Author's Note: This chapter title comes from The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams.

I give you the second installment of But Iron, Cold Iron.

Chapter Two - He is the long delayed (something that we live for)

"You still haven't told me where you're from."

"I'm from a small town called Gulmira. It's a nice place."

"Got a family?"

"Yes. And I will see them when I leave here. And you, Stark?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"A daughter. Best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Ah. You will see her too, then. When you leave here."

"Thank you."

"You're gonna find him, right?" she interrupted, voice cracking mid-sentence.

Rhodey paused, breaking off from his conversation with Pepper. His expression softened. "Of course, Goose. I'll have him back real soon."

She bit her lip, watching the screen. Then she dropped her gaze to the floor. "You're a goddamn liar, Rhodey."

Pepper sighed beside her. "Danielle—"

"I'm gonna go to my studio," she said, turning away. "Let me know when Mrs. Peterson gets here."

A sigh. "Alright."

Danielle jogged up the stairs, rubbing her eyes. They stung, but they were dry. "JARVIS?" she whispered, making her way down the hall to her studio. "You'll let me know if they find anything?"

"Of course. And in the meantime, might I suggest that you eat something?"

"Maybe after I'm done." She pushed her way into the room. "Do you think you could play some music?"

Soft Beethoven began playing and she made it over to her desk, sitting down. Danielle picked up a pencil and began sharpening it, eying her blank sketchbook. She tapped her pencil against the page and sighed. With a broken groan, she slumped over the desk and dug her fingers into her hair.

The tears came a little too easily and her shoulders shook a little too much. She curled in on herself, fighting and failing to hold back the sobs.

"Danielle? Would you like me to notify Ms. Potts?"

"No," she choked out. "Please don't. I'll be fine. I'll be fine."

"Sir will be back soon. He is far too stubborn and loves you far too much to stay away for long."

She managed a weak smile. "Thank you, JARVIS." Danielle closed her eyes.

"Danielle. Danielle, it's time to wake up now."

She groaned, opening her eyes. "Wh-what?" she mumbled. She wrinkled her nose as she sat up and rubbed at the dry saliva at the corner of her mouth. "What?" she asked again.

Pepper smiled at her softly. "Mrs. Peterson is here. If you aren't ready, I can ask her to come back—"

"No, no." Danielle sniffled a little and cleared her throat, climbing to her feet. "Thanks, Pepper. JARVIS, can you let Mrs. Peterson know that I'll be there in a second?"

"Of course."

She ran her hand through her hair and shuffled out of the room to the bathroom across the hall. Danielle leaned over the sink and turned the handle. The water ran unhindered for a moment and she watched it swirl around the drain. Danielle ducked down, splashing the cold water across her face. When she looked in the mirror, she saw that her eyes were still rimmed with red and her skin lacked its normal color. Danielle took a deep breath and turned, leaving the room. She found her tutor setting up in the study. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Peterson."

"Ah," the woman said, looking up and fixing her glasses. "Are you ready to review, Miss Stark?"

"Yes, ma'am." She sat down. "What are we starting with? Calculus?"

"Let's start with your French, actually," the woman said, smiling. "Are you ready?"

"Yep."

Mrs. Peterson cleared her throat. "Dans quelle mesure êtes-vous confiant pour vos examens le mois prochain?" [How confident are you about your exams next month?]

Danielle took a moment to think about it, hiding her hands in her lap so her tutor wouldn't see her nervous fidgeting. "Très confiant. Je suis plus que prêt à être fait." [Very confident. I'm more than ready to be done.]

Next month. Her exams were next month. And if she passed, which she was sure she would, that meant that she would graduate. She would graduate and her father wouldn't be there with her.

"Mlle Stark?" [Miss Stark?]

Danielle jumped, knees hitting the table. "Sorry, wha—" She caught herself. "Pardon. Quelle était la question?" [Sorry. What was the question?]

Mrs. Peterson smiled at her softly and reverted back to English. "Do we need to do this another time, Miss Stark?"

"No, no. I'm fine. What was the question?"

