Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Madame Curie "Maddy" Cho can still remember the day.

The day in which absolute and utter agony became all that she was and tore her heart from her chest.

The day that had started out so mundane.

Her grandparents, Helen, and Ammy were all sitting around the living room of their Seoul apartment, watching some sappy Korean drama. The sweltering mid-summer heat bent the air outside as the cicadas chirped in the distance and the air-conditioner inside established their haven from the humidity.

Amadeus was mimicking the actors with exaggerated expressions.

Halmee was peeling fruit and laughing her sweet, leathery laugh.

Halbee was commenting on how skinny the actresses are and how they should eat more.

Helen was still “Helen” at the time.

She didn’t quite like being called “mom” just yet. She had been “Helen-unnie” to Maddy (“Noona” to Amadeus) for most of their lives.

They figured it out when they were seven, though; and waited for her to tell them that she was their mother. That her and their father were two smart college students who made a stupid mistake. But that she loved them nevertheless. That she did whatever she thought was the best for them.

That she loved them.

“I love you,” were her last words.

They were fifteen when the world changed in a snap.  

The TV program was suddenly overtaken by an emergency news report. The alien ship that had appeared over New York reappeared in Wakanda along with several more.  

But the news came too late.  

Grandpa was the first to fade away and Helen instantly rushed towards her Avengers communicator, nearly about to reach it when her fingers chipped away like chaff in the wind.

She turned to them, to her daughter and her son, staring straight at the both of them as chaos and fear descended like a dense fog.

“I love you,” she said with fierce truth. “I love you both so much. I love you.”

Maddy had taken a few steps towards her disappearing figure until Amadeus fell to his knees beside her.

“Maddy,” he muttered.

“Ammy,” she exclaimed in horror as she turned to see him falter onto his hands. “Amadeus, please .”

“Maddy…”

She pulls him to her and holds his head to her chest. “Ammy, come on. Don’t - you can’t.”

“Fix this,” he whispers before he too is reduced to fragments, ash above a dying fire.

Like a volcano erupting, her anguish burst from her heart and her eyes, numbing nearly everything. She did not realize tears were streaming down her face as she tried to clutch the pieces of her brother to her, weeping and weeping.

Her grandmother’s heart gave out from the shock.

CPR wasn't working and she couldn’t carry her out to the car in time.

So Maddy Cho lost everyone she loved in the span of an hour.

Half the universe, my ass. 

Now, five years have passed, she sits in the Hong Kong Sanctum, in a chair surrounded by machinery infused with glowing runes. The whole place hums and vibrates with magic, energy, and repurposed hope.

Her grief is now a permanent chasm in her soul, an everlasting emptiness that cannot be filled even as she establishes herself among a new cobbled family of misfits, martyrs, magicians, and mutants.

“This good? Not too tight?” Kitty asks as she makes one final adjustment to the helmet strapped onto Maddy’s head.

“It’s perfect,” she responds.

“You ready?” he adds, his own nervousness seeping through the frantic pawing at his pants. Dr. Banner never quite got his heart off of his sleeve.

“Scott Bakula at your service,” she retorts but her humor is flat, betraying her fear.

Bruce gives her a wincing smile. “Tony is going to love you,” he says with incredibly soft sincerity, grief and mourning tinting his eyes.

“Well, everything is pretty much contingent on that, right?” Her lips flatten together as the last bit of code is typed in. Her eyes shut and her brows knit towards the bridge of her nose.

“You’re afraid,” Carol states but it could be inferred as a question, appearing from behind the apparatus, flicking on a few switches on a bar above Maddy’s glorified chair.

“A bit,” Maddy admits. “But I’m still debating whether I should have you take over, like the original plan.”

Danvers places a hand on her shoulder. “You know why it has to be you.”

“'It’s the only way,’ ” she says in faux seriousness. “Yes, I know. It’s just the only way seems so awfully convoluted.”

“Everything is set,” Banner states.

Kitty nods from her place at another section of the apparatus, her hands placed upon two metallic handles and her feet above a burning circle that reminds Maddy of an alchemist’s circle.

The remaining wizards form their circle and begin their incantations. She says a quick prayer that she won’t end up in a metal body.

The room begins to burn and spark as magic fills the air. The machine begins to rum and rev with cumulating energy.

“Good luck, Maddy.”

The world begins to warp.

“It’s not Maddy, anymore,” she whispers and then grins broadly. “I hope I never see you again.”

Chapter Text

“How did you get out of the wormhole?”

His heart has taken over his body. It’s the only thing he can feel. Its beating, hammering cacophony bursting from his chest. He can’t breathe like suddenly there is no air around him. 

He rises and tries to move. The children express their concern and Rhodes says something - but it all seems so far away while his pain is so intensely close.

One sloppy step after another but then those ridiculous five-step stairs show up so he collides over a body. 

“Jesus Christ, Tony. Are you alright, miss?” Rhodes asks of the victim of Tony’s tumble.

The world tumbles and condenses around his temples as he fights for clarity as him and the person he ran over scrambles with him to get up. Tony grits his teeth as the pain starts throbbing from his head.

There must be something wrong with his brain, heart - or in his drink. He needs to get to the suit.

“What the hell-,” she sounds angry but then it’s a quick change to, “Sir? Are you alright?”  

“I-.” His breath snags in his mouth. “Suit...something.”

“Tony?” Rhodes’ voice repeats over and over in a far-off distance.

“Is there a room in the back?” the woman’s voice asks in a loud, commandeering voice; and for a moment, it clears the noise of his mind. But just as quickly, it all comes crashing back. 

“No - the suit,” Tony manages over stilted syllables.

His throat is caught between a bludgeoning headache and a nearly rupturing heart. He feels himself be pulled up and guided through the restaurant. Step after clumsy step as he is drawn across the floor. 

“I can walk - I need the suit.” He says as he tries to pull away.

“Don’t even think about it,” the woman orders as she pulls him along.

A door opens. A chair appears. His ass meets that chair and his head immediately meets his hands.

“I need you to breathe with me.”

He looks up and sees an Asian woman staring down at him with eyes of fierce fire and comfort.

She’s not his type, is his first awful thought.

He knows he’s a dick. But the fact that she isn’t his type is rare, something worth the three seconds of thought - and it’s not because she’s Asian. He’s not that much of a dick. In fact, there is a quick memory of Rumiko from grad school floating around until he quickly dismisses it.

The woman begins counting and he just scoffs.

“I’m fine - I just need to get to my suit,” he insists.

She puts one hand on each shoulder and the warmth, the sensation of her touch keeps his focus on her.

What are you doing? Who are you? He wants to jab at her.

She keeps counting.

“In for two, three, four; hold for one, two, three; then out - two, three, four.” Her voice is crisp and calming - like autumn in Maine, or some specific disgustingly-quaint Americana town.

Without wanting to, maybe, he starts to follow. He breathes in for four counts and then out for four.

They’re not precise seconds, her timing is awful. But it’s slow enough for him to start working through the fog.

They do this for a few more iterations and Tony finds his lungs filling and releasing in a matching pace.

“How’s your heart?” she asks as he just thinks about how quickly it’s still beating.

“Still,” he mutters then he waves his hand around his heart to show that it is still battering around in his chest. “Yeah,” he resigns.

“Alright, keep breathing slowly but do you remember the name of the street you used to live on as a kid?” she asks.

“What?”

“List the street names of the neighborhood you grew up in.”

“I grew up in - like - five. You gotta help me out here.”

“Ok, just focus on the place you were the happiest.”

He instantly remembers the summer trips to his grandmother’s - just him, Jarvis, and mom.

“Fullerton,” he whispers out.

“Great. Next street over?”

He winces as he thinks. A wave of images floods his senses, all tinted by childhood remembrance and the backseat windows of Jarvis’ car.

A flash of blue sky outlined by branches of maples which were planted by perfect sidewalks.

“Jackson.”

His mother smiling at him.

“Are you going let grandpa win this time?” she would say about his chess games with his cantankerous grandfather as he cursed in muddled Spanish. 

“Evans.”

His mother’s hand would cradle his right above the olive green leather car seats. He would set his head over her lap. Her fingers would run through his hair. She would smile down at him and the world would be warm.

“Plantinga.”

“Is that how it’s pronounced?” she japes as his mind starts to calm. “I had one near my college and no one could agree on whether it was plant-ing-a or plantin-jah .”

Tony scoffs, “Yeah.” He looks around the restaurant office - he’s assuming - then realizes, lo and behold, that his heart beat slower and slower, his mind is a little less hazy and panicked. There is a sudden and ethereal moment of absolute clarity.

He makes one final huff and looks at his little savior.

She gives him a dimpled smile and says, “I think you’re going to be fine.”

“I...yeah.” He slaps his knees and attempts to stand.

“Hey, no, don’t get up so fast. Take it easy,” she insists.  

One hand is still on his left shoulder.

“Thanks, doctor... ?” he is making assumptions and is waiting for her to add her name.

“Oh, no - not a doctor. I was about to finish a -,” she begins as she gesticulates, obviously grasping for words. “I’m half a professional,” she concludes with that and extends her hand. “Jaina Choi. Nice to meet you.”

“Ironman,” he says quickly in his usual tilt, trying to gain some of his personage back. He thrusts his hand out and allows her to take it.

A grin explodes over her cheeks and she laughs as they shake. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Ironman, sir.”

The girl’s pretty in her own right, especially when she smiles. So Tony notices that Rhodey notices that fact as the Iron Patriot introduces himself with a special glint in his eyes.

“So Jaina...what kind of name is that?” Rhodes asks.

She puts her hands in the pockets of her jeans and shrugs. “Parents were big fans of Star Wars - the extended universe,” she explains with a breathy and slightly embarrassed chuckle. “She’s the daughter of Princess Leia and Han Solo.”

Rhodes cracks a smile and simply says, “Wow. That’s something else.”

“You really have no game,” Tony comments - more so, groans, actually - from his place in the chair.

Ms. Jaina laughs again and pulls up a hand to her lips to cover it.

Rhodes scrambles to defend himself. He exchanges between staring at Tony in betrayed disbelief and looking at her while struggling to say, “I wasn’t trying to-,”

“It’s fine,” she says through her chuckles.

Tony interrupts with, “Hey, do half-professionals have business cards?”

“I-uh,” she stutters, “No, who has business cards anymore?”

“Good point,” Tony returns as he stands now and starts searching the desk. “Do you live around here?”

“No, I’m here visiting a friend and she’s actually probably wondering where I am right now.”

“Where do you live then?” The desk is covered in papers and weird paraphernalia so he’s assuming the manager definitely has something for pugs.

“Uh, actually, I’m out in Thailand. I work for a - anyway.”

“Thought about coming back stateside?” he casually asks as he briefly looks over his shoulder at her then back at the desk, his hands still searching and fiddling.

“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “Just trying to figure out for what.”

After failing to find any paper that seemed insignificant enough to write on in two seconds, Tony locates an empty paper cup stained by coffee and flattens it in one hand. He grabs a pen from a mug and starts writing his address on the outside. “Good. Here it is.”

“What?”

“Your what,” he explains as he hands her the cup. “Whatever shoddy pay you’re getting, I’ll triple it if you come by.” He starts backing out to the door. “We’ll - uh - talk terms.”

She blinks at the cup and then looks up to blink at him. “For what? To be your security blanket?”

“Sure, something like that.”

Her head tilts in. “Don’t you already have people for that?”

“No, that’s why I’m going to hire you. Come by tonight? Maybe around 5ish. I’ll pay for the cab, or Uber, or whatever you’ll take - Zoosk? Is that a car service?” he asks to neither one in particular.  

Then Tony walks back onto the main floor of the restaurant, goes to the table of the kids who came by with their pictures, and hands the parents two hundred dollar bills.

After the strawberry fiasco, he’s been trying to carry at least some cash with him.

He apologizes to the kids for freaking them out and informs the parents that their next trip to Target is on him.

That’s where people go to, right? Target? Walmart? He’s not too sure.

He fails to recognize the woman hiding behind her menu in a booth in the corner of the restaurant, a mistake he might regret later.

On the way out the front entrance, he drops another hundred into the tip jar and blithely states how he’ll cover for the broken crayon.

Rhodes eventually catches up when Tony makes it outside to where his suit is parked in the line of motorcycles.

“What the hell, man?”

Tony looks at Rhodes. “What? You really have no game.”

“No, not that, dipshit. Are you okay? Was that a pani-.”

“Let’s not talk about that, alright?” Tony says quickly as he climbs into the suit and the machinery clips together to envelop him.

