chapter xxiv.
( iron man 3 )

'cause   what  about,     what   about   angels?
they will come, they will go, make us special

don't  give   me  up,        don't  give   me    up
not about angels ─── birdy

tennessee
december 23, 2012

A quiet moan escapes my lips as my eyes struggle to open. Everything is wet and cold and my legs feel heavy, like I'm being pulled down by something very strong. My side stings and there's this burning wind hitting my chapped nose and lips. It's all awful, but nothing compares to the strange, high-pitched, and very annoying screaming ringing at the back of my mind.

"Oh God," I mumble out before I finally manage to tear my eyes open.

And now I wish I had just kept them closed.

Whatever or whoever is carrying me is shaking around wildly and my body is painfully swaying back and forth because of it. My feet are swinging limply underneath me as the dark ground where I belong is hundreds of feet below. There are metal hands gripping underneath my arms, tightly holding onto me to make sure I don't become the human equivalent of a squashed bug. Tree stretch up all around us and they grow more distinct and detailed as I slowly realize that I'm falling.

"Your thrusters! Your thrusters!" Dad's screaming becomes distinct in my ears as we plummet closer and closer to the road and car driving along below.

We're so screwed.

I join in on the high-pitched scream, panickedly reaching my arms back to grip around the suit's neck. My legs kick desperately at the air as if this can somehow stop us from smacking against the black tarmac that rolls up towards our faces. This is it. This is it. Dying by faceplanting. How typical. Dad flips us around just as we go to collide into the road, making the ground meet his metal back. The car only mere feet from us screeches to a stop, spinning in desperation. I hear a loud ding noise as we bounce off the tarmac and fly up once more.

All I can hear are our screams as we crash through the forest. My skin is torn and yanked at by the branches and the rocks that we scrape against and my hair flies in my mouth as shrieks leave my mouth. Our limbs flail around as Dad's suit smashes into trees and the ground and then more trees and then more ground until I, once again, can't tell up from down anymore. Our bodies finally skid to a painful halt within a thick layer of snow and the suit again dings as we do. Metal hands push me off of Dad's back so that he can roll over.

We both stare up at the sky with dazed, twitching expressions. Soft and gentle snow slips down through the air until it showers my wet brown hair and stings my cheeks. As pained winces and groans exit our lips, we remain content for the moment to just simply listen to each other breathe. He's alive. We're alive. That's, honestly, a plot twist. I was nearly certain that was it. The end, I mean. I've so often thought I was going to die in my life, but I'm not sure I've ever been that close before. A small shiver crawls up my stomach into my chest as I remember the last time I was held underwater for long periods of time. Afghanistan. God, that was so long again. But we survived then and we've survived now .He must have pulled me from the house after I was knocked out. That's the only explanation. Oh God, the house. It's gone. Everything's gone.

"T-This," I stutter out, "This whole falling from the sky at hundreds of feet up thing, Dad, it-it's getting kinda old," I groan out, feeling the snow melt through Dad's torn t-shirt that I'm wearing.

"Ha," Dad lets out a sarcastic and mechanical-sounding laugh before his hand tears off the mask.

A puff of smoke clouds us and I cough a little, tiredly waving it away.

"It's snowing, right?" Dad mumbles with squinted eyes and a rapidly moving chest, "Where are we? Upstate?"

A very matter-of-fact Jarvis speaks through the open mask, "We are five miles outside of Rose Hill, Tennessee."

As Dad remains a little speechless for the moment, I have no problem in snapping out with my wide and angry eyes, "Why?!"

"Jarvis," Dad calls out, "Not my idea!"

I groan quietly, dropping my shivering arm over my face, only to wince in response. My wrists are aching so badly and, as I peek down at them through the sleeve, I can only see red raw flesh. I've survived, but for how long really now? I'm still dying.

Dad's eyes quickly dance around the sky above us, "What are we doing here? This is thousands of miles away! We gotta get Pepper. I gotta," he trails off, mumbling in exhaustion.

"I prepared a flight plan," I can practically see Jarvis shrugging his shoulders as he speaks innocently, "This was the location."

"Who asked you?" Dad's voice suddenly drops, "Open the suit."

"You don't wanna do that," I mumble in a sing-song tone.

Jarvis' voice falters and trembles, "I-I think I may be malfunctioning, Sir,"

"Open eject."

