This is my first ever story I have published so please bare with me.
I'm using some themes from Fullmetal Alchemist so if it seems familiar in anyway that is why.
This is based before Tony was kidnapped and it will be a very eventual Steve/OC story.
Why was I lying down? Why was it so quiet? Had I gone deaf?... Was I dead?
The last thing I remember was screaming for my team to take cover, after discovering several land mines surrounding our area. Two mines exploded taking out half of our team before the third exploded and now I know it had hit me and whoever was in my region. By all rights, I should be dead. Instead I'm lying on a seemingly comfortable bed, eyes heavy and completely disorientated as to what happened and where I was now.
I was racking my brain for the worse case scenario; I am in an enemy camp where I am being held for question or ransom. It's not every day the enemy gets there hands on a Stark.
My hearing returned to me slowly, I could hear muffled sounds here and there. The beeping of monitors, "I'm in a hospital." I told myself. I could make out voices. They were speaking English.
"I'm with allies. I'm safe" I consoled myself as I relaxed slightly.
"I don't know what I'd do if I lost her P-Pepper." a voice breaking into soft sobs.
I'm in hospital. I'm with allies. I'm with my father, Tony Stark.
I couldn't for the life of me open my eyes. I summoned all the strength I had to lift my hand the best I could and croaked, "... D-Dad."
I felt my hand engulfed between the callous hands of my fathers, "Jac! Oh Jac, baby." He paused and left a kiss on my hand he was holding, stroking it gently after he had. "You're home, you're safe."
Slowly and with a great deal of will, I opened my eyes. My vision was so blurred I could just about make out three figures by my side; my dad, his assistant Pepper Potts and a nurse who dashed from the room just as soon as she entered it.
"W-Water... please." I gasped realising how parched I was, like I had been in a desert for what felt like a week. My dad brought the straw to my mouth. I sipped slowly, nodding thank you after I felt a little more hydrated. I felt like a bus had hit me, and then reversed over my already injured body. At this point, I wish that was what had happened. There may have been less damage to deal with. What had happened to me? Was I dying?
With the last of my energy I began to cry, allowing myself a brief moment of weakness in which all I wanted was my daddy. I let him wrap his arms around me and pull me into a gentle hug before the darkness took me again.
I never liked hospitals much. Ever since the summer when I was 8 and I went over the handle bars of my bike. I needed stitches in my head and I hated needles. All I remember from that day was my Dad holding my hand the entire time and saying that I could have anything I wanted for dinner if I could get through this without crying. It was easier than I thought but if he hadn't of held my hand, I couldn't have done it.
My Dad looked completely beat. He hadn't slept, let alone left my bedside for the three days I had been in hospital. He sat to my left and Doctor Green, the same physician I had had when I was 8, sat on my right.
"Miss Stark. You have sustained multiple injuries after the explosion. We are lucky we got you here when we did and stabilized or you would be dead." he explained with a calm voice waiting for what he had just said to sink in.
"My team, what about my team?" my voice failing me as I asked the question I didn't want the answer too.
"I'm afraid that members of your team were either killed instantly or died shortly after admittance. Thankful you were just far away enough from the blast to avoid being killed. However, the injuries you sustained need treatment and some... other drastic measures." the Doctor explained glancing at my dad when he had finished.
I turned to my dad, he looked so deflated and squeezed my hand so gently. Something was wrong.
"Firstly, you have partial hearing loss in your right ear. We can provide you with a state of the art hearing aid that will help you." I nodded calmly waiting for him to continue. I could feel Dad stroking my hand comfortingly.
"Second degree burns on starting from the top of your right set of ribs and ending on your thighs. We can create skin grafts for this and it will leave a noticeable scar but the results will make the damage look better in time." I could tell we were building slowly to something horrible. Dads breathing had become shaky and his grip on my hand tightened.
"Lastly Miss Stark, I've discussed this already with your father." He took a deep breath and looked at me with heavy sympathy weighing in this voice, "I'm so sorry to have to tell you this..."
"What is it?" I demanded forcefully, everything was distorted and dreamlike as if this wasn't happening at all. Must be the painkillers I thought to myself.