“And are you really going to hire a random girl you met in a bar?”

“It’s how I hired Pepper.” The mask comes down with a final clink and the suits lifts off into the air.

Chapter Text

Granted, finding another woman in your boyfriend’s house, sitting on the couch next to him, with a cheese spread between them should not be more of a surprise than a gigantic stuffed bunny sitting just outside.

But knowing Tony Stark, which Pepper does, she is a bit suspicious if not surprised.

"Hi,” Pepper states in her social-business voice, trying not to show how thrown off she is by this (on date night of all nights). “What...is this?” she points to the cheese platter and their guest.

“Peps! You’re late.” Tony chirps as he stands and walks over to hug her, a gesture Pepper takes with skepticism as she explains that she had a meeting that ran long. He gestures to the person-sized anomaly. “This is Jar-Jar.”

“Jaina,” the girl corrects.

“Po-tae-to, po-tah-to,” he says with a shrug.

“Still does not explain a lot,” Pepper adds.

“I’m your Christmas present,” Jaina offers with a smile as she stands.

Pepper huffs, suppressing the sudden build of anger and disbelief. “Tony, I swear if she is here for a threesome-.”

Tony raises his hands while Jaina exclaims, “No, no, no, no - Dear God, no.”

“She’s a-,” Tony starts.

“I’m a -,” Jaina presses her lips together as she thinks. “I’m a recovery coach,” she concludes but her tone betrays her uncertainty.  

“...”

“...”

“Life assistant might be more accurate,” Tony is quick to clarify. “Since she’s not even a life coach either - or a therapist - so, we decided that assistant might work better. You know, for a more official title - job description.”

Suddenly, a rush of fear overtakes Pepper. She turns to Tony, obviously ignoring the ramblings - her eyes searching his while expressing degrees of confusion, anger, and concern. “Tony, are you drinking again?”

Tony parts his lips. He looks at her and feels the frustration and self-anger accumulating within. He turns to Jaina, who gives him a small but encouraging smile.

He huffs.

His whole body is tense and the dry air is acting like a cork in his mouth and throat.

“Honestly, it’s been close a few times,” he admits softly, trying to put a casual and unaffected tilt to it but he knows he’s not fooling anyone.

He leans on the back of a chair. His arms cross over his chest.

“Tony,” Pepper says, her voice dipping down with worry.

“I'm a piping hot mess. It's been going on for a while, I haven't said anything.”

Her lips part as she approaches slowly.

He goes on, “You experience things and then they're over and you still can't explain 'em. Gods, aliens, other dimensions. I...I'm just a man in a can. The only reason I haven't cracked up is probably because you moved in.” He lifts a hand towards her. His heart - cracked and open - on full display like a fucked-up stained glass window. 

“Which is great. I love you, I'm lucky. But, honey, I can't sleep. I’ve been spending who knows how many hours downstairs - tinkering, keeping myself busy.”

“Tony, why haven’t you said anything? You could’ve talked to me. We could’ve gotten you help.”

Unseen, the guest purses her lips, bends down, and partakes in a not-so-sneaky bite of brie atop of a crisp water cracker.

“I... I don’t like asking for help - it’s...it’s hard, Pep,” he tries to say as blithely as he can with his typical noncommittal shrug. He gestures at Jaina again. “This is me trying.”

Pepper finally turns to Jaina. “So you’re a recovery coach?”

“Almost,” she admits, making one final crunch and swallowing, then taking an inch of a step closer to them. She brushes her hand at her lips to get at a few stray crumbs then clasps her hands together. “I’ll be finishing up my certification this week.”

“Oh, okay - she’s not even certified.” Pepper is at a disbelief buffet - so many types of disbelief to choose from.

“She’s practically - babe,” Tony stands and pulls her gently so that they are tilted away from Jaina. He lowers his voice a nick and reveals with lengthy pauses, “This was the first time I’ve been able to calm down. She helped me, Pepper. I had JARVIS run a background check, she’s clean and good - she’s - she’s a good person - sometimes a little too good, a little high-strung, but she - I don’t know.”

He turns back to the girl and a small little ghost of a smile briefly appears on his lips. He looks at Pepper; he’s not certain what kind of expression he has on his face.

He shrugs and matter-of-factly states, “I have a good feeling about her.”

Which is half of the truth. He is not quite ready to disclose how much Jaina reminds him of Maria Carbonell Stark - because he’s not ready to cross into that kind of territory just yet.

Yeah, nope.

Jaina speaks up, “Ms. Potts, I know this all seems,” she pauses. “Like a lot - but JARVIS is drafting a contract right now concerning my exact responsibilities but both of us are waiting until your input. I will not be hired until you and Colonel Rhodes approve of me.”

Now, Pepper is pleasantly surprised. “Really?” she utters softly. The CEO of Stark Industries takes a better look at her at this point.

Jaina Choi is of average height and build, not too skinny, not too heavy - just normal. In jeans and a blouse, she resembles any other working Millennial you could find in any major city.

“Yes,” the normal abnormality says, her tone has gained confidence and a sense of professionalism. “I am just a temporary fixture - like a lamp - or a stress ball.” They both smirk at that. “For Mr. Stark until his anxiety lessens to a degree where he would no longer need my help. But his primary support system should be you and his friends.”

“Eloquently put, Jar-Jar,” Tony quips.

“Thank you, Malcom McDowell,” Jaina quips back with a biting but humored gaze.

Pepper gets it now - she sees it in the glint of his eyes when he registers her retort.

He likes her.

Not in any way that she would feel threatened but she knows Tony well enough that she can see when he genuinely likes a person. There is no morbidly obsessive curiosity (as he had with Natalia - Natasha?) or indifferent and sarcastic apathy (as he had with Agent Coulson and nearly every authority figure he has had in his life) - he just likes her.

“Are you even old enough to know A Clockwork Orange ?” he counters, walking back towards the table. “Aren’t you - what - nineteen?”

“Why would you hire a nineteen year old?” she snaps back, her eyes aflame.

They continue like this for a while until Pepper insists that they have an actual meal.

Over a very nice farm-to-table dinner, Pepper and Jaina establish parameters and exact wording with Tony pitching in the occasional quip here and there. The three finally settle on the title of “personal assistant” for PR’s sake. But Jaina’s actual job will boil down to three things:

1. Keep Tony calm and healthy;
2. Keep Tony away from alcohol and drugs; and
3. Keep Tony from doing anything stupid.

“I can do that.” Jaina beams before she takes another bite. Then tells Tony to eat his salad.

“Seriously?” Tony drones.

“What?” she asks defensively with a casual shrug. “You should eat your vegetables.”

Tony points his fork at her. “I did not hire you to be my mother.”

“Well, sir,” she returns. Then in a voice akin to that of a radio announcer or flight attendant, she drones, “Eating a balanced diet, which includes spinach, contributes to a better and healthier state of mind. So, as your personal assistant and life coach, I highly recommend that you consume those three leaves of spinach before I find a way to slip greens or old people pills into your morning coffee.”

Tony starts rambling something about how there should be a clause about threats in her contract while Pepper just smirks to herself.

She might learn to like this deviance in Tony’s life.

Chapter Text

The night had begun so well. 

Laughter filled the dinner hour.

He and Pepper watched the new Shakespeare film while Jaina moved into the spare bedroom just down the hall. 

Cuddles on the couch. 

A rendezvous in the shower. 

Sweet kisses in bed. 

Then sleep. 

Good and deep sleep with the feeling of her hands at his hips.  

But then,

the memories.

He remembers the sudden lack of air, the shrill shriek of his suit's engines. 

The New York skyline disappearing behind him as he flies through the portal. 

The helmet's interface blinking to nothingness, Pepper's icon disappearing. 

The void of space. 

The threat. 

Looming. 

Treacherous. 

Existent. 

Then the all-consuming orb of heat scorching his face. 

He remembers the feeling of falling.

The wind rushing through the cracks of his suit. 

The ground and his death approaching. 

Pepper's voice saying his name. 

Then her gasp of sudden fear and horror. 

And that's real. It's not a dream. 

He nearly leaps from the bed to see the prehensile suit towering menacingly over Pepper. 

He lifts his hands and croaks out, "Power down!" as quickly as he can. 

The lights turn on and he hears the faint beeping of his automatic panic alarm echoing through the rest of the house. 

But the adrenaline does not pass. There is no lull of relief. His heart still throbs and quakes. His nerves are on fire. 

He tries to explain how he must have called the suit in his sleep. He tries to calm her. He hears her rapid gasps for air since they echo his own. 

"Can we just...just let me...just let me catch my breath, okay?" 

But Pepper - frazzled, frightened - no, actually, terrified, - rises and starts to leave.

“Don't go, alright? Pepper?”

“I'm going to sleep downstairs. Tinker with that,” she murmurs, her panic turning into anger in her tone.

But as Pepper is about to step over the threshold of the bedroom door, Jaina appears in an oversized t-shirt and Batman pajama pants, concern plastered on her face.

“Mr. Stark?” she asks in a way that both suggests her asking him if he’s alright and her asking Pepper where he is.

Right then and there, Pepper thinks the most terrible thought. Maybe she should be doing what Jaina is doing. That she’s not being the amazing girlfriend Tony claims her to be.

Pepper freezes, her mind frolicking through this maze of uneasy self-reflection. But she realizes that Jaina is still waiting right outside the room - like she’s waiting for permission to help the man she was just hired to help.

So she takes a step back to let Jaina through.

“Mr. Stark, are you alright?” Pepper hears Jaina ask once she rushes past.

Tony, through heavy breaths, responds with, “I’m fine; it passed. I just…”

But Pepper doesn’t hear the tail-end of his attempt to brush things off as she takes heavy steps towards the living room.

She tries not to wonder if she should be the one going through breathing exercises with him as her bare feet step across the cool marble floors. She sits on the couch and tucks her legs up then under her as she fails to avoid further contemplation.

Her thumb trails over her lips when she realizes that the exact emotion she is feeling is shame.

“Ms. Potts?”

She looks up to see Jaina stand on the periphery of the living room space.

“Jaina…hi.” She shuffles to sit up.

“Um, he’s asleep now,” Jaina utters at length.

“How long has it been?” Pepper asks, mortified that her mind has let her wander for so long in self-doubt.

She feels like a high schooler - a stupid, hormonal, jealous teenager. She slides back into the sofa and begins to massage her temples.

“It’s been around 40 minutes since I got the alarm,” Jaina reveals after taking a quick look at her watch.

Her voice is quiet and careful.

Pepper looks up at the girl and realizes again, that the girl is being overly attentive to her .

Was she this obvious with her bout of competitiveness? Is her self-doubt written on her face?

She cannot help but utter the next question aloud. “Am I not...a good person?” Pepper asks.

“What? No,” Jaina immediately insists. “You are a good per - you’re a great person…” She takes five forceful steps over to Pepper. “Why would you ever say that?”

Pepper feels her face pinch together. “Because I left,” she confesses from the depths of her pliant concern.

Then the air turned heavy.

“You were scared shitless in there. You can’t blame yourself for not being at his beck and call 24-7.”

“Tony told you what happened?”

“Yeah,” Jaina mutters then tentatively inches to the space next to Pepper on the couch and sits down. “Ms. Potts, I...I don’t want you to ever think that I’m overstepping,” she says softly at her fidgeting hands. “So if you ever feel like I am, please do let me know. I don’t want...I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Pepper cannot believe the intuition on this girl. “I don’t think that, Jaina,” she says in partial truth. In all honesty, she did feel that some boundary was crossed when she saw Jaina materialize outside the bedroom, nonverbally insisting on helping when Pepper wouldn’t. But she rationalizes, “You need to do your job...I just...I don’t know if I can - if I’m the best person to help him.”

“Ms. Potts, that’s-.” Jaina purses her lips as she thinks for the right words. “That’s not fair to you.”

Pepper doesn’t say anything.

“You already have so much on your shoulders - just being in a relationship with him,” Jaina begins to explain. “I am in constant awe of you,” she admits in punctuated beats and it warms Pepper just a smidge. “Don’t get me wrong, I think Tony’s cool and funny but you are way too good for him. You are always by his side even while you constantly have to worry about whether he’ll come back home alive, whether he’s not doing something stupid. On top of that, you’re running his company for him.”

Pepper produces a bittersweet chuckle.

“You can only do so much. Hell, only I can do so much. I’m still surprised you hired me.”

Pepper shoots her a look and Jaina ices up in fear.

“Please don’t fire me. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry - you’re the closest thing to a therapist I can find,” Pepper laughs. “I’ve been trying to get Tony to see one for years .”