"You know, you could have stayed back at the house," Pepper said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "It's a long drive."

"The house is really empty," Danielle said, turning a page in her book. "I don't mind the drive."

Pepper pulled into her assigned parking spot and put the car in park. She turned. "You can set up in the office if you would like. Or I could get you—"

"No, that works." Danielle packed her book away and climbed out of the car. "That works."

"Danielle Stark! Could we have a word?"

Danielle looked up, eyes wide, to find a crowd of reporters pushing towards them. Horror curled between her ribs and she shrank back against the closed car door.

"Ms. Stark, would you like to comment on your father's disappearance?"

"What do you know about what is being done to find him?"

"Could you comment on what you know?"

"She is not available for comment right now," Pepper said sternly, wrapping an arm around Danielle's shoulders. Danielle turned subtly into the woman's side. "Give us room."

"Ms. Stark! Would you—"

"No." Pepper put out a hand and pushed her way through the crowd, keeping Danielle close. Danielle ducked her head, hunching her shoulders. "Out of the way. That's it. Happy!" Pepper called, spotting the man walking towards the front door. "Clear this crowd, please? Thank you."

Happy moved towards them, frowning and waving his hands. "Alright, this is over. No interviews today. Clear out!"

Pepper led Danielle in through the front door with a sigh. "I'm so sorry. I should have thought ahead and expected that. Let's go."

When they got to the office, Danielle curled up in the armchair with her book. But the words blurred and became hard to read and eventually she gave up. She dropped the book on the floor and leaned back in the armchair, staring up at the blank wall next to her. She frowned and turned her head to the side, studying the white. Then she suddenly lunged for her bag, digging out her sketchbook and pencils.

"Danielle?"

She looked up. "Yeah, Pepper?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Um . . . . I just got an idea. For the painting."

"He's alive, Goose. I know it. You know it. I've just gotta find him."

Danielle stared at the video stream, hunched into herself with her blanket pulled tightly around her shoulders. "Okay," she rasped, voice cracking.

Rhodey's expression drew thin. "Have you been sleeping, Goose? Eating? How much water have you drunk today?"

She looked down, tugging her blanket over her bare toes. A disgruntled sound rumbled in the back of her throat and Danielle ducked her head. "I can take care of myself."

"Just because you can doesn't mean you always do. I love you, kiddo. I wish I could be there to help you. Do I need to ask JARVIS to do it for me?" Rhodey frowned through the screen. Someone yelled something behind him and he glanced back.

"Do you have to go?" she asked, sitting up. Danielle rubbed a hand over her face to hide the tears that were most definitely not there. "That's okay."

"Call me if you need me, okay?"

She gave him a nod.

The darkness across his face deepened. "I need to hear you promise me. Promise me you'll call."

"I'll call." Her voice broke on the second word. "I tried to call yesterday and you weren't there and . . . and I thought you had disappeared too." She cleared her throat roughly and tossed her blanket back as she stumbled to her feet. "Never mind."

"Goose—"

"I'll call. Probably more than you'll like."

"Goose—"

"Or less than you'll like. I can never tell if—"

"Danielle!" Rhodey groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I'm sorry that I missed your call," he murmured. "It won't happen again. No matter what."

She swallowed thickly and desperately ignored the way her eyes were burning. "Promise?"

"Promise. I love you, Goose."

She stared at the screen for a long moment. Then her gaze dragged to the ceiling. "JARVIS, end call."

"Of course, Danielle."

The screen flickered off and disappeared and for too long she stared at where it had been. Then she sat back down, pulling her blanket back over her shoulders and curling into herself. "JARVIS?" she rasped.

"Yes?"

"Do you think he's going to come home?"

"I don't think anything could stop him from coming back to you," JARVIS answered simply. "Sir will be back soon."

When she woke, it was to her own tears tying themselves into a noose around her neck. She sobbed brokenly into her pillow, curling into herself more and more with each passing moment. The weight on her chest got worse and worse.

"Danielle? Would you like me to contact Ms. Potts?"

"N-no," she gasped out. "No, J-JARVIS. Don't. Please."

