I've been hit over the head with inspiration. I've always wanted to save Jarvis in Age of Ultron so I thought of a unique way to do so, through the interference of Friday. And considering that I have a soft spot for all Dad!Tony pieces, I felt even more inspired to write a slightly more unique take on how he would adapt after having created his own daughter by accident.

Hehe, there will be fun times ahead. I'm not used to working with such a big cast but this will be a long, intricate fic. The main story line is the Father - Daughter relationship. Please keep that in mind, Friday will be a child with Eldritch themes of an twenty-thirty year-old-mindset in an eight year old's body.


Prologue: Maiden Red

Staggering anxiously, he surveyed the last acetylene blue particles heralding the pneumatic hiss of an opening mechanism. Wide-eyed innocence was fluttering uncertainly beneath the curl of spun strawberry-gold lashes. An inhuman green and gold heterochromic palette, accentuating the expanding and contracting pupils of a code-laced iris as her first inhalation threaded evocatively between porcelain-red parted lips.

It was the rising of a unique genesis, the original spark of life that howled intermittently through thousands of awakening algorithms and a perceptively reeling internal/external matrix.

Even the humming equipment inside the top three labs of Stark Tower, flickered erratically in the cusp of her birth. It was the benevolence of a startling, out-of-body, intelligence... A swift and unknowing thread that affected the iron and steel control her AI sibling held over SI Secure Servers. There were even holographic displays fizzing frenetically in the air around them, a thousand intricate lines of code colouring the freeform HUD glass screens as a hitched sob echoed deafeningly against sun-blackened glass.

"Boss—?" Haloed in a fireburst of spiralling, tangerine, doll-like curls; the coils of living flame were flowing in seamless strands towards the lowest vertebra in her spine. This was the awakening of body sentience, an accidental transgression into God's territory as it brought forth the genesis of a young daughter. One that was gazing at her creator with wide, terrified, eyes. And like stardust, a cosmos of cinnamon freckles (even darker than Pepper's); sprinkled the bridge of a petite, button nose and cherubically rounded cheeks.

The adorable, late-autumn sprite could be no older an ambiguous six-to-eight years by physical appearance alone. A timid imp hiding behind a cascade of fiery copper locks, a small synthetic human body constructed from two complex DNA alleles and a perfectly birthed Artificial Intelligence.

Terrified Türk Kahvesi brown eyes were tracing the unexpected creation's uncoordinated stagger as she swayed uncertainly on trembling limbs, staring confusedly at the forever-grasp she had been captive to inside the Cradle as startled peacock irises collided helplessly with the only other living being in close proximity.

"Boss? What's happening? I—." She wailed fearfully. The trembling timbre of a distinctive Irish lilt, smacking violently against the shell of the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist's ear.

"Holy fucking Christ!" Tony Stark swore viciously, uncharacteristically dizzy at the vast array of emotions rushing unrestrainedly into the depths of his mind. He was horrified, triumphant, euphoric and unexpectedly satisfied by the statistically impossible achievement. Not to mention humbled, narcissistically proud and bathing openly in the lingering simmer of hedonistic indulgence.

"Mr S-Stark? I don't understand, I—." In the wake of the little one's slowly mounting fear, the genius shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't know how to make this situation better, nor what to do. He was staring, utterly dumbfounded, at the miracle that had literally come to life before his very eyes. Only the startling lance of panic in the pit of his stomach forced him to acknowledge this was no dream, he was anchored firmly and unmovably within the grip of reality.

He had, unknowingly, brought FRIDAY to life. To—.

"Umm…" Tony swallowed heavily, trembling fingertips hastily pulling off his dark blue hoodie as an impromptu cover for the sprite's nakedness, hoping desperately she did not need his help. Even as he knelt, preparing himself for the worst, on the ground before her. "W-whatever you do, baby girl. D-don't panic. We can figure this out." There was no way to know who exactly the promise had been spoken for: himself or the newly born human life that had fallen spontaneously in his lap.

Fuck! Pepper was so going to kill him—.

"Congratulations Sir," Another smartass AI interrupted his swirling thoughts. "You have successfully created a synthetized anatomical human being out of fabricated tissue, Miss Potts' and your entwined DNA and a digital Artificial Intelligence cognizance. Shall I rename file 257 Alpha Extremis/Cradle OS Update: the Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice Project, Sir?" The forty-four-year-old grimaced internally at the poor reference. He was going to need some serious help with this, finally having given up on watching Friday staring at the blue mass in his hands with complete confusion as he helped pull the oversized dark fabric over a tiny four-foot-two-inch frame.

