chapter xxviii.
(   iron man 2   )

we live and we die
like fireworks
our legacies hide
in the embers
in the embers ─── sleeping at last

queens, new york
june 1, 2011

I've never slept better than I slept last night. With all the awfulness that went on yesterday, I'm surprised I didn't have nightmares and that I slept so soundly. But I did. And it was great. It's around 2 p.m. that I finally drag myself out of my fluffy blankets and soft sheets. I rub the side of my hands against my clean skin and breathe a sigh of relief. I stood for about two hours in the shower last night as I watched the blood wash off of my body and cyclone down the drain. I never want to have blood on me again. It brings up too many bad memories.

Dad's t-shirt hangs off of my body and my pajama pants are too long so I trip over on them as I walk to the door. I stupidly bump my head against the hard wooden door and I let out a tired groan, squinting and peering up at my stinging forehead.

At least everything is back to normal.

The back of my hand rubs the sore skin as I struggle to twist the door handle. As I move to step out of my room, I run into Dad who I didn't see standing there and preparing to knock with his fist still poised and ready. Quickly dropping his hand, he steps back to give me space and I let out a quiet, awkward laugh. We stare at each other for a long moment in silence.

I guess everything isn't back to normal.

"Hey," he stretches out the word a lot longer than necessary.

"Hi," I blink.

We still don't speak and then I sigh discontentedly. I turn to leave when he gently catches my wrist.

"Hold up, wait, wait," his brows furrow in concentration, "Lees, I-I need to, um,"

I wait as my heart begins to beat faster.

Is he finally going to say it? 'Finally', as in, when he's not drunk because that doesn't count. I wonder if he even remembers saying it. It's about time he says it. After us nearly dying numerous times again, will he finally tell me that he loves me?

He suddenly sighs, "God, alright, I need to give you something," he motions me down the hall and towards the staircase, "Come on. It's down in the workshop."

I jog down the two staircases after him, wincing at the soreness in my back all the while. When we reach the basement, Dad punches in the passcode and the door whooshes open. We step inside and Dad goes immediately to the work table. I quizzically watch as he picks up two circular things and walks back towards me. My gaze drops so that I can stare at the strange rims in his hands; they're light blue and have funny little metal hooks on them.

Dad clears his throat and nods to my hands, "Put 'em up."

Slowly and confusedly, I lift up my hands.

He then carefully takes the rims and hooks them over the edges of my thrusters. They're a perfect fit, but I still don't understand their purpose. If it's just make them look nicer, then it does the job really well. He then begins to turn the rims like a dial and I see him set the mini-arrows to what looks like a number '5'.

"Alright, now go shoot something," he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Sorry?" I raise an eyebrow.

Dad takes my shoulders and turns me towards a target he has set up across the workshop. He lifts my arms up for me and then steps back a good few feet. Still extremely confused, I straighten my shoulders and position my shoulders and hands. I shoot as I release a deep breath and beam of light leaves my thrusters. A large hole blasts through the target, but that's not what surprises me. What does surprise me is that my palms aren't burning at all. As my mouth falls open, I stare down at my hands in awe.

Dad steps closer, awkwardly looking at his shoes so he doesn't have to meet my gaze, "I remember seeing that it hurt you when you used them. I only really, I mean, noticed in Monaco," he sounds guilty as he says it so he clears his throat and hurriedly continues to get it all out, "So I've been working on those to help with the pain. It should keep the hot metal off of your skin."

"Wow," I whisper quietly, allowing my fingers to gently caress the light blue bands before touching the dial's numbers, "And the numbers? What are those for?"

"Well, that was because of another observation. While fighting the Hammeroids," hemorrhoids, ew, Lisa, stop, "I saw that your thrusters weren't able to stay powered when you grew tired. So, I thought that if you could have a regulator for them, then you'd be able to decide how powerful the plasma blast would be. If you ever need to defend yourself again, which I'm not going to let happen by the way, but if you do, you'll be able to decide if you want to be lethal or not. I don't know, it might be helpful," he shrugs like it's no big deal, still looking off to the side.

"And-and the '0'?" I whisper, scared to get my hopes up.

He finally meets my eyes, "At '0', the thrusters will stay powered down."

Maybe it's dumb, but I can feel tears in my eyes. When Edgar Frost put these disks into my body, I believed that I would never be free from them again. I would always have to have caution. I would always have to fear myself. But I never have to fear myself again now; not when I have something other than my faulty self to control it. Dad has given me as close to a normal life with these thrusters as he can. With a choked laugh, I throw my arms around his chest and hug him tightly, burying my face in his shirt.

I feel his arms settle around my shoulders as I whisper, "Thank you, Dad. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, Smalls," he pauses for a moment, "I-I'm sorry for all that's happened. I'm sorry about Vanko, Hammer, and, well, I'm sorry about me most of all."

"So you're not really sorry that I was almost killed by a big, scary Russian?" I crook an eyebrow at him.

"No, no, I am, I am," he tries to explain quickly, getting flustered all the while.

Wiping my eyes, I laugh and interrupt, "I was teasing. Yes, I know you're sorry. I forgive you, even though the first two things weren't your fault."

He kisses my forehead before pulling back and giving me a serious look, "I know that you had a bet with Rhodey and Happy about Pepper and me, and you're acting very excited about it, but I just want to make sure it's not an act. Smalls, you know that even though Pepper and I are, I don't know, 'together' that it won't change how anything works around here. Pepper will still be Pepper and I'll still be,"

"My irresponsible, childish, sarcastic, annoying yet lovable old man?" I thoughtfully begin to list his attributes.

And the only thing he gets offended about is made clear when he says, "Hey, listen, I'm not old,"

"Yeah, you are. Dad, you've begun your ascent to middle age," I use my hands to motion the said 'ascent' before I go on with a matter-of-fact nod, "You're officially old."

He rolls his eyes, "Alright, fine. If I can get back to my point, please?"

I nod again and motion him onward.

"My point is that you are still the most important thing to me," he places his hands on my shoulders and then gives me a mocking smirk, "You're still 'my girl'."

"Oh God," I roll my eyes and smile, remembering the time I made a big deal about being 'his girl' and how he didn't let it go for weeks.

It was about one week after the Obadiah and Edgar incident and about three before I accidently hurt that man on the street. At this point, Dad wasn't worried about me hurting anyone so he thought it would be good for me to get out of house. By 'get out of the house', I mean having Happy and Dad practically bodyguard me all the way to Paris so we could look at some art pieces that were on my 'want to see' list. I was excited to go, but we were receiving much more attention since the "I am Iron Man" announcement and people were coming up to us all the time.

"I am literally going to fall asleep on you if we don't go back to the hotel right now," Dad complained as we walked through the art museum.

"I wouldn't if I were you. I'd probably drop you," I continued to walk through the large display room, admiring some beautiful Renaissance pieces, "And I wouldn't even feel bad about it."

"That's just cold. You are aware that in some countries if you disrespected me like that, you could be publicly shamed."

"Fine," I sighed, tired and annoyed of his constant talking.

I love to joke around with him, but not when I'm looking at art. The only conversation I believe should be held while looking at art is critique, not the whiny complaints of a thirty-something year old Iron Man. I stopped in front of particularly beautiful piece and smiled faintly, studying it. Dad sighed and pulled out his phone, swiping through Twitter or something, I didn't know. I swear, it's like Dad is the teenager and I'm the boring adult. It's all out of whack.

"Oh my goodness," a sudden, feminine hand was tugging on my father's leather jacket, "Tony! Tony Stark!"

With confused eyes and matching furrowed brows, we both turned to see a brunette woman practically clinging to Dad. We had insisted Happy stay at the hotel so he wasn't even there to make her leave us alone. Dad gave her a smile, one of his fake ones.

"Are you fan?"

"A fan? What? Oh, I mean, y-yeah definitely," the woman gushed in a heavy Southern drawl, "but we also know each other, Tony Honey."

Tony Honey? Really? A scowl took over my features.

"Uh," he whipped off his sunglasses and analyzed her face, tilting his head to the side and squinting at her slightly, "Nope. Got no clue who you are. Recognize her, Lees?"

"Do you really think I would recognize her?" I grumbled, turning back to the painting.

"Tony Honey, you and I dated a while ago. I mean, it lasted for about four days, but we were a couple. Don't you remember?"

"He said he doesn't, Lady. That's your cue to leave."

I'm not usually this rude, but this lady just rubbed me the wrong way. Well, most women rub me the wrong way when it comes to them and my father.

She narrowed her eyes at me and it was as if she had just noticed me standing there, "Okay, who are you to say that to me?"

"No really, Lady. You need to leave," Dad immediately came to my defense.

"Just because you got the kid around doesn't mean you can't talk to your girl, Tony," the woman scowled.

"Good to know," he continued on, "But no, really, I'm choosing not to talk to you because I don't want to talk to you," he slung his arm over my shoulder and looked down at his phone, "Bye."

"Oh come on, Baby," she tugged on his sleeve again.

"Lady!" my voice echoed on the marble walls, "You seriously need to back off! What is it girls always say that guys apparently never can grasp? Oh, right," Dad watched and raised his eyebrows at me amusedly, "'No means no'. Well, Honey, today the roles are reversed. No means no. No, he doesn't remember you! No, he doesn't know you! No, you're not 'his girl'! And, no, I'm not just 'his kid', okay? If anybody is 'his girl', it's me! Got it?!"

The woman's face was flushed before she huffed and walked away. I scowled hard at everyone who was staring at us. My palms burned with such intensity that I winced and crossed my arms over my chest. I breathed heavily, glaring so hard at the painting in front of me that I was surprised it didn't burst into flames. Dad has always been weird about me meeting any of his lady friends and, after that particular experience, I realized so was I.

Dad leaned down to whisper in my ear, "You go, 'my girl'."

I dropped my face onto the back of my hand.

"I hate that you still bring that up," I groan and shake my head, "it's so embarrassing."

"It's one of my responsibilities. I have to feed you, clothe you, shelter you, and then, my personal favorite, mortify you," I roll my eyes before he smiles and gives my forehead another kiss, "You'll always be my girl."

Awww! They're back! I love them! Not too long, but not too short. What did you think? Are you happy they're happy together again? And I really thought Tony's new invention for Lisa was really necessary for her development as a character and hero. It gives her control, you know? But I think her lack of control also really connects her with some of the other characters (which is important later on! Yay!)!

Anyway, before I go spoiling everything, here's a future quote:

"Loki looks back at the camera to show his pristine teeth, 'She's more important than you think. More than anyone thinks, even her father, even herself.'"

- Loki, The Red Raven

Lisa and Loki have a connection that I can't wait to reveal (not a romantic one if that's what you're thinking). Join me next time for the final chapter (kind of) of this book! Vote, comment, and follow!