chapter xv.
(   civil war   )

got to get it in my head;
i'll never be sixteen again
i'm waiting to live, and waiting to love
oh, it'll be over, and i'll still be asking when
when ─── dodie clark

mit
june 3, 2016
(   lisa's point of view   )

A scene opens up on a cream colored living room with three people lounging comfortably within it. A beautiful blonde woman in a light blue skirt suit is sitting at a beautiful grand piano and her kind hands move across the black and white ivory keys in a soft and kind tune. A candle with a small yellow flame sits atop the piano, unwavering. A figure is stretched out on the couch and covered nearly completely by a red blanket, snoring softly. In front of lying body sits a small brunette with blue eyes about three years old. She's making quiet sounds while she goes on playing with colorful blocks as a cup of chocolate milk sits nearby.

The woman, Maria, plays a soft and sweet song at the piano as her voice gently begins to sing, "Try to remember the kind of September. When grass was green,"

Try to remember and if you remember, then follow...

My eyes briefly close and my brows pull together as I hear her voice again, having missed the sound of it so much.

A white haired man, Howard, quickly steps into the living room and pulls the blanket up off of the lying figure's face. He stares down at the stirring young man with a somewhat disapproving expression before he drops the red blanket back onto his son's face.

"Wake up, Dear," Maria calls to Tony as she continues playing the keys, "and say goodbye to your father."

Tony sniffs and throws the blanket off of his head. Wearing one of those Santa hats, he tiredly blinks and gazes around the room while he slowly sits up.

"Who's the homeless person on the couch?" Howard asks, not looking at his son as he buttons his suit jacket.

Tony gives a quiet laugh that sounds suspiciously like a scoff as he rolls off of the couch and bends up to his feet slowly. His three year old, Lisa, looks up from her blocks and a wide grin overcomes her face when she sees him.

Tony motions his hands over towards Howard, "This is why I love coming home for Christmas," he then adds with a smug and bitter smile, "right before you leave town."

Howard raises his eyebrows and dips his chin at him, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Be nice, Dear, he's been studying abroad..." Maria softly says with a sigh in her voice, closing her eyes in the hope that her boys won't start arguing again.

"Really? Which broad? What's her name?" Howard snatches Tony's Santa cap and then distractedly tosses it down to his granddaughter.

Lisa cheers in a small voice, fiddling with the red and white hat.

"Candice." Tony makes a face before he crouches down beside Lisa and helps her put the cap on her head.

With her fingers stuffed into her mouth as usual, whatever the girl mumbles is indistinguishable but Tony smirks all the same. He gently tugs at the edges of the Santa cap, settling it down over her ears. She tilts her chin up to him and gives him a wide and wet smile before he lightly pinches her cheeks.

I find myself still smiling a little, watching the two of us from a time before all of the trauma set it, before the two of us made mistakes that we both regret more than anything. God, we were so innocent, so content, and happy with it just being us as father and daughter, nothing more.

"Do me a favor?" Howard speaks up, making Tony's eyes roll and his jaw clench, "Try not to burn the house down before Monday."

Tony stands again and nods, sarcastically saying, "Okay, so it's Monday. That is good to know. I will plan my toga party accordingly,"

Standing within the darkness of backstage, I shake my head and laugh a bit to myself.

God, he was such a punk.

Tony moves to stand behind his mom and he slides his hands in his pockets, "Where you going again?"

My eyes flicker up to the white lights blaring from above as a strange feeling creeps down from my tight chest and then down into my ever queasy stomach. I swallow the lump rising in my throat, breathing deeply and wrapping an arm around my abdomen.

"Your father's flying Lisa and me to the Bahamas," Maria answers with a small smile, glancing back at him, "for a little getaway."

We never even made it.

We didn't even get close.

Howard adds in, "We might have to make a quick stop."

"At the Pentagon." Tony interrupts quickly before turning to him, "Right?"

Howard glances down in acknowledgement.

Tony's tone fills with sarcasm as he leans towards his mother, "Don't worry, you're gonna love the holiday menu at the commissary."