"Your right leg took a lot of the impact of the blast. Resulting in lodged shrapnel, considerable nerve and muscle damage. At this point skin grafts, surgery etc, will not save your leg. You will never walk on it again. And our best option for you... is to amputate this leg."
I turned to my father, the information not quite reaching me. I felt like I had when I was 8, holding my dads hand while I promised not to cry. Before the sob left my throat, my dad pulled me into a careful hug, whispering, "I'm so sorry baby, it's going to be okay, I'm going to make it okay."
Living with one leg wasn't easy but after six months of struggling for independence, just like a Stark would as dad put it, I managed to fall into a routine of doing everything on my own.
I could bath, cook, even drive by myself. I was not by any means a proud person but I wasn't looking for charity either. This was my life now and I was going to live it just as any other person does.
"Hey Wheels," joked Dad before leaning down and placing a kiss on my forehead.
"Cheeky sod. I can always run over your feet again." I replied in a sarcastic tone.
He ruffled hair and placed some old notebooks on my lap. "I have some reading material for you. Thought it would make a change from tune ups in the garage."
"What are they?" I questioned with a furrowed brow.
He took a seat next to my wheelchair, took one of the notebooks and absent-mindedly picked the corner of one of them, "Well, I thought back when you choose your minor in college. Still don't know why did History of all things." I laughed at that.
I studied mechanics in college as my major and because of my love of history, I took it as a minor.
My favourite period of history was WW2. I could read about the war for hours on end, especially anything about the famous Howling Commandos, lead by Captain Steve Rogers.
"These belonged to your grandfather." Pointing at the notebooks in my lap.
"I found them when I was clearing out a few things. I had a thumb through, and they date to when he was serving in the SSR in World War 2. They are journals and a few mechanical notes here and there. I thought you'd like to read them, seeing as you have a massive crush on an age old star spangled man." he smirked as a hit him playfully on the shoulder.
"I wasn't that close with my dad, and I'm glad that we aren't like that. You're my whole world Jac, and when I nearly lost you-" his head lowered and he pinched the bridge of this nose. I turned my chair and hugged him best I could from the awkward angle.
"I'm here, I'm alive. I'm not leaving you so long as you don't leave me, ok?" I steadied my voice best I could. No sense in both of us crying.
Although these past few months I have regained some independence, its been hard on my dad watching me do so. He wants me to live a normal life and being a veteran amputee isn't exactly normal.
He kissed my temple, took a deep breath and released me from our hug.
"So these are the old man's notes huh? And for your information, I don't have a crush on Captain Rogers. It's more of admiration and respect." I smiled.
"Whatever you say baby. You swoon every time we go to a museum with an exhibit about the guy." He smirked gleefully.
"I can't help that he was a handsome son of a bitch can I?" I laughed with such ease, something I haven't done in a while.
"I have to get to a board meeting. Let me know if you find anything good, you hear? I want to take credit for it." He winked cheekily at me, and kissed me on the forehead before leaving.
Howard Stark's notes where entertaining to say the least. He never gave much away about his personal life but he had so many ideas for the future of man kind. It was bitter sweet that he had died along with my grandmother and that none of his plans came to fruition.
I finished the third book Dad had given me, I skimmed the next one before a thick envelope fell from it. I bent from chair and retrieved it. It was just as old as the notebooks and written on it, in Howard's handwriting, "PROJECT FULLMETAL"
The envelope contained plans for working metal limbs for veterans after the war. The limbs were fashioned from steel and would be attracted to a fixture on the amputated limb and then connected to the nerve endings so the subject could move it like a normal extensions of themselves.
I couldn't help but think that this was a turn of fate that this should fall into my life at this time but I had my suspicions that my dad had meant me to find it. The technology was sound and with a few modifications, it was bound to work. I had a purpose, a goal to work towards. And with the help of the grandfather I had never met, I might just walk again.
I kept the notes to myself. Working at night, sleeping during that day. Although asking for Dads help would make this go faster, I needed to do this myself. I reached biology books, doctors notes, everything to make sure I got this right.
I framed the leg, working from measurements of my left so it mirrored well. I used a light material so I could walk easy. After two months, I had completed the leg.
