A/N: another midweek update so I can avoid doing my coursework! I haven't replied to the reviews from last chapter but I promise I will.

Once again, preemptively - don't underage drink, kids.

January 2002

"I called you in here, Maggie, because I want to talk to you about college."

Maggie stopped fidgeting in her seat and looked into her guidance counsellor's face. "College?"

Mrs Wilkins nodded and leaned forward, fingers steepled in front of her. "This shouldn't come as much of a surprise, but given all the extra credits you've been doing, you'll be eligible to graduate this year." She slid Maggie's academic file across the desk to her, and Maggie stared down at it. "Now you can stay if you want, I know this is a lot given you're not yet sixteen, but if you did stay you'd really just be doing college credits anyway. And I think you'd have a lot more room to flourish at college."

Maggie opened and closed her mouth. She trusted Mrs Wilkins, she had helped guide her through her complex academic needs for years. "You really think I'm ready for college?"

Mrs Wilkins' mouth twitched. "Maggie, you've been working at a college-level academic ability ever since you enrolled in this school. I think the most we can claim to have offered you is a relatively normal high school experience." She spread her hands. "College is a place for young people to figure out what they want to make of themselves in life, and to explore the ideas that interest them. I think you're more than ready for that."

For a few moments they sat in silence, Maggie staring down at her file and Mrs Wilkins watching her. Finally, Mrs Wilkins slid across another, thicker file.

"This is the standard prospectus pack I give the seniors," she told Maggie. "Take it home, talk it over with your - your family, and let me know." Maggie wrapped her fingers around the folder. "Though whatever you decide, you should know that if you do want to apply you'd have to do it really soon."

"Okay," Maggie said quietly as she slid the folder off the desk and slipped it into her bag. "I'll think about it."

Maggie trudged through the door at home with her backpack and her mind full to bursting.

"Tony?" she called.

"I'm afraid Mr Stark is currently in San Diego with Colonel Rhodes," came J.A.R.V.I.S.'s patient voice.

Maggie closed her eyes and dropped her bag by the couch. "Right." Tony had mentioned the day trip last night. And she had negotiated for no more nannies a few months ago, so she was alone in the house.

"Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Maggie huffed, and tugged the heavy folder Mrs Wilkins had given her out of the bag and dropped it on the couch. "Just have some reading to do."

Hours later Maggie slumped sideways on the couch, surrounded by college prospectuses. They lay open around her, bright slogans and pictures of diverse groups of laughing students in front of sandstone buildings. She was in the middle of a section about Harvard's summer fellowships when she dropped the prospectus and flopped back, staring at the ceiling.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., do you think I should go to college this year?"

It sounded as if he'd been waiting for her to ask. "Do you wish to stay in high school for another year?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek and rolled her head to look out the darkened windows. "Everyone else my age is."

"You are not like everyone else your age," J.A.R.V.I.S. reminded her gently.

"I just… it would be a big change. I'd probably have to move out of home. At sixteen."

"It would be a big change. But I am afraid it's a decision that only you can make."

"You're such a mom," she sighed. "And it's not legally my decision anyway, Tony's my legal guardian."

J.A.R.V.I.S. was silent for a few moments before replying: "Mr Stark will most likely defer to your wishes."

"I know, but… I want to hear what he thinks," she said softly.

"He will be home in an hour, Ms Stark."

"Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S."

True to J.A.R.V.I.S.'s word, Maggie heard the low rumble of an engine from the driveway an hour later. She perked up from where she'd been dozing off on the Yale prospectus, and sat up just as Tony and Happy walked into the living area. Tony wore a t-shirt, slacks, a blazer and sunglasses even though it was nearly midnight, and wielded a whiskey carafe like it was a sceptre.

"Welcome home, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. greeted, brightening the lights.

"Evening J.A.R.V.I.S., and… Maggot!" he called, smiling over at her. "Love the bedhead, it suits you."

Happy set his hands on his hips and watched Tony as he swanned over to the door to the balcony. "He's not too bad," he confided in Maggie, loosening his tie. "He slept it off on the way back."

Maggie rolled her eyes and watched Tony step onto the balcony and take a deep lungful of the sea air. He swirled the whiskey inside the carafe and then carefully poured himself a glass.

