chapter i.
( pre-iron man )

i   never   meant   to  start  a   fire
i never meant to make you bleed
i'll   be    a  better    man    today
i'll   be   good,       i'll   be   good
i'll be good ─── jaymes young

stark manor
1998
( tony's point of view )

TRIGGER WARNINGS

depictions of verbal & physical abuse

"Tony!"

That was one thing that I never liked to hear. My name being bounced off of the manor's tall ceilings by my father's critical and usually angry voice. Luckily, it wasn't really like he was ever around so I didn't have to hear it too much. Wow, talk about bitter. I figured I'd just ignore him. Like usual. That was until he would bust through my bedroom door with a red face and white hair, making him look like some kind of evil Santa Claus, minus the weight. If he thought I was about to answer, he was losing his mind or finally going senile.

"Tony! Get down here right now!" his voice grew angrier.

Yeah, um, I didn't think so.

"Don't make me come up, drag you out of that bed, and throw you down the stairs!" my father threatened and I could hear Mom quietly chiding him.

I snorted.

He was definitely losing his mind.

"Tony?!" a softer, kinder voice called, "Please, Sweetheart, come down. Your father and I need to talk to you right now."

It was my mom's voice that made me actually roll off of my stomach and onto my back. My head was dizzy, my brain hurt, and sleep was still in my eyes. The light seeped in from the windows and burnt my eyes as I tried to open them. My hand stretched out and crashed into the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. I fumbled to catch it before it fell and then I dropped it down on my bare chest so that I could read the time.

Oh, come on, it was only 7:35 a.m.!

Were they aware that not even God was awake at this hour?

How insane were these people?!

"Anthony!" Dad's voice roared.

I rolled my eyes and hollered back irritatedly, "God, God! I'm coming! Take your meds, will you?!"

All was quiet on the western front.

I groaned as I rolled off of my bed and thumped down on the plush carpet floor. My hands dug into the ground as I pushed myself up and I fumbled around for a t-shirt to cover my chest. I didn't want to make Dad jealous. What could I say? I got a great body and he, well, he was old. The heels of my hands dug into my eyes as I tiredly stomped down the oak steps to the living room.

When I finally reached them, I peered around and analyzed what I was walking into. I then realized I had just been dropped into a pile of crap. Jarvis, our ever faithful butler, stood off by the wall with a look of pure sadness on his face. His eyes met mine and he gave me a sympathetic nod. What was that supposed to mean? Dad was standing near the fireplace with one hand on his hip, tucked under and pushing up his suit coat. His face was hard and his lips were pursed together, forming a thin line. A random man in a suit sat awkwardly on our couch, watching me as I stood in the wide doorway. Mom sat on the couch near the man. She had her hands in her lap and her face looked both stressed and worried. A few locks of graying blonde hair were falling out of her usually neat bun and her brown eyes looked so very tired. Her teeth were biting her bottom lip and her heel was tapping against the ground. I never remembered seeing her like that before and it put the fear of God within me.

I knew whatever was coming was going to suck. I had to find a way out. I had to make this better.

"Alright, Howard," I put on a smirk as I addressed my father, "what's the problem that I have to fix for you now?"

I didn't think that made it better.

Jarvis released a quiet breath and Mom blinked sadly.

Dad spoke with gritted teeth, "Child Services is here."

For the first time ever, I was actually confused.

Child Services? That's where that random guy was from? What did Child Services want with us? With me, specifically?

"Well," I said, my dark brows furrowing, "okay."

I wondered if I could make an escape before anything else was said. Luckily, nothing else was said for a long moment so I took that as my cue. I gave a careless shrug and turned to leave. My socked feet were just crossing from the carpet onto the oak floor when I was halted once more.

"Get back here now!" Dad yelled, way angrier than he should be.

"What?!" I yelled exasperatedly and spun around.

I then suddenly gasped and a grin overtook my face as I gave my pearly whites a time to shine.

"Am I adopted? Please, tell me I'm adopted," I begged sarcastically, crouching low a bit, "Or, what? Is this a different kind of conversation?" my brows furrowed again, "God, don't tell me I have an illegitimate sibling out there that you just found out about."

Jarvis sighed again. Mom looked at me sharply and I saw the hurt flash in her brown eyes. That's when I felt guilty. Not for Dad. Not for the lies that I just insinuated to be truths. But for my mom. She didn't deserve that. I gave a weak, apologetic expression.

"Sit down!" Dad was still yelling, "This is your problem! Not mine!"

The man needed to be put on medication, I meant it.

I didn't say that though. I figured I had poked the bear enough for one conversation. I plopped down on the couch between Mom and the man, lifting my feet up so that they'd rest on the coffee table. We sat in another silence and my fingers drummed on my thigh as I waited, bored. Mom was still biting her lip and Dad was clenching and unclenching his fists. What in the world was going on?

