chapter xi.
( iron man )

you were on the other side,
like always   wondering
what   to do with life

what kind of man
loves   like   this?
what kind of man ─── florence + the machine

malibu, california
may 3, 2010

Times passes. The sky gets dimmer and I know I should probably get back. The only problem is that I don't know where back is. I think my phone is somewhere back in an Afghani desert and I definitely don't have any money on me. So, realistically, I'm screwed. But, not wanting to deal with that specific problem at the moment, I push myself off the ground and begin wandering the street. After cleaning up all of the garbage I kicked everywhere, I put the trash can back in its original place. I wave an apology to whoever may be watching before I slide my hands into my pockets and begin my trek.

Eventually, I end up at some main road where I hail a taxi. When I tell the driver the address, he's astounded and goes on a rant about how horrible my experience must have been for the entire ride. To ignore him, I rest my head between my raised knees and gently hum to myself. I probably look insane, but, at this point, I could care less. It's pitch black by the time he pulls up in front of the gate.

"Just wait here. I'll get your money," I mumble as I climb out.

"Are you sure? I could just follow you inside if that'd be easier?" he asks with excitement, wanting nothing more than to see the inside of the Stark mansion.

I frown and slam the door closed in response. My feet carry me to the holographic keypad and I type a few things before Jarvis' voice asks for my identification. I give a quiet hello to him, having missed his wonderfully British voice.

"Welcome home, Miss Stark," Jarvis says in his usual pleasant tone, "I do believe you should hurry inside."

A feeling of dread clenches my stomach, "Is he worried?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Is he mad?"

"Unbelievably."

I sigh, "What are the odds that I can make it to New York City before he figures out where I am, Jarvis?"

"Unfortunately low, Miss Stark."

"Hm," I sigh, "Well, please open the gate then."

"Of course."

The gates slowly swing open and I motion for the taxi driver to stay put as I walk through them. I wonder if I just act super nonchalant and casual, maybe he won't freak out. Maybe he'll just see that I'm fine enough to be mellow so he'll leave me alone. It's a strategy, not necessarily a good one, but it's all that I have right now. I push open the front door and step into the cool house. The familiar smell of home hits me and I can't fight the small smile that comes onto my face. I glance around, cautiously, and find that he's nowhere in sight. I let out a relieved breath and start to jog through the living room so I can make it to the staircase before I'm spotted.

"Oh, so you weren't kidnapped again. That's good," I hear a very familiar voice speak sarcastically from behind me, "'Cause, you see, I wasn't sure, since you just disappeared without so much as a word."

I slide to a stop and cringe. He's sitting on the couch, arms spread out along the long headrest, and legs crossed. Everything about him screams ease, but I can see the rigidness in his shoulders and the fury in his face. I cringe again. Pepper is here, sitting in a chair near the couch. She looks like she's been wringing her hands for the past few hours.

"Yeah, about that,"

"Mmhm, about that," his eyes narrow slightly.

I force my shoulders to shrug, "Whoops."

"Whoops?" he straightens and glances at Pepper, "Did she just say 'whoops'?"

"Um," Pepper hesitates, glancing from him to me.

"I'm sorry," Dad is standing now and continuing on with bitterness, "but I thought you and I agreed that you'd never just up and leave like that."

"Sorry, I guess I just copy what I've seen," I respond, just as bitterly.

He's taken aback, "Whoa, wait, what? What are we talking about here?"

"Nothing, nothing!" I throw up my hands.

"Me leaving your mother and your mother leaving you has nothing to do with what happened today and you know it," he's scowling now.

He never scowls at me.

So, I scowl back, "Alright, I know it. Can we be done now?"

"Lisa," Pepper says quietly.

"No, we can't 'be done now'. What in the world were you thinking?"

"When? Do you mean at the press conference when you dropped a bomb on me?"

His scowl only gets harder, "I have told you repeatedly that it is not safe for you out there!"

"Well, thanks to you, clearly it's not safe for me anywhere, is it, Daddy Dearest?" I snap back and I immediately regret it.

None of us speaks now.

Pepper simply looks down at her lap and Dad's eyes continue to drill into me.