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, bringing the lights up just a little so that she was no longer layered in darkness.

She pushed herself up, scratching the tears away from her face. "Any news on Dad?" she asked, voice cracking.

"Not at the moment."

"Oh." Danielle dragged herself out of her bed. "Okay." She shuffled out of her room, tugging her fingers through her messy hair. JARVIS brought the lights up slightly in the hall to make it easier for her to see. She found her way up the second flight of stairs to her father's room and pushed open the door.

The room was so quiet that even just the sound of her breathing seemed out of place, like it was interrupting some kind of solemn mourning. Danielle closed her eyes. "I miss you, Dad."

"Danielle," JARVIS spoke up. "Might I suggest that you return to your room and sleep? I think it would be most beneficial for you to—"

"Not now, JARVIS. I just want to be left alone."

The silence that followed her statement seemed almost judgmental. "If you're sure," he said, before falling quiet.

Danielle shuffled over to the bed and climbed up onto it. She curled up atop the covers and hugged one of the pillows to her chest. They smelled like laundry detergent and she hated that they'd been cleaned so recently.

"I miss you, Dad. Please come home."

"Danielle, it's time to go."

"Hold on." She wrinkled her nose against the paint she could feel there and carefully filled in the small spot of blue. Bouncing a little, she felt the plastic protecting the floor crackling. "I'm almost done."

"It's really come together," Pepper commented. "It's beautiful."

Danielle knelt down and started cleaning off her paintbrush. "Thank you. It should be finished in just a couple days." She stored her things away and rose to her feet, wiping the paint on her hands off onto her jeans. "Alright, I'm ready to go."

When they got to the car, Danielle found a picture frame sitting on her seat. She frowned and set her bag on the floor. She picked up the frame and climbed inside, closing the door. "What's this?"

"Your diploma," Pepper explained, starting the car. "I'm going to hang it in your father's shop so he can see it. He's going to be so proud when he gets back."

Danielle sighed and slumped down in her seat, feeling that familiar pain in her eyes. "If he gets back," she whispered.

"Don't be like that. He'll be back."

"Uh huh." Danielle leaned against the door and closed her eyes, letting the swaying of the car comfort her.

"Have you not been sleeping any better?"

"Hmm."

She must have drifted off at one point because the next thing she knew Pepper was shaking her gently awake. "Up you go, Danielle. I'll get some dinner started."

Danielle groaned and pulled herself up out of the car. She picked up her bag. Then she paused, staring at the extra car in the driveway. "That's Rhodey's car. Is Rhodey here?"

Pepper glanced at her, tucking the framed diploma under her arm and starting towards the front door. "He did mention that he would be coming back for a meeting before heading out again."

Danielle followed her in the door. "Rhodey?" she called.

"There's my favorite goddaughter!" a familiar voice said. Rhodey stepped out of the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.

"I'm your only goddaughter, Rhodey. What are you doing back?" she asked, not moving from her spot. "Aren't you supposed to be looking for my dad?"

"I am. I'm leaving again in the morning."

"You haven't found him yet."

"I know."

"You promised you were going to find him."

He set down his coffee with a sigh. Then he moved to stand in front of her. "I know. And I'm keeping that promise, okay? Because in the morning I'm flying back over there and I swear I'm going to find him. I promise you, Goose."

She ducked her head and toed the floor. "Thank you," she whispered. "Bring him home," she asked, voice cracking. "Please."

"I will."

Her nightmares drove her to her art studio at one in the morning, pouring her fears into her sketchbook instead of taking the time to confront them. If JARVIS commented on the number of times she ended up sobbing or gently encouraged her to go back to sleep, she didn't listen. Instead, she spent the next few hours hunched over the pages of her book with her pencil in hand.

"Danielle."

"Not now, JARVIS," she begged.

"I have news from Lieutenant Rhodes."

She suddenly pressed her pencil down so hard that it snapped and tore a hole in the page. She looked up at the ceiling. "What?" she rasped. "Did they . . . did they find Dad?"

"Yes."