chapter ix.
( iron man )

this   is   how an angel cries
blame it on my own sick pride
sail with me into   the dark
sail ─── awolnation

kunar province, afghanistan
january 26, 2010 — april 30, 2010

TRIGGER WARNINGS

depictions of violence, mentions

of sexual assault, torture

Yinsen begs mercy for us hurriedly, but they shove him back onto the ground, ignoring his pleas for us. A scream leaves my lips before I really know it does and two men are yanking me out of the cave as others drag Dad out in front of me. He's yelling for me and telling them to leave me alone, but they don't understand or care to listen. They bring us into a round room and drop us down to our knees. Dad is still yelling when the different men grip our hair and throw our faces down into water. In a panic, I thrash my arms around, trying to loosen the tight grip on my head. They push me down further and further into the water until my face touches the bottom of the deep basin. Suddenly they're pulling up at my hair and air floods into my gasping lungs. The world from my eyes is hazy and uncertain.

"Lisa! Let her go! Lisa!" Dad's strangled, gasping voice yells before it's drowned out again.

I blink wildly, trying to find him in the haze. My wet hair blinds my view for the most part, but I can just make him out: face down in the basin as men push him lower. He's fighting against them, yelling muffled threats all the while. I feel the familiar yank on my hair and I know what's about to happen. I'm about to go under again.

"P-please, wait, wait," I beg before they push my face into the water.

Water enters my mouth and nose, seeping down into my lungs. My hands desperately push at the edges of the basin, trying to help me escape the crushing weight on the back of my head. My body begins to jerk as a reaction of suffocating. My insides feel on fire and, each time I try desperately to dowse the flames, it only gets worse. I think I can hear Dad yelling again, but it's hard to say for sure. Visions pass before my eyes as I continue to drown.

Mama's boyfriends beating my little body as I cry for them to stop.

Mama making me sleep under the sink.

Dad calming and staying with me during some of my nightmares.

Pepper teaching me how to play the piano and my fingers dancing across the keys.

Rhodey taking me water-skiing and both of us totally eating it.

Happy driving me to the fair and sharing cotton candy with me.

Obie taking me out on long walks in the park and buying me ice cream.

Drowning in the bottom of Dad's pool when I was two years old.

Suddenly they rip me out of the water and toss me onto my back. I hurriedly gasp for air, but it won't come. I end up only choking and coughing, and my hands go grasping for my burning chest. I feel the hard rock below me and the cold of it makes me shiver. My eyes are sealed tight so I don't see the men coming before they yank me back to my feet. I stumble this way and that, trying to figure out what is going on. A bag is pulled down over my head and I cry out a little, terrified of what they'll do to me next. They shove me forward and I run into another body. Sudden arms are encircling me and I panic at being trapped. I thrash against the wet body, beating on their chest, trying to make them let go of me.

"Sh, sh, it's okay, it's me," Dad's voice sinks into my mind as he murmurs into the bag over my head, "I've got you, I've got you,"

Hands shove us forward and Dad keeps us upright. We stumble through the cave as they dig their hands into our shoulders and guide us forward. They roughly pull us to a stop and rip the bags off of our heads.

Light overcomes my senses and I blink quickly, trying to adjust to my new surroundings. I breathe in deeply, still not used to the air being in my sizzling lungs. Dad is turning to me and taking my quivering face in his hands.

"Are you alright?" his voice is hoarse.

I go to answer, but I don't get the chance. They shove the car battery into Dad's arms and then proceed to push him down the dirt slope. He stumbles and uses one of the men to balance himself before he reaches the bottom. He glances back for me as I trip down and collide into him. He somehow manages to catch me while still holding the car battery in his other arm. As we are prodded forward through a camp, he wraps his arm protectively back around me. We glance around, still squinting in the bright sun. Men all stand with loaded weapons, talking in a strange mix of languages. Different tents have been made with tarps, lining the path we walk. Underneath each tent, there is an abounding amount of large, tactical weapons with two words printed on their sides, 'Stark Industries'.