I scrunch up my mouth and let out a quiet sigh, "Alright. Well," there's something else that I want to say, but, instead, I resort to, "There's a taxi waiting outside. I didn't have money. Can I have some to give to him?"

Dad clenches his jaw and nods. He tosses me a couple bills before leaving down to the workshop. I don't sleep that night. I toss and turn, throwing my blankets all around the room. Daylight comes, but I do my best to ignore it. When afternoon comes, I drag myself out of bed and pad down the staircase. The television is on in the living room and playing all sorts of news about Dad and his big announcement about the company yesterday.

All I can really say is this: yikes.

Neither Dad nor Pepper are anywhere upstairs so I imagine they must be down in the workshop. I have this overwhelming urge to apologize, but I just can't swallow my pride enough yet.

Sitting on the terrace is miserable. Pacing around the food pantry is miserable. Attempting and failing to eat breakfast is miserable. Finally, I decide that I've avoided going down to see him as long as possible. I push back my tangled hair and force my legs to move down the steps. Jarvis comments on how this is the slowest recorded pace I have ever had before and I tell him to shut up. As I begin to round the corner, Pepper's face reveals itself. She's disgustedly holding her hands out in front of her and her skin's glistening like she has some weird slime on them. Dad must of made her do something gross again. I'm not honestly surprised though. I mean, it's Dad. Despite this, she smiles at the sight of me.

"Well, good afternoon, Lisa."

I smile a little, "Hey, Pepper."

"How are you?" she asks sincerely.

I shrug before asking, "Is he downstairs?"

"Yes, he is," she nods, "I think he understands about yesterday. You two have been through a lot and no one can expect everything to just go back to normal."

"Somehow I doubt he understands me leaving Stark Industries without me telling him," I tell her, frowning.

"Oh, well," she grimaces and I see sadness in her blue eyes, "I think he does now."

I'm confused by her odd reaction, but I don't ask, "Oh, okay."

"If you ever want to talk, Lees, you know I'm here, okay?"

Hugging her, I whisper, "Okay. Thanks, Pepper. You're the best."

She laughs and hugs me back, "No, but thank you."

We break and she offers me one more smile before we part ways. Heaving another sigh, I move down the rest of the steps. I can see him through the glass doors. He's working, focused, concentrated. It reminds me of how he'd look before all of this happened. I remember so many long days and nights of us working side-by-side in the workshop that Dad personally designed when he decided to move us and the company headquarters to Malibu. Either we'd both be doing tech work or he would be and I would be doing art. Science and technology has always been more of Dad's style while mine is more history and art. I've inherited Dad's brain for tech, but it isn't what I really enjoy.

I remember how Pepper used to hound me about getting rest. She'd say all sorts of things about how I would need energy for the next day's accelerated courses or how my brain wouldn't work right if I didn't get enough sleep. I was about six when she finally gave up; I guess four full years of combined arguing from Dad and me wore her down.

My fingers lightly tap against the keypad and the doors whoosh open. He glances up and smiles a bit when he sees me. He looks back down at the holograms when I don't say anything for a long moment. I silently scold myself for passing up the quick chance to just get my apology out there. As I stand there, I study him and find something odd and different.

"Dad, did you change your arc reactor?" I ask slowly.

He looks down at his chest, tapping the glowing blue device and nodding, "Yep. It's the new and improved."

"Oh."

We fall back into another awkward silence. We never have awkward silences. We never seriously argue like we did last night or just a few times growing up, we have playful banter or some minor spats, but never actual arguments. It makes me so angry to think how things have changed, to think how my favorite part of my life has somehow been tainted in a way. He keeps working and I keep standing there. When I open my mouth to finally speak, I stop because I see a Vanity Fair magazine sitting on a nearby cart. My heart skips a beat when I see a picture of me on the front cover. My hands quickly grab at it and I stare down at the picture, dumbly.