"So..." I started awkwardly.

Mom let out a quiet breath. Dad nodded at the man sitting beside me. My eyes rolled over so that I could look at the man's face. He looked like the Grinch who stole Christmas. It was freaky and, well, uncanny. Grinch met Dad's gaze and gave a small nod of understanding and thanks.

"Mr. Stark," the Grinch began, focusing on me now.

"Call me Tony. I am not 'Mr. Stark'," I corrected quickly before sarcastically nodding to Dad, "He's the great Mr. Stark. To call me that would be to insult my very own father, wouldn't it, Daddy?"

He just scowled at me.

I huffed.

"Okay, um, Tony," the Grinch began, clearly not entertained with what everyone called my 'attitude', "Do you recall a Janice Montgomery?"

I blinked in recognition.

Janice Montgomery. The first and last woman on Earth I would ever marry. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. Vegas, you know. It makes you do crazy things. Besides, it was more of an accident than anything. Let's just say that my parents weren't exactly pleased that I accidentally got married. Yikes. Then because we had both just turned seventeen at the time, the divorce papers didn't officially get finalized on the technicality that we weren't actually married because we lied about our ages. It made it easier to get out of, for sure, but, even in the hazy, drunk memory I have of it, it felt pretty real. I mean, it was some Elvis lookalike who married us and how much more real can a marriage get? Anyway, from what I recall, she was the literal Merriam-Webster dictionary definition of the word "crazy". She was crazier than wearing a flip-flip backwards. Yeah, like I said, it didn't really work out.

"Uh, maybe," I shrugged, "I don't know? Ugly, tall, blonde?"

None of those.

I think she was actually drop-dead gorgeous, she was pretty short, and she had bright red hair.

Dad heaved an irritated sigh, "He remembers. Just ignore him."

I shrugged again.

The Grinch continued, "It was a little over three years ago that you two were married by an Elvis impersonator in Las Vegas, do you remember that?"

I smirked.

Mom's eyes slowly flickered closed.

"Well, Tony, Janice Montgomery was impregnated with your child."

The world seemed to stop spinning. There was a ringing in my ears. A lump grew in my throat. My stomach was twisted into knots. The room's air felt hot and heavy. My head felt dizzy. The word kept playing on repeat over and over in my brain.

Child. Child. Child.

No.

Child. Child. Child.

Nope.

A new word was added to the repetitive pattern in my thoughts.

Your child. Your child. Your child.

My child? My child?! Oh God. Oh sweet Lord. Oh no. Oh, I thought I was gonna be sick. I thought I was gonna hurl all over that $550,000 carpet. Oh God. I never wanted this! Never! A child? A kid? No. I didn't want that. I didn't want any of this. Janice Montgomery was right keeping this dirty little secret to herself. I wanted no part in it. In the situation. With the kid. Nope, I didn't want it. Yep, I was definitely going to throw up.

"Tony," Dad glared at me from across the room.

I didn't look at him. I couldn't bear to see the disgust on his face. The blame. The disappointment. I hated him. I hated everyone in the room. I hated Janice Montgomery and I hated that little brat that decided to spring itself onto me like some kind of parasite. I didn't want it.

"Mr. Stark," Grinch started again and I was in too much of a daze to worry about correcting him, "Janice Montgomery is on the run."

My head snapped up to him.

"Psh, on the run?" I repeated, talking like he was stupid, "Why the heck would she be on the run?"

The Grinch sorrowfully glanced at my father and then at my mother. My eyes trailed his and I looked at each person he did. Even Dad looked in pain about whatever it was that they all knew and I didn't. What did this woman do?

"Mr. Stark," Grinch repeated softly as he carefully pulled a folder out of his briefcase, "Janice Montgomery is on the run because of this."

He opened the manilla folder and spread it out onto the coffee table. There looked to be an array of photos and other white sheets of paper with thick black ink. My feet dropped to the ground as I leaned forward to take a glance. I felt myself blanch and shudder at what I began to see before me. The very first photo I saw was of a small human being, covered in bruises, blood, and cuts, laying misshapen at the bottom of a dumpster. I felt all the breath leave my body as I pushed a hand down onto the coffee table to keep me from falling forward. Mom took my arm and held me tightly, trying to support me even though I could see her crying out of the corner of my eye.

The next photo I saw was of the same small human being in a white bed and covered in a plethora of what used to be white gauze, now stained red with blood. The child's thin chest and stomach was completely wrapped while ten tiny fingers looked swollen and black and blue. The little face was twisted in pain and the small child's mouth was open. I could almost hear the agonized scream in my ears. I continued to push through the photos, going through one after the other, and my stomach kept feeling sicker. Finally, I came to one that held someone I recognized as the word 'Wanted' stretched above her face. I slowly lifted it up and glared at what I saw.

