Midweek update because I literally can't help myself.

ALSO: I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT THERE IS AN ITSOYW PLAYLIST ON YOUTUBE! If you search 'emmagnetised ff' you should be able to find my YouTube profile, and the playlist name is the same as the story. Should help you to get a feel for this version of Maggie ;)

TW for this chapter: Discussion of disability, and lack of mobility. I have done my best, but if I've been tactless or made any errors here please let me know.

January 24, 1992

Maggie finally got to go home with a wheelchair, a case full of medication, and an in-house nurse. Her routine went much the same as it had at hospital: bed rest, medication, physiotherapy, without many visitors or fun. But at least she got to wheel around a place she felt familiar with, and watch lots of TV. Mr Jarvis and his wife Ana came over to sit with her most days, and sometimes they read her books. She started back on her schoolwork with an at-home tutor.

They finally let Maggie see her leg when she got her stitches out - it looked pretty gross, with bright red lines along where they'd stitched her skin and the whole end of the limb rounded and swollen, but the doctors seemed pleased with how it had healed. They told her that the angry lines would fade to clean scars, and the end of her limb would shrink back to a normal size after a few weeks of her wearing her special sock. It took her two weeks to get used to looking down and not seeing her foot.

Her physiotherapist was really good at helping her move her legs, but the damage to her nervous system had been extensive. Her movements were still jerky, uncoordinated, and neither of her legs could bear any weight. She went back to the hospital for a series of brain and spinal scans. And began to prepare for the possibility of spending her life in a chair.

Memories of the night of the car crash crept up on her when she least expected them. She also had a therapist, and she did talk about missing her parents and her leg and the life she used to have, which helped, but she didn't tell them the whole truth. The man with the metal arm was trapped in her mind, no longer able to be voiced. Half the time, she thought she must have made him up. But she could still feel his metal fingers digging into her skin, could still hear him: You are my mission.

Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, Maggie whispered her reply into her pillow where no one would hear it. "You're my mission now." She didn't know what she meant by the words. But they'd become a part of her, as permanent as the loss of her parents, as permanent as the damage her body had suffered. Irremovable.

Tony was… around. But he spent a lot of time in Dad's workshop, where Maggie wasn't allowed. He came along for every one of her doctor's appointments though, and afterward he would walk her doctors out of the mansion, engaged in serious conversations in low voices. Maggie watched them go, her eyes narrowed, until her nanny tried to distract her with schoolwork.

March, 1992

Tony played his music much louder these days. Rhodey hadn't thought it could be possible, but as he sat on a stool in the middle of the Stark mansion workshop he had to resist the urge to slap his hands over his ears to muffle the pounding of Aerosmith.

"Are you really sure you need it this loud?" he shouted to Tony, who sat three feet away in front of three large computer screens. Each of the screens showed a different design for a prosthetic leg.

Tony glanced over at Rhodey. "What?"

"I said-" but then he saw from the quick glint in Tony's eye that he was being made fun of, and shut his mouth. He sighed and cast an eye over the designs on the computer screens. Tony had been working on this for weeks now, trying to turn his engineering brain to a medical issue. Rhodey had no idea if it was working or not, but he'd noticed that Tony was collaborating (an unusual skill, for him) with Maggie's team of neurosurgeons and physiotherapists. Rhodey scratched his chin. "I thought the doctors said a prosthetic wouldn't help until they figure out the spinal cord and nerve issues."

"They did," Tony said, seemingly not bothered by the music blaring over their conversation. He typed in a string of code and the design on the right twisted, becoming more angular. "But I've got some ideas for that too. I've been talking to Dr Ravi, and we think there might be a surgical method to rehabilitate mobility. It's based on existing surgeries, but… we've come up with some new ideas. I've been thinking about smart prosthetics."

Rhodey shot Tony a look. "You're going to test-"

"No," Tony said without looking up. "I don't want to hurt her anymore. This is all just… theory. I'm not telling Maggie about it, I don't want to get her hopes up."