Jaina softly returns the laughter.

Another bout of silence envelopes them until Jaina says, “If you want, I can go over some techniques if something like this happens again when I’m not here or if you would like to take over.”

Pepper smiles. “That’d be great...I don’t think me saying ‘Tony, Tony!’ over and over again is going to cut it from now on.” She tries to express her words as a joke but their weight still hangs on in the air. 

But Jaina says, "Thank you for trusting me." 

Pepper puts a hand on the girl's shoulder, relief and calm flooding her when she does. She says, "Of course." 

Jaina would be something she had to get used to, Pepper decided. And she would, because if someone is so willing to help Tony, then she can be willing to accept that someone.

Chapter Text

“Downton Abbey. That's his show. He thinks it's elegant.”

As he’s exiting the hospital room, Tony gives the nurse one last bit of advice concerning Happy’s thing with ID tags and walks out to see Jaina waiting for him right outside in the hall.

She doesn’t ask how Happy is doing and he mentally thanks her for it. The intense shitstorm of guilt ravaging his mind and shoulders is already enough to deal with. 

She gives him a glimpse of her concern on her lips and brows. But instead of saying anything that would get him in the wrong direction, she says, “There’s a bunch of reporters out by the car. I’m thinking that you give me the keys and that I’ll meet you around back.”

“I can handle reporters,” he mutters gruffly through his rising grief and anger.

“Oh, I know - reporters just can’t handle you, right now.”

His eyes wince in her direction. “You’re pulling a Pepper.”

Jaina gives him a tight-lipped smile and one eyebrow arches up. “She tends to know what she’s doing.”

“You know you’re actually not supposed to help -help, right? You’re supposed to just be on the periphery.” He starts to walk past her but she outpaces and stands in front of him with a triumphant smirk on her face.

“Yeah, but Pepper decided to actually hire me so guess who’s legally your personal assistant, now?” she retorts as if she won some great victory over him. 

Tony scoffs. “You’re kidding.”

“Have a 1099 and everything.” She grins broadly and her eager delight is contagious as her eyes gleam at him. She even has the gall to skip a bit before him as she leads him down the hall. He rolls his eyes but eventually and reluctantly follows her.

Tony had left the incredibly ostentatious sportscar out in the front by the main entrance of the hospital so that he and Jaina could run in as soon as they heard the news.

So Jaina leaves Tony with a sweet-seeming administrator named Linda with a vice grip, who had just gone off the clock and was given fifty bucks to lead him to a nondescript entrance by the employee parking lot.

Then she walks out on her own to the car.

She passes the reporters with ease, who initially pay no attention to the random Asian girl in Calvin Klein capris and a baseball cap. But as soon the car beeps and she opens the door, the journalists get wise and start crowding her and the obnoxiously flamboyant vehicle.

“Are you with Tony Stark?”

“Do you know Ironman?”

“What is your relationship to Tony Stark?”

“What is his opinion on the latest Mandarin attack?”

“No speak English,” she says blithely as she steps into the car. She thanks God that her time learning how to drive stick in Thailand did not go for naught as she starts the engine and pulls out of the hospital driveway after inching into the knees of some reporters.

When she reaches the service entrance, she gives Linda and the ever-exasperated Tony a large smile and hands her another 50 through the open window. “Thanks for watching him.”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart,” Linda beams back.

“You took my wallet,” Tony mutters angrily from his place on the sidewalk.

“He offered me a hundred to let him go,” the administrator provides as she releases her billionaire-shaped charge. 

Jaina chuckles and dips her head to her shoulder, “Eh, I figured. It’s why I took his wallet.”

“You stole my wallet,” Tony again says to no one who is listening.

Linda and Jaina exchange the last bit of pleasantries about how the cash is going to buy herself and her partner a nice dinner before Linda heads to her own car.

“Alright, get out,” Tony finally says after rolling his eyes so much he could power a windmill.

Like a robin searching its surroundings, Jaina tilts her head back and forth. “You’re emotionally compromised. I’m going to drive.”

“God, I want to fire you,” he groans at a whisper as he gazes up to the heavens. 

Then the click of the door opening draws his eyes back to her and when she steps out, Jaina tosses him the keys.

“Promise you won’t leave me behind on the side of the road?” she whimpers facetiously as she begins to walk to the passenger side.

“Well, now I’m tempted,” he retorts and she just chuckles.

It clicks for Tony later, when they’re speeding down the freeway, with trees and scenic views blowing past them, that she was trying to distract him.

Eventually, she asks, “So what are you going to do?”

Not missing a beat, he calmly and confidently asserts, “I’m going to figure out what happened and then teach the Mandarin a lesson.”

She marinates in that for a moment or two. 

The silence does not turn tense though, in fact, to Tony, it is awfully and mundanely domestic. The silence as he drives through local streets and then onto the freeway. The scenes flashing past them and the fact that she sits in the passenger seat watching, it reminds him so much of another life and another woman. 

“You know It’s not your fault, right?” Jaina finally says after a moment. 

He does not say anything in response for a while. Then he thinks about Happy - bloody, beaten, and near-death. All of those emotions come rushing back despite his efforts to keep level-headed. But something dark and hateful seeps out from the depths of his heart and into his words, “I don’t have any right to think that.”

“What do you mean?”  

“I basically painted a target on myself, on Earth, for everyone.” The car revs to a speed higher than 15 mph over. “People see me, the Avengers, whatever - and they feel the need to step up.”

“Tony…” she narrows her gaze at him. “Do you blame yourself for...?” She avoids saying it, something about “trigger words” she had mentioned before. “Do you blame yourself for what happened last year?”

“I provoked a god.” A field of sun-scorched grass rushes past.

“Who reacted like a child and threw a tantrum - if your files are anything to go by.”

“Except he had a whole army of alien soldiers at his - Were you reading my files? ” He easily switches to take on a dramatic tone, affecting an air of offense and a ‘how dare you!’- esque quality. “Those are classified, young lady-.”

“Oh, whatever, grandpa.”

“I am not that old.”

“You’re nearly twice my age and you are also avoiding the topic at hand.”

He shrugs and says musically, “That’s what I do.”

“Well, stop it.”

He frowns. “It’s not that easy. I’ve been shrugging things off my whole life.”

“I know,” she says quietly, with acceptance.

“I screwed up,” Tony snaps suddenly, the thoughts concerning his actions boiling over into frustration. “I screwed up and a bunch of people suffered for it.”

She talks over him with the force of the Valkyrie. “You can not blame yourself for not being able to control something that was out. OF. YOUR. CONTROL.” Her words are forceful and insistent.

He risks a glance in her direction. Why did he hire this loud child again?

She continues, “You saved the city - hell, the world, Tony. You dealt with the aftermath. You sacrificed your life. New-,” she quickly stops herself as she takes a breath. “It wasn’t your fault,” she repeats.

The car slows back down to right around the speed limit.

“What happened then, what is happening now - none of it is your fault.”

His hands stroke down the steering wheel.

“Can you say that for yourself?” she offers.

He deadpans. “What. Seriously?”

“Yes,” she demands as if he was the one being ridiculous and not the girl who dropped her job working at an NGO in Thailand just so she can supervise a floundering billionaire. “I want you to say, ‘It was not my fault.’”

“You’re not even a therapist, I don’t have to do everything you sugge-.”

“Just say it, goddammit.”

“It was not my fault,” he quickly relents. He had intended to do so ironically but finds that the words released a previously unnoticed tension that had been accruing in his shoulders.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he whispers this time as some weird warm feeling settles between his chest and ribs.

“Damn right,” she says with the amount of confidence he usually showboats but doesn’t own.

But, in this case, she seems very sure of herself.

Okay, maybe he’ll keep her.

Chapter Text

The pieces of the Mandarin puzzle are starting to fit together. The energy signatures are telling signs and after a quick glance at some SHIELD servers that he should not necessarily have access to, he confirms he's ahead of the game and on the right track. 

Rhodes contacts him, on behalf of whoever and himself, telling him that things are being handled. But that doesn't stop Tony from being Tony. Within minutes of getting to his garage and sending Jaina up to make him a smoothie, he has already found out about Chad Davis. 

Tony felt good, being in his element. Being a detective, being Ironman - even without the suit. 

“Ever been to Tennessee, JARVIS?” the amazing genius of a superhero asks of the intuitive AI he invented himself. 

JARVIS instantly responds with, “Creating a flight plan to Tennessee.” 

Tony is about to gesture to wipe away the large holographic map he had made over the floor of his workspace when suddenly, Jaina’s voice sounds from the door behind him, “And JARVIS, please make sure to reserve accommodations for two rooms within a ten-mile radius.”

Tony glares at her in shock as she walks in - with an oversized “I caught you” smile on her face. He immediately says, “What? No.”

JARVIS intones, “Of course, Ms. Choi.”

She steps into the workspace and makes “ooh” and “ahh” noises and related expressions as she walks across California to Montana in a quick stride. “This is so cool. Have you thought about selling this to police departments?”

“No, no, no,” Tony says insistently, ignoring her comments and fixating on the fact that JARVIS had taken orders from her. “JARVIS, cancel those plans immediately,” he orders as he jumps off his tallest tool cart. “Not the flight plan. Just hers.” 

He reaches out to yank the smoothie she made out of her hand, as an act of defiance and scorn. She responds as she always does to his dramatic displays of fake disdain, and gives him a grin before stating oh-so smugly, “Babysitter override, JARVIS. I’d like a queen size bed too.”

“Understood,” the AI acknowledges.   

“What-the babysitter override?” Tony questions with strongly articulated syllables. “What the fuck is that? Did you mess with JARVIS?”

Jaina’s dimples dip into her cheeks as she soaks in Tony’s shock. “JARVIS, please explain the Nanny named Fran protocol.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the AI begins. “Ms. Potts has included a clause in Ms. Choi's contract that allows her certain privileges in order for her to accompany and assist you, even whenever you embark on a mission as Ironman.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Tony mutters quietly in disbelief as he runs his free hand over his face and through his hair. “Why’d I think this was a good idea?”

JARVIS continues, “Through the authorizations you have allowed Ms. Potts, both she and Ms. Choi were able to establish the override within my programming. And since you signed the digital contract, the parameters were applied automatically. A room has already been prepared for her within your suite at Avenger’s Tower.”

“You-.” Tony glares at Jaina. “You sneaky little minx.”

“It’s not a security concern; if that’s what you’re worried about.” She holds up her hands. “I promise I won’t steal anything.”

“That - what? No, that is not what’s wrong here, and you know it.” He waggles an accusatory finger at her and starts closing the larger interfaces. He takes a sip and he hates that it is absolutely delicious. "God, do you put heroin in here?" he whispers quietly like a man in confession. "Only reason why I'm not firing you." 

“It’s not like I’ll be telling on you to Pepper.” She follows him as he walks over to his workstation. "And it's just mangoes, spinach, and kiwis. And rainbows." 

“You sure? Because it’s starting to sound like it." He clarifies with a shifting hand, "The Pepper thing. Not the rainbow thing.” After gulping half of the non-magical beverage, he sets the glass down at the desk then grabs his over-fitted mobile. Starts flicking through the holographic file on Chad Davis.

“Why would you want to hide stuff from her anyway?” she asks, trying to sound as casual as she can as she digs her thumbs into her pockets. 

But Tony catches on. “Nope, nope. You are not playing shrink with me, young lady. What Pepper and I have is fine. Don’t need you on that.” He flicks his mobile onto his main work table and gestures to pull up the USA Today article on the explosion as well as any public records on the veteran.

“Then why’d you hire me?”

“You’re my security blanket....that’s what was established, right? That you’re - god, what’s it called. The little thing kids call their…” he snaps his fingers about repeatedly as if to conjure the word. “Blankie! You’re my blankie.” He is trying to sound as degrading and cutely condescending as possible. He presents her with a grossly sanguine smile, as the cherry on top of the condescension sundae. 

She sneers for a second before grumbling, “Well, I can’t be your blankie if you’re constantly off being Ironman halfway around the world.” She gestures out in a sweeping motion and her voice augments up an octave. “What if something happens when you’re in - I don’t know - like Scandinavia or something, fighting an army of evil robots and I can’t get to you. Then you die, millions suffer, some celebrate-.” She edges herself to sit on his worktable.

“Get off. You don’t get to sit there.” He tries to wave her away. “Besides, you’re Tony Stark’s blankie, not Ironman’s.”

She makes a face. “But you two are the same person.”

“Are we?”