The suit begins to whir quietly. I just weakly shake my head, knowing he will regret this decision in about five seconds tops. The latches begin to unclick and then it's entire being unfolds, producing my father into the cold world. He quickly sits up and then his body freezes, which is very fitting.

"Ooo, agh, that's brisk," Dad bites out, already shivering and rubbing his hands together.

He rubs snow on his wrists where he inserted those little pellets, trying to soothe whatever pain he must have there. I understand the feeling. He glances down over at me and his face contorts, making his eyes and nose scrunch. I internally scoff at his concern and a pang of that sick bitterness finds me once more. I grit down on my teeth as I look into his brown orbs that belong to a person who has never told me that they love me, to a person who chose to save someone else. I roll my eyes up away from him, staring back up at the nearly black sky. I push my tongue against the back of my bottom teeth, taking in a hissing breath.

Instead of stars to break apart the dark, it's the drifting snow and it looks nearly poetic in a way that I can't explain. Instead of light and hope shining through the dark, it's only the bitter cold. Ignoring whatever attitude I may or may not be giving him, Dad quickly puts his arm around me and pulls me through the snow to his side. He helps me up into a sitting position and my head spins as I begrudgingly lean into him. It's out of need, nothing else.

He pulls my trembling hands up and blows on them, rubbing his hands on either side of the bruises that make up my hands, "Hey, Smalls, you okay? You alright?"

My teeth grit down harder and I swallow painfully, "Fine."

He begins to shift off of the suit, trying to reposition me into it, "Maybe Lisa will just cozy back up for a,"

Jarvis interrupts in a croaky and dying voice, "I actually think I need to sleep now, Sir."

As our last piece of home dies away, Dad calls out, "Jarvis!" his voice grows soft with sadness, "Jarvis? Don't leave us, Buddy," his head slightly shakes as he stares at the ground.

My eyes flicker down to my soaked feet as I take in a slow breath and release it back out. I yank myself away from Dad and I trip up to my feet, stumbling right and left as I do. Impatiently, I shiver and stand off of the side as he wraps cords around the arms and shoulders of the suit. He gives me a faint nod, not meeting my eyes, and then we start our trek through the snow. I stay a few feet behind him for a number of reasons, I guess. One: because I can't really see where I am going without the light of his arc reactor, and two: because I really am not in the mood to be all buddy-buddy with him at the current moment. Everything is wrong.

I'm considered insane by everyone in the country. My head is full of visions and flashes of the future that everyone says isn't real. But it's real! But that doesn't matter.

I'm dying. And, God, am I in pain. I can hardly move, much less think. It's hindered everything. I mean, I keep making this stupid, out of character decisions that I just can't seem to get a grip on. I'm dying and it's changed me. No one knows what's happening to me. Well, two people do and they're as complicit in the Mandarin bombings as I am. I'm alone.

That being said, I've assisted in making something that I can now see that a terrorist has stolen to blow people up; people like my family: my dad, my sort of mom, my uncle.

My entire house was just blown to bits, along with my pictures of my grandma and the human Jarvis, the paintings I've worked on since I was four years old, Dad's suits, and the workshop where we would contentedly spend hours and hours. Everything was destroyed.

And then there's one other thing: my father chose Pepper. I guess it just being the two of us wasn't enough. It wasn't good enough. Oh God, I'm despicable.

My fingers and toes are numb as the snow reaches and crawls up my ankles. My arms stay wrapped around my shivering abdomen, but it doesn't do much to ward off the cold and wind. The blue light of his chest reflects nearly beautifully against the snow crunching underneath our shoes. Despite everything, the silence all around us and the soft glow of the light on the snow allows some kind of peace against the constant hum buzzing in the back of my head. I try to breathe it in, to heal from it, to just escape for five seconds.

My five seconds are up quicker than I thought they would be.

"You wanna tell me why you refused to use your thrusters or what?!" Dad calls over his shoulder, still tugging the suit along.

My eyes drift up to him and I sway slightly.

I could lie. I could come up with some weak excuse that explains away all that has happened in the past seven months. Or I could be honest. Honesty seems so far away at this point. I don't think I have told the truth in a very long time, perhaps I've forgotten how to do it correctly.

His chin tilts over his shoulder, "Well?!"

I shake my head slightly, still trying to decide how exactly to answer. My eyes flicker around us and I see the long, thick, and perfect blanket of snow stretching out before me. It's untouched, delicate, and soft, much like what I imagine an angel would be. I can practically hear my six year old self's laughter echoing through what had been a sunshine-filled day. It tears a hole in my reality just to give me a memory.

A dark-haired child danced into view, a puffy pink coat hanging off of her body as she did. A younger version of my father was chuckling and chasing after the dancing child that was me. Pepper and Rhodey hurriedly followed with smiles on their faces and steaming coffee cups in their hands. Happy trudged along behind the group of us, covered in an overly bulky winter coat with a frown twisting up his features. He was honestly always much too cool to hang out with the likes of us.

Dad suddenly caught up with me and then he scooped me up, earning a loud shriek and a fit of giggles from me. Dad laughed as he tickled my sides and I hurriedly gasped for air and threw my limbs about, trying to be set free. With a tired laugh, he then dropped the both of us in the snow. As he played dead, I breathed heavily and, giggling, pushed at his arm. He didn't budge until I did it two or three more times. He suddenly jolted alive and threw a handful of snow in my face. I sputtered and laughed, tossing some snow back at him as well.

"Here, here, watch, Lisa," Dad quickly fell back in the snow again and began waving his arms and legs around, making indentations in the white.

A look of wonder passed through my blue eyes and my mouth formed into an 'O'. I hurriedly followed suit and then I marveled at the angel that I had created. We eventually got the other three of our family to join in and soon the entire park was covered in varying sized snow angels.

But there are no snow angels here. There aren't any angels at all. Just demons. So many demons.

"Hey!" Dad snaps angrily.

I go back to look at him as he has now turned around to face me. We stare at each other for a long moment before he spreads out his hands in impatience.

"What do you want me to say?" I shrug my shoulders, still keeping my arms wrapped around myself.

"What do I want you to say?" he repeats, shaking his head in confusion, "I want you to give me an explanation as to what the heck is going on. You have thrusters and yet you choose not to use them, how am I supposed to react to that? You could have gotten out of that house ten times faster than me and yet you stayed!"

"At least I stick around," I interrupt as the bitterness leaks through my voice.

He clenches his jaw and presses his lips together, "That's not fair."

I don't reply; I just allow my face to turn into a hard glare directed precisely at him.

Growling a little, he raises his hand to his forehead and harshly pulls it away again, "I'm trying really hard now, Smalls! I'm trying really," he stops and scoffs, rolling his head around, "I'm trying really hard to understand. I know things have been hard for you lately, things have sucked for me too,"

"Hard for me lately?" I seethe, growing louder as my voice echoes off the trees and snow, "Hard for me lately?! Are you serious?"

His hands drop to his sides and he snaps, "Yeah, I'm serious."

"Everyone calls me insane, Dad! Do you have any idea what that feels like? Do you? No. And what's worse is that you don't say it's not true. You make sure no one else says it, but God forbid you yourself deny it! You think it's true!" He just scoffs and irritatedly shakes his head, "I've needed you. And I swear I've wanted to help you. Where have you been, huh? Other than off saving Pepper," the words taste hateful and bitter as they exit my mouth and I want to take them back as soon as I say them.

No, no, I don't mean that.

But it's too late.

His face hardens and he steps closer, "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" I spit out, and I can't stop, I swear that I can't stop, "Don't say what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, what's true? You chose her, Dad! You didn't know if my thrusters could get me out in time, you didn't know if I'd be able to use them in the heat of the moment! The house exploded and you had a choice. And you didn't choose me. You never choose me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He grinds out and my hands ball into fists around my thrusters.

"You know exactly what that means!" I jab my finger at him before my voice falters and then grows louder, "But I'm sorry. I'm just so stinkin' sorry for feeling this way! God!" I raise my fists to my forehead and then yank them back down, "No, but you're right. I shouldn't do that. No, no, I shouldn't ever speak the truth! I wouldn't want anyone to think I'm 'crazy', would I?!"

He visibly bites back words and I can't decide if I'm happy or angry about that. If he has something to say, then he should just say it! But, then again, I also don't want to hear whatever it is he seems so unwilling to say.

His face is dark and angry as we stare at each other. I throw up my hands and trudge to walk past him. He snatches onto my wrist, trying only to stop me, but, instead, I let out a pained scream and I trip back. I harshly yank myself away from him, giving him a shove in the chest as I do. Dad eagerly releases me, looking with furrowed brows and wide eyes. I hiss in pain as I hurriedly push up my sleeve and, by the arc reactor's light, we both can finally see my wrists for how they are. The now withered and rusted wires that used to be buried deep within my flesh are now rising like leviathans out of the bruised and bloodied surface.

"Dang it!" I growl out, kicking at the nearby snow as I pull my arms to my abdomen.

"Why are they like that? What happened?!" Dad demands just as angrily.

My head snaps to look at him and the words just shoot out all too easily, "Like you care!"

I don't mean that.

The look in his eyes makes everything bitter and rageful within me fade away. His brown eyes are armored with emotion and he swallows, raising his eyebrows and glancing down at the ground. My shoulders straighten and I feel my bitter expression fall as my eyes also go on to study my snow-covered shoes. My wet dark hair tosses as I shake my head and turn from him. Dad doesn't move for a moment, but I can't even bear to look at him so I keep pushing on.

He deserves to know.

But I still can't get myself to tell him.

When the dark night grows lighter, my eyes slowly lift to see a hokey-pokey-looking gas station standing about a thousand feet ahead. My pace quickens until I'm standing under it's awning, struggling to swallow as my teeth chatter. It's official. I hate winter. I pull in a shuddering breath as my feet numbly step back and forth in an effort to warm up my body. When he finally catches up, Dad drops the cords holding the suit and he stretches his back. I look at everywhere but at him just as he does the same, glancing right and left nonchalantly. Slightly shaking his head, his eyes continue dancing as he thinks through what he should say and what he should do.

I'm not sure how long he exactly takes to decide, but it still feels like an infinity. He finally heaves out a trembling breath and then unsteadily walks towards me, our eyes not quite meeting even as we watch in each other's direction. Then Dad brushes right by me, making me furrow my brows and watch after him in confusion. A strange wooden Native American statue stands proudly behind me and my father begins undressing it, pulling off its poncho. As he shakes it out, he motions to me tiredly and I reluctantly stumble over to him. Without saying anything, he drops the hole of the poncho over my head and then distractedly positions the sides of the material over my shoulders. I watch his face as he pulls back and checks to make sure that the poncho's covering me as best it can.

It's sometimes hard for me to believe that he's the same man he was when he took in me nearly fifteen years ago. Back then, he was just a kid who accidentally fathered another kid and now he's, well, you know who he is. He's different in a lot of good ways. With Pepper now in the picture, he doesn't go for every woman that throws herself at him. As cautious and quiet Dad was about it with me throughout my childhood, I still heard things; people still said things that a little girl never wants to hear about her daddy.

He's found his purpose now when I think he was just treading water before; I've always known his worth and his goodness and his capability to do great things, and now he finally sees it too. He helps people when before he didn't really have a care for them. He's now able to make true deep connections with more than just me and Rhodey now. He's grown and he's changed and that's good.

But he's changed in ways that hurt too. I think he has, in a way, forgotten that he's more than Iron Man; he has worth beyond that metal suit that has saved billions. He's forgotten that he is human and that he can be imperfect. He's so lost within his own head that he's forgotten that it's just him and me against the world; that that's good enough.

His hands finish situating the poncho over me and he nods slightly as if deciding that I'm well enough covered. I do my best to hold in a shiver, feeling that it would be ungrateful to right after he's given me something to make me warmer. All that I can hear and see for a few seconds is our tired breath, our sniffles, and the white air that is escaping from our blue lips. I can't seem to meet his eyes, even as he leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead.

And, just like that, I know he wants peace.

I feel a rush of reassurance surge through me for just a moment as he keeps his lips to my forehead. I can feel the peace he wants and I can feel safe and I can feel innocent. I've never wanted to be Lisa Montgomery. Lisa Montgomery is lost and hated and abused and agonized. I'm scared I've lost the ability to be Lisa Stark. Lisa Stark is famous and good and sarcastic and kind. Sometimes I think I've got everybody fooled into thinking that I am or can even be the Red Raven. The Red Raven is inspiring and brave and strong and true. But what I am? Vulnerable. Selfish. Faulty. Insane. God, I'm just a stupid kid who needs her dad because he always makes everything better. He's my safety net, my glittering knight, my home.

And then he pulls away and it all comes back.

The pain, the regret, the guilt, the shame, the loss, and the hurt, and the anger.

He saved Pepper.

He chose Pepper.

It shouldn't bother me. I have so many other things to worry about. I'm dying! I've inadvertently helped someone whose research was stolen by a terrorist! I've got flashes of the future in my head! He didn't know that I couldn't just save myself, so why does it bother me? Because he still chose her. This shouldn't matter. If anything, I should be thankful that he saved the only woman who has ever loved me. I hate myself for even suggesting that he should have chosen me instead because I didn't really want that. That would be despicable and sickening and evil.

Those things, the monster on the throne, Loki, the singularities, they all live inside my head, but I can't be them, though sometimes I feel myself slipping. I'm not them. I'm something different, something separate. Or I, at least, like to believe I am. I'm not despicable, sickening, or evil. She's his girlfriend. He loves her; of course, he would save her. Of course. Our fathers never wanted us. They've never loved us. He's never loved you. Of course. Of course. I'm okay. Of course. I'm okay. Of course. I'm okay. I'm okay.

I'm in control.

What's wrong with me?

I can feel my mind spiraling directly out of control. More and more anger and confusion builds within me until I feel myself completely shut down. The agony in my wrists burns worse until I feel blood begin to drip to my fingertips and onto the concrete beneath my feet. My corneas expand and contract rapidly as the visions come back to me now. Violent, fleeting, horrifying.

I see the fighting people once more.

I see this horrific red and it's devouring a woman, a woman I don't recognize.

I see myself.

I see two kids, near the same age as me, twitching, transformed, different.

"Hey Smalls," a distant yet familiar voice breaks through the flashes, "You good?"

My wide corneas dart darkly up to my father before they slowly, painfully recede into my regular blue irises. The world becomes clear once more and then I see him standing amidst the snow and the dark. The near fear that my father looks at me with makes me shudder and the poncho billow as an effect. His brows are crinkled and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he cautiously watches me. I wonder if he's just waiting for me to break, to completely lose my mind until I can't even remember my own name and I can't even distinguish what is reality and what is not anymore.

Whatever's happened between us isn't over. He knows that and so do I, perhaps even more so. All of the secrets that I've kept from him are going to ruin us. I nod blankly at him. He analyzes me for just a beat longer before he turns and guides me towards the edge of the awning. I only really find warmth when we slide into the telephone booth with foggy walls and cracking glass. Dad punches in a few numbers on the keypad as I lean tiredly against the wall. He lets out a sigh, rubbing his forehead with his thumb as we wait.

A female voice suddenly speaks through the receiver, "Stark Secure Server: Now transferring to all known receivers."

"Pepper, it's me,"

Oh God, Pepper. I can't imagine how she must be feeling right now. I mean, we were dragged into the ocean by our exploding house! She must think we're dead; blown up, crushed, or drowned. No, I really don't think that is something you can just be okay about. I miss her, even as I feel guilty about my feelings about the whole situation. I just want to be at home with my family right now. I want everything to just go back to normal.

Dad glances at me, "I got Lisa with me; she's okay," he heaves a sigh before quickly spilling, "I've got a lot of apologies to make and not a lot of time. So... first off, I'm so sorry I put you and Lisa in harm's way," guilt finds me once more as I wrap my arms tighter around myself, "That was selfish and stupid, and it won't happen again. Also, it's Christmas time and the rabbit's too big. Done. Sorry."

Breathing out a small laugh, I find that I can still smile at him a little.

"And I'm sorry in advance because we can't come home yet. I need to find this guy.

You gotta stay safe, that's all I know," his voice is soft and quiet with sincerity before he goes on with, "We just stole a poncho from a wooden Indian."

"Native American," I quietly but still snarkily correct after he hangs up the receiver.

Dad rolls his eyes and pushes me out the door, "Alright, alright, Little Miss Political Correctness."

I nod silently as our feet continue on.

I'm not sure where we're going or what we're going to do, but I know that I have to fix this. I have to fix this before any more people die, including myself. I have to fix this before Dad finds out about any and all of it. Yet there's this horrible feeling of dread that has come over me until I feel like I can't even swallow.

A reckoning is coming.

I have to pay for my sins.

This is the first judgement of many in the years to come.

Everyone has to face it.

I'm just the first one kneeling in wait of it.

Fight, fight, fight! Ahhhh! Oooch, sad stuff, Guys. Lisa has a lot of reflection in here and it sucks for her and it's painful and I'm sorry. It wasn't too bad, but still... Okay, so that's chapter twenty-four for you! I'm sorry if you were looking for a big reveal, but I have to build up a little more until that point. I have this very specific moment that he finds everything out and it just works better and I think you'll like it more. So just be patient and stick with me, okay? SO, how did you like it? Please tell me what you think!

Funny Thingamabob:

YES