Please read! This isn't my best one but I thought of this last night so I wanted to write it down quickly. Excuse me for the grammatical errors! Hope you enjoy! :)

"OMG! NO WAY!" I texted back to my friend, Mallory.

"Yes way! We all want to go down to Mexico for spring break so I'm inviting you! :)" she texted back instantly.

"Let me just ask my dad real quick if it's okay with him!" I replied in a rush. I ran downstairs to my dad's workshop. I really hope he will let me go, I mean I'm 17; he should trust me shouldn't he? When I arrived downstairs, he was working on his hotrod, like usual.

"Hey, Taylor," my dad greeted me with a warm smile on his face.

"Hey, dad! What are you up too?" I asked him. Maybe if I get him in a good mood maybe that will make the answer more likely what I want it to be.

"Okay, I can tell you want something. Whenever you want something you always start off a conversation like that with me and your mom." Darn. I shouldn't have started it that way. By the way, Pepper Potts is my mom. But I always like to ask my dad instead when I want something. She never lets me do anything. At least my dad lets me do some things.

"Well, what is it you want this time, another new car?" he asked jokingly.

"No, Mallory asked me if I wanted to go down with her and a couple of other friends to Mexico! Can I go please?"

He simply stated, "No."

"Why not? I'm 17!" I complained.

"Because it's not a good idea! That's why!"

"You never let me do anything like that! You never even let me go out of state with a friend!" I yelled back at him. I ran out of the workshop and went up to my room and locked my door. How come he won't ever let me do anything? I mean, he can't do this forever! What if I want to go to college somewhere that's not in Malibu and it's out of state? Is he going to just keep me here and shelter me forever? I hear a knock at my door.

"Can I come in?" Great, it was my dad. Can't he just give me some alone time?

"Why should you come in? So you can tell me you're going to keep me here forever?" I replied back.

"Please?" He was using that voice again. Whenever he uses that tone, it makes me feel guilty for some reason. I couldn't resist going over to the door and opening it.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked. I knew that was a rhetorical question, so we both headed over to my bed and sat down. Before he could even say anything, I had the urge to ask,

"Why won't you let me go to Mexico?"

"I was hoping I would never have to tell you this,"

"Tell me what?" I cut him off.

"Well, remember when you were little you always asked me what this was and what it was for and where it came from?" motioning to the arc reactor that was shining brightly in his chest.

"Yeah," I said with question.

"And how I always told you I would tell you when you were older?"

"Yeah," I repeated

"Well, I guess I can tell you now that you're older. It would have scared you when you were younger,"

"Wait, do I really want to hear this?" I asked before he started. He was scaring me already by the way he was starting his story.

"Probably. Do you want to know? I'm going to tell you in detail because it will make me feel better you knowing everything and so you won't ask any questions after this. This subject makes me… edgy." Another subject I had to remember for his list of "PTSD Subjects That Make Him Edgy". I nodded with hesitation. I guess if it made him feel better, I would listen.

"Okay, so back a long time ago, I used to make weapons,"

"Wait you? Make weapons?" I cut him off.

"Just let me tell you the story, okay?" I nodded my head.

"As I was saying, I used to make weapons for the US military. I had to do a presentation in Afghanistan on a missile I made. Well, after the presentation, we were all driving to a city when the Humvee in front of us blew up." I stared at him intently.

"Was Uncle Rhodey with you?"

"He was in a different Humvee behind us. There were explosions everywhere I looked. Everybody in my Humvee left me, so out of instinct, I opened the door and walked out, almost being hit with a bomb. Uncle Rhodey was yelling out to me to stay where I was and he ran away. But I couldn't stay where I was or else I would die so I sprinted away from the Humvee, dodging bullets. I lept behind a boulder and was texting your mom to get help when I heard a thud next to me. It was a bomb I made. One of my own weapons blew up and sent shrapnel into my chest," he paused. I looked at him, my mouth wide open.

"Where you and mom married yet?"

"No, but she was my secretary then and was still very worried when she got part of the text. But I laid on the ground for a few minutes then looked at my chest, and there was blood everywhere and that's when I first passed out. When I woke up next, I was captured by terrorists. I was in horrible pain the whole time they were making a ransom video. The next thing I knew I was strapped onto an operating table and they started operating on me." He stuttered through that last sentence.

"Did they knock you out before?" There was a long pause.

"No," he whispered. I squeezed his hand just to let him know he was not alone right now so he wouldn't have an anxiety attack. We sat there for a few minutes in the silence. He continued his story.

"When I woke up, I was alone. I was trying to grab something from off the table next to my cot when something tugged at my chest. A man across the room said to not move. I looked to the other side of my cot and on another table, there was a car battery with wires leading to my chest. Later on the man told me his name was Yinsen. He would eventually become my best friend. He told me that the car battery was keeping the shrapnel in my chest away from my heart and that it was keeping me alive."

"Wait, I'm confused. The wires from the car battery where just inside your chest?"

"No, honey. You've seen the housing for the arc reactor haven't you?"

"No," I replied. He lifted up his shirt and twisted the arc reactor out of its place and took it out. I gasped, thinking he would die at any second. I have never seen him do this in my life and it scared me.

"Don't worry, I can have this out for 15 minutes. Put your hand a little bit inside and feel it."

"What?!" I squealed.

"Here let me see your hand." I gave him my hand and he guided it inside his chest and I felt the smooth, cool metal against my hand. I started to smile. This was amazing!

"This is what held the wires and magnet in my chest," he smiled back at me. I was amazed at just feeling this. But I suddenly realized, they put this in my dad? In a cave with no anesthetic?!

"Dad, they put that in you while you were awake?" I gasped.

"Yeah," he replied. But then I kept thinking, wouldn't they have to take out part of his lungs to get this in there?

"Didn't they have to take out part of your lungs to be able to put this in there? Doesn't it hurt to have that there?" I exclaimed.

"Yeah. It makes it kinda hard to breath but I adjusted to it and yes it does hurt. A lot. But I've learned to deal with a lot of it. But when it was first put in there, it was unbearable especially without painkillers with everything inside and outside of me swollen and all."

"You had no painkillers either?" I squeaked

"No, but like I said I got through." I just stared at him wide-eyed. I feel horrible with all of the things I have thought about him over the years, especially when he has anxiety attacks and nightmares. Whenever that happened I just thought he was being a big baby and ruining my sleep at night when he woke up screaming. I regret so much of that now, knowing what he has been through.

"But let's finish this story now, okay?" I nodded my head in agreement and then we continued.

Please review! :)