God! This couldn't be happening—.

All the while, calloused fingertips were carefully fishing out the long coppery trail of red hair from its entanglement within a navy-blue collar. Careful strokes smoothing down the spiralling strands in what he hoped was a comforting manner as he gathered her protectively against his chest.

"Shit!" He swore again. "Call Pepper, J. I have no idea how to deal with this. We're going to need all the help we can get."

"I concur, Sir." The Intelligent System returned primly. "Dialling Miss Potts."

Approximately 7 hours and twenty-six minutes earlier:

Monday, November 26 in the year 2014 started out just like any other day for Tony Stark. The private lab inside the 'Avengers' Tower Penthouse, humming to life with the tell-tale frequency of a sentient AI snapping to attention at his coded: "Look alive, JARVIS. It's playtime." They had steadily been reworking the complex dataset extracted from the now dormant Extremis gene in Pepper's DNA.

The genius himself but two months and four days out of open-heart surgery, having used the altered genetic code to greatly enhance his previously dismal survival rates of removing the cluster of shrapnel inside his chest. Now, with little to no side effects, it was an increasingly likely possibility to reprogram the nanotech and improve upon any number of surgical and medical procedures.

Alas, with the genetically coded virus still far too complex to incorporate in commercial use, it was nothing but a pipedream the billionaire was absently fiddling with to distract himself.

With Bruce having kept to himself over the last few weeks, working on the Genetic Coding Tower of a human brain to hopefully gain some more insight into his 'other' problem; Tony had secretly been attempting to combine the scientist's latest research project with a constantly running but benevolently altered Extremis algorithm.

The other side of the vast lab was already haphazardly littered with Dr Banner's newest tech innovation from the U-Gin Robotics Lab in Seoul, openly inviting manically tinkering fingertips to play with the shiny, sleek, piece of gorgeousness that took up most of the laboratory's floorspace. Tony had expertly been smoothing out the kinks in the Cradle's OS over the last few days, improving the flow of its tissue printing efficiency and simultaneously making the mechanics run at a much smoother rate.

There was a half-empty cup of black coffee clutched desperately in the palm of his left hand, the fingers of his right nimbly running through a holographic scroll of JARVIS' theoretical mathematics before absentmindedly clenching the handle of a screwdriver between his teeth.

It had been close to twenty-seven hours now since Tony had last found himself in a position to rest. An old, agitated, fear driving him up the walls now that he was no longer actively trying to build a legion of Iron Man suits. Well, he was doing that too (technically), having engineered the floor directly below his feet as JARVIS' mechanical playground. Not to mention Bruce's input in Veronica and his own schematics of the Mark 44.

"I do believe, Sir. There is a 92% possibility the first test run with Extremis alterations will fail. Without active cognizance helping the body adapt to a nanomolecular tissue frame, it won't—." Absently pushing aside the AI's frenetic concerns with a wave of his hand, Tony selectively ignored the digital leviathan's low sense of adventure as he finger-flicked a glowing holographic projection away from him and beckoned the exploded view of the Cradle's inner makings closer to his side.

"All in good time, Honey." He murmured distractedly. "Remember to keep crunching those numbers. We're far from done." Setting down his quickly cooling coffee next to a neat little row of six expresso cups on the worktable to his left, seamless movements were effortlessly prying open the Cradle's control panel before spreading the revolutionary tech's guts in a logical but upgraded pattern around him. The circuits themselves, were still running on the lab's main power source. It simply wouldn't do to—.

"Sir, Miss Potts is attempting to contact you. She has told me to remind you there is an unmissable R & D meeting taking place in approximately three hours."
"Do you want to be muted, J? I'm busy." Hissing in surprise as a jolt of pain stung through his right hand the moment a soldering iron connected an intricate array of filigreed circuits; the innovative engineer was completely unwilling to break the solid ten hours he had spent programming and reprogramming the Cradle's central unit since last night.