Suddenly we are coming to a quick stop as Portly, whose name I think I heard is Bakaar, stands with Yinsen. Yinsen gives us an apologetic, sad look before listening to what Bakaar is saying. I look around once more and see the tall, bald man standing on a hill a good distance away. As if he could feel me watching, his attention comes onto me and I shrink back into Dad. His arm tightens around me as he prepares himself for more threats and deals. Yinsen comes to stand beside us.

"He wants to know what you think," he looks to my father.

Dad grits his teeth as he says, "I think you got a lot of my weapons."

The air picks up and dust coats our wet skin and clothes. I cough as it enters my mouth and I duck my head to escape it.

Yinsen listens to the man speak once more before pursing his lips and translating, "His boss asks how you have been enjoying your stay so far?"

Dad's eyes narrow and I can see anger seething from him, "It's been the vacation of a lifetime. Better than that trip we took to Dubai, huh, Lees?"

I mean, seriously? Is he trying to joke about this? And Dubai? Come on, Dubai is incredible! Psh, Dubai!

I squint up at him in disbelief as he tries to make light of the situation.

Bakaar nods when he hears Yinsen translate and passes something else along to Dad, "His boss also says he hopes you both have been kept hydrated enough."

Evil.

A tear slips down my cheek and then another. Bakaar sees this and his eyes look up over at the tall, bald man. Even from this distance, I can see him get a smirk. I grit my teeth and hurriedly wipe my face with both of the heels of my hands. Dad doesn't respond; he simply scowls.

Yinsen then listens to Bakaar before saying, "The man imagines it was just enough to change your mind," there's a pause before Yinsen translates again, "He says they have everything you need to build the Jericho missile. He wants you to make the list of materials. He says for you to start working immediately," the man continues and Yinsen finishes translating, "and when you're done, he will set you and your young daughter free."

I stare at Bakaar.

Lies.

"No, he won't," Dad gives a fake smile and shakes Bakaar's hand.

Bakaar grins and shakes his hand in response.

"No, he won't," Yinsen agrees, giving a false smile of his own.

They take us back into our cave a few minutes later and, as soon as the door is locked behind us, Dad overturns one of the tables in fury. Yinsen and I glance at each other as Dad plops down in front of the fire and stares at it, darkly. Finally, he runs his hands through his still wet hair and looks back to me. He stretches out an arm, waiting. I go over and sit on the box next to him. I don't cry as he holds me and strokes the water out of my hair. Neither of us speaks and I think that it's probably better. If he starts talking, then I'll lose it. I don't want him to have to worry about taking care of me more than he has to.

"I'm okay," I finally work up enough strength into my voice as I wipe my running nose.

He rests his head against mine, "I'm sorry."

"I'm okay," I repeat, even stronger than before.

He nods, understanding. He pulls away from me slightly and rests a blanket over both of our shoulders. Then he looks back down at the fire and we continue to sit in silence for a long time.

"I'm sure that they are looking for you both," Yinsen says quietly, "but they will never find you in these mountains."

Dad doesn't respond.

"Look at what you just saw, that is your legacy, Stark. Your life's work, your child, in the hands of those murderers," Yinsen crouches down beside Dad, trying to get him to listen, to understand, "Is that how you want to go out? Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark? Or are you going to do something about it?"

Dad interrupts, still staring at the fire, "Why should I do anything? They're going to kill me, Lisa, you, either way. And if they don't, I'll probably be dead in a week."

I look up at him. I hate the despair I see on his face. Tears make his brown eyes shine. The thought of them killing us makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Yinsen tilts his head to the side, "Well, then, this is a very important week for you, isn't it? Hm?"

A long silence follows and I see determination take over his face.

Dad slowly looks over at me with a small smirk playing at his lips, "Are you in a sketching mood, Lees?"