Maria stares up at him with a maybe just a hint of amusement in her blue eyes. Lisa laughs at his tone and Tony smiles a little bit bigger as he glances at her. They always know just when exactly they need to make the other smile. It's like second nature for the two of them. It's a quick change though as Tony remembers Howard standing nearby and his smile drops and he moves away, annoyed. 

Howard begins lecturing again, as always, "You know, they say sarcasm is a metric for potential. If that's true, you'll be a great man some day."

After scowling over at my grandfather, I reposition my feet and cross my arms over my chest.

Before scowling over at his father, Tony steps to the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I'll get the bags." Howard tells his wife in a quiet voice, moving on from his son as he always does.

There is a long silence after the white haired man leaves the room. Lisa stares at her father with a serious expression marking her still young features. Maria doesn't say anything for a long moment and her fingers pull away from the keys while she takes in a small breath.

She finally looks over at her son and softly says, "He does miss you when you're not here."

But then things change from reality, from the way things really were.

Instead of sending a sharp and cutting jab in return, Tony stays silent.

Maria stands as she turns to pick her three year old granddaughter up, "And frankly, you're going to miss us."

Tony nods a little, knowing that that's the truth. He knows beyond anything that he is going to miss them. How horrible it is - to miss something that you know you can't ever see again. His brown eyes look down to his feet and his face remains pulled and pained. The two of them reach Tony's side and Lisa's face is programmed to give her father a sad and soft smile, urging him just as her grandmother does.

"Because this is the last time we're all going to be together."

A tear slips down my cheek and I roughly brush it away.

"You know what's about to happen." Maria puts a hand on his arm and, without looking, Tony gently takes his daughter's little hand in his.

The twenty-one year old nods sharply once more, staring at his mom for one last time, taking in her features, trying to remember her.

"Say something." Her voice is pleading and Tony pulls a face, angrily glancing at Howard as he again enters the room, "If you don't, you'll regret it."

Tony sucks in a sharp breath, glaring off to the side before he turns his head to look at her once more. She stares at him so purely, so honestly.

He blinks from his mother, turning sharply to Howard and forcing a smile, "I love you, Dad."

Another tear falls and, this time, I don't bother wiping it away.

Tony turns back to Maria, giving her a sincere and soft smile, "And I know you did the best you could."

Maria gently rests a hand on his chest, leans in, and plants one last kiss on her son's cheek.

Tony leans into it, but it ends all too soon. Lisa's hand falls from his as Maria slowly turns away. Howard's shoes clip quietly against the ground as he passes by without another word, his son left to look on with wide tear-stained eyes. Tony takes a small breath as his head turns up, watching for the last time as the world, as he and his daughter know it, comes to an end.

A man in black stands in the doorway with his hands folded together in front of him, "That's how I wish it happened."

The audience in the dark auditorium stay silent, watching my father straighten from the doorway and take a deep breath.

"Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, or BARF,"

I cringe and roll my eyes at the acronym while I stand off to the side of the stage, out of the view of the onlookers.

"God, I gotta work on that acronym." Dad raises his eyebrows before moving on, "An extremely costly method of hijacking the hippocampus to clear..." He rests his hands on the grand piano and glances down at the candle sitting there, "traumatic memories."

He blows softly on the flame and, when it doesn't go out, he gives it two extra puffs before humming softly. The entire simulation room is taken over by a light blue wave and then the walls, the young man still standing there, and all the rest of the color begins to disintegrate into blue pixels.

"It doesn't change the fact that my parents and my kid never made it to the airport..." My father's words echo against the walls and he motions out his hand, glancing down at the ground, "Or all the things I did to avoid processing my grief, but..."

Drinking, partying, trying to forget, trying to numb the pain. It sounds all too familiar. The newspapers used to think that I was going to end up becoming just like my father. Turns out, for once, the media was right. Now, we're just the people left behind in the wake of all of the disaster we brought upon ourselves. Now, we're just us.

Dad pulls the glowing glasses from his face, glancing down at them for a moment, "Plus, $611 million for my little therapeutic experiment? No one in their right mind would've ever funded it." He steps out of the white set and further out onto the black stage, "Help me out, what's the MIT mission statement? To..." Then together, the audience and Dad finish the statement, "generate, disseminate, and preserve knowledge. And work with others... to bring it to bear on the world's great challenges."