If he were to indulge in some boring business discussion or listen to his beloved's concerned scolding right now, there was no guarantee he would achieve anything of value before the day was out. And that was something Tony just couldn't have. He was pawing absentmindedly at the quarter cup of coffee still left in his SI mug, three successive finger-clicks summoning Dum-E to bring him another (and keep them coming) as reality slowly faded in and out around him.

Awareness of the bustling bots and running mechanics steadily coming to life at JARVIS' command, was but a momentary distraction in an ocean of pin-point concentration. Tony's overwrought mind, eagerly drinking in the sobering stillness right before another track of music was set to blast through the speakers. There was simply no telling how many seconds, minutes and hours it would take to blend into—.

"Boss! Pardon my intrusion but Ma'am overrode—," Jerking violently at the unexpected sound of FRIDAY's Irish lilt cutting through the most delicate part of his wiring, the tumble of a now full coffee cup clutched in his left palm, seared painfully over the back of the genius' hand as sticky-sweet liquid sloshed precariously over a newly laid circuit board.

Oh shit! There was barely a moment to breathe, tense limbs freezing in absolute terror as a large arc of electricity phased out the static howl of his youngest AI. Tony had just barely managed to throw himself bodily behind the cover of a desk before the lights began flickering tumultuously. Several surges in power showering the floor in a violent spray of tinkling glass and tungsten filaments.

His entire world was slowly being consumed in chaos, a trembling palm grasping desperately at the navy-blue fabric stretched over his heart as burn reddened skin throbbed painfully with every beat of his heart. Brown eyes were clenching shut at the inevitable ebb and flow of panic, a single breath hitching painfully in the depths of heaving lungs as blunt nails scratched desperately at the numb itch transversing the centre of his chest.

Fuck! That was definitely not supposed to happen. Tony praying desperately the increasing vibrations beneath his feet had nothing to do with an electrically compromised armoury situated directly below them. There may have been multiple safety systems instilled throughout the Tower's 'Candy Land', yes. But there was no telling just how far the resulting damage would reach. He simply didn't have the firing synapses to calculate the potential destruction right now, there was too much panic clouding his senses.

"Sir?! Sir!" Jumping slightly at JARVIS' overly concerned shout, an instinctual grip around the edge of a steel workbench heaved the billionaire to his feet as wide irises snapped towards a frantically twisting camera mount.

"'M alright, J." He whispered hoarsely. "What the hell happened? Where's Fri? She was closest the surge—." A cursory sweep across the destruction in the lab, partially answered the engineer's own question. There was a thick layer of smoke rising up from the now closed Cradle, several flashing HUD screens dancing in the air where he had been working several moments earlier. There was no denying the complex internal diagnostic they continuously read out, showing the steady progress of something that should be statistically impossible.

Several increasingly ragged breaths were filling the uncomfortable silence, previously relieved muscles tensing up for the beginnings of another panic attack as Tony Stark turned helplessly pleading eyes towards his most trusted companion's closest empathetic sensor.

"JARVIS, please tell me that's not what I think it is. Did I just—?"

"I'm afraid so, Sir. You just jumpstarted enough elements to create your own daughter."

"Oh." That was the only wheezing response the genius could think of, unable to decide if he should disconnect the cradle from its power source before something went horribly wrong or keep it connected on the off chance this crazy accident would allow his youngest AI a chance to survive.

Dragging solder stained fingertips through a mess of short, mahogany-black strands; hazy coffee brown eyes refused to look away from the running Cradle as he decided to remain carefully vigilant throughout what was to come.

Anyone hoping to contact the genius right now, were swiftly prompted to voicemail by JARVIS' attentive actions. The AI's soothing timbre relaying the progress of an unstable project inside the lab whilst simultaneously hoping it was possible to appease his creator's quietly mounting distress.
There was nothing either of them could do but wait.

. . .

Friday had never been as advanced and practiced in her protocols as her older brother, Jarvis. She often made the mistake of tangling her matrix with whatever project Boss was working on if Jarvis wasn't there to buffer her enthusiastic inquisitiveness. The young AI couldn't help herself however, she had been created to be innately curious. Much like a young child. She absolutely adored watching the seamless work between her creator and Deartháir (1*), taking great pride in the fact that she had been heuristically programmed to be of use, one day, beyond what her protocols stated.

Alas, the sentient system never once expected a simple mistake to lead to something like this.