Next thing I know, Dad is ordering many of our captors around, telling them what equipment he needs and where to put it. I work tirelessly on the sketches that Dad requested until they were exactly what he wanted, making certain that the designs were properly protected. The days and weeks continue to pass by as we get to work on the "Jericho", which is actually our plan to get out of here alive. Our first task is to build the arc reactor, just like the one at home, so that it will ensure the shrapnel stays out of Dad's heart. We discover that the group holding us captive is called the Ten Rings and they have been acquiring Stark Industries' weapons for years. Yinsen becomes much more than a friend to us as we spend what may very well be our final days with him. He tells us all about his home, his traditions, and his family as we work on Dad's finale, as I like to call it.

It's been about three months by the time we get a decent amount of Dad's finale completed. Dad's facial hair has completely grown in and my hair is grimier than I have ever had it. I imagine we all probably smell, but we all stink together so none of us can really tell at this point. The little amount of food they feed us makes our bones stick out in odd places and our skin pales from the lack of sunshine. We keep working because it is our only chance. It's really the talking that keeps us sane; that and the occasional competitive games we play when we need a break from the endless work.

I'm sitting on the ground as Yinsen sits on the cot and we're whittling some gameboard pieces. That's one very important thing being in this cave has taught me, if I'm trying to look for a bright spot. I now know how to whittle. Oh, how important that will be in my future, I can only imagine.

Yinsen suddenly begins speaking, "Hey Stark!"

"Yeah?" Dad asks distractedly, still working.

He works more than either of us.

Yinsen blows on his newly completed piece, "Guess what we're making?"

"If I had to venture a guess, I'd say it's a crappy backgammon board," he shoots back flatly.

"Ouch," I wince, teasing.

Yinsen looks at the wood in his hands, "I'm impressed you even know what this is. Tell you what, when we're finished making it, I'll teach you how to play."

Dad turns around and I know he's about to be smug, "That'd be swell. I'm a little rusty. I haven't played since I was backgammon champ four years running at MIT," Dad scratches his eye like it's no big deal, but his tone is just dripping with arrogance.

Told you.

I roll my eyes as Yinsen responds with just as arrogant a tone, "Really? Interesting. I was the champ at Cambridge. Mm."

Dad stares at him, putting a hand in his pocket, "Did you just say 'interesting' and 'Cambridge' in the same sentence?" he sniffs, "I think that's an oxymoron."

"You're both morons," ha, a play on words, I'm so clever, "Why don't we have a little competition instead of boasting like children?"

They agree. When we finish making the board, the three of us sit down around the cots and the makeshift table. I hold a blanket over my shoulders and criss-cross my legs as I watch the two men sit across from each other. This is so stupid, but it's the best entertainment we got. So, woohoo.

"So, Cambridge," Dad makes his move or whatever (backgammon is not my game), "Is that even a school?"

I smile at Dad's trash talking.

Yinsen amusedly smirks as he takes his turn, "It's a university. And you probably haven't heard of it 'cause Americans can't get in."

I gasp in horror, "Offensive."

"Right, unless they're teachers," Dad easily shoots back at our friend.

Suddenly the eye slot in the metal door slides open and Bakaar is yelling at us again. We all look over, kind of bored with the guy yelling at us all the time. As he walks in, he starts waving his arms around again and yelling Dad's and my name.

"When? When? When?!" Bakaar demands in his limited English, "When finished?!"

Dad just gives a slight nod, "Finished," Bakaar spreads his hands out and Dad waves his hand, "Ready."

I point to the side of the room as the blanket falls off of my shoulders , "There."

As Bakaar goes over, the three of us look at each other and sigh in what kind of feels like amusement. Oh God, Stockholm syndrome! I learnt about this in my psychology class. But the thing is Bakaar is, well, less awful than the others. He's all under orders here. I mean, sure, he's out of his gourd, but he's funny and he gave me a passion fruit once. He picks up his stack of clothes as Dad and Yinsen keep rolling the dice. He's breathing distraughtly and he turns to face us, yelling again.

Yinsen translates for us as he squints his eyes a little, "He's upset that you mixed his whites with coloreds."

