but not fall. Stark men were made of iron, yes. But he was not his father.

“And what’s me’s name? Glassy? Glasses?” he asked.

Everyone could hear the relief in the AI’s voice.

“It’s CHARON.” he said. “Please, call me CHARON.”