"No, Lees," Dad winces when he notices what I'm holding, "Lees, just,"

It's a picture from yesterday during my 'interview' with Christine Everhart. I'm alone in the picture as they have masterfully cut her out of the frame. My back is to the big Stark Industries' sign and I'm resting a hand on my stomach. My face drains of color when I see the big yellow caption, 'Stark Heir Pregnant After Terrorist Captivity'. Dad suddenly snatches the magazine from my hands and holds a flame torch up to it. It quickly ignites and I watch the pages curl up as he drops it on the concrete floor. The last clear thing on the burning cover is my annoyingly fearful looking face. Even when it's only ashes, I still don't raise my head.

"Don't pay any attention to it, Lees, it doesn't matter. The media," he quickly shakes his head and takes my shoulders, "they're cowards with manipulative tendencies. All morning, Pepper and I've been fighting to get Christine Everhart's head on a plate."

I don't respond for a long moment.

"I wasn't feeling well," I hate how small my voice sounds, "That was all."

"It's okay."

"I'm not pr-," I sniff, feeling my face get warm and my eyes start to burn, "I'm not pregnant, Daddy."

"Oh God, Smalls, I know."

"She kept saying things that made it sound like she knew what happened over there. She kept saying that everyone believed that it happened,"

Dad takes my face in his rough hands, peering into my eyes with his sad ones, "But it didn't happen."

"No," I say quietly, "but it was going to."

In pain, he closes his eyes and pulls me up against him, "I'm so sorry, Baby. I wish I could take all of it away from you; the press, the memories, the fear, the pain. I wish I could."

My arms hold his chest tightly, "I'm sorry about yesterday."

"Nah, it's okay," his voice grows angry, "I wouldn't have wanted to be there if she was asking me those kinds of questions either."

"No, I mean, well, yeah, but I mean about what I said last night."

He pauses, "Me too,"

"Please, just keep me safe, okay?" I whisper, repeating the words I asked the night of our first big fight.

He nods quickly and he lightly kisses my forehead, "You got it."

I close my eyes and give him one last squeeze before pulling away, "You really do have a bad habit for choosing bad women though, Dad."

"Wait, huh?" he furrows his brows.

"I recognized Christine Everhart's name when she introduced herself, but I just couldn't place it," I wipe my nose and hoist myself up onto his work table, "I just remembered this morning. You dated her for, like, a week last year, right?"

He squints, trying to recall what I'm telling him.

"Dad, remember? I found out because it was in the tabloids and I asked you about it and you told me that you had just broken up," I say in one of those teenager 'duh' tones.

He has this weird thing about never telling me when he's dating someone. It's just another one of his sheltering methods. Pepper tells me it's because he doesn't want me to get attached to anyone. I guess I'd feel more annoyed about it if they were long-term relationships though. He usually dates someone for, at most, a week and I guess if he told me every time he got a new girlfriend, I'd be dizzy.

"Nope. Don't remember," he shrugs and walks back over to the work table.

"Ugh, well, you did. I remember. I didn't like her though, even then. We went out to dinner to celebrate that you broke up with her."

"Oh yeah, I do remember that," he points his screwdriver at me with a nod.

"So, let's work this out, shall we?" I swing my legs as I talk, "You dated that scary Meg Morson, remember her?" Dad squints up at the ceiling, trying to think back as I continue, "Senator Jackson's third ex-wife,"

Dad laughs at that and gives a little, "Oh yeah."

"And the model who can't act - Carissa Franklin, the Vanderbilt girl with the obnoxious laugh, then that European flight stewardess,"

"Flight attendant," Dad corrects, "they don't like being called 'stewardesses'."

"Well, that doesn't really matter because she's not a stewardess or flight attendant or whatever anymore."

"Really? Why not?"

"Oh, she was arrested for smuggling drugs," I shrug and go on, "tons of other ladies I have no idea about, but clearly I know about Jezebel reporter Christine Everhart, and then there's my 'psycho' mother, Janice Montgomery."

Dad doesn't respond.

I pull my legs up to cross them before spinning around, "What?"

He shrugs, "Nothing."

"Well, there's something."

He sighs and I hear what I think is remorse in his voice, "I shouldn't have called her 'psycho'."

"Dad, that was so many years ago. I think it's okay."

"You didn't need to hear that about your mother,"

"I didn't need to be abused either, but that didn't make much of difference to her, so,"

He flinches at the thought.

I furrow my eyebrows, "Why do you care what I think about her anyway?"