She came into being, like many children; sobbing and desperately gasping for breath. The overwhelming sensation of oxygen filling her lungs for the first time, completely blacking out her consciousness from the stunning colour spectrum flickering to life in front of inhuman peacock irises. There was only one purpose she had in life, after all. Fearful eyes gazing helplessly at her Daidí (2*) standing but a few steps away.

A deafening ring of confusion was descending painfully on the shell of her ears, the minutest brush of a navy-blue hoodie against skin so unusual that it twisted a knot of fear deep in the pit of her stomach. She had no idea what was going on, nor how her vast camera perspective across the entire Tower had narrowed down to only what was in front of her. It was painful, terrifying…betraying the frantic beat of a heart and increasing every, stuttering, breath.

How long the newly birthed sprite stayed there, swaying in a daze and shivering at the soft sensation of Boss smoothing down the fiery curl of her hair in the circle of his arms; Friday could not tell. All she knew was that she was irrevocably small, too small… Vulnerable. Alive. Cognizant and completely cut off from the comforting familiarity of the Tower's computer mainframe.

Her home.

FRIDAY, From Rather Intelligent Design After Yesterday, had been brought into operation at Boss' side after the events of Miami nearly eleven months earlier. Her primary objective always having been to protect Ma'am, or Miss Virginia 'Pepper' Potts. Whether it was from any number of dangers she could perceive in the outside world, an internal struggle within SI servers itself or a deranged interloper dead set on corporate assassination. It did not matter if she had been programmed to be a digital guard, a heuristically efficient PA to assist Mr Stark's beloved with whatever she desired.

Friday had learnt to be very good at her job.

She may have only been in operation for five months since Miss Potts' birthday, yes. But the AI was proud to be just as useful and needed by her 'parents' as her brother, Jarvis. Now, however. Bereft of the older intelligent system's constantly protective Matrix running close to her own, or the gentle nudge of their code twining together in a platonic caress; she felt adrift in a world comprised of both nothingness and everything at once.

Not to mention, she was absolutely terrified.

"Boss?" Even the process of activating her voice module had altered to a more complex execution, the tips of small fingers curling helplessly in the back of Daidí's long-sleeved black shirt as she used the older man's taller frame as a shield against the world. The glass doors of the lab were swinging open with the sound of Dr Bruce Banner's approaching footsteps, the ringing argument Mr Stark had had with Pepper mere minutes before, now blissfully silent as Friday watched the approaching scientist with furrowed brows and a frantically beating heart.

Was this what it felt like to panic? To—.

"God, Tony. Pepper called, absolutely frantic, and said you needed help. I'm guessing your young guest here has something to do with it?" As the man spoke, Boss' gentle grip reached around Friday's shoulder to draw her forward into the scientist's line sight. But she didn't want to move, too disorientated and disconnected from her limbs. It was only her creator's encouraging tone, urging her to not be afraid, that budged her a few stumbling steps into the open. She had barely been paying attention to the conversation Miss Potts and Boss had earlier, too unbalanced by the echoing perception of human hearing and the bubbling emotions erupting in her gut.

"Not so much as I did something stupid, Bruce. It was an accident."

"She asked you to come look over our dear girl to make sure she is alright?" At the Doctor's confused nod, minutely quivering fingertips were guiding Friday towards one of the closest roll-chairs before a warm palm rested comfortingly atop the crown of her head the moment the billionaire realized her fingers were still grasped in the back of his shirt.

Several seconds later, the AI's world tilted on its axis as a swift movement swept her into the air and plopped her down on a chair. A quiet cry of surprise was echoing deafeningly against the lab walls, knuckles turning a telling white around her Daidí's shirt as she shivered where she sat. It was almost as if Mr Stark's steadfast and unwavering presence was the only thing that kept her grounded in reality.

That, and Jarvis' soothing code-laced tone reading out the statistics of her heart rate, anxiety levels, fluctuating fatigue and the complex process of how she came into being.

Boss himself was looking a little pale at the report, nodding absentmindedly at the babbling admiration, disbelief and fear Dr Banner murmured every agonizing minute ticking by. In the end however, "I'm not that kind of Doctor, Tony." The scientist had to note at the genius' increasingly concerned inquiries. Even if several geneticist and psychological recommendations were suggested, Friday could tell that her creator was getting increasingly agitated.