"I'll be outside doing the rounds for an hour or so if you need me," Happy said to both of them, but mostly Maggie, and then turned to leave.

"Night, Happy," Maggie said without taking her eyes off Tony.

She gathered up the prospectuses in a jumbled pile, then carried it all across the living area and through to the balcony. She shivered in the cool sea breeze and squinted out at the dark ocean. The moon wasn't out tonight, so she could barely see past the edge of the balcony. Tony could have been sitting in a chair looking out into the vacuum of space.

She set her folders down on the glass top table and took a seat a few feet away from Tony. He leaned back in his seat with his glass held aloft; his collar was rumpled and there was sand on his trousers.

"Did you have fun?" Maggie asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

"We did," Tony said, taking a long sip from his glass as he turned to smile at her. "Rhodey had an altercation with a seagull, but he's fine."

"Good, I…" she rested a hand on her stack of prospectuses. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"Uh oh," he said, holding up a hand as if to ward her off. He didn't seem to have noticed the booklets in front of her.

She picked up the prospectus on top: Cornell. "I kind of have a decision to make, and-"

Tony's concern eased and he waved a hand. "Oh, go for it. Up to you." He took another sip of his drink.

Maggie felt the hard edge of irritation pressing at her chest. "I'd like to ask you about it, actually-"

"I'm not going to say no, Margarita, you know I'm happy for you to do what you want," he said over the rim of his tumbler. His gaze drifted out to sea.

"I want advice, though-"

"I don't know if you've noticed," he half laughed as he went to take another sip, "but I'm not very good at that."

Maggie slammed down the Cornell prospectus, making the whole table rattle, and launched forward at Tony. He yelped and tried to flinch away, but she seized the whiskey glass from his hand. She brought it to her mouth and tipped back the contents, barely wincing at the burn thanks to her rage.

Tony stared at her. When she then reached for the half full carafe of whiskey he reached out and said "No-" but she slapped his hand away, grabbed it, and began downing its contents too. It was disgusting and Maggie had never tried whiskey before, but her anger fueled her until she'd swallowed the last drop, glaring at Tony the whole while.

She pulled the carafe away from her mouth with a grimace.

Tony blinked at her. "You're fifteen," he said dumbly.

Maggie sat down again, blinking at the headrush. "Yeah, and I probably just gave myself alcohol poisoning," she said. "So are you going to listen to me?"

His eyes widened with horror. "Yeah."

"Okay." She drew in a fortifying breath, swallowing, and slid the stack of prospectuses across the table toward Tony. She was aware she had a time limit. "My guidance counsellor told me today that she thinks I should apply for colleges this year." His eyes widened further. "They think they've taught me everything they can. So one, I'm not sure if I should go, and two, I have no clue where to go." She coughed, wincing at the burn in her throat.

"College," Tony said, exhaling. His hand hovered outstretched to Maggie as if she was about to fall apart, but suddenly he eyed her as if seeing her for the first time.

Maggie nodded, then opened her mouth to release a horrendous belch. She almost gagged on the renewed burn of whiskey. Tony winced. "And I know you've always told me to take my time, but I know you went to college younger than me, and… what do you think?"

He sighed, glanced at the empty carafe, then leaned back and ran his hand through his hair. "You're right, I didn't want you to… rush. Because I was rushed, and… to be honest, Maggie, I missed out on being a kid. But I realise that you might be chafing at the bit for more of a challenge, and honestly…" he smiled at her. "You'd do great at college."

Maggie returned the smile. Her stomach had started churning like the ocean in a hurricane, but she felt very soft all of a sudden. "You think so? I'm not too… young?"

"Oh you are absolutely too young," Tony added. "I'm going to make sure you have a security team taking you to every class, and absolutely no parties-" Maggie arched an eyebrow at him, and he had the grace to look guilty. "I'm just saying, I don't want you to get hurt. But you're… you've been grown up since you were little. I guess I'm just coming around to that fact."

"Thank you," Maggie said. She leaned forward to wrap her arms around Tony, startling him. After a moment he hugged her back. Maggie's stomach gurgled ominously. "Where should I go?"

"I mean, I just… I just knew I was going to MIT," he said, as if it were obvious. "But you're not sure?"