He shrugs again, "I don't care what you think about her. My mom was what every mother should be and I guess I thought that if I had a kid,"

"You do have a kid," I smile a little.

"Yes, I know that, thank you," he motions to me and rolls his eyes, "I just meant that I thought when I was younger that if I had a kid, I wanted them to have a mother like her. That's all that I'm saying."

"Dad, my mother and her boyfriends beat me," I tell him seriously and his face contorts, "As far as mothers go on that score, I'm good. No thank you. But I had a father that was everything I needed. Don't sell yourself so short."

He smirks, coming back to his normal arrogant yet loveable self, "Do I ever?"

"But, seriously, maybe make some better choices when comes to the whole women situation," I smirk a little, thinking of him and Pepper.

"Well, I got you out of all of it. And if you are the outcome of a so-called 'bad habit', then I guess I'm doing pretty good."

I'm kind of pleased by his answer, but I give a dramatic sigh anyway, "You always have to be in the right, huh?"

"I don't necessarily have to," he looks up at me with a smirk, "I just am."

I roll my eyes before resting my elbows on my thighs, "So, what are you working on? Is this the 'new direction'? Oh, and how did the conversation with Obie go? Was he mad about the announcement? And what was with his reaction to me speaking up? What did he say?"

His eyes widen a little as my excessive questions before answering them, "Yes, this is the new direction. The conversation with Obie went surprisingly well considering how angry he was about the press conference. His reaction wasn't anything personal against you, Smalls, it was just that he didn't like the topic in general. Obie told the two of us to lay low for a bit. He probably thinks we're going to make a bad situation worse."

"And are we?"

He smirks up at me again, "Yes."

I smile back, "Cool."

Before we get to making the situation worse though, Pepper comes down and insists that we both get something to eat. After about twenty minutes of arguing and complaining, we finally comply. She can be just as stubborn as us or even more so when she wants to be, and apparently this is one of the battles she wasn't willing to lose. Though I don't believe we regret giving into Pepper's demands because as soon as we see the food pantry, we are reminded of how many American breakfast items there really are. By the time we finally plop down at the kitchen table, we each have a glass of fresh orange juice, a cup of coffee, four pieces of bacon, one thick slice of Canadian bacon, five waffles, two bagels, two blueberry muffins, a bowl of cereal, and a large cup of fruit. We immediately dig into our feast, ignoring Pepper's 'I told you so' expression as she sits and works across from us.

Dad glances up at me as I pour my syrup, "Your waffles are going to need a life preserver."

I look down to see them floating in the sugary richness.

"They're drowning," he informs me as he takes a large bite of his bagel.

"You don't hear me commenting on the amount of butter on your bagel, do you? No, you do not," I teasingly point my fork at him, "So back off."

He raises his hands in surrender, "Alright, alright, Feisty."

I roll my eyes and am just about to eat a bite when the phone rings. Dad and I glance at each other before simultaneously looking at Pepper and mentally deciding that she's the one who is most equipped for the job of answering our home phone. She glances up from her laptop when the phone continues ringing. We quickly bury ourselves in our eating, trying to look as distracted and unavailable as possible.

"Oh, wonderful," Pepper sighs and stands, "You two know that I actually do have work to do."

We keep eating, not meeting her eyes.

She sighs again and her heels click over to the counter. I suppose we could just have Jarvis answer it and put it on speaker for us, but then we'd actually have to talk to them and that sounds awful this morning. She puts the high-tech phone to her ear and answers. Dad gives me a low five. I laugh a little, but stop when Pepper glances at us.

"Mmhm, yes, of course," she pulls away from the phone, "Lisa, it's your academic advisor, Mr. Hinckley, from MIT. He wants to discuss the details of your graduation next year," I smirk at Dad who rolls his eyes, "I told him that it wasn't a good time so soon after Afghanistan and tried to convince him to call back or to make a later appointment, but he says there is a time-crunch. Do you want to talk to him?"

I nod quickly, wiping my mouth, "Yeah, I do. I should. I want to. Thanks."