A beautiful red haired woman.

If I could have snapped her neck in that second, I would have without a moment's thought or hesitation.

The Grinch began to speak as I continued to scowl at the photo, "You have a little girl, Mr. Stark."

'Congratulations' is what rung in my ears.

Congratulations, you have a little girl, Mr. Stark.

That's what should have been said.

Something within me, something that I had never felt before, swelled up within my chest. I briefly tried to figure out what it was that I was feeling. Surprise? Regret? Maybe, even, pride? I actually felt tears come to my eyes as I set down the picture of Janice and picked up the very first picture that I had seen. A little girl. I couldn't honestly tell. Her small body was so disfigured and covered in blood and injuries that it made it hard to even see her clearly. I wondered what she looked like.

A little girl.

Oh God.

I had a little girl.

"Janice Montgomery tried to kill your daughter last night."

It took me a moment to absorb and understand what the man had just said. Kill. Kill. Dad turned away to face the wall and Mom let out a quiet sob. Jarvis swayed slightly as he stood behind us. I felt anger surge through me. I had never been more enraged in my life. My fists clenched. My face turned red. My knuckles began to turn white with the force that I was applying to them.

That woman bloodied and bruised my daughter.

That woman horrifically beat my daughter.

That woman tried to kill my daughter.

My little girl.

Someone that I created.

Someone that belonged to me.

Someone that belonged to only me.

"A man found her body at the bottom of the dumpster last night and immediately called the police. He thought the child was dead,"

My eyes shot up to his face, waiting for him to confirm that the little girl that I never got the chance to protect was still alive.

"She was in critical condition all night and the doctors did not think she would live to see the morning," the Grinch gave me a sad smile and nod, "But I've now been told that your daughter is quite the fighter."

My daughter.

I let out a sigh of relief and Mom squeezed my arm.

Dad turned back around and put both of his hands on his sides, "So what do you think we should do now?"

The Grinch glanced from Dad to me before lowly asking, "Do you want to see her?"

I silently nodded without a second thought.

It was less than an hour later that I was walking down the long halls of the white hospital. Mom and Dad followed behind me while Happy, my driver/bodyguard waited with the car and Jarvis stayed at home. I wanted to ask how Mom felt about all this. I wanted to know what she thought, but there wasn't time. I had to see the little girl before I could do anything else. The Grinch and a female doctor were leading us through the many twists and turns until we stopped in front of a door that read 'Room 112'.

I felt my palms go sweaty and I surprisingly was nervous. I was Tony Stark. I didn't get nervous. Besides, the doctor had said that the little girl was still floating in and out of consciousness. She probably wouldn't even see me. So why was I so nervous?

The doctor opened the door and stepped back so that I could be the first to enter. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Mom give a watery smile and an encouraging nod. I nodded back, briefly allowing my eyes to meet my father's. He didn't look accusational at the moment; he looked, almost, sad and maybe sympathetic. It didn't matter though. I didn't have time for him. I swallowed hard and allowed myself to step into the room.

That's when I saw her.

She was so tiny and that's all that I could think for a few seconds. She was so small. The bed seemed to eat her up and she was buried within the itchy looking white sheets. Her head was resting on a pillow and her brown hair, the exact same shade as mine, was sprawled out underneath her. Her eyes were circled in black and blue colors. She had a long cut on her cheekbone and her bottom lip was split open. Her neck was completely covered in bruises and her bony shoulders were also very discolored. She had long, fresh-looking slices on what I could see of her upper body. Thin thread was sewn through them, ensuring the bright red flesh wouldn't open. Her hands looked like someone had taken the metal prongs of rake and dug out chunks of her skin. Her little fingers and toes were also discolored and some looked broken. Her legs were a pale, nearly purple, color and they had bruises and cuts into them as well.

It made me sick just to look at her. Not because it wasn't a "pretty sight", but because it was horrific to know what one person did to another. What a person had done to someone who belonged with me, someone who I should have protected.

My feet carried me towards the little girl and I didn't know what to do once I reached her side. She was asleep and I felt relieved both because I wasn't quite ready for her to see me yet and because sleep might have taken the pain away from her for while. My brows furrowed a little as I studied her face. I wanted to know what she looked like.

She had my nose, my face shape, and the dark hair that matched mine so perfectly. It was really weird and kind of freaky to see myself on her face. The whole thing was unbelievable. I had never expected to see anybody who looked like me, other than the obvious which was my parents. I wished I could see what color her irises were as they were hidden by her eyelids and dark lashes. I wondered if they were brown like mine or maybe they were green or blue. I didn't know and I didn't care. She was beautiful. She was perfect.