"I don't know." Her skin abruptly felt flaming hot, and her vision went… swirly. She frowned, trying to collect her thoughts. "I mean, yes MIT has all the things I'm interested in, but the guidance counsellor made it seem like this is a decision I have to think really carefully about. And I am interested in other stuff besides engineering."

"Blasphemy," Tony said lightly. He pulled back and eyed her. "But how about we figure the details out later, because right now I think the only place you should be going is the bathroom."

She closed her eyes and nodded resignedly. "Yeah, I'm about to throw up in the ocean."

"Not off my balcony you're not!" he exclaimed, and bundled her up out of her chair and inside. Maggie groaned as her stomach lurched at the movement, and tripped over her own prosthetic. Tony kept her upright. He half-carried her into the nearest bathroom, which had a lovely view down to the beach, and then sat her down by the toilet. "Let me introduce you to your best friend for the evening."

He found a glass in the cabinet and poured a glass of water. "Here," he murmured, offering it to her, and then slid down to sit beside her on the tile floor. He smoothed her hair off her sweaty forehead. "Have you got a… hair thingy, for all this?" She didn't nod - she knew how that would make her feel now - but reached into her pocket and carefully tied her hair back. Tony watched with a frown, then looked into her woozy eyes. "Sorry I wasn't listening, earlier. I won't let it happen again."

"Mmhm," Maggie smiled weakly, trying to concentrate on overcoming the sudden awful roiling in her stomach. Her head was spinning - she didn't know that actually happened. She took gulps from the water glass, trying to wash away the taste of the horrible stuff.

"Next time," he added, "maybe make a point with less expensive alcohol. That Glenfiddich you just shotgunned was twice your age."

She clutched her stomach and winced. "It's angry with me."

Tony chuckled under his breath. "And I'm…" he went quiet for a few moments, searching for the words. "I'm really proud of you, Maggie. For making this decision. I was over the moon to go to college and get away from home, but I know it might be… harder. For you." His face made a complicated expression. "I'm going to miss you."

Maggie met his eyes, smiling, and then lurched away to throw up in the toilet.

"Ack," she spluttered when she had time to breathe.

Tony rubbed her back. "Better out than in," he murmured, and she could hear him laughing, but she didn't mind.

Tony spent the next few hours watching over Maggie as she hunched over the toilet bowl. He wasn't entirely sober himself but he was very attentive, plying her with cold damp cloths, water, and regularly checking her vitals. He then tucked her into bed, smoothing her covers over her and putting a trash can and a glass of water by her head.

The next morning when Maggie woke groaning and green-faced, he took her through his 'tried and true' hangover cure routine: water, straight coffee, antacid, and then a scalding shower followed by a light broth with a slice of plain white bread.

When she moaned I'm never drinking again, he just laughed at her.

From then on Tony didn't stop drinking, but he did stop drinking at home, and avoided subjecting Maggie to his drunkenness. She still saw evidence of it in the papers, but he kept it out of her life.

And he made a point of listening to her whenever she wanted to talk.

Maggie started writing college applications.

March, 2002

The colleges Maggie had applied to sent back letters with… expected results. Overwhelmed by the sudden abundance of choice, she called Rhodey.

"Hi, can I come visit the base soon?"

"Tony driving you nuts? Sure, I'll come pick you up this weekend."

"Can I drive?"

"Ugh."

Maggie had gotten her learners permit in December, which had come as a shock to Tony. She'd handed him the permit application to sign and he'd frowned at her. But you already know how to drive, he'd told her. She'd learned from him, Rhodey, and even Pepper once or twice, mostly on the Stark Industries driving range which was normally used for vehicles like tanks.

Yes, Maggie had replied, but now I have to prove it.

So come the weekend, a uniformed Rhodey arrived in his dark grey sedan and reluctantly handed over the keys. They set off down the highway, heading inland. Rhodey didn't ask her about colleges on the drive, which she felt thankful for.

Though he did keep telling her to slow down.

"I'm going the speed limit," she protested as she hit the freeway outside Santa Clarita. It was a warm day, the sun beating down on the tarmac and glinting on the river to the right of the road. Maggie adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. "Tony says I drive like a grandma."