I lean my shoulder against the entryway of the stage, watching with a small smile. To say that I'm excited about all of this would be an understatement. When Dad came to me with the idea about a month after the incident, I was relieved to have something to get my mind off of the obvious. For a while after it happened, I felt as if I had let everyone down and I thought that was how being with everyone was going to feel, but it was the exact opposite as I expected.

Apart from the newspapers and the rest of the media, everyone has moved on. Which I appreciate to no end. The team somehow is able to treat me no differently. Vision, as he's now called, Wanda, and I spend most of our time together. We usually just lounge around the compound, watching movies which Vision finds a lot more enjoyable than I had anticipated, cooking and teaching each other different recipes, or playing board games.

It's honestly nice to have friends that are close to my age. Well, Vision isn't really because he was "born" last year but he also is and he isn't; it's really just too complicated to work out. The point is, the three of us have become as thick as thieves. Although, I really do feel like that awkward third wheel whenever I'm around those two.

The only downside is that I've stopped going on missions, which is really the reason I'm even at MIT today. The others are in Lagos, tracking down Crossbones who has been AWOL since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. in 2014. It was strange, really. I just had this bad feeling about the mission and I sent the team on their way with my words of warning. Still, I'd much rather be out there with them. As much as Wanda tried to get me to come along and as much as I wanted to join them, I knew I couldn't.

Being out there is just not safe for me anymore.

For so many different reasons...

"Well, you are the others." Dad's voice drags me back into focus, making me watch as he stands center stage, "And, quiet as it's kept, the challenges facing you are the greatest mankind's ever known. Plus, most of you are broke." Everyone laughs before Dad goes on quickly, raising his brown brows and motioning out to them, "Oh, I'm sorry. Rather, you were."

I smile as I watch everyone grow a little bit straighter in their chairs and their faces mix with confusion.

"As of this moment... every student has been made an equal recipient of the inaugural September Foundation Grant." Quiet sounds of surprise echo throughout the room as Dad pauses, "As in... all of your projects have just been approved and funded."

The audience bursts with excitement, applauding and cheering as a proud smile comes onto my face. I'm glad he named it for Grandma. It just felt right, to name it after the song she used to sing.

Dad yells over the sound of the cheering, "No strings! No taxes! Just reframe the future! Starting now..."

He suddenly stops.

And a long silence stretches on.

My body straightens and I lean forward a little, trying to see what's made him suddenly go so silent. That's when I see the blue words spread out onto the glass teleprompter. I let out a quiet sigh as I press my fingers to my lips. My eyes slowly trail from the glass screen over to where my father stands within the lights. He suddenly looks so lost and alone among them.

His open mouth slowly closes as he stares off into the darkness with a distant look in his eyes. Then it's nearly like he suddenly remembers that he's up on stage in front of hundreds of people and his eyes dance around them and he forces a smile onto his lips.

"Go break some eggs."

Dad gives a slight nod, dipping his head forward as he takes a step back. He throws up a quick hand to the audience that stands up and cheers before he turns and moves away. I can't hear the music I know is playing and the audience I know is applauding; all I can see and hear is him as he swiftly walks from the stage. He doesn't seem to really see me though. He just looks past me, past everyone.

I sort of forgot the bouncing bald man at my side, clapping and cheering thank-you's over to me. The man grabs my arm and gives me a wide smile as my father moves closer, and I try to give one back but I can hardly pay him any mind. I step off to the side to let Dad through, but he still doesn't look at anyone.

"Wow. Wow!" The man motions his hands around wildly, trying to take Dad's arm as he steps to my side, "That, uh, that took my breath away."

The man's voice kind of dies out as Dad begins pulling the microphone from his suit coat, looking down at me with a blank expression. I offer a small smile, wrapping my arms over my abdomen as I nod a little. He nods back just as much, both of us understanding what the other is thinking.

Still, the bald man just keeps going, "Oh, Tony! So generous. So much money! Wow!"

Dad takes my forearm and begins slowly guiding the two of us further backstage, that distant look still on his face.