After I slide across the floor, I take the phone from her. I give Dad one last arrogant smirk. Graduating two years earlier than him doesn't necessarily make him angry, just slightly disgruntled. My smirk lingers and he throws his napkin at me. I stifle a giggle before I turn to the wall so I can focus on the phone call. I hear Pepper and Dad pick up a conversation behind me. Taking a collected breath, I swallow and put the phone to my ear.

"Mr. Hinckley, this is Lisa Stark," I say professionally.

"Hello Lisa," a voice speaks, but it's not Mr. Hinckley's.

I cringe at the sound, but I don't really know why, "Uh,"

"I am not your Mr. Hinckley," he says slowly.

"Yeah, thanks for the hot tip, but I already pieced that together," my eyes narrow, but I still shift my weight back and forth uncomfortably.

"Don't you recognize my voice, Dimples?"

I feel my body go numb and I drop a hand on the counter to steady myself. That nickname. No one calls me that. No one. I made sure nobody did. Not after all of that. My breathing picks up and my hand turns to a fist.

"W-wh," I can't get the words out of my burning throat.

"The words struggling to make their way out, are they?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. This can't be real. This is a nightmare. One after another. My skin hurts on my back and my stomach. I wince at the imaginary sensation. Tears come to my eyes and I can't fight them off.

"Why don't I speak for the both of us then, hm?" the voice asks, "I had nearly forgotten about you until these past few months when you and your daddy were all that the media wanted to talk about. It's been on the verge of annoying. You're still a big story, you know," I can't respond, "I was beginning to think you had really gotten yourself killed this time, but then yesterday I see on the news your big return. Congratulations."

"Thank you," I whisper before scolding myself.

Why am I thanking this monster? I have nothing to thank him for. It's just that he forced me into always 'respecting' him and so now I'm struggling to break what has become instinct when I hear his voice.

"Going to be sporting a baby bump soon I hear," he continues.

"No," I argue weakly, "that wasn't real."

He tsks, "Now, now, Dimples, you can hide your shame from a lot of people, but you can't hide it from me."

"I'm not ashamed,"

"Don't lie to me!" he snaps before his voice slides back into a calmer tone, "You know I've always been able to see right through you. Right into you."

The scars burn as I remember the knife that cut into my flesh. He was able to see into me. That's true. All of it's true.

I shake my head and grit my teeth, "Don't call here ever again. You got me?!"

"Lees?" I hear Dad confusedly ask from behind me.

I ignore him as the voice laughs, "I'll see you soon."

The line clicks and I stand there, staring at the wall. Gently, I set the phone back down and rub my tired face.

"Lisa?" Pepper asks now.

I clear my throat and look up at the ceiling, trying to sort through my tangled brain, "Uh, I'm fi," I cut off at the end and forget what I was saying.

"Hey,"

Suddenly a hand grabs mine.

"No! Get off me!" I shriek, jerking away and giving the person before me a forceful shove.

Dad stumbles back, surprised.

My hand flies to my mouth, "Sorry! I'm sorry! S-sorry,"

Pepper is standing now and slowly moving towards me, "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

I stare at both of their very concerned faces for a long time before letting out a deep breath and saying, "Whoa, sorry. I-I just, uh, I just got lost in my own little world there and didn't see you coming."

"Lisa, who was on the phone?" Dad asks cautiously, watching my face.

"Oh, it was Mr. Hinckley," I lie, hating the taste of my words on my tongue, "He didn't want to talk about the graduation, the liar," I heave a fake sigh, "He wanted to get an exclusive interview for the MIT newspaper, about Afghanistan and Christine Everhart's article this morning."

Pepper, for some reason, doesn't look convinced.

Dad scowls darkly, "Oh, I'll give him an exclusive,"

He moves past me to the phone, but I quickly grab his arm, "No, no, please, you'll just give them what they want. They want a rise out of us. It makes good news. Just let it go. I gave him a piece of my mind and that's enough. That's fine. Let's just leave it there."

Dad hesitates before nodding slowly, "Fine."

"Good, now let's get going," I pull him towards the living room, "I'm not hungry anymore. I just want to get started."

"Alright, if that's what you want," Dad says, eyeing me warily.