"Evel Knievel's grandma, maybe," Rhodey winced, gripping the handle over his window.

Maggie slowed down to a few miles per hour below the limit just to make him feel better. "Honestly, Rhodey, I can fly jets. Your Volkswagen doesn't scare me."

"You can't fly jets yet," he reminded her. "Flying them in simulations without crashing is not the same thing."

"Well if you'd just let me-"

"I've broken enough rules at the base for you without putting the taxpayer's jets in your hands."

"Well I technically have flown a jet, since the SI pilot let me fly Tony's private jet when we went to the MIT open day."

Rhodey pinched the bridge of his nose as she overtook another car. "I'm going to jail or hell because of you two one day, I swear."

Maggie pressed down on the accelerator with her prosthetic foot and Rhodey went back to grabbing his handle. "So what are you going to let me fly today?" she asked eagerly.

He sighed. "Well I was thinking of showing you around the traffic control tower, but then… We've got one of the Lockheed transport craft in for some minor maintenance, the engineers might let you sit in for a test flight."

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Can I look at the engines too? If it's the C-130, then I haven't seen the J model engines yet."

He sighed again. "I suspect that whatever you ask for, you'll get."

"You make me sound spoiled," Maggie frowned, then shook her head. "No, never mind. Rich girl, lives in a Malibu mansion, I know."

Rhodey laughed at her. "Of all the things I'd call you, Maggie, it may surprise you to hear that spoiled isn't one of them."

Maggie smiled and turned to look at him, but then he full-body-flinched and shouted: "Eyes on the road!"

Laughing, she obliged.

Rhodey watched Maggie drive for a few moments. She'd grown up so much in the past few years, shooting up like a beanstalk, her face growing longer, more adult. Her dark eyes kept close watch on the road, her hands sure on the wheel as the sunlight slanted in over her face. She had Tony's dark hair too, though hers had grown long and slightly curly, like Rhodey recalled from younger photos of her mom. Maggie had been experimenting with her style, too, and had an affinity for jeans and boots. She'd always been startlingly grown up for her age, ever since he'd first spoken to her as a four year old, and she was rapidly growing to match her sharp mind. And yet Rhodey still felt startled to look at her and see an almost-adult. It felt easy to get so wrapped up in Tony and his antics, and forget that Maggie was growing into her own person. She still felt far too young for college, though Rhodey had met Tony at MIT when Tony was only fourteen.

Maggie's eyes flickered over to him and a wry smile quirked her mouth. "I think I'm going to try to get my motorcycle license on my birthday as well."

Rhodey sank low into his seat with a groan.

At the base Maggie ran an envious eye over the F-22s parked outside the hangar, and craned her neck to get a glimpse of the new B-2 Spirit bomber glinting in the sun a few hundred yards away.

"Don't even think about it," Rhodey murmured, then nodded politely at a troop of junior airmen who jogged past, saluting.

He led her inside and over to the familiar engineering bay, but Maggie paused just outside. "I've gotta head to the bathroom, meet you in there?" Rhodey waved her off.

Maggie strode at an even pace in the direction of the bathrooms, but when Rhodey was out of sight she doubled back, jogged up the stairs, and headed for the main office space. Most people she passed didn't give her a second glance - some nodded or said their hellos. Plenty of the other officers brought their kids around the base from time to time, and most of the staff who'd been here long enough knew Maggie's face. She knew her way around the bustling office complex, and soon she'd found the door she'd been looking for. She rapped her knuckles on the wood.

"Come in!"

Maggie glanced around - there were a few admin staff at the end of the hall in their fatigues, but they wouldn't dob her in to Rhodey. She drew in a steadying breath, then pushed the door open.

Chief Master Sergeant Charlie Larson looked up from his computer screen. "Ms Stark! I didn't know you were gracing us with your presence today."

"Rhodey let me drive," Maggie smiled as she closed the door behind her. "Hey, Charlie, you're in charge of recruitment, right?"

He frowned. "Yes, why?" He wore his formal blue dress uniform today - must have a boss around at the base today - which made Maggie fidget.

She strode forward and sat in the low chair opposite his desk. "Well, I'm going to college this year-"

"Oh, congratulations," he smiled. "Big step!"