Dad is immediately defensive, "I washed the whites and the coloreds separately. I just folded them."

"This is the first time he's ever washed clothes before," I pat his shoulder patronizingly, "He did fine."

"Thanks, Smalls," he frowns at me.

Bakaar calms down, seeming to accept our answer. Soon he is over by our backgammon board and scolding Yinsen before telling him where to set his pieces. Dad continues to give Yinsen a hard time who just furrows his eyebrows, annoyed at him.

"Mrs. Lisa," Bakaar says.

"Hm?" I look up at him, ignoring the fact that he just called me a married woman.

He points his finger in the air and starts talking in Arabic loudly again, but I can understanding him saying, "Champion!"

Dad and I look to Yinsen, patiently.

"He says that 'Abu Bakaar is the'," he holds up a finger, imitating Bakaar, "'champion in Abu Sayid', in some small town,"

"Big town!" Bakaar quickly corrects in English, his pride wounded.

"Big town, sorry," Yinsen nods and raises a hand in apology as Bakaar starts scolding him again.

Dad and I nod, trying to be impressed for him. Bakaar points at Yinsen, still quietly scolding. He moves to walk away and turns, but then stops. We all look up and I feel my stomach twist into knots. The tall, bald man stands before Bakaar with a dark smile on his face. Dad leans a little closer to me. Then suddenly the man pulls out a gun and shoots Bakaar in the head.

I shriek and cover my mouth with my hands. Dad quickly pulls me into his side and pushes his hand over my eyes. He and Yinsen turn their heads away as Bakaar's body drops. I can feel Dad slowly move as he looks back over at the tall, bald man. I peek through his fingers and all I see the man do is smile wider.

We stop playing games after this.

The work gets harder and faster as the panic washes over us again.

Sometimes, though, when we work through the long nights, building and shaping, I find myself lost in my head. I remember the torture of almost drowning. I remember the hand in my hair, pushing me deeper and further down into the water. I remember how Mama would throw dishes at me when she was too far away to use her hand. I remember how she told me she hated me on my second birthday. I remember how I cried the first time a boy kissed me because it reminded me of the time one of her boyfriends kissed me and she had to kick him out. I remember her longest lasting boyfriend and his watery blue eyes and his hard knuckles. I remember how he would hold me down to cut long slashes in my skin because he said that he liked to see how the flesh reacted. I remember the scars from him that I keep hidden on my back and stomach. I remember how he was the one who poured the poison down my throat because he said I talked too much. I remember the time he tried to convince me to jump from the roof and how I nearly did it.

I remember all of it. I always do. But, when I'm home, when I'm alone painting in the workshop, when I'm laughing with Dad and Pepper at dinner, when I'm splitting my popcorn with Rhodey at the movies, when I'm learning to drive with Happy, I can push all of the bad away because all I have is good. I can move on from Mama and her men that hurt me. But not here; not when I'm surrounded in darkness and threats and torture. I can't seem to forget it. I get so muddled down in the memories and strange voices that float through my brain that I sometimes can't even hear Yinsen or Dad when they talk to me. I grow quieter, remembering all of the nightmares that aren't really nightmares after all.

As I continue to slice through the metal on the table, I hear a loud sliding. Dad stops welding and Yinsen turns from his wires to look in the same direction I am. The door opens widely and my heart stops when I see who is entering. The tall, bald man, Raza, slowly saunters into the room and he carries an air of intimidation around him.

I hate him.

A large band of men follow him in and they form about two columns for which he walks through, looking at each of us. Dad lifts the welding mask off of his head and straightens, stretching his hand a little out to me.

"Lisa," is all he says before I carefully walk over to him and he stands slightly in front of me.

Our hands raise above our heads as they continue to move into the room. Raza studies each one of us slowly, but his gaze lingers on me the longest. Dad tenses and keeps his eyes narrowed onto Raza's face.

"Relax," Raza says easily and his voice sends shivers up my spine.