A moment later, even over the thudding bass of Should I Stay or Should I Go, Rhodey heard the click of the workshop door opening. He and Tony both glanced over their shoulders to see Maggie in her wheelchair, wearing a fuzzy knitted sweater and a white limb sock over her amputated leg, which just peeked out from under a blanket. Maggie looked much better these days, since most of her bruises and lacerations had healed. Rhodey had noticed more of her old bright curiosity returning as well. Today, Maggie's face was flushed and her hair stuck up wildly on her head as she rolled herself into the workshop, spun around, then closed the door and locked it.

Tony turned off the music. "Hey." Maggie's head jerked up and she turned her chair, more slowly this time.

"Hello Rhodey," she said when she spotted him sitting beside Tony. He lifted a hand in greeting.

Tony stood up. "What the hell are you doing in here? Why are you by yourself?"

Maggie cautiously rolled forward, her hands nimble on the metal rungs of her wheels. "My tutor thinks I'm going to get my workbook." Rhodey's eyebrows rose. "I know you've been working on something in here." Her eyes zeroed in on the screens full of prosthetics behind Tony and a look of vindication lit up her face.

Tony turned off the screens. "Maggie, this isn't-"

"I don't care," Maggie breathed. Her wheelchair bumped into the side of a worktable, but she adjusted and kept rolling closer toward them. "I know what you're up to. And I know I'm small," she continued with dark, earnest eyes, "but I want to help."

Rhodey glanced to Tony, who seemed to be chewing the inside of his cheek.

Tony drew in a deep breath. "I don't want you to… to get your hopes up, Maggie. I can't promise anything."

"You sound like the doctors." She shrugged. "I don't care. I want to help."

Rhodey glanced back at Tony again. He couldn't believe the look of consideration and appraisal on Tony's face; surely Tony wasn't going to let his five year old sister have some kind of say on whatever mad medical schemes he was cooking up? But then, as Tony glanced back at his workbench, Rhodey recalled how Maggie had been before. He recalled how she had spoken to him about the planes he had flown, and their aerodynamic and mechanical capabilities. He had once explained the basics of aerodynamics to her, and she had finished the conversation by writing down the drag coefficient equation to show him how jet fuselages had been engineered to generate maximum lift.

After seeing Maggie drugged up and confused in hospital, and now small and chair-bound, Rhodey kept forgetting what she was. Maggie was a Stark.

Tony glanced back at his little sister as she finally navigated to the computer hub in the center of the workshop. She looked up at her brother with a determined expression.

Tony set his hands on his hips. "Fine. Settle in, Magnolia, and let me know if you need me to slow down."

Rhodey sat back and watched Tony go through all his work of the past few weeks. Maggie didn't ask him to slow down. She asked a few clarifying questions, and sometimes her brow furrowed, but she seemed to understand him. Rhodey understood maybe half of what was said, and he definitely didn't see the bigger picture.

Tony talked about implants and neural connectivity and 'smart prosthetics' and anatomical mechanical links. After a few minutes, Maggie scratched at the top of her limb sock and cocked her head at Tony's computer screens.

"You're talking about cybernetics," she said eventually. "Like robots."

Tony shut his mouth. He glanced back at the screen, then back at Maggie. "I… you're right. I am." His eyes widened. "I've been looking at just the mechanical, or just the biological, but there's that link - communication." Something like glee glinted in his eyes. "We should look into this. Get over here, I'll bring you down a computer."

Maggie eagerly rolled over. After a few moments Rhodey smiled to himself and left the workshop. Neither of them said goodbye, but he didn't mind. Moments later he heard the electric guitars of Led Zeppelin echo down the corridor.

He supposed he ought to be concerned about what those two might cook up: a five year old and a twenty one year old, who formerly hadn't gotten along very well, left to their own devices. But after months of heavy, suffocating grief, this felt like a glimmer of light.

They're going to be alright.

Tony hadn't thought that Maggie would be much help at first. But it turned out that connectivity systems came naturally to her - Tony had spent over a decade learning the way things were supposed to be, but Maggie had no such preconceived notions. For her, there was no difference between the intricacies of an engine and the human nervous system. Plus she didn't have that queasy look that the Stark Industries engineers gave him when he suggested crazy ideas.

She was still a little young to design the thing herself, so it remained Tony's idea, but she followed along with every step of the way and helped him talk through his ideas, occasionally suggesting perspectives that he hadn't considered. They reached out to medical engineers and neuroscientists in their work.