"Yes, and I'll be eighteen in two years, and I was thinking about…" she swallowed, and stared at the silver badge on his lapel. "I was thinking I might enlist, you know. In the Air Force pilot program. I could tailor my degree to make sure I have the best shot, and then I know I'd have to start with Initial Flight Training in Colorado…" she trailed off as she glanced up to Charlie's expression. His face had fallen.

He drew in a breath, linking his fingers together and clearly thinking hard as he eyed her. "Maggie," he began. "I… don't think that would work."

She gripped the armrests of her chair. "Why?"

"No military branch could ethically recruit you, I'm afraid," he said gently. "You're a Stark, the heir to the Armed Forces' biggest private contracting company. It's too big a conflict of interest. I know you wouldn't, but you'd be in a position to break confidentiality agreements on each side." He frowned at the look on her face. "You'll still be able to work with us of course, we'd welcome that, but it would have to be on the weapons manufacturing side of things."

Maggie felt, suddenly, very small. "What if I sign NDAs? Or… maybe we could work something out with SI so I've got less responsibility-"

"Maggie," he cut in gently. "I didn't want to say this, but… that's not the only reason. There's your injuries, too. You'd be ineligible for the pilot program based on those alone."

"My injuries?"

He glanced down at her right leg, and she followed his gaze. The metal joint peeked out below the cuff of her jeans, above her boot.

She looked back up and stared at him. "You don't fly planes with your legs."

He shot her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Maggie."

But she still stared. "Charlie, I'm a good pilot. You know that, you've seen me on the flight simulator!"

"I know," he said. "And I really am sorry. There's always commercial pilot programs..."

Maggie stood up shakily, letting out a breath. This had always been a private hope of hers, but speaking it aloud finally had made it seem real, attainable. But now…

She shook her head and walked out the door without saying goodbye.

She barely noticed the C-130J engines when the engineers showed them off. They let her and Rhodey take it up, but Rhodey did the flying. Maggie didn't bother asking to take over the controls.

When Maggie got home, Tony stood in the kitchen holding her acceptance letters. He glanced up at her tired, slightly sunburned face, and raised an eyebrow. "You weren't going to tell me about these?"

She shrugged as she strode into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. She felt conscious of her prosthetic leg at every step. "Just considering my options, I guess."

He frowned. "Why do you look like that? Did Rhodey yell at you?"

"No. I'm fine," she sighed, and tried to brush off her gloomy mood.

"So?" he asked, waving the letters. "Who's the lucky bit of paper?"

She eyed the array of papers in his hand, considering. Each one its own branch into the future, each one a whole host of different people and experiences. Each one a different choice. And yet… who am I kidding?

No matter where she went to college, her life afterwards would still look the same. Charlie had practically said it, hadn't he? There's only one job for a Stark.

Maggie drew in a breath, and finally reached out to pluck the letter with the red and grey logo out of Tony's hand.

Dear Margaret,
On behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure…

Tony's eyebrows lifted. "Really? You're sure? I'm not forcing you-"

She smiled and shook her head. "I was thinking about it at the base. I really do want this."

Tony held up his hand and she high-fived it, smiling. "Congratulations, Magnolia! You're going to MIT!" He scooped her up in a hug, spinning her, and she laughed. "Don't believe anything they tell you about me." He set her down. "And never use the Stark Library, Dad might've funded it but it's rubbish, really. And the weather's shit, so we'll need to get you a winter coat. And I don't know about you living in a dorm with all those nerdy degenerates, I might look into getting you an apartment…"

Maggie listened to Tony ramble as he tugged at his hair and paced uselessly around the kitchen, and took a deep breath. She realized that this house - this mansion - had been somewhat of a bubble for her. Within that bubble she had been allowed a childhood, which she acknowledged was rare and precious for someone in her position. But now…

Here I come, world.

Maggie Stark smiled.

August, 2002

Maggie didn't move to college with much. Just a suitcase of clothes, a few prosthetic legs, and some books.

They'd flown over on the private jet, but Tony dropped Maggie at MIT in a nondescript dark sedan, far different from the ostentatious sportscar he would have preferred to drive.