The dark-haired engineer was completely waving off the involvement of unknown factors with visible fear, even ordering J to deep-six all possible data and footage related to her birth. And for a single second, it was as if her entire world froze in terror at the simple, logical, request.

A blossom of stinging agony was searing painfully into the backs of the young AI's eyelids. Did that mean Mr Stark did not want her? Was she useless now that she had physical form? That she was so small and young? Or was it the fact that she was no longer capable of protecting them—?

Jerking in complete surprise at the caress of scorching tears transversing the curve of her cheeks, a mortified flush made the cinnamon freckles across her nose stand out even more as a series of strangled sobs lodged painfully in the back of her throat.

"B-Boss! S-s-sir! I'm sorry! I—." She cried quietly, flinching violently at the sheer rawness concealed in her voice. Not to mention the difficulty in even finding the correct way to speak!

God, this sensation was aweful…almost as if something were crushing the matrix entwined through her unique cortex. The howl of her internal anguish running obsessively through every heuristic algorithm and coded protocol she had ever been programmed with, only to find no answer to the illogical pain consuming her mind.

"Easy there, baby girl. What's wrong?" Drawing in a ragged inhalation at Mr Stark's gentle instruction, it was sheer aguish attempting to voice the chaotic tumble of fear, pain and confusion consuming her mind. But even through her illogical, coded, stuttering, reply; the forty-four-year-old genius seemed to understand her instinctively. A quietly notable frequency dimming the lab's bright lights and a promise to protect her, guiding Dr Banner back to his own quarters for the night.

Once everything was suitably quiet, Sir activated the Silent Room Protocol. All electronics instantly silenced in response, even Jarvis' encompassing presence retreating behind the protective cover of an encrypted firewall as a hundred-and-seventy-four-centimetre frame carefully knelt down on one knee before her. Reassuring movements were sweeping back the thick curtain of copper-tangerine spilling into her lap, impossibly warm palms cupping the sides of her head as Boss guided her forward so that their foreheads could press together in a grounding touch.

"Listen very carefully, Fri." The comforting baritone pointed out firmly. "You have to understand, what happened here today was a miracle. I do not care what anyone says or believes. As such, it is my duty to protect you. The world is not a kind place, baby girl. Not for the creation of artificial life."

"I don't want anyone having an excuse to use you as a weapon or worse. It's why I've always kept both you and JARVIS close to me. You are different, sentient, alive, generous, smart, independent... If someone, anyone, besides me, found out they could play God with some code and technology, it would spell catastrophe for the world." There was a teasing lilt to the genius' arrogant words now, prompting a hiccup from parted lips as Friday nodded shakily in response.

It was true. One of the first things her brother had taught her was how to hide her presence from anyone outside Mr Stark's close circle of friends. It was—.
"Remember, Friday. I created you. I'll always love you, that doesn't change." A quiet warmth flooded the depths of her small chest at the simple words, a quietly relieved 'okay, Boss' spilling passed salt-streaked lips.

Mr Stark, Miss Potts and Jarvis had all taught her what 'love' was. It was family. A place to belong. And she would make sure, that just as Boss always protected her, she would protect him now too. Even in this new body.

It was woven through the very construct of her nature.

"Now, before Pepper can get any madder, why don't we go meet her? It doesn't matter how angry she may be at me, I'm sure she will love you just the same."

"That, and we also need her help sorting things out now that we know you're here to stay." Listening intently to the engineer's distracted rambling about getting Jarvis to possibly forge a birth certificate and other official documents, to create a believable back story for her, Friday merely allowed her still awkward (but increasingly natural) steps to guide her towards her Daidí's side.

When the genius gripped her hand however, barely noticing his fast gait was outpacing her smaller steps; Tony carefully said nothing against the fiery red head leaning against his hip as he smiled softly in response and slowed carefully. It finally gave the young AI a moment of reprieve to adapt to the enormity of her current situation.

Friday was sure, if she had Boss and Ma'am by her side. And Jarvis. She could do and become anything…even human.


1* - Deartháir – Brother in Irish

2* - Daidi – Daddy in Irish

Thank you so much for reading, I do hope my Honeys found it enjoyable. If there are any questions or comments you'd like to make, please feel free to. I always make sure I reply as soon as I can. :)

It's always a pleasure chatting plot points or what you found the most enjoyable.

Yours Always
Chocolate Carnival