"Out of curiosity... will any portion of that grant be made available to faculty? I know, 'Ooh, gross', but hear me out,"

We both continue to ignore the man.

I look up at him carefully, knowing that he needs to be alone, "Dad..."

"I have got this killer idea for a self-cooking hotdog. Basically, chemical detonator embedded..."

Dad ignores him, pointing towards the corridor stretching before us, "Restroom's this way, yeah?"

"Yeah." The man hardly answers before still trying to explain his 'million dollar idea', "Embedded in the meat shaft,"

A blonde woman suddenly rushes up to our side, flustered, "Mr. Stark, I am so sorry about the teleprompter!"

Dad looks down at her as if he can't quite hear her, still just slowly moving.

"I didn't know Miss Potts had cancelled."

I bite down harshly onto my bottom lip, shaking my head a little. Pepper. God, I miss her. She came to visit me after... well, after everything happened. It was good to see her, but it wasn't the same. For as long as she has raised me, I know that she's my mom... but I can't let that get in the way of this loyalty I feel to Dad. He's never made it seem as if it wasn't okay for me to see her, but it feels like betrayal.

With Dad and Pepper the way they are, I'm not sure it ever can be the same again. I don't blame either of them. I mean, look at me. I'm not exactly in the position to be casting blame anymore. Besides, I know things like this happen. Dad is right. Relationships aren't made to last. It's just not the way it is. I just wish I hadn't been torn between the two.

The woman keeps going, "They didn't have time to fix it."

He takes her arm, struggling to even think clearly a he shakes his head, "It's... fine."

It clearly isn't.

"I'll be right back." He dazedly takes a few steps before barely glancing back at me, "Lees?"

"Yeah, coming. Excuse us." I force a smile back at the MIT faculty before jogging after Dad who is already moving away.

"We'll catch up later!" The man calls after us, nodding and waving a bit.

Dad's pace is quick and unmeasured as he loudly pushes through the backstage door, holding it open for me to follow. He walks the few steps to the door of the men's restroom only to stop, glance back at the wall, and pause.

I stare at him cautiously, pointing a finger at the the bathroom door, "Don't you need to..."

He shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door that separates us and the stage.

"What's going on, Dad?" I ask in that same quiet caution, trying to get his attention but not wanting to freak him out.

My father doesn't respond. He just meets my eyes, releases a quiet puff of air, and then briskly steps away from the bathroom. As he slides his hands into his pockets, the two of us move further down the green-toned hallway and slow as we reach the elevator where a waiting woman already stands. Dad lifts up on his toes a bit while he turns his back to the wall so that he can face me. I squint at him a little, making it very clear that I want to know precisely is going on in his head.

The woman beside me barely looking at us as she suddenly speaks, "That was nice, what you did for those young people."

I look over at her and offer a polite smile and nod, tightening my hands into a big knot in front of me.

"Ah, they deserve it." Dad briefly tilts his head to the side, but he keeps his dimming eyes on me, "Plus, it helps ease our consciences."

I knew that was part of the bargain from the beginning. That was why Dad came to me with it, anyway. He knew we both needed it. Recompense. Penance. Something to sway the guilt. We're guilty for different things, sure, but we both feel guilty of something.

Accidents for him.

And lies for me.

"They say there's a correlation between generosity and guilt." The lady says each word as if she's thought through it a thousand times, "But if you've got the money..." Her eyes blink over to us and I can't really tell if it's a smile or a scowl that she's wearing, "Break as many eggs as you like."

My brows briefly bend at her as I try to figure out what exactly she's meaning.

Dad's head flicks towards her, opening his mouth in fake amusement.

She smiles and nods down, "Right?"

Dad pulls on a tight smile, turning slowly to stand in between the lady and me. What can barely be called a smile immediately drops from his face and my own face drains of color as we notice something very important is out of place. The elevator button... it hasn't been pushed. My jaw tightens and my eyes grow hard as I sharply glance back at the woman.

Dad seems to stop moving for a moment, staring at the blank button with panic beginning to rise in his brown eyes. We glance at each other briefly, both of us falling into sync with each other.