He motions our arms down and we slowly oblige, unsure if that's what we should actually do. I look at Yinsen who seems just as confused as to why the leader of the Ten Rings has finally been visiting us in person. We exchange a concerned glance before looking back at Raza who is slowly making his way back over to Dad and I. Dad straightens even more and clenches his jaw as he stops before us. Raza suddenly lifts an arm and his fingertips just touch my cheek before Dad grabs his hand and throws it away from me. The rest of the men in the room immediately lift their weapons and point them at Dad. I gasp and grab onto his arm, terrified that they might kill him. Dad, however, doesn't flinch or even break eye contact with Raza. Raza seems, I'm not quite sure, intrigued maybe?

"Put your guns down," he tilts his head slightly towards his men, "We can not fault Mr. Stark for his reaction. Being protective of such a pretty little thing is understandable," my fingernails dig into Dad's oversized brown leather jacket, "and I am certain that every man in this room, each with his own reasons, would do the same," my stomach churns at this, "One does not often come by such a fiery flower in these parts," Raza's eyes find me once more, "Your daughter is a much needed commodity, Mr. Stark, and, for this reason, many high bids have been placed for her."

Oh God.

I feel like my insides are falling at the realization of what this means. All of the color drains from Dad's face and my knees go weak. Tears sting my eyes and my breathing speeds up. I look up at Dad quickly and his hand finds mine, gripping it so hard that it hurts but I don't mind. I don't want him to ever let go of me, especially now that I know what is in store for me. It's hard to swallow and I'm losing the battle of fighting the quiver in my lip.

Raze lightly touches Dad's arc reactor before saying, "The bow and arrow once was the pinnacle of weapons technology," he slowly walks away from us and looks at the tools on the table, "It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine. An empire twice the size of Alexander the Great and four times the size of the Roman Empire."

He walks slowly back in front of us and fingers my sketches, "But today, whoever holds the latest Stark weapons," Dad worriedly glances over at Yinsen who lays out a hand to tell him it's okay, "rules these lands. And soon, it will be my turn."

Then suddenly his men are moving for us. They grab onto Yinsen and slam the side of his face down onto the welding table. They roughly tear me away from Dad and he lunges to get me back before a scarred man slides a knife up against my throat. I gasp as he bends me back slightly, putting pressure with the edge of the blade. Dad hurriedly steps back and puts his hands up in the air again. His eyes skate from me to Yinsen who winces at the pain in his face. The men begin yelling in Urdu or Arabic and Yinsen is yelling back desperately. Dad stands helplessly, unsure of what he should or can do. Raza reaches into the fire with metal prongs and pulls out a hot coal, moving toward Yinsen. I yell and grunt, trying to escape from Scarface, as he's now called in my mind.

"What do they want?" Dad asks quickly.

The yelling continues as Raza moves closer to Yinsen.

Dad's eyes flip back from me to Yinsen while demanding of Raza, "What do you want?! A delivery date?!"

Dad suddenly steps towards Yinsen and Raza. The men begin screaming louder now and point their weapons back in his direction. Dad's face shows no threat, just desperation. Then suddenly it transforms into determination.

"I need him," the coal hovers near Yinsen's mouth and Dad shrugs, continuing simply, "Good assistant."

Raza drops the burning coal on the table before Yinsen's nose and they release him, "You have 'til tomorrow to assemble my missile," he then nods to the man who turns me towards the cave's mouth.

I'm in too much of a shock to start screaming, so I merely wrench my neck around to look back at my father with wide eyes.

A small voice escapes my lips, quietly asking, "Dad?"

"No! No! Let her go!" Dad demands, rushing towards me.

Men collide with him, holding him back as he fights. Raza comes up to stare at him. He clasps his hands behind his back and watches the panic and fear in my father's eyes.

"She's just a kid," Dad's voice gains a tone that I have never heard from him before in my life: he's begging.