Maggie watched him now scowling around at the inside of her tiny dorm room: nothing but a single bed, bookshelf, desk, and cupboard, with a window looking out at another block of dorms. The room smelled like cleaning products and wooden furniture. Maggie didn't have a roommate, since she was a year young, but Tony still seemed displeased that she hadn't taken his offer to rent her her own apartment in Cambridge. This room was certainly a far cry from the houses of steel and glass that Maggie had grown up in.

Tony squeezed past where Maggie was unpacking her suitcase to poke at the door lock again, glowering. She smiled as she watched him.

"I'm going to be okay," she told him.

He glanced over his shoulder to look at her. "I know." He sounded almost annoyed, and Maggie felt glad that she'd already reached out to Pepper and Rhodey, who had promised to keep Tony busy when he got back.

She cocked her head. "We've been apart before, when you went on business trips. And I know how to look after myself."

Tony looked somehow even unhappier. "I know."

Maggie smiled, kicked her suitcase closed, then squeezed between the bed and the desk to where Tony stood by her door. He stood stiff in his suit, but when she wrapped her arms around him he seemed to thaw a little.

"Whatever happens, it'll be okay," she told him. "You'll be okay."

Tony let out a long breath and then squeezed her. "Aren't I meant to be the one comforting you?"

She patted his back for a while, wrinkling her nose at his cologne, then sighed and pulled away. "Now get out."

He laughed. "Fine," he said, straightening his sleeves. "But you've got my number, and J.A.R.V.I.S. is on speed dial, and the SI branch in Boston can send out security if you need it-"

"Out," she repeated, smiling, and finally Tony opened the door to leave.

But then he hesitated. "Hey, Mags," he said, in a lower tone. He opened and closed his mouth.

Leaning against the wall, Maggie smiled. "I know."

He smiled back, despite the hints of pain still in his expression.

Then Maggie flung her hand at him. "Out!"

Tony left.

When the door clicked shut again, Maggie stood alone in her room for a few moments. She walked over, sat on the edge of her bed, then drew in a deep breath. She held it for a few moments before letting it out again.

She had practically been raising herself for a few years now, but this… felt big.

Minutes later, there was a knock at the door and a young boy with floppy hair and glasses peeked in.

"Hey, you're the other kid, right?"

Still sitting on her plain, white-sheeted bed, Maggie stared. "Excuse me?"

"There's supposed to be two of us in the dorm," the boy said. Only his head stuck through the crack in the door. "I'm Hiroki, I turn sixteen next month."

"Oh." Maggie smiled. "I turned sixteen two months ago. I'm Maggie." She got up to go shake his hand.

Hiroki grinned as he propped the door open wider to shake her hand. "Oh, I know. I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to not being the odd one out any more. MIT is the place to be, I tell you."

She nodded. She thought she probably knew what Hiroki meant by being the odd one out. "Right. We've got, um, the block meeting soon, right? Want to go together?"

Hiroki beamed. "Let's do it!"

Heart pounding, Maggie closed her dorm room door behind her, locked it, and then followed her new friend into the next step of her new life.

Hiroki was right: Maggie still got stared at here (her enrolment at MIT had been in the newspapers, after all), and most people knew her name before she gave it, but she wasn't the odd one out any more.

For starters, she and Hiroki weren't the only young ones; a few other gifted kids who'd skipped a year of school had also enrolled this year, and besides, they were only a year younger than everyone else anyway. They got babied a bit, especially by their dorm mates, but for the most part they were fresh faced kids like the rest of the first years.

Secondly, MIT felt like an equal playing field. Sure, the freshmen were untested, but Maggie recognised a drive and a spark in them that she had thought was rare. They had an energy about them that she'd only seen before in the engineers and tech wizards at Stark Industries. And once the older students and teachers returned to the college and started talking about their specialties and interests… Maggie didn't feel out of her depth. She could ask questions and get answers, instead of alarmed stares.

In her third week, Maggie trudged back to her dorm room after class with a backpack full of books, and collapsed on her bed to call Tony.

"Hey, kid," he greeted eagerly after picking up on the second ring.

"Hey," she said, then yawned. "Just got back from a tutorial. This is… hard."

His laugh over the phone made her smile. "Right?" she could hear him grinning down the line. "You're not in high school any more, Dorothy. Study up."

Maggie took his advice to heart. Whereas before she'd been able to get away with paying half attention in high school, now she really knuckled down in her classes. And as she got comfortable with the rhythm of it all, she realized she wanted to do everything. She signed up for undergraduate research projects, read through all the textbooks for her classes this semester and the next, booked lab time, filled up her professor's office hours with hundreds of questions, and tried to join the gymnastics team (she was again rejected, but cloned a gym pass so she could sneak in after hours to practice what she'd learned with Ms Sato).

As a result of her full workload Maggie didn't have a lot of time for partying. But she was no hermit: most of her peers still thought she was too young to drink, but she, Hiroki, and some of the other 'babies' figured out how to sneak into frat and sorority parties very quickly.

Maggie also took on some extra humanities classes, almost doubling her course load, and when they wouldn't let her add computer science to her Mechanical Engineering degree she started sneaking into the computer science lectures anyway. She eventually figured out how to hack into their student portal so she could see the homework and readings. She also attended all the guest lectures she could. One of her favourites was one on Nuclear Physics by a Dr Banner from Culver University, though he veered off topic into biochemistry at the end. Inspired, Maggie contrived a way to approach him at the end of the lecture and shake his hand.

"Thanks so much for coming, Dr Banner," she beamed, trying to seem older than her sixteen years. "This was really fascinating, do you think you'd come back to lecture again? Maybe more about biochemistry?"

He smiled awkwardly at her as he shook her hand. "Oh, uh… thank you. Maybe. We'll see."

He either didn't know who she was or didn't give two shits, and Maggie loved him for it.

Before the end of her first semester, Maggie got in trouble with the course convenor.

"I called you in to discuss your course load," Mr Halworth told her just two minutes after inviting her into his office. He gestured at the computer screen listing her enrolled classes, and Maggie was reminded of her high school guidance counsellor. "At this rate you'll be studying for years, Miss Stark."

"Ms," she corrected.

"I'm sorry?"

"Miss means single, Mrs means married, Ms means none of your business," she explained. She hadn't gone by Miss since she was nine.

Mr Halworth eyed her for a moment, then waved a hand. "Regardless, Ms Stark, you will have to narrow down your scope of study. You signed up for a major in Mechanical Engineering, and you're taking the right classes, but all this is… a mess for your diploma. You need to choose."

Maggie cocked my head. "Is my GPA not good enough?"

He frowned at her. "Your final results for the term haven't been finalised, but you know that's not the problem. I can't authorise a student taking this many classes, it's unsustainable. When you get to the point of having to build projects-"

"I'm already building projects!" she protested, pointing at the screen. "In this class, Professor Becker is letting me collaborate with the postgrads on a high speed rail engine design since I built one like it a few years ago."

Halworth stared at her for a moment. Then he reached up to press his fingers into his temples. "I understand you come with your own unique… special circumstances, Ms Stark," he eventually sighed. "I wasn't here when your brother came through the school. Perhaps I'd better reach out to my predecessor for some advice." Maggie just eyed him. "But in the meantime, you will have to settle on a major."

Maggie chewed the inside of her lip as she ran an eye over the screen with all her classes. After a minute or two she glanced back. "Can I double major?"

Halworth did not look as annoyed as she'd expected. Merely resigned. "Yes. You'll have to petition the school, but I suspect that won't be a problem. And…" he rubbed his chin. "If you really think you can handle this course load, then you'll probably graduate early. But you'll have to prove to me that you can handle it. Maybe then we can talk about… making your diploma a little more flexible."

Maggie beamed. "You've got a deal, Mr Halworth." She stuck out her hand.

He took it with another sigh. "Seems we do. Ms Stark."

It took a few months for Maggie and Mr Halworth to come to an agreement. She finally chose a double major in Mechanical Engineering, and Aeronautics & Astronautics, and Halworth decided to put her extra credits on her diploma as an addendum, which by the end amounted to almost three separate minors, plus a handful of research projects.

Maggie suspected she irritated Mr Halworth more than he would like, but he did start talking about allowing more flexible degree options for future students, so she supposed he didn't wholly dislike their interactions.

On Maggie's first trip back home (just a couple of months after moving out - Tony had sent the jet without giving a reason, but she could read between the lines) she visited the Edwards Air Force base again with Rhodey. He took her up in one of the F-15s as an early Christmas gift, and Maggie spent most of the flight with her helmet pressed against the cockpit glass, her vision blurry with tears. She'd missed this.

When Maggie got back to college she did some research, made a few calls, and then drove the little Volkswagen she'd bought herself for her birthday (she'd also bought herself a motorcycle, but Tony had forbidden her from bringing it to MIT with her) out to a flight school near Bedford. The guy at the desk gave her a funny look, as she supposed he didn't get many sixteen year old girls showing up by themselves, but he gave her all the forms to fill out.

From that point, Maggie drove up every available Saturday she had. She spent three weeks in training before her instructors realised she could pass every test, and they set to work on logging as many flying hours as they could so Maggie could get her pilot's license when she turned seventeen.

Maggie loved flight school. She loved her sunburnt, casually-dressed instructors with their wild stories about their years of commercial flying, the cramped office where they all sat sipping coffee out of paper cups after a good flight, and most of all she loved the flying; the thrum of a plane engine softly juddering her bones, the ground laid out miles below. The quiet. It was different flying on the east coast: instead of the vibrant deserts and blazing seas of California she could look down over misty forests and turbulent waters.

She'd never fly with the Air Force, but the knowledge that she could fly for herself, for fun, was a gift.

December 16, 2002

Maggie woke up just before dawn to a bitten-off scream.

For a moment she lay frozen, curled up in a ball in her single bed with her hands clenched on her pillow and her eyes wide and unseeing. Sweat rolled off her forehead onto her already soaked pillow.

Slowly, shakily, she unclenched her fingers from her creased pillow. She fought to slow her racing breaths, and pushed herself to a sitting position in her bed. She pushed back the covers to stare at the stump below her knee.

It's been eleven years.

For a moment, the sensations from her dream flared behind her eyes:

Dad's scarlet, mangled face, propped against the steering wheel.

The cut-off choking sounds of mom's breaths.

Fire flickering behind her eyes.

A glint of silver.

Maggie shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, wincing at the headache that stabbed its way through her mind. "No," she whispered.

It had been so long since she thought about that night. She'd done her best not to think about it for over ten years, because there was no way she could be that Maggie and this Maggie at the same time. She couldn't be that little girl who crawled burned and broken along the road and be the young woman who pestered her professors and called her brother on the weekend and practiced gymnastics. She couldn't reconcile those two identities.

Maggie shivered at the feeling of sweat cooling on her skin, and launched out of bed. A hot shower would scour away the memories.

But a month later, the dream invaded her sleeping mind once more. This time it was less about what she could see and hear, but what she felt: the bruising band of the seatbelt digging into her chest. Gravel pressing against the heels of her hands. Numbness tingling at her spine. A cold, unyielding grip-

She woke utterly silently this time, her mouth open in a silent scream and her hands flailing, fighting off… nothing.

This time she curled in a tighter ball, pulling her sheets over her head like a little girl hiding. He's not real. The moment she had the thought, a chill fell over her. She'd not had a concrete thought about him for years. He'd never left her, she realized: the firelight glinting off his metal arm and the deadness of his eyes had been lodged somewhere in the back of her mind, or deep in her chest, haunting her subconscious. And deeper than that: the mission.

Maggie slowly peeled the sheets back from her head, blinking in the pre-dawn greyness. My mission. She didn't know what it was, what it meant, but she realized it pulled at her, deeper than desire or identity.

Her stomach roiled and Maggie stumbled out of bed, fumbling for her prosthetic leg, desperate to make it to the bathroom before her stomach upended itself. But by the time she'd hobbled to the bathroom all she could do was grip the sides of the sink and stare at herself in the mirror, arms shaking, seeing a terrified and furious little girl.

Not real.

Maggie went home for Christmas break but the dreams followed her. She only had them every month or so, but they hit with sickening and frightening reality. They seemed to grow more vivid each time, as if she were getting closer to that night instead of further away.

As the end of her first year approached Maggie finally called her occasional therapist and told her about the dreams. But not about the man.

Because the man couldn't be real. Everyone had told her so.