Of course he made sure she still kept up with her rehab and her schoolwork, but this new, strange mix of science and engineering they tinkered away at in their father's workshop had become an obsession for both of them. When Tony pulled himself away for long enough he realized this had become somewhat of a replacement for the space their parents had left in their lives. That was alright by him, but sometimes he wondered if Maggie… needed more.

Jarvis and Ana still stayed around the house most days, making sure the Starks ate and slept and got outside every now and then. Rhodey was busy with the Air Force, but he made a point of dropping in when he could. Obie was busy with Stark Industries.

Maggie's health improved every day. She got stronger and more active, and Tony privately wondered if she'd end up as a weightlifter or something one day.

One morning, as they were burning their fingers on soldering irons in an experiment with artificial neural connectivity, Tony glanced up at her. "Hey Maggie."

She looked up. Her dark, unruly hair had been pulled into two pigtails fastened by Star-Wars scrunchies. "What?"

"Do you ever…" he furrowed his brow and glanced away. "Do you ever miss your leg?"

"Yes," she instantly replied, as if he'd asked an obvious question. And he supposed he had. Tony glanced back at her, and she cocked her head. "But I'm going to get a new one."

He frowned.

Maggie nodded across the workshop at a far bench. He followed her gaze to see the model prosthetics he had bought, to study their structure and mechanics.

Tony glanced back, the corner of his mouth quirked, and she smiled at him.

"And one day," she said as she turned back to her work. "I'll be able to use it."

And then… they figured it out. The answer was both biological and mechanical: with a combination of standard medical metal implants (plates and rods for spinal surgery), as well as improvised cybernetic tech to create artificial connectivity along the spinal cord, more standardised surgery to correct the nervous and lumbar issues, and a smart prosthetic, it was likely that Maggie would achieve full mobility and functionality again. Each step of the way, Tony said it was a hypothetical experiment. Tony ran it by the neurosurgery team at the Children's Hospital, who about lost their minds. Then they got ethics approval. And then…

"I don't think this is a good idea," Tony told Maggie one summer afternoon, looking down at an email he'd just received. Experimental procedure approved for trial. Maggie was propped on the leather couch on the other side of his office, reading a children's book for her English class.

She looked up. "What?"

Tony drew in a deep breath. "The surgery. The implants." He pushed his chair back from his desk, shaking his head. "This is such an invasive procedure, and so many things could go wrong-"

"I know."

Tony's head jerked up and he looked into Maggie's eyes. Her face was utterly still, and her eyes were burning. His breath left his chest. He'd noticed this part of her occasionally - a deep well of anger and determination that had never been there before the car crash. It made him shut his mouth.

Maggie didn't break eye contact. She'd dropped her book. "I helped you write that part of the report. I know everything that can go wrong." Her hands clenched and she swung around so she sat upright. "But I know it won't."

"Maggie, you don't-"

"Don't tell me I don't understand!" she said, her young voice belying the gravity behind her words. "I do. But everyone you talked to said it will work. I know the doctors - I know they're the best. I know the technology is the best, too. And the reason I know this will work," she continued, "is that you designed this." Tony's mouth snapped shut as Maggie stared at him. "You're smart, Tony. Smarter than - than dad," she said, though her mouth shook. "I know you've checked this over so many times that there's no way something can go wrong. So I'm sure. Let me do this."

Tony sat back in his chair, feeling deflated. For a few long moments silence reigned in the office. Tony's heart was pounding. He'd only been able to get this far by pretending it was all theoretical. The idea of the systems and technologies he'd designed being put inside Maggie made his stomach turn.

Finally, he met her eyes again. "You're a real bully, you know that?"

Her eyes glinted. "But you're going to do what I say anyway."

"I didn't say that," he warned. "You… I want you to get permission from…" Who? Her legal guardianship was still up in the air. "From Jarvis," he improvised. "And Obie, and… and…"

Maggie waited him out. She knew there was no one else left who could pretend to be in charge of her.

"And Rhodey," he finished, pointing his finger at her.

Maggie's eyes flashed again. "Okay. Help me get in my chair."

Tony crossed the room and gently carried her into her wheelchair, from where she zipped off into the hallway, no doubt on her way to find Jarvis. She'd gotten strong thanks to all the physio, and she was an absolute speed demon in her chair.

Tony let out a sigh and reached up to press his fingers into his temples. Here we go.

May, 1992

Tony wasn't quite sure how Maggie, just a month away from her sixth birthday, managed to bully her way into getting invasive experimental surgery. Jarvis had needed the most convincing, and struggled to understand the complexities of the surgery in his older age, but eventually he relented. Obie agreed to it over the phone after just five minutes of Maggie talking his ear off.

Rhodey saying yes surprised Tony - he'd put him on Maggie's list because he knew that out of all of them, Rhodey was the least likely to be convinced by the science. Rhodey made decisions based on gut instinct. But Maggie hadn't even needed to talk him into it.

When Tony asked, Rhodey set a hand on his shoulder.

"I've seen you do some crazy stuff in your life, Tony, but I know there's no way in hell you would have agreed to this unless you were absolutely sure it would work. If the surgery was for you, I'd question it. But this is Maggie."

Still, Tony had some of his old MIT professors check over his work in the weeks leading up to the surgery, because they were the only ones he really trusted to quadruple-check his math.

On the day Maggie got admitted back to the Children's Hospital, six years old with lightning bolts painted on the sides of her wheelchair, Tony was hit with a cold rush of realization: this is really happening.

He glanced down at Maggie, who was flexing her legs as much as she could: her left leg shook and twisted sideways, and the nub of leg below her right knee flexed up and down, almost smoothly. She looked up at him.

"This is really happening," she grinned. When that didn't elicit the excited response she wanted, she reached up and grabbed at the hem of his t-shirt. "Don't worry about me, Tony."

He crossed his arms. "I'm always going to worry about you."

"Ms Stark?" they both looked over to see Dr Ravi waving from the other end of the lobby. "We're ready for pre-op now, if you'd both like to come through."

Tony let out a shuddering breath and set his hands on the back of Maggie's wheelchair. "Here we go, Maggot."

He couldn't see her face, but when she next spoke her voice didn't have that wide smile in it. "Here we go."

There were three surgeries in total, over the period of a month. They installed titanium plates and rods in Maggie's back, threaded wiring along her spine like nerves, and performed the complex surgery necessary for her nerves and spine to function as they were meant to. Maggie had the best doctors and the best care, but Tony could see the toll the surgeries took on her: she got sick from the anaesthetic and lethargic from the medication, growing weaker as the month bore on. She had constant bruises in the crooks of her elbows from her IV lines and she lost weight, leaving her limbs thin and shaking. Her doctors and nurses said it was all within expected limits, but Tony hated it.

They invited him to observe one of the surgeries, the more complicated one with the cybernetic link ups (since that had been his brainchild), but he didn't want to see Maggie opened up like that. It was bad enough seeing the scars up her back and along her hips.

In Maggie's more lucid moments they looked over her X-rays together, pointing out how the doctors had achieved in real life what the two of them had imagined on computer software. Outside of their hospital room bubble, Tony knew that the doctors and scientists involved were buzzing about the procedure and technology already.

Then came the time for healing. Maggie had to stay in hospital for two months of bed rest, not allowed to go home because the surgery was an experimental trial. They increased her mobility as time went on, physically moving her limbs for her at first and then running exercises with her as she lay in bed: leg up, leg down, flex, push. Still, Tony could see that this rest period weighed as heavy on Maggie as the month of surgery had. She consumed way too much TV, blazed through her schoolwork (Tony resisted against bumping her up another grade, because he knew from experience how alienating that would be when she went back to school in person).

They dealt with a brief infection in her hip, which the doctors chased off with an obliterative course of antibiotics, and her in-bed mobilisation got ever more promising. One day, about three quarters of the way into her mandated recovery period, Tony watched as Maggie's physiotherapist did a resistance exercise with her: having Maggie push back against his hands with her legs.

"That's looking really positive," the physiotherapist beamed, glancing from Maggie to Tony. "I think we might try you with some walking exercises next week."

"Really?" Maggie breathed, wide eyed.

"We'll talk with the rest of the healthcare team, but I think it's definitely coming soon," he said. "You're making excellent progress, Maggie."

Tony sat back in his chair, running a hand over his face so he could conceal his smile.

That afternoon, Tony fell asleep in his chair. Maggie knew he was supposed to be on a conference call with Obie and the rest of the SI board, but she also knew he needed his sleep. So she quietly did her English homework, though she couldn't concentrate on it. Her thoughts were focused on her legs: focused on the sensation and slight movement of them as she shifted beneath her sheets. She wriggled her toes. She hadn't been able to do that before the surgery. Excitement zinged up her spine.

Maggie glanced around. Tony, asleep in his chair. The private room's windows were obscured by the blinds, and she could just see the foggy shape of the nurse's station through the frosted glass in the door. No one in sight. Maggie clenched her fists in her sheets. This is a bad idea.

And yet, half a minute later she was sitting upright and shifting, moving as quietly as possible so as not to wake Tony. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and hit the button to lower the whole frame as close to the floor as possible. It whirred smoothly, and Maggie's left leg dangled in midair.

When her left foot touched the cool vinyl floor a flinch went through her body. Her physiotherapists had already tested her temperature sensation, but something about having the floor beneath her feet (foot) made her shiver.

Maggie glanced around again. Her hospital room was dim and quiet, scented by the bouquet of lilies Aunt Peggy had sent. The only sounds were the soft whirring of machinery and Tony's steady breathing.

Holding her breath, Maggie gripped the railing on the side of her bed with all the strength she had, and then shifted her hips off the mattress.

The instant her weight fell on her leg it wobbled and almost crumpled. But Maggie weaved her arms through the bed railing, holding herself up as her heart pounded, and slowly, shakily, got her leg under herself. She closed her eyes and visualised the muscles in her leg like her doctors had taught her. She felt the flex of her thigh muscles, the strain in her calf, her knee aching at the pressure. She imagined the messages zinging up and down her metal-reinforced spine to her brain faster than the speed of light, allowing for minute corrections and control.

And then Maggie realized that she was standing. Still half supported by her arms, sure, but she stood steady on her left leg for the first time in almost a year. Shaking and sweaty, she swallowed an excited whoop. Her right leg sort of hung beside her other leg, feeling very strange balance wise, but she swung it back and forth a few times to get accustomed to it.

Then she swivelled a little, moved her hands along the railing, and began to move. Hopping hurt, and made her leg shake like the trunk of a tree supporting an over-large canopy, but by holding herself up on the railing she could do it. She hopped and shifted her foot until she'd made it to the head of the bed. Then she held her breath again, braced herself, and grabbed the lip of the medication cabinet beside the bed. She did not crumple to the floor, and thanked her lucky stars.

She wobbled her way along the cabinet until she finally made it to Tony's chair. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck and ran down her forehead into her eyes, but finally she grabbed Tony's armrest and caught her breath.

Maggie tapped Tony on the shoulder.

He frowned at first, mumbling, until after another tap he finally opened his eyes.

Tony focused fully on his surroundings and for a few moments simply stared blankly at Maggie as she stood, clinging to his chair. Then she saw realization hit him.

Maggie grinned.

December, 1993

Two years after the deaths of their parents, Maggie and Tony stood side by side in front of a pair of gravestones.

It had been a good year, for the most part. Maggie had learned to walk again, once her first prosthetic was fitted. The metal pylon of it poked out from under her black dress, before disappearing into a dark sneaker. She'd spent her time strengthening her muscles and ensuring her spine was at full functionality - there were still things she couldn't do, but she could walk, and run (if slowly). Tony and Maggie's team of doctors had published their newly-invented procedure, and it looked like the cybernetic approach was going to help hundreds of other children and adults.

And then.

Maggie read the gravestones through her tears.

Ana Jarvis
4 May 1916 - 2 September 1993
Beloved wife and friend

Edwin Jarvis
16 April 1913 - 28 November 1993
Loyal friend and guardian, loving husband
"There is not a man or woman, no matter how fit he or she may be, who is capable of carrying the entire world on their shoulders."

Maggie reached up to wipe at her eyes, feeling shaky in her very soul.

Mr Jarvis had loved Maggie and Tony with his whole heart, but after Ana died a few months ago, there wasn't much holding him to life. Maggie didn't blame him. People died. She couldn't get angry at them for it, it was just what happened.

She looked up at Tony. His head was bowed, and maybe it was the words on Jarvis's grave that reminded her, but she thought he looked like that statue dad showed her once, of the man holding the entire world on his shoulders. But that statue had looked strong. Tony didn't look very strong right now.

Maggie sniffed, then reached up and took Tony's hand. He blinked and looked down at her.

"Whatever happens, it'll be okay," she told him. She'd heard that, somewhere.

Tony laughed wetly and his hand tightened on hers. "Aren't I meant to be the one comforting you?"

They stood in silence after that, holding hands until the bitter wind blowing through the cemetery grew too cold. They turned and made their way back to the car.

A week later, Tony found Maggie playing hopscotch by herself in the courtyard. The image gave him pause for a moment - shouldn't she be playing with other kids her age? But he'd never had that luxury, growing up. Something about their minds alienated other children, and Maggie's long period of rehabilitation had cut her off further from anyone else her age.

He shook his head and strode forward until she spotted him and stopped, breathless. "Maggie," he began. "Obie and I have been talking about the company, and I was thinking… I think it'd be good to move to L.A. Be closer to the main factory, y'know?" Maggie's eyes went round. "Want to come with me?"

Maggie gaped at him for a moment. "But New York is where our house is."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, I know. But it's just a house, Maggie." A house full of haunting memories. "And we'll still own it, we can visit-"

"Why do you want to move?" Maggie listed slightly to the left, favouring her right leg, like she did when she got distracted.

"Like I said, the factory, and… I think I - we - need a fresh start." He frowned. "But if you really want to stay, I can… I can split my time, like dad-" he cut that thought off. "I can split my time, and hire more nannies and tutors to look after you here."

"No," Maggie said instantly. The thought of being alone like that in the mansion terrified her. "I want to go with you."

Tony let out a breath. He'd been worried she would say no. He didn't know what he'd do if she did. He bent down, stooping to her level (though at seven years old, she was already shooting up like a sprout) and wrapped her in a one-armed hug.

Tony pulled her in tight, and Maggie wondered briefly if he needed her just as much as she needed him. And she reached her arms up and hugged him back, because he'd asked her. He'd made her choice important.

Tony squeezed her. "You'll love it, Magpie. You haven't been out to California in ages, the warm weather will be good for you I think. Plus we can make a whole new house."

"Can we have a pool?" Maggie asked, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

"I'll build you ten pools."

"I don't need ten pools."

"Just one then. A really big one. And I'll build the house by the ocean, too."

"It'd be nice to go swimming again," Maggie murmured, thinking of the time her mom had taken her to the beach and held her hand as they stepped into the salty water.

A month later, as Tony watched Maggie climb carefully up the steps onto the private jet that would whisk them across the country to California, he felt relief wash over him.

New York had become stifling - a place full of death, and pain, and memories that dogged his every step. Maggie was healed now, or at least on her way there, walking around on her prosthetic like she'd been born with it. Tony had already decided to build her a whole new one when they got to L.A. He still saw ghosts in her eyes sometimes, and sometimes that simmering anger, but piece by piece she was returning to herself. Some days he tossed and turned, certain that he was going to screw her up even worse than he'd been screwed up by mom and dad.

But in L.A., in the sun far away from here, maybe they had a shot. Maybe, just maybe, he'd get her through the rest of her childhood without any further scars. Tony knew he was no parent. He was barely a good brother, most of the time. But he could give her this.

When Maggie and her gleaming prosthetic disappeared into the jet, Tony drew in a deep gulp of the smoggy New York air, straightened his shoulders, and followed his sister.

Reviews

Rogue Reader: Thank you! Peggy, unfortunately, has retired by now - but we'll hear from her again in the future!

DBZfan45: Thanks so much! Maggie is indeed back and better than ever (maybe). It will indeed be a long path for Maggie to become a hero, but I think you guys are really going to enjoy it :)

MyCelestialFury: I'm so glad you liked the chapter! Things are indeed pretty tough for Maggie, she's lost her leg and no one believes her. I'm excited to show you guys what's coming up in the rest of the story :)

The1975Love: Omg hello you! So good to hear from you again. Maggie has been dealt yet another rough hand from me, but I'm so excited to show you guys what happens next.