The main challenged I faced was the attachment. I managed to attach my nerve endings, with the closely guided biology book next to me to the fixture I built without breaking flesh but, the hard part was yet to come. I took my belt off folded it once and put it between my teeth bracing myself. I positioned the leg into the fixture socket, fitting perfectly. I smiled briefly, letting pride in for a moment.
The next part was the final attachment. This would connect my nerve endings to the artificial ones I built to control the leg independently. I lined up the sockets, braced myself and took deep breath. I jerked the leg into place connecting the nerve endings. I let out a long groan trying to be as quiet as I could. It was the worst pain I had ever experienced in my life. After a minute, the pain dulled. I wiped the sweat from my brow and took a few deep, shaky breathes.
I assessed my work. Apart from being made from steel, it was a mirror image to my left leg.
First test to see if I got it work was to try and wiggle my toes. I focused on them for several minutes willing them to move. My pinky moved then the next, and the next. Soon I was bending my new metal knee and pushing my self into standing position. I moved along the railing, testing out how heavy my new limb was before making any longer journeys. I took small steps without the railing, and made my way towards the stairs that led up to the living area from the garage.
I took my time, there was no rushing a good thing. I made the final step and saw Rhodey, my dad's best friend and my God Father. Next to him stood Pepper and my dad at the living room bar toasting the latest sale in Stark Industries. All with there backs turned to me. I straightened myself up, took my hair down from its signature half up-half down style then asked, "What are we celebrating?"
They turned in unison all with wide eyes and surprised expressions. It was a full minute before any one said anything. I walked carefully and slowly towards them. Instinctively, they all ran towards me worrying I'd fall.
"Granddads notes. I found plans for mechanical prosthetics. Thought I'd give it a shot. What do you think?" I explained not taking my eyes off them, while all they could do was stare at my new addition.
"Jac..." my dad was the first to say anything, I couldn't read his face which worried me. Would he think I was stupid doing this by myself? Then, he pulled me into a hug, bursting into tears as he did so.
"That old man, he might not have loved me or did anything for me but I'm so thankful he did this for my little girl." He released me from our embrace and cupped my face. "I have to be the proudest dad in the world. Look at you." He took me in completely, "Those doctors said you'd never walk again and like a Stark, you proved them all wrong."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell any of you. I wanted to attempt it myself and if I failed, I failed. Nothing gained, nothing lost. I needed to do this myself." I explained with the steadiest voice I could muster, feeling like I'd wake up at any moment.
"Like a Stark, wanting to do things all by yourself. You really are your father's daughter." laughed Rhodey giving me a one armed hug.
"I'm so proud of you Jacqueline." Pepper exclaimed near to tears. I pulled her into a long hug.
"Dad?" He looked so full of pride, my heart felt so light that all my worries floated away.
"Could you look over it for me, just a second opinion to make sure I didn't miss anything." I smiled, knowing he was dying to see how it worked.
"C'mon." he beamed at me walking carefully with me back down to the garage.
"You know, this needs something..." eyeing my leg with an intensely and humorous look on his face.
"What?" I asked with a hint of humour in my voice too, waiting for his response.
He looked at me and grinned widely with a twinkle in his eye that I sorely missed.
"A paint job. I'm thinking red, white and blue for your weird crush on Captain Steve."
I hit his arm lightly, "Shut up, old man." I smiled, "I'd like that. Red, white and blue it is."
He pulled me into a long hug. No words were spoken, and neither of us wanted it to end. It was good to feel normal again.
Two years had passed since my life began again.
The press got wind of the story that the famous Tony Stark's daughter had become a pioneer in modern prosthetics. Story in TIME magazine, TV Spots, endless interviews. I decided to do something good with the new lease of life I had been given.
I started a charity for any and all war vets that needed help. From prosthetics and therapy to food and accommodation. I even had a slogan, "We are not beat, we are Made of Iron."
My life was good, rewarding and fulfilling. Until my dad was kidnapped while on a weapons demonstration. After that my life wasn't quite the same.
I hope you enjoyed it. I will try and post often as I can. I'm started out with this for the first time (writing and publishing) so please bare with me.