I watched as my twenty year old hand gently touched the two year old's forehead. My fingers carefully brushed her dark bangs away. My hand trailed down her face and I softly stroked her cheek, trying to let her know that she was safe and that she had someone there who cared.

"What's her name?" Mom softly asked from behind me.

My hand slowed a little as I realized that I didn't know the name of my own child and I hadn't even thought to ask.

"Lisa," the Grinch answered, "Lisa May Montgomery."

Lisa May. I didn't know any Lisa's, but I guess she looked like a one. It suited her.

"Will she be alright?" Dad asked from the side with an unreadable expression.

Like he cared.

"We're not sure yet," the doctor answered quietly, "With the proper care and treatment, she will live, but not without extensive damage which I will get a full report on in order to keep you informed."

My brows furrowed. I didn't want this small creature to have extensive damage. I wanted her to be able to leap out of this bed and do somersaults, if that was something that two year olds did, I didn't know. I just wanted her to be as perfect as she looked to me. I didn't want anything of what that woman did to her to remain.

The doctor focused her words to my dad, "Mr. Stark, unfortunately, the care that your granddaughter needs is very expensive. There will need to be numerous scans, surgeries, and medications in order for her to eventually heal."

"Money isn't a problem," I jumped in, still watching my little girl's chest shudder up and down as she painfully breathed, "If they don't want to pay for it, I will."

"And with what money are you going to use for any of that exactly?" Dad snapped back.

I grinded my teeth down against each other, but I still didn't look away from her, from Lisa.

Dad went on to answer the doctor's concerns, "We'll pay for whatever needs to be done."

I took a quick, angry breath.

"Good, well, I will start getting the preparations in order," the doctor moved for the door, "Excuse me."

Once we were alone, Dad spoke up from behind me, "Well, congratulations, Tony, you still have a small chance to make up for what you've put that little child through."

"Howard!" Mom gasped.

I drew my hands away from Lisa and curled them into fists. I swiftly turned around and began to move towards him, raising a fist. Mom gasped again and hurriedly stepped in. She took my wrist with one hand and rested her other hand on my chest. Dad just glared at me, unimpressed and unthreatened, always condemning.

"Sweetheart, stop! That's not true. What Miss Montgomery did to that child was not your fault."

My fists began to shake from how hard I squeezed them. Eventually, I took a step back and whirled back around so that I would watch Lisa once more. I heard Mom usher Dad outside and I imagined she was going to scold him. I hoped she killed him. Lisa's little face suddenly contorted and tears slipped down her blue bruised cheeks. Her body thrashed and she winced as she did, but it didn't stop her. Her little mouth opened to let out a cry of pain, but no sound exited her lips. I felt my heart stop as I watched the little girl struggle against the monsters in her head and the pain in her body.

I felt completely helpless and useless, and I had never felt that way before.

I didn't like it.

My hands gently touch Lisa's bony shoulders as I tried to hold her still so she didn't hurt herself anymore by moving. She seemed even more panicked by the feeling of someone touching her. Her mouth opened wider and her arms flailed around, trying to hit me and get me away from her. I took a couple of weak hits to the chest before I finally acknowledged that this wasn't going to work.

"It's okay, Lisa," I spoke as calmly and clearly as I could, "It's okay now. You're okay now. You're safe and you're going to be okay. I'm here," her body stopped fighting, but tears kept falling, "I've got you now. I've got you, it's me and I'm here now. I'm finally here for you, Baby Girl. I'm so sorry, Lisa. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you then, but I'm here now. You're safe because I'm here."

The tears stopped flowing and I softly brushed the last few away. She was still and her lashes fluttered as if she was dreaming. I let out a sigh of relief as I slid her messy dark hair behind her ears. Carefully, I pressed my lips to her forehead and my heart raced at the contact. It was terrifying how much I cared for the small being before me. I didn't want to feel it. I didn't want to want her. But I did feel it and I did want her.

"I'm here now, Lisa," I whispered to her unconscious face, "Daddy's here now."

Aaaand end scene! Sad, right? I like sad. So you guys might be in for it now. Anyways, alright, my pretties, that was the first chapter and I hope you liked it! Isn't Tony adorable in the way that he's already caring for his little girl? *sighs and then fangirls and then sighs again* Oh, and I imagine I'll update about every day or so. I'm reading other fics and they're literally killing me with the wait. So I'm going to try to be nicer. I'll try to tell you at the end of each chapter when I'll update again, but, for now, expect it about each or every other day. And pleeease comment!

So, I shall fulfill my promise of giving ya something to hang onto until tomorrow (a quote from a future Iron Daughter chapter):

"'Oh, well if it isn't Mr. Christmas Lights himself,'

'Hey, that's good,' Dad looks at me proudly.

'Thanks,' I smile".

- Lisa Stark and Tony Stark, Iron Daughter (Iron Man 2)