Our movements are stiff when I push the elevator button and Dads tilts his chin to the side and points a finger, "Are you going up?"

I grit my teeth down against each other, feeling my worry war against my defensiveness.

The woman rolls her head back at us, nodding and speaking confidently, "I'm right where I want to be."

Alarm bells sound in my head.

The woman suddenly throws her hand down into her purse, rifling inside for something I can't see. My eyes widen and I jerk back, snatching onto Dad's suit coat in case I need to pull him away and protect him. At the same time, Dad wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me both closer and behind him.

He hurriedly snatches onto her wrist, making a quiet smack as he panickedly breathes out, "Okay, okay! Hey!"

The woman shifts up her narrowed eyes, looking at us as if we are disgusting to her. It takes me a moment to let out a quiet breath, realizing that she's absolutely no threat to us. Dad doesn't seem so easily convinced, staring at her for a beat longer before he releases his hold on her. My hand slowly slides from Dad's suit coat and he releases my waist. I cover my mouth with my hand, shaking my head.

God, we have been so paranoid lately.

"Sorry." Dad sighs and shakes his own head, motioning between me and him, "It's an... occupational hazard."

She rolls her eyes a little, "I work for the State Department."

I don't move from my spot while my dad pulls back, staring at her with caution still lying in his eyes.

"Human Resources. I know it's boring... but it enabled me to raise a son."

My eyes fall to my feet briefly, hardly being able to breathe at all. When my eyes slowly lift back up, I find the woman staring deeply at me. My throat tightens and I resist the urge to look away, choosing instead to look the woman directly in the eyes.

Her voice chokes up a little and her eyes stay on me as if I'm some sort of an example to my father, "I'm very proud of what he grew up to be."

My brows dip in confusion, wondering where exactly this is going and my gut tells me it is about to go so very wrong.

The woman suddenly smacks a picture to my father's chest and holds it there. Still defensive, I find myself stepping forward, but I stop when I see the tears welling up in her eyes as she looks between the two of us. Dad merely looks down at the picture pressed to chest in confusion. He doesn't try to make her leave him alone. He doesn't do anything, but look up at her with a fearful worry causing wrinkles in the middle of his brows.

"His name was Charlie Spencer. You murdered him."

My eyes widen, but we're both shocked into breathless silence.

"In Sokovia."

Flashes of an exploding city, of Pietro dying, and of buildings collapsing spirals in my mind.

"Not that that matters in the least to you."

I can see a small tremble in his hand that rests over the one still pressed to his chest.

"You think you fight for us? You just fight for yourself."

Steve's words come back to me from all these years ago, "The only thing you really fight for is yourself."

Dad's head twitches to the side a little, his eyes shining with tears as he shakes his head.

He doesn't want her to believe it. He doesn't want me to believe. Most of all, I think that he himself doesn't want to believe it. Tears of my own build up in my eyes and I wrap my arm around my abdomen once more.

The woman tilts her head back, spitting the words out in disgust, "Who's going to avenge my son, Stark? He's dead... and I blame you."

The woman turns and walks away.

And we just watch her.

AHH! The very first chapter of Civil War, what did you think? It's already so heartbreaking, I can't. Tony is just the most heartbreaking person and Lisa is up there with him. Wasn't the flashback just gut-wrenching? And how they both tried to protect each other from the woman? Why do you think Lisa can't go on missions? Next they have to deal with Secretary Ross which is going to be... fun. What side is Lisa going to be on? Ideas? I've been hinting at some plot twists here and there and soon it'll all come into play, I hope you're excited.

Go check out my other OC's connected chapter in The Resurrection Overture, if you haven't! Are you excited for Lees and Svet to meet?!

Future quote:

But then all of the butterflies go away and the blood rushes back through my legs as soon as T'Challa gives me a smile. It's polite and still not the usual he used to grant me with, but it's still enough to make my haze float away. 

"Lisa?" Natasha takes my arm and briefly raises her eyebrows at me, "Are you ready to sit down?"

"Yes, of course." I clear my throat, smiling at the two Wakandans around me, "Lovely seeing you."

- Lisa and Natasha with T'Challa and T'Chaka, Civil War