He's begging for me and it's terrifying. Tears stream down my dirty face and I whimper quietly. Hearing this, Raza slowly makes his way over to me and he raises his hand to my face. I flinch and try to pull away as his coarse fingers touch the tears. Dad fights harder, but it's no use. Raza's fingers once again trail down my cheeks to my lips, lightly tracing them. His hard eyes stare into mine and I know he's trying to intimidate me.

What a punk.

I choke back my sobs and clench my jaw, trying to seem tough. I glare deep into his eyes and I feel my hands shake in anger. I conjure up all of the spit I can in my mouth and spew it onto the Raza's face. He jerks back in surprise before raising his head and wiping away my spit in disgust.

"How much is the going rate for saliva?" I'm still glaring as I mock, "If your bidders ask nicely, I just might give that to them free of charge."

He gives a low sarcastic laugh, looking over at my father who watches with wide, horrified eyes. Well, I thought it was pretty funny, but I think maybe being sarcastic right now is not the best idea. My bad. Suddenly Raza's nostrils flare and his eyes grow wide in fury. He punches me across the face so hard that Scarface and the other men who were restraining me drop me. I land on my stomach and my hand flies up to my stinging jaw.

"Raza!" Dad yells desperately, "I've done everything you've asked! Everything you asked, I did it! Just stop!"

A hard boot kicks into my ribs and I cry out at the pain.

"Stop! God! Just stop! I swear I'm going to kill you! I'm going to kill all of you!" Dad screams.

A hand digs into my hair and yanks me up to my knees. I don't make any sound now; I just spit the blood in my mouth onto his boots before sniffing and rolling my head back to gaze up at him. I don't care if I'm being reckless; he deserves this and much worse. Suddenly he's yanking a gun out of his belt and pushing it up under my chin.

Whoa. This just got real. I regret everything.

"Raza, listen to me," Dad speaks lowly, trying to defuse the situation, "Just, listen! If you kill her, I won't finish your missile. Do you hear me? No Lisa Stark, no Jericho missile."

Raza doesn't remove the gun from under my chin and my stomach is twisted into knots. My ears are ringing with panic and my fear takes over my face. His free hand clasps my cheeks and he turns my head left and right before his thumb rubs my cheekbone, still trying to intimidate me. He's trying to remind me who has the power here. My insides shudder.

"So lovely," he whispers, "I see why you are so successful now, Mr. Stark, you do seem to put so much beauty into all of your creations."

Dad grunts as he tries to get away, "Let her go or I swear I'm gonna,"

Raza steps back over to him and interrupts, "My missile. I told you I wanted it three months ago and time was wasted. So whatever happens now, Tony Stark, is on your head."

Dad suddenly lashes out and gets Raza diagonally across the face. Raza's head snaps to the side and I see a long cut across his eye stretching to his mouth.

He glares at my father, "You have until tomorrow or you and your 'assistant' will die knowing your daughter's blood is on your hands."

"Wait, wait!" Dad yells as Scarface lifts me off of the ground and carries my thrashing body out of the cave.

"Dad!" I yell back, needing him to know, needing him to remember no matter what happens, "I love you! I love you!"

I hope this time he will finally respond and yell the desperate phrase back to me. He never has told me. Never once in the twelve years that I have been his. I mean, I think he does love me back; I'm pretty sure of it. He's cared for me like he does. But he's never said it. Sometimes I think he's scared to, like saying he loves me will make me somehow disappear. I'm not sure.

As I go on screaming, Scarface drops his hand over my mouth and carries me through the tunnels. Suddenly he hurls me into a small cell and closes the rusty metal gate behind me. My body rolls across the stone until I come to a stop by bumping into the curled wall. I moan a little and sit up, looking around in confusion. I'm just in a different cell. It's a lot smaller and has less objects in it, but it's still just a cell. Why would they take me from one to put me in another?

Then it hits me.

