Tony's eyes were fixed on the letter in his hand. He had a daughter. And by his calculations, she was at least 24. The letter had appeared completely out of the blue. But it was bound to happen someday, the young playboy days he had, the many anonymous hook-ups – it was inevitable that one day he'd find out that somewhere out there, he had a child. But he kind of thought that he'd find out when they were still, y'know, a child.

According to the letter, however, if it weren't for her mother's current circumstances, there was a chance he'd have never known at all. Apparently, illness has a way of suddenly making you want to reveal the identity of your bastard child to the man you slept with only once, over two decades ago. It wasn't that Tony blamed her, but the realisation that you'd missed so much of your child's life was not an easy thing to think about.

But it was the letter's parting request that concerned Tony more than anything – 'When I'm gone, I want you to promise you'll take care of her.'

At the top of the page there was an address. He needed to see her. He needed to find out why she'd kept their daughter a secret for so long.

Tony hated hospitals. There was something foreboding about them. In his life, he'd only known them as a place of loss – and the one thing that could've changed that, the birth of his daughter – he hadn't even known about. And okay, this wasn't exactly a hospital so much as a hospice, but it still had that same clinical atmosphere that turned his stomach.

As he approached the room he'd been directed to, he slowed down a little. It had been a long time since he saw Carrie Teller. In a long line of one night stands, she was a standout memory – not only for the sex (though that had been pretty great) – but how she put him at ease. Growing up a billionaire he'd never been short of girls who threw themselves at him – Carrie wasn't like that. She'd made him work hard. They met briefly at a party, and he'd chased her around all night trying to persuade her to have a drink with him. Eventually she caved, if only to get him to stop. But she intrigued him, she was mysterious, and from the moment they'd started talking, Tony was captivated.

In the morning she'd disappeared, and he moved on, thinking he'd never see her again. Boy, had he been wrong.

He knocked the door gently, before opening it and the normally confident genius mustered up all the courage he had, to meet the somewhat surprised gaze of the woman in the bed. She looked tired and the sparkle she'd once had was all but extinguished. Pale and thin, Tony felt his heart ache at the sight of her.

"Tony Stark, in my room?" Carrie smirked, her voice at least hadn't changed. Warm and comforting, Tony felt himself relax almost instantly. "Didn't think I'd see you again."

He took the seat next to the bed, taking a moment just to see her, before he began to speak. "You wrote me a letter to tell me I had a daughter and thought that I wouldn't want to come talk to you about it?"

"I don't know what I thought. I guess I didn't think you'd get here in time."

Realising her meaning, the thought hurt the genius more than he cared to admit. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, Carrie?"

"I knew what you were about when we met. The thrill of the chase meant more to you than the endgame, Tony, you weren't ready to be responsible for your own life, never mind someone else's." She struggled to sit up and Tony stood quickly, moving the pillow to a more comfortable position behind her, to which she mumbled a thanks, "Then, by the time she was born, it stopped being about you. It was about her, Tony. I didn't want her to grow up like you did, in the public eye, the press waiting around every corner for her to slip up. And I didn't think it would matter – I could cope, I could love her enough for two. But when I got my diagnosis, I knew I needed to tell you, even if you didn't come. I didn't want her to be alone."

Tears fell onto her ashen skin, her eyes now more green than hazel. "What's her name?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.

"Roxanne," Carrie gave a small smile, "Roxanne Maria Teller."

His eyes widened, a sadness creeping into his gaze at the mention of his mother's name. "I'm not completely heartless, Tony. I wanted her to have something of you."

"So what now?"

Carrie shrugged, "I don't know, I wish I did."

"I should meet her, right?"

"I'd like that," she sighed, "But she doesn't know about you, and she's already not dealing with this well. I don't want to overload her right now."

He nodded, but his head took a different view. He needed to meet her, while she still had Carrie around to answer her questions. Though he didn't need to worry Carrie with that, all he had to do was take a chance with Roxanne, try to build a bridge. Saying his goodbyes for now, he left a tired-looking Carrie to her sleep with one goal in mind – finding his daughter.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Access public records – look for a Roxanne Maria Teller." Saying her name aloud somehow made everything seem more real. His breath caught in his throat, heart hammering in his chest – he had a daughter. Roxanne was the name of his daughter.