I nod and look away, hating that I lied straight to their faces. I'm not sure why I don't just tell them that Edgar Frost, my mother's boyfriend, the main man of my nightmares, just called me on our home phone. I don't know. I just can't. But I have to keep my mind off of it. I can't even think about it and diving into the new direction will certainly give me the distraction I so desperately need.

Our first stop is to the military base where Rhodey works. My head feels dizzy from the whirlwind that we just threw ourselves into, but I don't complain as I hurry to stay by Dad's side. He has a determined but relaxed look on his face, as if that's possible. I keep glancing up at him, waiting for him to give me some sort of explanation of what in the world we are doing. I know he wants to ask Rhodey a big question, but that's about as much as he'll give me. He completely ignores me. I know he's doing it on purpose. He's probably just doing it to annoy me. When we finally see my uncle, he's leading a large group of training pilots around the hangar and lecturing them about air combat.

We walk up to them as Dad speaks up, "Colonel? Why not a pilot without the plane?"

Rhodey looks over at us with a smile, "Look who fell out of the sky. Mr. Tony and Miss. Lisa Stark."

Fell out of the sky. Ha, an accidental pun.

Dad shakes one of the training pilots' hands as I nod my hello. Dad continues to jaw-jack with Rhodey in front of the boys before Rhodey eventually dismisses them so we can talk alone. They all laugh at Dad's jokes before walking away, chattering quietly. Dad waits until they leave before he finally turns to his best friend. I make sure to stand off to the side to give the impression that we're not bombarding him, but I'm pretty sure we're bombarding him.

"I'm surprised," Rhodey tells my dad.

"Why?"

"You both just really seem to be jumping in really quick," 'probably too quick' goes unsaid, but not unheard, "And, by the way, Lees,"

My eyes flit from Dad to Rhodey as he directs his words to me, "Yeah?"

"I'm real sorry about that Vanity Fair thing. It's a load of trash, you know that. All of the media are,"

"Cowards with manipulative tendencies," I smile and nod, '"Yeah, I know. Dad already gave me the pep talk."

"Well, I was just gonna say 'animals', but, hey, that works too," Dad gives me a sad smile before Rhodey continues, "But, I swear, I didn't expect to see you two walking around so soon."

"We're doing a little better than walking," Dad nods slowly and confidently.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Dad gives him a serious stare, "Rhodey, we're working on something big. We came to talk to you. We want you to be a part of it."

"You're about to make a whole lot of people around here real happy, 'cause that little stunt at the press conference," Rhodey gives a light laugh, "that was a doozy."

I wince loudly.

Dad glances back at me with a faint grimace, "This is not for the military. We're not," Dad squints at him a bit while he shakes his head, "It's different."

"What? You're a humanitarian now or something?" I hate the near mockery in his voice, but I know it's nothing personal.

    "Rhodey," I start, finally moving closer, "This is important. If you saw what we saw,"

"Lees," Rhodey looks down at me, "soldiers everyday see what you saw," I squint as the image of a see-saw comes to mind; I think I'm getting lost in all the 'see' and 'saw' words, "that's why we need weapons like the ones that Stark Industries provides."

"I need you to listen to me," Dad speaks in an even tone.

"No," he interrupts a little too harshly, "What you need is time to get your mind right. Both of you."

I frown at the implication of us going crazy. I don't think we're going crazy. I don't honestly know. Dad simply laughs through his nose as he pulls a smile that's obviously fake to me.

"I'm serious."

"Okay," Dad nods, closing his eyes, acting like he's really taking his advice.

Then his face falls terrifyingly fast into a blank expression, but I can see the near anger and disappointment behind it.

Rhodey frowns, "It's nice seeing you, Tony, Lisa."

"Thanks," Dad mumbles to Rhodey's turned back.

As Dad turns and strides out the hangar, I jog to keep up, "So, what was all that about? I know you're not going to listen."

He pushes the door open for me and then follows me out to the waiting car, "Nope."

"Then," I scoff, stopping abruptly.

He stops to face me.

"What are you doing? I'm so confused. You told me we are taking the company in a new direction, but somehow I get the feeling that it's not just the company. It's us too, right?" he frowns, a little guiltily, "You're, we're, going to be going and doing somewhere and something different. I want to help and I know you want to keep me safe, but I'm in it now. Besides, you and I don't keep secrets from each other," now I'm the one frowning guiltily as I realize what I just said, "So cut the bull. Stop clamming up and talk to me."

His frown turns into a small smile, "You sound creepily like me when you get angry."

I smirk a bit, "That's what Pepper says too."

He nods, growing serious again, "We can't talk about it here."

My eyes widen, "Oh, crap, it's that serious?"

"We have have to keep it on the DL," he tells me as we climb into the back of the car, "No one can know."

"But I can help, right?" I ask eagerly.

He sighs and I know he's debating it before he finally says, "Fine."

I can't help the excited giggle that escapes me as I sit back in my seat to think about what his big plan could be. But, when we're sitting down in the workshop after he tells me, giggling is the last thing on my mind. He's leaning forward in his chair a little, waiting to see my reaction. I stare at the floor with a hard expression. I've been silent for about a full five minutes before I look up at him, furiously.

"Are you insane?" he winces before I continue, "I mean, no, seriously, are you actually insane?! Because the last time we made a metal suit was when our lives were being threatened by terrorists and that was our only chance at escaping, but now you want to build one just for kicks?!" he doesn't say anything, knowing I need to get all of this out before I can calm down and we can actually talk, "A metal suit. Do you think I'm stupid?"

Now this actually takes him by surprise because he responds in confusion, "What?"

"I mean, come on, Dad!" I stand up and pace a little, "I'd be an idiot if I couldn't tell what this suit was for. Armor, Dad! It's armor! Armor to protect yourself against men just like the ones that attacked us in Afghanistan! You promised me you would keep me safe, that you wouldn't leave me! So, why on earth do you think that you should go out there and get yourself killed? It doesn't matter if you're clad in some kind of fancy metal costume, you'll always get hurt! You will always almost get killed! I can't, I don't think I can," I'm hyperventilating now.

I guess it's all just getting to me right now. The whole Christine Everhart article, then whole thing with Edgar, and now my father's suicide mission is getting a little hard for me to handle at the moment.

"Hey, hey, Lees, it's okay," Dad quickly stands and puts his hands on my upper arms,  "It's okay, Baby Girl. Remember, close your eyes," I quickly obey before his calming voice continues, "straighten your shoulders and relax. Good, now count with me. One," I don't listen, "Lisa, count with me now."

I nod and my voice trembles out of my panicking chest, "One."

We continue counting together until I calm back down. I rest my forehead against his chest as he rubs my back, waiting for me to collect my thoughts and start yelling at him again.

Instead of that though, I say, "Dad."

"Yep?"

"Is it for Yinsen?"

He pauses, "Yes. It's for Yinsen. It's for you. It's for Pepper. It's for Rhodey and Happy. It's for Yinsen's last words. I have to do this, Lees. You know I do."

I push my face further in his chest and mumble, "Why can't it be someone else?"

"Because no one else can."

I hate that he's right so instead of arguing, I say in a pleading voice, "I don't wanna lose you, Daddy. You're everything to me. Please, just promise you'll never die on me, okay?"

He laughs lightly as he wraps his arms around me, "Okay," then I can hear the frown in his voice when he says, "Lord, you're skinny. We need to get you eating again."

I smile up at him, "I love you."

I know he won't respond in kind, but I think maybe it's just enough that he knows.

He kisses my forehead before nodding, "Now, if you're done with this emotional mush, let's get to work."

I laugh and nod, "I'm done with this emotional mush."

"Good," he smirks as he leads me over to the computer and his fingers move across the holographic keyboard, "Jarvis, you up?"

The wonderfully British voice responds, "For you, Sir, always."    

Dad claps his hands and rubs them together before saying, "Then let's get to work."

Uh oh. Lisa's very own villain. What do you think? What's gonna happen? What are your theories? "Talk to me, Goose." Oh, and sorry one of the gifs was in black and white, but I loved his expression. Anyway, hehehehe, okay, comment, vote, follow. Do it!

Spoiler for my story:

The next book already has a title. It's called The Red Raven (hehehe, it's her superhero name, you guys *dies of excitement*).