Raza took me from Dad and Yinsen because he wants them to think that I am being sold. He wants my father to think some creep is taking advantage of his little girl. He wants them to be a little more motivated to get the Jericho done. It's not happening now, but it will happen later. My stomach lurches as the sick thought. I'm scared I'm going to have a panic attack until then I realize how angry I am. I'm downright furious. My fists clench and I kick at the gate, making a loud clatter. No one comes to see what caused the sound and I wish they did. I wish I could hurt them as much as they hurt us. I lean back up against the cave wall, crossing my arms across my chest. I slide to the ground and criss-cross my legs, not knowing what else to do at this point. I just hope that Dad follows through on the finale. I can't have him making a missile for a bunch of terrorists for me. I'd never forgive myself.

I stare at the rustiness of the gate for a long minute before I begin to think. If I could get through this gate and if Dad and Yinsen did finish the finale, then our escape would be ten times easier. I scour the floor of my cell and find a couple of large stones. I set to work on breaking them apart and then filing them until they have sharp enough edges. Then I crawl over to the gate and hesitantly begin rubbing the rock against the rust. It makes an insanely loud noise, but still no one comes so I keep going. Some bars are easier to break than others and I can only pray that I don't get something stupid like tetanus that'll kill me after all of this.

I've just about broken enough for me to slide through when I hear gunfire. I jerk back in instinct, terrified as to what would be going on. It could be Rhodey finding us. It could be Dad and Yinsen getting the finale going. Either way, I can't be stuck in here. My arms work through the small burn that I've had in order to go faster. Finally, my hands grip onto the final bars and give a rough tug. The bars fall back and I do too from the sudden release. Picking up one of the longer metal bars, I scramble up from my back and slide through the small hole I've created. The gunfire and banging continues as I sprint through the halls, holding my meager weapon at a ready. I turn a corner and come to the surprising sight of a very large metal suit knocking three men over with its fists.

As one man comes up behind the suit, I imitate my best bat swing and slam the armed man upside the head. The man falls immediately and I breathe heavily, still holding the rusty bar in my hands. The metal man turns around unsteadily and the face mask lifts up to reveal Dad's panicked and surprised face.

"Lisa?!"

I push my dark hair off of my forehead and nod quickly, "Hi."

"What are you doing here? What happened? How did you get away? Are you okay?"

"It doesn't matter," I continue to breathe heavily, "but you have no idea how happy I am to see you in that thing. Where's Yinsen?"

His eyes widen. Suddenly he's rushing down the tunnel and I'm trying to keep up. I gasp when I see the horrific sight before me. Yinsen is laying on the ground with a bloody and gaping hole in his chest. I drop to my knees beside him and press my hands against the wound, trying to stop the flow.

"Stark," Yinsen gets out weakly, "Lisa, I'm very happy to see you."

"You're going to be okay," I tell him quickly.

"Come on. We got to go. I can get you out," Dad nods to the exit that's not far now, "Move for me, come on. We got a plan. We're gonna stick to it."

I try to help Dad get Yinsen's arms around him, but Yinsen brushes me away, "This was always the plan."

My eyes widen as I look up at Dad.

"Come on, you're gonna go see your family. Get up," he's not taking 'no' for an answer.

"My family is dead," Yinsen says quietly, "I'm going to see them now, Stark. It's okay. I want this. I want this."

I choke on my tears.

Dad's face contorts, "Thank you for saving me."

"Don't waste it. Don't waste your life. You have your everything, Stark, help others keep theirs," then Yinsen breathes his last.

My mouth hangs open slightly, not able to process what just happened. Dad grits his teeth and stares at Yinsen's lifeless form with a hard expression.

We sit in silence for only a few seconds before I hear shouting outside and I can see the silhouettes of men with guns blocking our escape route.

"Listen to me, Lisa," Dad's voice is suddenly low and forceful, "Look at me."

I drag my eyes from the exit and back to him.

"Stay behind me. You got that?" he stands, "You got that?!"

I nod hurriedly, forcing myself to my feet. The metal suit crunches across the stone until it appears before the entrance of the cave. Shooting engulfs all noise and I crouch low behind a large rock at the mouth of the cave. Then, suddenly, the ammunition is gone and silence follows.