"I've found a possible location for Miss Teller, sir." He was going to meet his daughter. "But you may not like it."

"Teller! You're out."

Roxanne cracked open one eye, lifting her head a little to see the officer that stood in the doorway. Pulling herself up to a sitting position before she got to her feet, pushing her bed head out of her eyes. "Jim, it's been a pleasure, as always," she smiled, walking past him and out of the cell. Drunk and disorderly. It wasn't the first time and it definitely wouldn't be the last, but when people found out her mother was dying, they seemed to let a lot of things slide. They usually just locked her in until she sobered up, then let her out in the morning.

"Your belongings," the officer said wearily, handing her a small plastic bag with her keys, cash, shades and cellphone inside, which she took, giving him a wink before heading outside. The sun seemed brighter than usual, but perhaps that was just the hangover talking. She squinted in the bright light, slipping the shades on to cover her eyes.

"Roxanne?"

She turned at the sound of her name, and for a moment she swore she was still drunk. Standing no more than six feet from her, leaning curbside on a very expensive car was none other than tech-genius billionaire, and Iron Man himself, Tony Stark. "You're Roxanne?"

"I'd ask who you are, but I already know." Sliding the shades down she opened her eyes a little wider, having adjusted to the light, and raised a brow, "But I can still ask how you know who I am."

"I'm a friend of your mother's."

"Likely story," she scoffed, "I'm guessing you're the one who bailed me out," he nodded, "Thanks."

Roxanne slipped her cellphone into the back pocket of her jeans before tossing the now empty plastic bag into a nearby trashcan. She turned back to Tony, "See you around."

He looked a little blindsided for a moment as she went to move off, heading on her way. "Wait!" She didn't know why she stopped, but she did. "Don't you think you kind of owe the person who just bailed you out?"

Roxanne sighed, facing him again, "What could I possibly give Tony Stark that he doesn't already have?"

"A moment of your time," he answered smoothly, cocking his head to one side. "And maybe a coffee."

He couldn't believe she was sitting in front of him – his daughter. Like a perfect blend of he and Carrie, she had his dark hair and slight olive complexion, but her eyes – they were exactly like her mother's. Long, dark eyelashes framed hazel eyes that seemed in a constant flux between brown and green as the light caught them through the window. And when she spoke her voice was just a little husky, like her mother's, a kind of Lauren Bacall throwback that made it seem as though she knew more than you could ever hope to. But he could see now what Carrie was talking about – she was struggling. Dark circles stood out against her strung out and paled skin, and even across the table Tony caught the faint smell of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol that had permeated her clothes.

The waitress stopped at their table, filling their cups to the brim with coffee, the rich smell seeming to jolt the life into Roxanne, who sat up a little straighter to grasp the cup. "Why exactly did you bail me out?" she finally asked after taking a long drink.

"Well, it turns out I'm your father."

Roxanne gave a sudden laugh, causing her to choke a little on her drink, "Okay Darth, sure you are." When he didn't react, she stopped. "You can't be serious."

"I only found out a few days ago. Carrie – your mom," he stumbled a little through his words, he hadn't expected this to be quite so difficult. "She wrote me a letter to tell me about you. So, I just thought that-"

"What? You just thought that you'd come here and drop that bomb on me over coffee?!" Roxanne's outrage was a little more than he had prepared for, but he couldn't exactly blame her, in retrospect this may not have been the best course of action. "Why? Why wouldn't she tell me? Why wait until now?"

"She's got her reasons, Roxanne. Your mother cares about you."

"So she left it to you to tell me?"

He looked away, "Actually she doesn't know I'm here. I thought this would be a good chance for us to talk."

For a while Roxanne sat silently, her eyes focused on Tony as though she was trying to pick out the similarities between them, a human lie detector hoping to discover the truth. Eventually she stood, shaking her head, "You thought wrong."

"Where are you going?"

"Away from here."

Tony got up to follow her, "At least let me drive you somewhere, so I know you're safe." It seemed like the fatherly thing to do.

"Look, I've spent 24 years without you, Tony. I think I'll be fine a little longer."

A/N:

New story :D Let me know what you think!