“Yes,” she says as if she was saying ‘Of course you are, you dimwit.’ but then something overtakes her expression as if a light of understanding washed over. And she murmurs, “Oh , ok.”

Tony lowers his gaze in scrutiny. “What?” he asks.

“No, nothing,” Jaina remarks right before she turns on her heels and attempts to leave.

He practically leaps to block her. “What? Where do you think you’re going?”

“Nothing. Just made an observation that doesn’t really need to be said aloud.”

“Well, I want it to be said out loud. What is it?”

“Mr. Stark,” she begins.

“Jar-Jar.”

She winces and it shows how much she hates being called the one thing she despises in her favorite piece of pop culture media. Which is why Tony loves calling her that. “Please don’t call me that.”

He ignores her and continues, “If you can call yourself a wellbeing companion - or whatever we decided to call you - then shouldn’t my wellbeing be your priority? What was this amazing revelation you’ve made?”

“You’re compartmentalizing yourself,” she easily relents after a roll of her eyes. “You,” she turns up one hand so that her palm faces up. “And Ironman.” Then the other. “Which is all very normal - very typical behavior, I’ve read of soldiers who have done the same.”

He makes a noise of disbelief. “You don’t need a degree to figure that out.”

“So then why do it? Why are Tony Stark and Ironman two different people to you?”

He shrugs and returns to his workstation. “It’s what was decided.” He starts fiddling with a pen that had been strewn about before he swivels his head back to face her over his shoulder. “Officially, anyway.”

She thins her lips and then nods slowly. “Alright,” she mutters at length, then meets his gaze. “That is utter bullshit.”

“Yeah,” he mutters and tosses the pen down. “Well, it happens.”

“Bulls shitting or you believing whatever bullshit was told to you by an ‘official’ report?”

He does not dignify that with a response other than a roll of his eyes and his attempt at fixing his attention back to his screens.

“So let’s go.”

He whips back around to her. His brows inch together. “What?”

“Let’s go to Tennessee.”

“So the ... original plan,” he remarks with snark.

“But with renewed purpose,” she retorts with dramatic flair. “Let’s prove everyone wrong. Change the official.”

He decides to humor her. “Meaning?”

“Prove to people that you can be both - Tony Stark and Ironman. It makes no sense otherwise,” she reasons. “Prove them wrong.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then get up and try again.”

“Alright, Mr. Rogers.”

“Aw,” she quips with nostalgia conquering her features as she looks fondly at the ceiling for a brief second. "I loved his show."

“Of course, everyone did.” He tries to shoo her away again. But she stands firm. So he glares at her, repositions a finger in her direction and slowly reiterates, “You are not coming to Tennessee with me.”

“Why not?” she retorts as if she is being denied a basic right. 

“Um...it’s dangerous?” He starts counting fingers. “I’ll outrun you in the suit. And if you got hurt or died, I don’t know - I’d feel like that’s on me. I don’t really need that.” His hand lowers. He feels a grimace forming in the features of his face. “Especially now.”

“What’s so dangerous about Tennessee apart from a potential white supremacist?” she returns with a shrug, as if such a scenario wasn’t dangerous.

“I’m serious, Jai. You don’t know what this Mandarin guy can be capable of.”

His rare seriousness suddenly overtakes. He is staring her down to make sure she knows that he isn’t joking this time.

He cannot be responsible for a twenty-something. For a girl who has so much of her damn life left to live and has already given up who-knows-what to make him smoothies and to make sure he breathes correctly.

He can’t do that to her.

He’s ruined so much already.

But then she has to say stuff like, “I do know and I also know what you’re capable of.”

His eyes flinch.

“Official or not, you are Ironman. And I can’t prevent you from doing your day job or else you’ll sit around all day and worry about how Happy’s doing. Which is something I know you keep thinking about,” she says over his attempts to protest.

“I made a choice to help you, Mr. Stark. And even though part of you is regretting it, I’m sure, because I am all up in your business,” she laughs at herself and the slight scowl he’s making. “But you made a choice in hiring me. I will accept the dangers and the repercussions of that choice. So let me do my job so that you can do yours.”

He gapes at her, stunned at the ease of these words flowering from her lips. He blinks a few times, tilts his head a bit, and contemplates the promises she is making.

“And if my time comes, it comes. That won’t be on you.”

She talks of her probable death as if it didn’t matter. Then she smiles at him - a tender smile that emanates from her eyes. Part of him abates at this, relinquishing a part of his stubborn person to believe her and her justifications.

But most of all, it is her stupid, idiotic, and annoying brand of kindness. Acceptance. 

She turns to walk away, humming 'Won't you be my neighbor?' while he is left in this stupor. Who would have thought how surprised he would be by kindness.

“I can’t protect you out there,” he shouts after her as she exits.

She pokes her head back out and is caught in a moment of contemplation before chirping, “Then give me a suit.”

Chapter Text

“Oh, shit.”

An upbeat cover of Nat King Cole’s “The Christmas Song” is playing through the kitchen speakers and Tony muses how fitting it is to hear “chestnuts roasting on an open fire” as he watches, utterly amused.

Smoke billows from the open oven while Jaina uselessly and frantically waves a potholder to disperse the vapor.

Laughter is bubbling in his throat and begins to leak out of him in spurts.

The smell of ash and burnt meat suddenly overwhelms him.

Jaina sounds out another, “Oh, shit !”

Then the giggles break loose.

The smoke alarm suddenly beeps repeatedly and JARVIS automatically turns on the power vents in a melody to match Tony’s heart-stopping descent into maniacal chuckling... and his Christmas playlist.

All of this just makes it more hilarious and he keeps laughing and laughing.

He can’t breathe but for an entirely different reason than what has been normal for him lately. His hands, which are covered in Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup, smear over his shirt as he holds his aching chest.

“Hey!” Jaina shouts at him. “I haven’t made this before, alright?”

“You kept going on and on,” he wheezes, struck by the inane hilarity of having Jaina glare at him over the baking tray of a burnt slab of honeyed pork they were trying to make for dinner with Pepper. “About how good you are at cooking.” He instantly breaks out in a smile again and rasps out his laughter.

“I never made this before,” she whines with insistent determination before burying herself behind her no-doubt smoky hands. In absolute and utter defeat, she weepily whimpers into her palms, “Stop laughing. Why are you laughing so much?”

But at the sight of his beaming face and seeing how his chuckling forms such happy wrinkles, Jaina cannot help but smile and chuckle herself.

He is laughing so so much. He knows he should not have found the past thirty seconds as hysterical as he did. He thinks about how he hasn’t laughed that hard in years as tears nearly form at the corner of his eyes.

He pants out the rest of his sniggering until he finally calms down. He exhales one last time and pats himself over the stain he has made on his shirt.

“Stop laughing,” she pleads but a wide smile cracks through. “What are we going to do?” she giggles in horror, shaking her head at the burnt monstrosity in the baking pan. “There won’t be any meat.”

“Which Pepper won’t mind too much,” he quips through heavy breaths.

“But what about us, ” Jaina moans as she gestures with a hand waving back and forth between the two of them. “I cannot just do vegetables. I’m not a Malibu local. I’m normal. I can’t sustain myself without red meat.”

Tony stands up straight now, puts on his fake ‘let’s get serious’ face, and then mutters, “We can order Chinese,” as a legitimate suggestion.

At this, Jaina’s eyes and face perk up. “That sounds amazing, actually.” She throws down her oven mitts. “Yes. Screw cooking our own food. You’re rich enough.”

Tony beams as he tries to snarkily comment, “I thought this was supposed to be a tactile exercise for my health or whatever.”

“I just wanted to see whether or not there was an actual working kitchen in this place,” Jaina returns with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Tony murmurs as he wipes his hands on a strewn towel and tosses it to the sink. He stares at his bowl of clumpy mushroom sauce that was supposed to be an eventual casserole. “Let’s get Chinese.”

Suddenly, a red alert shows up on the nearest screen, interrupting him. Both their smiles disappear.

JARVIS says, “Sir, you may want to see this.”

The holographic screen enlarges and displays the feedback screen that has been plaguing American television signals for the past few months, with the symbol that has haunted Tony since the Mark I.

Ten rings circling two crossed sabers.

It hits Tony right then - the Ten Rings and the Mandarin are one and the same.

Both he and Jaina tense up.

In the Mandarin’s unique Southern Baptist drawl, his voiceover begins. “The Avengers. The heroes of the world…”

There are shots of the battle of New York City. People screaming as rubble falls to the screen.

“But are they, really?”

Jaina grabs Tony’s arm to steady him as he turns away. The anxiety is not punching him like it has before - probably on account of the anger boiling over everything.

The shot in New York rewinds to show the cause of the rubble falling - the Hulk smashing through the tops of buildings. He wonders how Banner is doing.

Jaina winces and a small gasp pulses from her lips.

“Captain America,” he says in his drawl. “A beacon of everything America could represent,” he mutters condescendingly. “Blond hair, blue eyes, and so very handsome - a man with the weapons and the skills to walk past any border and do whatever he wants.”

There are shots of the Captain in his tactical gear in the middle of various geographic locations, all foreign to some capacity and obviously taken without anyone’s knowledge.

The Mandarin goes on, giving this treatment to every Avenger, including Clint.

And he is obviously saving the best for last.

“Tony Stark. A sacrificial man at best-,”

There is a faraway shot of the Ironman suit disappearing into the skyline of New York with a nuclear missile on his shoulder.

“A drunk at his worst.”

A still of an obviously inebriated Tony with half-lidded eyes entangled with girls with mosaics over half their bodies. Then another. And another.

Then another clip of his suit and the War Machine at the Stark Expo as they wave to the crowd in front of the thousands of drones Vanko had created for Hammer. This is spliced with footage of soldiers of varying ethnicities, unloading crates or holding weapons emblazoned with Stark Industries. 

"And a fear-monger no matter what he says.”

Tony winces as this and Jaina’s worry starts knitting her facial features.

“These are the people who claim to defend the earth. But do they defend the earth from people? Mr. President, you are so quick to call me a terrorist but you let these wild dogs roam without any supervision, without any consequence. You cannot hide behind these so-called heroes any longer. You won’t be able to rein them in. They will be your downfall.”  

The screen snaps with feedback and turns to black.

“Mr. Stark?” Jaina whispers as she looks up at his tense and lined face.

Then the doorbell rings, jolting the both of them.

“Seriously, JARVIS?" Tony bemoans, "Ding Dong ? Did we not just see the same thing?”

“Sir, there is only so much I can do and anticipate,” the AI responds as it shows the scan of the unexpected guest as her car pulls into the driveway.

“Who is that?” Jaina asks with a veiled tremble in her voice. Her expression is taut and firm, but he senses that she’s putting up a brave front.

He puts his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Get downstairs.”

She nods and instantly turns on her heels then runs out of the kitchen.

Tony lifts his arms and makes the open palm gestures to call the prehensile suit to him - piece-by-piece, as he walks steadily to the front door.

And then, New Year’s Eve 1999 steps into his home.

“Right there is fine,” he orders as she crosses into the foyer. “You're not the Mandarin, are you?” he asks but more as a statement. Then skepticism abounds. “ Are you?”

“You don't remember,” Maya scoffs with a tight smile across her face. A wave of bitterness flies across her expression and body language as she tenses for a quick moment. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Don't take it personally. I don't remember what I had for breakfast.”

JARVIS provides, “Gluten-free waffles, sir.”

“That's right.” Tony walks away back into the house.

“Okay, look, I need to be alone with you, someplace not here. It's urgent.” She follows after him across the foyer.

“Normally, I'd go for that sort of thing, but now I'm in a committed relationship,” he retorts blithely without stopping for a beat.

“Mr. Stark?” Jaina questions, peeking out from the staircase down into the workshop to their left. She is standing on the third step down behind the portioned-off wall that turns into a fountain when Tony is feeling fancy. 

There’s the beat.

Maya nearly staggers at the sight of her. Stark was supposed to be alone.

Jaina whispers out, like a child asking to be excused from the table, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s - I told you to stay downstairs,” he says, accusatory, like a father reprimanding his child to finish all the food on her plate before she can be excused.

“I am downstairs,” she says as she takes a step down one more stair to prove her point, albeit badly.

He accepts it with a wry slant of his lips, then turns back around to assess and present the visitor. “This is - uh - Maya Hansen.”

A sound of surprise leaves Maya’s lips.

Tony stations the suit; and its machinery clicks and clunks as he steps out of it.

“Should I say ‘hi’?” Jaina asks innocently and Tony chortles.  

“I don’t think a botanist can do that much harm but I wouldn’t take my chances.”

Maya rolls her eyes behind him.

“Okay.” Deciding to ignore his warning, Jaina waves a little hand. “Hi.”

Ms. Hansen is unsure at first but she holds up a hand and waves a bit back. But Tony is not done being completely wary of her just yet. The suit’s scan of her showed no weaponry of any kind but he couldn’t afford to take any chances.

Then thinking about why she is here slaps him hard in the face. He steps to her and whispers urgently, “Please don't tell me there's a 12-year-old kid waiting in the car that I've never met.”

Maya grimaces at him. “He’s thirteen.” He hiccups and Jaina snorts from her place behind the wall. Maya quickly adds, “No, dumbass. I need your help.”

He has a type, Jaina notes from her place on the stairs as they bicker with each other. The ‘I won’t take any shit from you, Anthony Edward Stark’ type.

Jaina can only hear half of what they are saying in their hushed but tense whispers. However, Tony ends with, “No. I don’t care what you’re peddling. There are people I need to take care of. And I can’t-.”

“ That ’s why I’m here. God! Would you just listen to me?” she seethes over him. “The Mandarin is going to try to hurt you and your team. But if you come with me then-”

“Now how would you have known that? That threat just came out-.”

“Why do you think? You know for a genius, you really are a dumbass.”

Tony is about to retort when her phone ‘dings’ with a series of bells. Maya holds up a finger to tell him to hold off on his whisper-shouting as she fishes her cellphone out of her pocket. She looks at the notification screen and her eyes suddenly go wide.

She suddenly whips around and bolts down the foyer. New Year’s Eve 1999 leaves his home just as suddenly as she had arrived.

Before Tony can even respond, Jaina shouts, “Mr. Stark!” and so he turns to catch her horrified face and then over his shoulder to see a distant helicopter and the missile approaching the house.

Instantly, instinctively, he gestures the prehensile suit to Jaina as he runs to her himself.

“Get down!” he shouts.

Thankfully, she understands and flies down the stairs but he knows, it’ll take too long to the bunker.

Glass shatters.

He feels a force of energy behind him, propelling him forward.

Then she trips.

“JARVIS! Catch her!” he commands as he runs down the stairs after her and in his forward momentum, motioning the suit down - again and again - to her falling body.

Catch her.

Catch her.

His desperate need to save her fully and wholly occupies his mind while the red metallic components of his suit warp the air as they soar around him and towards Jaina.

Please catch her.

Then something hits him in the head.

Chapter Text

In books and movies, when a character blacks out they are sometimes thrust into flashbacks of happy moments that just remind him of what he’s missing. Or, if it’s really campy, it includes a soft voice-over that contains something prophetic that will be key for the plot later on.

Tony supposes he should be having dreams about his mother gathering him up in her arms. The smell of Dior Dior and cinnamon wafting off from her warm skin. Her humming him into a happy and safe slumber with the sweetness of her voice.

Her telling him, softly, to wake up.

But it is not like that - just blackness and then waking.

So he wakes to a darkened world. Dust is everywhere and he hears electric sparks sounding off as he blinks himself aware.

He tilts his head slightly and feels warm softness upon his cheek. Maybe he did dream something.

His eyes focus on his landing spot and he sees a pattern of blue flowers on a white field stretching until he sees her face.

He lifts himself up in a start in the realization that he landed on Jaina’s stomach. He instantly puts a hand to where his head was to feel for anything broken as he scans her body.

“Jaina... Jaina.” Only parts of the suit made it to her - one boot, the spine and backplate, and most of the helmet. Enough to keep her alive in an impact, perhaps, but he worries since her body is folded towards him, her back to the wall. And she isn’t stirring to his touch.

“No, no, no, no - Jaina,” he exclaims, his tone unsettled. He detaches the jaw-piece from the helmet and wrenches it behind him. He shifts his shaking hands in between her cheek and the helmet into the mess of her hair. “Jaina, please .” He slides two fingers down to her throat. But his hands still shake. He cannot distinguish anything and absolute dread floods his consciousness.

“JARVIS, heartbeat,” he orders in a panic. “JARVIS!”

Nothing.

“JARV-,” he inhales sharply as tension, guilt, and fear suddenly explode in his chest then straight up to his temples. He brings his forehead to hers.

Then she suddenly rouses with a gasp and her eyes fly open with apprehension.

Startled, he lifts his hands away and she drops back down, her head hits the ground with a loud clang.

Thankfully, he left most of the helmet on her. She groans.

“My bad,” he whispers with his hands still in the air.

“What the heck, man?” she murmurs as she lifts herself up.

“You freaked me out,” he explains, bringing his hands back to his body.

She makes a face at him and then pauses in observation. “Are...are you crying?”

“What? No,” he instantly responds but he actually might be. He’s not too sure so he brings fingers to the bridge of his eyes and sure enough, there is a slight wetness. But it’s very minimal. It’s most likely the dust.

“Aw,” she sounds out as she shifts her body in the light debris. “You care about me,” she sings sweetly.  

“Shut up,” he retorts. “It’s the dust.”

She chuckles weakly, “Alright, whatever you say.” Jaina jimmies her head of the remaining bits of the helmet as she takes stock of their surroundings. “How come we’re not dead?” she remarks cogently as she rubs the sore portion of her head.

Tony looks up and about and sure enough, other than broken glass and some debris, the house is intact.

“It might have been a dud or just didn’t go off,” Tony comments heedfully. He’s doubtful even as he says it, but a missile - dud or not - sitting in the middle of the living room is not ideal. “JARVIS, scan the living room for explosives.”

There is no response.

“JARVIS?” Tony queries again.

And again, the AI does not respond.

“What’s wrong?” Jaina asks.

“I don’t know but we’re not going back up there just in case it’s still live.”

“Good call,” she notes as they both gingerly dust off the glass shards and stand. All the while, Tony rattles off various commands for JARVIS to still not respond to. Jaina pulls out her phone from her back pocket and sighs in relief at the absence of cracks, grateful that she spent the extra money on buying the case built for clumsy people.

“This doesn’t make any sense. There’s a backup reactor specifically for his interface,” Tony mutters to himself as cautiously steps through the floor of crunching glass fragments and into his darkened workshop. He should stop making his walls out of easily breakable things.

Just as he concludes that the missile probably held an electromagnetic pulse of some kind, Jaina states, “I think it was an EMP,” as she peers at her phone.

Tony peers over his shoulder. “How do you know know what that is?”

She glares at him. “I’ve seen movies, Mr. Stark.” She lifts up her cell to show him its black screen. “It’s not turning on.”

“I’ve built in failsafe for EMPs,” he responds. “And that should mean-,” he starts then he grabs at his shirt and rips it open.

“What the-,” Jaina mutters with judgment awash on her face but then she sees that he’s inspecting the arc reactor in his chest.

He heaves in reassurance at its glow and humming. He looks up at her, various thoughts vigorously spinning in his head. Then settles on a course of action.

“We need to get out of here.”

He slips into work mode like a hand across a stretch of silk. “I’m going to check the cars. You get out of that boot. There’s a special wrench for the bolts in that tool chest.” He points to a large metallic case by the entrance to the “house party” bunker as he grabs an extra shirt. “Should still work.”

She nods and they both attend to their respective areas. 

She opens the case and faces rows of various tools and she deadpans with a huff. She begins trying out a few and comparing the sizes to the main rivet at the ankle.

Finally, after Tony has no luck with starting any of his cars, he comes over to her, pulls out the tool she needs two spots away from the one she was using and squats down to where she had propped up her foot.

“Anything work?” she asks.

“Nope,” he murmurs as he pushes the tool into the rivet and turns it with a grunt and considerable effort. It is a lot easier with the automated disassembly.

“So what do we do?”

“I’m working on it,” he grunts again as he makes one final pull and the latches in the boot release.

“Thanks,” she says as she wiggles her foot free. “Do you have bikes?” she suggests.

He looks up to her, the whole of him a blank. Then he considers it.

He and Jaina stare at a pair of two unique bicycles docked on wall hooks in the storage unit of the house.

“That...could...work,” Jaina pronounces slowly but her own skepticism bleeds through.

Tony groans. The bicycles were prototypes of the Chris Boardman variety, with sleek overly minimalist frames and wheels made from an alloy lined with a rubber tread. All in all, it looked like something out of Tron and not practical by any means.

They were a gift (maybe from Musk, he doesn’t care enough to remember) and Pepper wouldn’t let Tony sell them on eBay as a joke.

“Can you use those on a road?” Jaina asks him, concern on her face. “There’s a reason why tires are made of rubber and filled with air, right?”

“I know but...this is it. Everything else is shot because of the EMP.”

“But wouldn’t this still be electrically-powered?” She points to the small smartphone-sized screen docked into the frame.

“It’s still manual to a degree,” he comments as he paws down at the pedal and turns it. Sure enough, the rubber tread on the wheel turned around the frame. “It should help with whatever.”

“Alright,” Jaina mutters with her skepticism still somewhat apparent in her voice.

But then they get to work.

They gather up the pieces of the prehensile suit and stuff what they can into a duffel bag that Tony duct-tapes to the back of his bike. They find the Mark V suit - in its convenient suitcase-sized shape - and strap that onto the back of the other bicycle.

Then, after he determines that there hasn’t been any structural damage, Tony takes a look at his generator and, after his ok, Jaina slips upstairs to the private floor and starts stuffing things into the backpack she has had since high school.

She grabs her wallet, passport, a hoodie, some lady things, and her water bottle. A quick run-through of her wallet and emergency cash equals to about $500 USD. So she goes to Tony’s and Pepper’s suite and grabs jewelry, watches, and anything else she believes they should save or pawn.

In one particular drawer, she discovers a display of items that definitely did not fit in with the rest of the ensemble of the house - photo albums.

Despite knowing that an enemy could come upon them in a matter of minutes and that this was a slight invasion of privacy, Jaina still makes time to flip through one.

Tony Stark was a wily child, Jaina concludes with a warm smile as she flips through the pages. Then, in the space of the album she pulled out, something thin and weighted slips down with a soft ‘clunk’ onto the wood bottom of the drawer.

It is a small wood and metal photo case and in it, is a faded picture of the Stark family. Howard Stark with gray in his hair, his lovely wife in a dress from the eighties, and Tony, probably around ten years of age.

She slips that into her backpack too then gingerly returns the photo album to its place; and heads back down to meet up with Tony.

Meanwhile, Tony studies the generator, which reveals a lot that Tony is uncomfortable with - especially considering that the EMP must have been specially designed to dismantle JARVIS and all the fail-safes inherent.

“That’s ... disconcerting,” Jaina notes and Tony could not agree more. His concern blankets his face even as he tries to prevent it from taking over.

Whoever the Mandarin was - they knew exactly how to bring him down.

He has no idea how far this reaches. He has no idea how to contact Bruce, Fury, or Steve for that matter.

He doesn’t want to risk it either.

His neurons fire like a Mexican standoff. A million hits then a lull as he contemplates their next move.

“We should still go to Tennessee,” he concludes after thinking through some potentialities.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but I’ll need a place to fix the suits.”

“And we’re going to need a car eventually,” she notes after they bring the bikes out to the driveway.  

“I know. I got an idea.”

She anticipates the “But?”

“But...It’s going to kill me,” he says with a distressed sigh.

And that is how, thirty minutes later, Jaina and Tony are greeted by the most ridiculous fanboy that either of them had lain eyes on. Who is, coincidentally, Tony’s nearest neighbor, Jeffrey Archibald Rake.

“OH MY GOSH! TONY!” the 40 year-old fanboy shrieked, in between his gasps since he obviously had run down his laughably luxurious ballroom staircase that had led into the front atrium of the stupidly large Art Deco Gatsby-esque mansion.

Jaina does her best to give a smile while she makes the mental comment at Mr. Rake is no rake at all. The man was slightly obese but well-trimmed; appropriately dressed but appeared grubby all the same. He had an air of excitement and irreverence that would have thoroughly annoyed Jaina if he was with her on her own.

Something that Tony Stark had the misfortune of enduring when he first moved into Malibu Point.

He seemed, Jaina instantly deduced, to be the type who inherited his wealth from his parents and has reaped the benefits all his life.

So of course, Jeff Rake completely ignores the random and obviously middle-class Asian woman. And seems to be thoroughly and wholly concerned with Tony and only Tony.

Due to the isolated nature of the Stark mansion, Tony was able to avoid him to the best of his capacity since Rake’s equally expensive but much gaudier home stands at least ten minutes away with a car and thirty with their stupid Tron bikes. Which put also put it outside of the EMP’s radius.

Tony, in turn, utilizes all his cool and apathetic charisma to maneuver his way into telling him that this is official Avengers business.

Rake gasps gleefully with exaggerated concern.

“We need to take one of your cars.”

“Oh my gosh, of course , Tony.”

“And do you have a workshop or a tool shed or-.”

“No, sorry - my dad’s more of a art person than a toy guy,” Jeff interrupts with incredible grief.

Tony swallows the reactionary disgust that had nearly erupted from his throat and simply says, “Don’t say that.”

Jeffrey then tries to invite them to stay for dinner and Tony attempts to weasel their way out. But then Jeff says that he could order some tools for them and it all devolves into both rich white men talking over each other.

Jaina rolls her eyes. “We really must get going,” she adds suddenly and loudly over both. “We need to make sure that Mr. Stark can make it to our safe house as quickly as we can.”

“We?” Jeff and Tony say in equal tones of confusion.

“Yes,” Jaina says assertively as she raises her hand for Jeff to shake. “Agent Diane Chang, Mr. Rake. Thank you for your willingness to help.”

“Oh, of course,” he returns as he shakes her hand. “ Anything to help Tony.”

“Wonderful,” she smiles facetiously and mentally laughs at Tony’s face as he tries to figure out whether she is lying or not.

“So you’re with S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Jeff asks as he leads them towards his garage.

“Simply put, yes. But anymore information would put you in jeopardy, Mr. Rake,” she responds with a masterful chill.

He freezes up and nods rapidly, most likely high from the adrenaline and fear that any civilian would instantly feel with thrown in with any of this.

Then Jeff pulls up ahead while they walk down a hallway filled with hanging landscape paintings. Jaina didn’t recognize any of them but assumed correctly to be from the Hudson River School era.

Tony slows his steps, beckoning Jaina to slow as well. He asks, “So, you’re not really with S.H.I.E.L.D., right? Because if you were - are - whatever, I’m really going to fire you.”

Jaina chuckles and placates him with, “No. I just wanted him to shut up.”

“Oh, kay, cool because that is exactly what happened two years ago and I don’t need a repeat of that.”

“Trust issues, I get it,” she whinnies back while nodding. Her face twists into a wry smirk. His eyes glint at her right as Jeff shows them his garage.

And just like that, Tony and Jaina take off in a luxury BMW sports car through California’s richest and wealthiest homes, leaving behind Jeff Rake to be forever forgotten.

“So.” Jaina beams widely and asks, “You ever been to Koreatown?”

Turns out, Tony has never been to Koreatown.

He isn’t too impressed by it as they drive through but he’s wondering what he can comment on without being racist. She seemingly catches on and offers, “It’s pretty ghetto, huh?” Then laughs as he shakes his head in disbelief.

In a back alley street, they park the car and pull out the duffel and the Mark V. They walk a few blocks then Jaina tosses the car-fob over the gate of a building and explains that this particular property is a senior housing facility that overcharges and discriminates against certain people in the area.

“My grandparents were rejected,” she justifies.

“So you’re framing them for grand theft auto?” Tony chortles.

She gives him a large and impish grin. “Yes,” she retorts with absolute glee.

He cannot believe that she can have so much fun when just two hours ago, they almost died.

But that did not mean he hadn't fallen into a strange sense of calm too. Sure, the adrenaline of the last few hours still remained; it was more of an undertone though. He was focused and established in this casual whatever they shared as they traveled down the beaten concrete roads of Koreatown. 

Being on the run seemed so mundane.

They give a nearby homeless man a hundred bucks in exchange for his shopping cart to push around their conspicuous luggage.

Under the December sun, they walk a few blocks until they reach a nondescript beige building. She goes straight to the intercom and pushes to button for 201D.

“Guess this is getting pretty serious,” Jaina notes solemnly after the system buzzes to let them in.

He absorbs that in stride. Then questions, “What?”

“You’re meeting my grandparents.”

Tony is sitting on a plastic-covered couch and staring at a television playing a Korean historical drama. This particular scene showed an old queen reprimanding a man in blue robes as he calls her “Ma-ma” very dramatically.

Tony just finished a leaving a message to Pepper through his secured servers, using the couple’s landline (which is insane to him - how do people still use landlines?). He lets her know that they are both alright, that they’ll be lying low, that he’s sorry if he worried her, that he’ll keep Jaina safe, that Pepper needs to stay safe too.

In the next room, he overhears Jaina trying to explain to her grandparents, from her mother’s side, why she needs to take their car to Tennessee and that they can’t tell anyone that they met Tony Stark.

While peering around the modest living room filled with plants and salt pillars, he notes how neatly everything is kept - despite the number of things littering the room. He surmises that Jaina’s grandfather came from a military background.

Then, Jaina’s grandfather walks out in - what Tony could only describe as - austerity. For a man of only 5-foot-4, Mr. Sunghoon Kim was an intimidating and severe specimen. His features were tight and solemn; his posture straight and imposing; his body showing evidence of thorough care. Tony gathered instantly that this was a man’s man, and that he had pride in it.

Tony thought of his own grandfather with his fiery Italian-Spanish vitriol, his obsession with keeping up appearances, and his passion for life.

Jaina and her grandmother walk in and immediately cross the expanse of the small living room to go into another bedroom. “She’s going to give me some clothes and supplies. Then we’ll hit the road,” Jaina provides then disappears through the threshold.

Tony is about to retort but his presence in this new and strange place has struck him into an awkward silence.

Then, “Nihongo de hanasemasuka? ” Grandpa Kim suddenly asked in a deep and resonant timbre.

“Hai? ” Tony responds automatically. He is suddenly thrust back to being a twenty year-old doing his graduate work fooling around in the lab, acing the occasional exam with ease, chatting up his girl in her mother tongue, and drinking away the pain.

“[She mentioned that you might know,]” Kim adds in informal Japanese, fit for an older man when addressing a younger one. He crosses to him and sits in the armchair perpendicular to the couch Tony is uneasily perched on.

“Oh, did she?” Tony responds with a laugh and a deference he did not know he had. “[May I ask how you know?]”

“[The damn Occupation],” is his quick and staggering reply.

Tony should have known. He feels like an ethnocentric little shit for a second.

“[Why do you know? White men don’t need to know anything other than English,]” he says gruffly as he leans back into the cushion of the chair.

Tony does not know how to take that but a response forms anyway. The language is returning to him in floods; the words rush from his lips with ease. “[The girl I dated in college was Japanese. I believed it would be beneficial to learn so we could make fun of people without them knowing.]”

Her grandfather smirks at this. “[Sometimes, if my wife annoys me, I talk shit about her in Japanese.]”

Tony returns the smirk. “[She doesn’t know?]”

“[Her family fled to America when she was young. Then returned once the pillaging stopped.]”

“[I see,]” Tony says solemnly.

“[The women in this family - they don’t know how to deal with things head-on.]”

Mr. Stark has no idea what to say and he always has something to say.

Mr. Kim continues, “[My daughter took after me. But my wife and granddaughter always run away from their problems.]” He faces Tony without an ounce of facetiousness in his tone or words, as if he is expecting Tony to agree with him. “[She is not a strong person, my granddaughter.]”

The rest of Mr. Kim’s monotonous censure flies by Tony in a blur. Mouthing off about family is one thing - Tony is a master at it - but doing so in front of a total stranger, about a girl Tony had begun to respect, is another.

But that does not seem to stop Mr. Kim. He talks about his disappoint in Jaina as if she were a pet, or holdings in a stock - with as much anger and indifference as one would have towards a storm that is making traffic worse. At last, he ends with: “[You should teach her how to be stronger.]”

Tony only responds with, “She is teaching me to be stronger.”

And he means every word.

Halfway to Albuquerque, Tony - still a bit reeling at the acknowledgment of his regard for the girl in the passenger seat - says abruptly, “Your grandpa is a kind of an asshole.”

Jaina does not seem shocked or offended by this statement since she laughs, “Ha, he is - but he does love me.” There was something stilted in her voice, something akin to forced civility. 

So he challenges it. “You sure about that?”

“God, Tony.”

“I’m serious. I really couldn’t tell. Why does he let you in, take his car, yet go on for hours about how disappointed he is in you?”

"Because he loves me.”

“Explain,” Tony demands.

She shrugs. “They didn’t and still don’t approve of my life choices.”

“Partied in college?” he assumes aloud, thinking of all his grad school indulgences - smoky rooms, flashing lights reflecting through dark bottles and stemware, deafening music, ponytails whipping around. 

She sniggers, “Exact opposite, actually. I’m allergic to alcohol.”

“Ah,” Tony sings. “No wonder you’re no fun.”

“Alright,” she scoffs.

“So you didn’t drink - I’m assuming drugs is out.”

“Yep.”

“Then what did they disapprove of?”

She shifts in her seat and fiddles with the smartphone they borrowed from her grandmother. Then she softly says, “My dad.”

Tony nods and then asks, “Who is?” He is presuming abusive and the mere thought of it infuriates him. 

“A minister,” she says instead. Not that the two are mutually exclusive, Tony argues to himself.

“Oh, went religious,” he comments cautiously.

“Yep.” She nods. “Thought my mom joined a cult.”

“And was it?”

“No,” she laughs. “Just - it wasn’t the life they wanted for her.”

Tony accepts that but he is not getting the answers he wants. “But that’s not why he talks like that, right?” About you, he fails to say.

“No,” she says slowly. “It’s not.”

The genius known as Ironman finally senses her discomfort and quickly offers, “If you don’t want to share then-.”

“No, I...I was actually thinking the other day that it would be good for me to open up too. You know, for our professional relationship.”

He rolls his eyes.

Then she hits him with, “I was hospitalized for my depression.”

He does not respond.

She then explains, “I was in college. Classes were getting to be a bit much. Was getting sick all the time. Professors didn’t care. Told me to go into another field and other shit like that because I wasn’t performing as well as I had in the beginning of the semester.”

Tony nods in serious acknowledgment.

Then she huffs and continues, “Got molested then dumped by the same guy. Couldn’t decide whether I deserved it or not.” At this, Tony winced, trying to calm the anger engorging his insides. “Everything compiled to a breaking point and I...well... broke. ”

The FM radio station that had been classic rock had turned to static. Tony's mind reels. 

"Koreans don't really believe that depression is a thing, you see," Jaina elaborates at length. Her gaze is fixed on her fiddling fingers. "The logic is that everyone's gone through stuff, you know, especially with Korea as a country, why should feeling down be such a big deal? So the fact that I went to the hospital was kind of weird for them. They didn't know how to handle it or respond to that. The rest of the family doesn't know either. I think part of them, my parents too, felt ashamed." 

The car barrels down the road, carrying their silence at 80 miles per hour.

“That’s why you’re doing stuff like this,” he finally states.

“What do you mean?”

“So insistent on helping people and screw-ups like - you know - a billionaire superhero with emotional issues.”

“Ha,” she uttered and flipped the phone in her hands. “Guess so.”

“Jaina,” he starts.

“Yes?”

“I…” He makes a noise akin to a gurgle in his throat. He really is not used to being the mature and/or nice one in any given situation. He thinks about all the things she has been for him. He's paying her, sure, but he knows that she put herself in this, maybe she is high off of the danger. Whatever the case, she chose to be with him, to sit in the passenger seat of a Toyota Camry, to endure his company for the next interval of hours stretching into days. 

He has met kind people before. He has known good people. He is reminded of Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, hell - even the Captain; and all their different brands of kindness. Sometimes those kindnesses travel towards self-righteousness, but Tony knows that how easy it is to go that route with him.

He is a radioactive element, affecting all life around him, decaying at his own rate. But she-she distills him, diffuses him, makes him better with the simplicity of her presence.

She accommodates him, molded her own life to receive his effect and influence, and she did it with joy. She needs to help people and now he knows why. 

He is not even sure these are the right words to give her. But he finally confesses, “I appreciate you.”

She stares at him in wonder. “Thank you,” she whispers.  

“You,” he clears his throat as he forces the words to come out. “You’re a lot stronger than you might think. You…,” he coughs again. “Thank you.”

From his place behind the wheel, he swears he can feel her joy and appreciation blossoming and shining from her as if she were the sun and her gratitude her light. She does not need to say anything and Tony knows that he did a good thing just then.

They sit in her bright gratefulness for a while and Tony felt proud of himself. Genuinely, utterly and completely proud of himself for giving back the kindness she had bestowed him. 

Shit, I'm becoming a good person, he thinks. What do you know? 

Then, after all of this, Tony then decides to ask the question, awful, that has been nagging at him for the past week.

“Jaina. Be real with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Does Pepper hate the bunny?”

Chapter Text

A hundred miles away from Tennessee (in the middle of bloody Arkansas), Tony finally falls asleep. They had made a pit stop at a motel near the border of New Mexico and Texas and thankfully, the guy at the desk didn’t seem too perturbed by the sight of a young Asian woman walking in with an older white man. Tony had been too exhausted to make a snarky comment and while Jaina dozed off in a matter of minutes, he could not will himself to sleep.

When they moved on after Jaina got a few hours of rest, he had been nodding off for a while. When Jaina threatened all sorts of things he finally let her take the wheel and he curled into the passenger seat.

“Why not take the back? Stretch out?” Jaina had suggested.

He didn’t give her a straight answer and did not want to explain how much he needed to be close to a person. So he just says, “I don’t trust your driving,” lets her scoff and then as the southern countryside flies past his window, he slips into a slumber.

He does manage to rest for a while in the black emptiness of his unconscious but then a flash of heat thunders over him.

Again, he feels everything - the heat on his face, the chill on his back, the adrenaline in his blood, the sickening mass of fear and emptiness at the pit of his stomach.

Pepper disappearing from view.

He wakes with a start, shouting her name - the precious two syllables - through the hoarseness of his own voice. His arm flings to the side.

“Mr. Stark!” Jaina screams and the world tilts with his line of sight.

The concoction of emotions and adrenaline spike in him as he realizes the car is tumbling towards a large tree and that he is digging his grip into the arm of the driver.

“Shit,” he releases her but it is too late.

Metal hits wood, and the airbags deploy. Coughing and groaning and wiping fill the next five seconds and the break comes when Jaina’s eyes and attention float back to him and she asks, “Are you alright?”

This kills him.

This is sharper than the pain reappearing and blooming from his left wrist.

Her lips flinch into a soft smile. “It doesn’t look too bad, actually,” she comments as she manages to lift herself to see the damage at the bumper.

He cannot do this. “That’s it - that’s it. I can’t-,” he winces. He paws at the buckle of his seatbelt and it clicks open. “I can’t have you here - this is too dangerous, too much. You’re...you need to stay here.” He scrambles out of the car and falls into the snow with huffing breaths.

He quickly pushes himself up and staggers with his steps until he stands.

“Anthony Stark,” she suddenly bellows at him, having exited the car too. “You cannot just leave.”

“This is for your own damn good,” he returns. His tone fierce and urgent. He looks at her but does not stop walking. “Why can’t you see that?”

“Mr. St-” she starts.

“I am a ticking time bomb ,” he establishes over her. “I have almost gotten you killed twice in 24 hours. I cannot let some civilian-”

“Technically, you’re also a civilian,” she scoffs. “We already talked about this. You know I need this as much as you do and no one got hurt. None of this-”

A concerned, “Hello? Are you guys alright?” ruptures the uneasiness and they see a woman in a worn coat bound to them through the thin layer of white winter.

“Yeah, ummm -,” Jaina starts as she vacillates her gaze from insistence (with Tony) to politeness (with the Good Samaritan).

“Do you need a tow? I know the mechanic in town,” the woman says, fishing into her pocket for a small beat-up flip-phone and dialing a number.

“That would be great actually” Jaina says, shivering in the Tennessee winter with only her sparse hoodie for warmth. They did not think of getting winter clothes. “Thanks,” she mutters.

While waiting for the other line to pick up, the woman nods over to her truck, still running and rumbling. “I don’t live far from here. Just down the road. Hop in and we can get you somewhere warm. I’m Emily, by the way, Emily Keener.”

“Jane,” Jaina easily lies. “This is my boss. Uh-,”

“Potts,” Tony provides. Jaina smiles at that.

Emily can only nod in response since the other line picked up, “Yeah? Hey, Bob, I know it’s Christmas morning but there’s some people off of 33 that need a tow.”

Something muffled filters through her phone.

She looks over her shoulder at them and says, “Yeah, they’re fine. By the Texaco.”

Bob says something else and Emily returns with, “Bob, they need the help and it’s Christmas.”

“We can pay,” Jaina inserts loudly.

Mrs. Keener makes a face to show her that money wasn’t the issue and ends the call with, “Thanks, Bob.” She then gestures them to her truck.

It is not until they are on the road again, with their stuff in the trunk and their butts in the car that she asks them what happened.

“We were on our way to a conference...I think I must have slipped on some ice,” Jaina says from the passenger side, as Tony insisted on sitting in the back (despite not saying a fully articulated word, just a lot of grunts and pointing). “I didn’t think Tennessee got this cold.”

Emily laughs. “Yeah, recently the winters here have been pretty brutal. It’s a good thing you guys walked away from that alright. Could’ve been so much worse.”

“Yeah....” Jaina says stallingly. “Thank you, again, Mrs. Keener.”

“Oh, please, don’t call me that,” Emily huffs, with a heavy sigh that indicated a long and frustrating history.

So Jaina shuts up pretty quickly.

“But damn, a conference on Christmas day. That sucks. Where was it?” Emily then asks.

“Hmm?” Jaina reacts.

“Where’s the conference?”

Jaina begins to mutter and she doesn’t give an answer right away so Tony correctly guesses that she’s all out of lies and quickly states, “D.C.”

“Really? Still got a ways to go, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you take the 40?”

“Our hotel is in Rose Hill,” Jaina provides.  

“Oh, that’s where I live,” Emily says eagerly. “You guys can just stay with us.”

“Us?” Tony remarks at this juncture, despite the fact that he was trying to not talk.

“Yeah, I have two kids but they won’t cause you any trouble. Well,” Emily is obviously second-guessing her assessment. “They’ll try.”

“Oh, we couldn’t put you out like that. You already called a tow for us and everything,” Jaina says.

“Darling, it’s not a problem. Besides, we’re already here.” She pulls into the driveway of a small ranch house with a separate garage. The house is quaint and rough, exactly the type of house Tony would expect in the middle of nowhere with its chipped paint and broken roof tiles. The small town stretches out from behind it and Tony notes how small the town actually is.

It might not be that hard to actually find the answers he needs.

Jaina and Emily fall into a regular conversation as they are led into the house; and watching her smile and laugh then shiver, Tony makes his decision then.

As they stomp off the snow and Emily disappears into the depths of the house, turning on lights, Tony grabs Jaina by the elbow and whispers, “You’re staying here.”

“What?”

“Mom?” a little boy’s voice sounds from across the living room.

They look over to see a boy, maybe around eight or nine, peering at them suspiciously from around a corner. Tony notices the potato gun aimed right for them and inwardly laughs.  “Who are they?”

“They got into a car accident, honey,” Emily explains as she approaches her son from the kitchen and gives him a kiss on the crown of his head. “They’re going to stay here for a bit until Bob fixes their car.”

“What if they’re burglars. Or murderers.”

Tony snorts.

“Well, then you’re going to have to protect the house, huh?” Emily laughs, ruffling his hair and returning to the kitchen. “Is your sister up? You guys can sit on the couch, by the way.”

Tony is about to when Jaina steps in front of him and says, “What do you mean, I’m staying here?”

He flinches as his emotions return to him like a sudden storm. His voice is low and full of warning. “Jai, I can’t have you near me. I’m...I’m a fucking time bomb and you are going to get caught in the crosshairs.”

“We talked about this,” she says back, her voice too is low but hers is full of disbelief. “Is having a sidekick really that rough for you?”

He tilts his head in that reproving way. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Jaina notes, her eyes firm. “Mr. Stark, I’m here to help you. What happened was an accident and if you don’t get help, something like that is going to happen again. And what if-” her breath catches.

They both sense something and turn to see Emily and her son staring at them from down the hall, leading into the kitchen.

“Umm, do you guys want some tea?” Emily asks, awkwardly as she lips up two steaming mugs with tea bag strings dangling off the rims.

“Oh,” Jaina walks to them and reaches out for one. “Thank you. I’m freezing and actually, is there a place I can talk with him privately? Oh, and do you have a toolbox?”

“My workshop is in the garage,” the boy suddenly provides, a proud smile on his face. “I actually built this myself.” He holds up the potato gun for her to see.

“Wow, that’s really awesome,” Jaina enthuses as she bends to his eye level.

“I’ve been trying to get him to stop. But he just can’t stop tinkering,” Emily bites at her son. “Took over the entire garage.”

The son just shrugs.

“Harley, can you show them where?” Emily asks him while she hands Tony the other cup.

“Thanks,” Tony says, finally feeling comfortable enough to talk to their Good Samaritan. “Really, you didn’t have to do all of this for us.”

Emily Keener simply gives him a knowing smile as he takes the tea and says, “It’s Christmas, Mr. Potts.”

Emily works the night shift at the diner and then has a late afternoon shift. So before Emily goes to bed, she provides them with warmer clothes, another worn jacket for Jaina and some flannels and a vest for Tony. Then Harley shows them the garage.

Tony is able to hook up both the Mark V and mainframe of Mark 42 to the Keener’s generator. Tony then gives Harley a list of other things he needs and the kid, suddenly eager to please, is more than happy to rush off.

Thankfully, those start to charge but it is going to take a while before JARVIS is operational again.

Jaina pulls out the laptop that she bought from a small store in Nashville while Stark was sleeping and logs into the SI staff interface through an onion proxy to check if she had received anything from Pepper. Then, Tony steals the laptop from her and starts looking into Chad Davis again.

Jaina glares at him but he buries his focus into investigating. Her mouth opens, as she thinks of a way to bring up their earlier topic of conversation again when Harley returns with several tools and a tuna fish sandwich.

“Tony...did you make the kid make you a sandwich?” Jaina asks, incredulous.

“Oh, finally,” Tony remarks as he holds out his hand for the food.

“Oh, we are splitting that.”

“Are you Tony Stark?” Harley suddenly asks, lifting the plate away from the both of them.

They both stall and share a glance.

“I’m not,” Jaina quips. “What makes you ask?”

The kid gives her a look. “I mean you, obviously.” He nods at Tony. “The paper said you were dead.” Harley pulls out a newspaper from his back pocket and tosses it onto the worktable where Tony is sitting.

The headline reads: MANDARIN ATTACK: Tony Stark Presumed Dead

Tony only utters a gruff, “Hmm,” as he glances at it.

“Is this the suit then?” Harley questions as his small fingers prod the Mark V and the chestpiece of Mark 42.

“Hey, don’t touch that,” Tony orders, snapping and pointing at him. “Jai, get him out of here, would you?”

The assistant tempers herself and forces a cheery tune when she takes Harley aside. “Harley, do you know if Chad Davis has any relatives living here still?”

The kid turns to attention. “Oh, well, yeah, his mom is usually at the bar and no one really talks to her. Mom says she’s gonna move once winter is over. You know, be away from it all.”

“That makes sense.” Jaina nods and looks at her watch, which reads 4:13 AM. She sighs. “Alright...Do you know where she would be now?”  

“She won’t be at the bar anymore. But I can show you where it happened,” Harley then suggests.

Tony swerves in the chair. “Where what happened?”

“The bombing,” gives Harley, matter-of-fact.

“Great, take the small angry one and tell me if you find anything,” Tony says as he swivels back to the computer.

“Let me get my jacket,” Harley chirps, rushing out of the garage.

“Am I the small angry one?” Jaina asks as she slips on one of Emily’s flannel shirts and zips up her jacket on top.

Tony peers over his shoulder, “Yeah, I thought that was - you know - obvious.”

Jaina scoffs but the humor in her facial expressions dies fairly quickly. He has a feeling about what she’s going to say as he focuses on the criminal records he is able to pull up for Davis.

“You’re going to leave me here, aren’t you?”

He stops typing. “Well, we-” His lips press together and he refuses to turn around. “We’ll have to wait and see, don’t we?”

“I doubt you’ll get the suit - either suit - fully operational by the time we get back so-” she cuts herself off.  “Mr. Stark, please don’t...do anything stupid, please,” her voice quiets by the end.

A hand goes up to his mouth as he covers it in thought. He still refuses to look at her. He thinks about Pepper and what she might think. He thinks about the moment the car hit the tree, about Happy, about her limp body in his arms as the dust settled around her. He cannot see that again.

Then she says, with truth, “I’m here to help you. Remember that. I want what’s best for you but I also know - I recognize that you have a singular goal. To help people. I know you want to keep me safe. Me, and Pepper, and Happy. I know this is something that you feel like you have to do.”

He says nothing. He just closes his eyes.

“So do what you have to do. And if you do leave me here, at least leave a way I can contact you and vice versa. In case something happens.”

Then the door shuts with a loud clang.

“So are you his assistant?” Harley asks as the two of them walk through the thinning snow. He wears a jacket much too big for him and his potato gun is strapped to his back in an awkward position, but the kid walks as if he has nothing to lose.

She likes him. “Something like that.”

It is still dark in the winter of Rose Hill and the town is deathly quiet.

“What does an assistant to Ironman do?” he asks, a bit wary yet still genuinely intrigued.

“I do his laundry, make sure he plays nice with his friends, things like that.”

Harley snorts, “You do Ironman’s laundry?”

She grins, thankful for his humored response. She misses working with kids. “Yeah, it gets real hard trying to stuff the metal boots into the washing machine.”

The kid pretends to be unaffected by her bad attempt at humor but Jaina catches the smile peeking through.

Then everything ruptures in a gasp when they turn the corner.

Jaina walks down the empty street, towards the walls covered in what she had not expected.

“Nuclear shadows,” she mutters as she approaches one. She had seen pictures of the Hiroshima ones, of the leftover glimpses of people gone in a literal flash. She is careful to avoid the memorials, the homemade crosses, the wilting flowers, and flickering candles.

“This was all the damage?” she asks Harley. The kid nods. “Was there a building here?”

“No, it was always kinda run-down.”

“A nuclear blast but no structural damage?” Jaina asks herself, her fingers lining the walls. She scans the rest of the street. The wall lines up with the rest of the stores in that alley. The kid is right. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Hmm?” Harley asks, his bright eyes looking up at her.

“How many people died here? Five, right? Including Davis?”

The kid shakes his head. “No, six.”

“But there are only five shadows…” Jaina notes, looking off and thinking.

“People said these shadows are like the marks of souls going to heaven,” Harley explains as he dips down into the crater and sits. “Except the bomb guy. He went to hell, on account of he didn't get a shadow. That's why there's only five.”

“Still…” Jaina whispers. “A blast that intense to cause nuclear shadows should have done more damage than this.” She thinks about the damage done at the Chinese Theatre, it had been a wreck, nearly completely destroyed. But the radius of this blast seemed so much more contained. What was the difference?

She looks at Harley and asks, “Can you take me to Mrs. Davis’ place?”

Harley guides her to a wide street with a sparse number of houses, covered with a light dusting of snow and dirt. Eventually, they reach a house with a beat-up porch with a sleek, recently washed Audi parked in the driveway.   

“That probably isn’t her car, right?”

Harley shakes his head.

Suddenly, a woman in a suit and peacoat walks out of the house and Jaina pushes Harley and herself behind the bushes lining the front lawn. The woman’s hair is tied in a neat bun at the base of her neck and she carries a worn-out manila folder that reads CONFIDENTIAL, from what Jaina can make out with some intense squinting through the sparse shrubbery.

“Once again, Mrs. Davis. I’m sorry for coming at such an ungodly hour. But hopefully, with this, you can get yourself back on your feet.”

Jaina furrows her brows. She knows that voice.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Davis weeps. “Thank you so much.” She clutches a large envelope to her bosom. “For this and for-”

The woman puts a hand on her shoulder and says, “As I said, it wasn’t his fault and as soon as we are able, we will put out a public announcement. The world will know your son was a hero.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Thank you, miss…?”

“Irving; Katrina Irving. I”ll be sure to inform my employer when I see her next. Have a good evening, Mrs. Davis.”

When the women say their goodbyes, Jaina turns to Harley and grabs him by the shoulders. “Harley...go back home, tell Mr. Stark to look into FuturePharm and see if it connects with anything. Alright, FuturePharm, Pharm as in pharmacy, you got it?”

Harley nods nervously.

“Ok, go now.” She pushes him into a run and just in time as the woman from earlier says, “Is someone there?”

Jaina stands up and looks at her, right when she was about to get into the Audi.

“Jaina?” Ms. Irving says, caught in a stupor. “Oh my gosh, we thought you were dead.”

“Well, I’m not,” Jaina laughs nervously, her anxiety and misgivings spiking. “What are you doing here? Where’s Madeleine?”

A thought forms in Katrina’s mind for a second too long before saying, “Mad-oh, right, well, she’s out of the country right now.”

That’s not suspicious. “Right. I-I should get going,” Jaina states, in short and stunted syllables.

“No, Jaina, it isn’t safe right now,” Katrina states, walking to her. “You should come with me…”

Jaina takes a step back.

“Jaina,” Katrina says, warning in her tone. “Are you with Tony Stark?” She shuts the door of the car and begins walking to her.

“No…” Jaina lies. “I’m...I’m looking for him.”

Katrina laughs, with palpable condescension.  “In Tennessee?”

“I…” She stalls, taking a look behind her to make sure she could make a run for it. “I want to talk to Madeleine, first, if that’s alright.”

“Jaina, like I said, she’s overseas. I doubt I’ll be able to reach her now.”

“You’re her secretary...why couldn’t you? And why are you here and not with her?” Jaina interrogates, her anger and frustration level in her words. She has always disliked Katrina.

The older woman’s expression falls flat. “Why aren’t you with Tony Stark?”

Jaina takes that as her cue and bolts down the street. She hears Katrina behind her screaming into her phone, “Savin, I found Choi.”

Within a few moments, Jaina makes it into the main part of town until she suddenly stops herself. She can’t bring them back to Tony.

“Shit,” she whispers.

She turns and bumps into a body.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I-” Then she looks up to see a man with a shaved head, a cocky smirk and, glowing skin.

“You must be Jaina,” he says right when he grabs her and slams her into the nearest brick wall. She cries out in pain as he pushes and rams her face into the surface. “Now, why are you so important?” he asks as he wrenches her arm behind her and she whimpers.

“Get off of her!” And Jaina sees Harley point his potato gun at her assailant.

“Go away, kid-”

“Harley, no-”

Harley shoots the gun right at the man’s face and his grip loosens enough where Jaina pushes herself off the wall and tries to scramble away from him. But he recovers too quickly and grabs her wrist, his grip radiates with waves of orange and red, and it burns more than anything.

Jaina screams as her knees hit the concrete.

“Hey, asshole.” Tony blasts him into next week and then immediately jerks off the scalding deconstructed flight stabilizer hand cannon from off his right hand and throws it into the snow. “Kid, go home now and call 911.”

Harley barrels down the sidewalk.

“Mr. Stark!” Jaina cries.

Tony crouches down next to her as she cradles her burnt wrist. He grabs some clean snow and slathers it on the wound.

“You okay? Are you okay?” he nearly screams at her, his fear so intense it can only come out in the highest volume. He sees her face, covered in little scars and dirt.

She sniffs as she nods, tears in her eyes. “Mr. Stark, the -” she winces.

“Come on, get up, we need to get out of here,” he tries to pull her up. She wobbles but she tries, forcing her legs to move.

“Mr. Stark, it’s them.”

“What?”

“They’re the bombs. Their bodies are the things giving off the heat signatures. That’s why there wasn’t a shadow for Chad Davis,” she tells him, her voice trembling but insistent.

“What? What shadows?”

“At the bomb site, there were five nuclear shadows but there wasn't one for Davis. It’s because he was the bomb.”

Tony suddenly remembers New Year’s Eve, 1999, and her exploding plants. The dots connect. Even if Maya Hansen wasn’t the Mandarin, she was definitely working with him. “Oh, shit.”

Then a car engine screams from down the street and they both see the silver Audi screeching onto the street. “That’s them,” Jaina informs him. Tony scans the area for his options and notices a side door in a nearby alleyway swinging open and a tired looking employee in a baker’s apron coming out.

“Come on, Jai, we got to move.” They make it to the door and as they push by the bumbling employee, Tony simply says, “She needs medical attention.”

“Hey, wait...you...you can’t just-”

“She’s injured. She needs help!” Tony shouts over the baker as the two of them rush down the thin hallway and into the bakery’s prep room.

There are two other people in there, covered in flour, and they both are reasonably surprised when Tony bursts in with Jaina. He ignores their shouting and brings her to a large industrial sink and pulls her hand beneath the faucet, then turns it on so that cold water rushes down her skin.

“What-who are you?”

But before either Tony or Jaina can explain something explodes down the hall. Tony leaves Jaina for a moment to look down and sees a redhead with the same glowing orange skin in a pencil skirt.

With a gun.

She raises it and points the barrel straight at her and the bakers that came to look. “Gotta move!” he tells himself and the others and he looks around the kitchen for something to blow up.

The bakers head straight out towards the doors that lead to the storefront while Tony grabs a fire extinguisher and a bucket full of cleaning supplies. He yells at Jaina to turn on all the ovens and leave the doors open.

He fashions something before putting an aerosol can into the microwave and setting it for a few minutes.

Then he pushes Jaina out the door, and turns. “You walked right into this one: I’ve dated hotter chicks than you,” Tony quips loudly as he fires his makeshift weapon at the oncoming freak of nature when she turns the corner.  

“That's all you got? A cheap trick and a cheesy one-liner?” she scoffs as the projectile of chemicals in a literal can flies past her.

Hearing the microwave begin to spark, he smirks. “Sweetheart, that could be the name of my autobiography.”

He leaps through the swing door and he bounds over the sales counter, then sits behind it when the prep room blows up.

The earth trembles and for a second, he lets himself catch his breath. Then he starts making his way through the rubble of the shop to the front door.

He turns around to assess the damage and unfortunately, he sees her figure through the smoke, red blooming under her skin like a freaky lava lamp.

Tony bolts out into the street where Jaina is waiting, then they start running.

Then he hears the gunshot.

He sees the blood burst from his right shoulder like a gory sparkler before he feels it, before he lands on the ground. 

Then the pain comes.

Jaina is weeping.

She holds him in her lap, weeping over him while forcing her shaking hands over his wound.

“Please, Mr. Stark. No, no, stay with me. Don’t close your eyes. You need to stay awake,” she whispers like there is something caught in her throat. “Please,” she weeps. “Please, don’t - I’m sorry.”

“You idiots! I told you not to kill Stark. He’s too important to kill. Savin, call the copter and you,” Katrina’s voice is loud and accusatory. “You’re a liability.”

Jaina looks up to see the woman shoot the redhead with something that looks like a tranquilizer gun. Ice starts forming and fracturing over her from her stomach. Her burned face contorts as if she hadn’t felt pain before and she falls to the ground, a quick and uneasy death.

“Jaina,” Katrina then speaks to her.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jaina seethes at her. “Get away.”

Katrina pulls out a vial from her coat. “He’s going to need this if you want him to live. Do you want him to live?”

Jaina knows her face is saying yes.

Katrina continues, as the shaved guy dumps the body of their newly deceased colleague into the trunk of their car, “There’s a crowd forming and I’d rather not deal with any of that right now.” She bends down by Tony’s knees and dangles the vial of convenience over his body and in Jaina’s eyeline. “So you have to make a choice, Jaina. Do you want him to bleed out here in the middle of the sticks or -”

Tony’s arm suddenly jumps out and claws at Jaina’s hands over his shoulder. “J-j,” he mumbles. “Don’t.”

He stares up at her. His eyes scream at her. But he is losing blood and consciousness and he sees in her face that she made her choice. 

She lifts one hand off his shoulder and brings it to his face. It quivers against his skin. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Tony.”

At first, he thinks it’s Pepper, her voice is what always calls out to him, pulls him out of his void; it is familiar and warm and gravitational, like a beacon to guide him home.

“Tony.”

But it is not Pepper’s voice. His vision slowly returns to him as he blinks himself awake. The voice is familiar, still.

“Ugh, okay,” he grumbles.

He is lying down, in a bed, a distractingly comfortable pillow under his cheek, his wrists handcuffed to the frame, and someone in the distance is at a computer, typing away. He is fully awake now and recognizes the mass at the computer as Maya Hansen, with her waves of long brown hair.

“How you doing there, cowboy?” a voice asks from his left.

His gaze shifts as he flinches, unaware of any presence that close to him. And he finally sees her.

Her.

Of all people, her.

The person who connects everything and explains nothing. His breath shudders out of him and he feels shivers crawling up his stomach and into his heart. “Wh-what?” Pain and bitterness crawl out from the chasm of his soul and burst forth in an onslaught of emotions.

“Hi, Tony.”

“Shit. You guys start a club or something?” he whispers out arduously.

“Spite is the best motivator,” Rumiko Fujikawa responds. “Brought a lot of us together.”