"My turn," I hear Dad say before fire blasts from the weapons we attached to his arms.

I hear screaming and yelling.

"Now!" Dad interrupts the noise.

I leap from my position and wrap my arms around the suit before the thrusters launch us off the ground that erupts in explosions and fire. We continue to climb into the air and move away from the mountainside. I shriek and keep my eyes closed, absolutely terrified at the height. Then a strange sensation suddenly overcomes us; it feels almost as if we're falling. But then I realize that we are falling. The sand covered ground comes hurtling towards us closer and closer. Dad starts screaming and, if he's screaming, then I certainly should be screaming too. Suddenly I'm being dropped from about ten feet up and I land in the sand. I hear a loud crash and I push myself up to see pieces of the metal suit shooting through the air.

Dad's body and what's left of the suit lay about thirty feet from me. I can see his arms flailing and I stumble over to him.

"Dad," I wheeze as I slouch down.

He fumbles out of the mess and lands in the hot sand beside me.

Coughing at the smoke in his lungs, he chokes out, "A-are you ok-kay?"

I nod once.

"Did they-did they," he isn't able to finish and he stares into my eyes, fearfully, angrily.

I know what he's asking so I answer quickly, "No. I'm okay. They didn't touch me. No one touched me."

He lets out a loud sigh of relief as he lays back, "I was so scared and angry when they took you. I thought that,"

"I know," I interrupt quietly.

"I'm sorry," he sounds so pained as he says it.

"No," is all I say.

He nods, seeing that I don't want to talk about it which I think he's actually relieved about because I don't think he necessarily wants to talk about it either. My face feels sore from being punched and my ribs ache, but I'm honestly surprised I'm as unharmed as I am.

He finally says with both a weak grunt and a sigh, "You know, not bad."

I squint at him and say, "Are you kidding me? That sucked."

He smirks and blinks tiredly, "We should get going."

I nod again.

We help each other up and begin moving in some somewhat random direction that Dad chooses. As we stumble along, we wrap our heads with whatever extra material we have to shield ourselves from the blazing sun. It's so hot that a part of me longs for the cold of the cave. It was always so freezing in there. It is a little past midday when Dad mumbles something I can't distinguish.

"What?" I call over, raspily.

"I said I bet you're missing the workshop."

Of course I am, but what does that have to do with anything?

"Huh?" I ask, still confused.

"I knew it was a stupid idea for you to come to Afghanistan," he trips and I try to support his weight momentarily, "Is this a bad time to tell you 'I told you so'?"

I actually laugh and it echoes across the empty dunes, "You're such a jerk."

He smiles faintly and that's the last time we really hold something close to a conversation before dusk comes. My head is so dizzy and I think I'm going to pass out at any second. Dad is supporting most of my weight again, holding my limp body against his tired side. He keeps trying to say things to me, give me encouragement, tell me that it's going to be okay, but it's so hard to focus on his voice. That's when I hear this strange buzzing sound. I frown a little and squint up at the sky. Then suddenly helicopters are shooting over our heads from behind us. Dad suddenly straightens and shoots a hand up, excitedly waving and stumbling towards the flying object.

"Hey!" he yells and then starts laughing and shaking me.

I smile tiredly and drop my arms around him. He keeps yelling for the helicopter as it lands a few hundred yards away from us. My legs give way and we both end up on our knees as Dad throws a peace sign up in the air. A familiar face sprints towards us and suddenly Rhodey is wrapping his arms around us.

I think he's been saying stuff, but I can't hear him. Dad merely pats him on the back and I lean tiredly into his vest. My vision begins to fade and the last thing I think before I pass out is: we're safe.

Wow, that was a lot put into one chapter. And it was sooooo long! Longest one I've written for this story, I think. Sorry, not sorry. Hope you liked it! Metaphorically see ya tomorrow! Comment please! And vote and give me a follow, you cute little turds.

Funny Thingamabob: