Chapter Two: Pit Stop

How can someone possibly pack up their whole life, the possibility of a future, all of it in only a matter of hours? Bags were packed, all signs of a happy existence already gone. All that was left was a worn sofa and whatever had been left in the kitchen. Grace sat contentedly on the floor near the door, her poor old teddy-bear – Softy – clutched in her grip. She was humming some tune quietly to herself, patiently waiting for our journey to begin. I wish I could share in her feelings, but between seeing my father for the first time in years and his vague warning of danger I couldn't calm my frazzled nerves.

Deciding to take a short break and calm the throbbing of my temples, I took a seat beside my daughter and pulled her close. She laid her head on my side, allowing me to draw strength from her. At only six years old – six and a half, she kept reminding me – most thought of her as a silly child with her head in the clouds. To me, however, she was a smart, beautiful little girl who had always been my rock. Raising her at such a young age had not been easy, not by any means. ButI worked hard to give her everything she needed, everything she deserved, and in return she kept me going day by day.

"Mommy, is it time to go now?" I was drawn out of my relaxed state by her small voice. Pulling away with a deep breath, I looked down at her. Seeing my hazel eyes staring back up at me from her tiny face was something I could never get over. She didn't particularly look like me, maybe in the shape of her nose or the way she moved, mostly taking after her father. I was glad she at least resembled me in one way.

"Not yet, sweety. I have to look around again really quickly, OK? Just to make sure we aren't forgetting anything."

"And then we go?"

"Yes." Standing up, I looked through each room. The kitchen, bathroom, and living room were all still pretty much in tact. My father hadn't told me where we would be going – or how long we'd be gone for that matter – but did say we wouldn't need any furniture or dishes. Only necessities.

Moving further down the hall, I looked in on Grace's room. Her bed was perfectly made-up with her purple comforter spread out on top. The familiar hues and shapes of the room drew me in and I was immediately overwhelmed with memories. This had been where I set up her crib, even though she slept with me for the first week. She took her first steps on this floor, her first tumble. There was nothing left so I quietly turned, desperate to escape before the tears started. The short tick marks on the wall stopped me, however.

It was a growth chart I had started for Grace on her second birthday, each line marked with a date and age. I ran my fingers absently over a bold red line that stood out from the others. Grace had been desperate for a growth spurt, or maybe she just wanted to hurry and grow up. Either way she had me measure her each day for a week until one day, while I had been doing dishes, I heard her scream from her room. As a mother, every loud noise your child makes while out of sight immediately puts you in panic mode.

I remember the plate shattering as I dropped it in the sink. The feel of the adrenaline flowing through my veins as I rounded the corner, only to see my baby girl giggleing happily to herself.

'What's wrong? What happened?' I had asked.

'Look, mommy, I grew!' She had pointed enthusiastically at the wasll where a new mark now proudly showed above the old ones. She put her back to the wall and straightened her back. 'See!' The uneven red line stood about an inch above her head. After that I had a long talk with her about writing on the walls with markers but never told her that her measurement was a bit off.

Now there were a few more lines above hers signaling her growth for the last few years – all accurate this time. I felt one tear slide down my cheek but quickly pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes to prevent more from following. How would Grace react if she knew her mother had been crying?

The only room left in the apartment was mine, but I had gone over it three times already while packing so there was nothing left. Heading back toward the front, I instructed Grace to grab what she could before closing the door to our home for the last time.

In his sleek sports car parked right outside was Tony Stark himself. The man never worried or anxiously sat wringing his hands. Or, that's what he would like others to believe. He had never been good with kids, I mean, he hadn't even talked to his own in seven years, what was he supposed to do now that he was a grandfather?

He did not like the sound of that at all.

Sophia alone had been a surprise. He had only been twenty-five, in his prime. A new girl in and out of his bed daily. Needless to say becoming a father had never even crossed his mind. So when a baby quite literally appeared on his doorstep one day it caught him completely off-guard. After having a paternity test done and several failed attempts to find the mother he had unwillingly taken her in. He hired a full-time nanny, an on-call doctor, even bought more supplies than any child could possibly need, but still felt as if her being there was like a cancer.

He didn't know the first thing about raising a child and having a kid would certainly slow him down. That's why it had been so surprising when he became attached.

A sharp wrap at the window brought him back to the present.

"Come on, open up!" She stood on the other side of the door with all of their belongings sitting on the curb, holding the little girl's hand. He tried desperately to remember her name – Gwen? Beth? Pam? - but each time he thought he had it, the name escaped him.

"Alright, Sunshine. Calm down."

"Don't call me Sunshine." The remark seemed to almost come instinctively, surprising the two adults. She had never liked being called Sunshine, feeling it an annoying kid name, but the sudden familiarity of the situation caused a dense silence to fall between them.

"Where does our stuff go?" The girl was studying the small yet expensive vehicle with amazed curiosity. Tony stepped away from the girl casually with his hands in his suit pockets, wanting space between them but trying not to upset Sophia in the process.

"Not in there, short stuff." He ignored the gap-toothed grin she gave him and turned away, looking down the street to where a van with tinted windows was parked. "That's where your stuff will go. And-!" He turned to look at the young girl, "- that's where you will be riding."

"What?" Sophie stepped forward, instinctively placing her daughter behind her. "There is no way I am traveling to god-knows-where without my daughter by my side."

"Soph, listen. We have a lot to talk about-"

"But it can all wait until we get where we're going." She stood her ground firmly, arms folded over her chest with an expression that dared him to challenge her. He was both amazed and annoyed with the changes he noticed in her.

"No, actually, it can't wait-"

"Well there is no way in-" stopping herself mid-sentence, she glanced over at her daughter, "- heck that I am letting her out of my sight for even a moment. Either she comes in the same car as us or this conversation can wait."

"Come on. Look, I personally know the driver and can vouch for him-"

"I'm sure you can, but that's not the issue here. Now, I've given you the two choices. Pick one or I will." The mama bear act was getting a little irritating but he had to admit that it was his stubbornness she had gotten.

"I don't even have a car seat or anything. Besides, where would it go? There are only two seats in my car."

"Yes, but there are plenty in mine."

Driving through the countryside had always been a relaxing pass-time of mine. When Grace was born, driving was the only thing that calmed both of us down. However, right now I really doubted the scenery would soothe anyone.

"Are you my grandpa?" Grace's voice broke the tense silence we had all been sitting in. I glanced over at the man in question only to see him wearing the same expression on his face I had seen whenever I made him come to a recital or watch me perform in a school play – you know, whenever he actually showed up. Like he was stranded in some strange wilderness with no direction. I know he had struggled through my childhood, but I had struggled through it right alongside him.

"Hey, Grace. Want to listen to some Christmas music?" My father looked at me incredulously from the passenger seat as Grace agreed wholeheartedly.

"It's only November."

"Yeah, well, it's never too early to put a little joy in your life." As I found the right radio station the nostalgic music began filling the car. The rhythmic gibberish from the backseat distracted us from the previous question.

"You know we still have a lot to talk about." He spoke in a loud voice only for my ears. I looked in the rear-view mirror to see my daughter looking out the window, singing about snowmen.

"Then talk."

"I would prefer not to in front of the munchkin." The conversation paused momentarily as the GPS had me take an abrupt right turn.

"You don't even know her name, do you?"

"I only met her a few hours ago, give me a break."

"She's your grand-daughter so you'd better remember it." I saw him physically flinch away from the term out of the corner of my eye.

"Yeah, well, I didn't even know you had a significant other in your life."

"I don't." Silence fell again as commercials began blaring through the speakers.

"You know I never meant what I said, right?" My fingers flexed on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white before I relaxed them, only to repeat the process once again.

"Let's not talk about this right now."

"Then when should we talk about it, huh?" I felt all of the anger and hurt I've been suppressing over the years suddenly surge through my veins.

"What do you want me to say? We both know damn well you meant every word of what you said. It just took that extra bottle of whiskey for the truth to come out." The force of my words rendered him him silent. As my anger slowly ebbed away, I realized that Grace was no longer singing. "Grace, honey, I'm sorry-"

"Are we there yet?" I let my apology drop and checked the GPS to see that we were, in fact, there. Pulling into the dirt parking space, we got out and looked up at the rusted looking warehouse.

"This is the 'safe place' you were talking about?"

"Relax, Sunshine. This is only a pit stop. I ignored the pet name and followed behind him holding Grace's hand in mine. Grace was unusually quiet as we walked up to the entrance so I squeezed her hand lightly in reassurance. She squeezed back.

"Stark!" I turned in response to the name before I remembered I wasn't the only one anymore. A man approached us just as we entered the building decked out in a very patriotic costume. He gave me a brief once over, as if to assess my threat level. Next he took in Grace with a surprised expression. "Is this her?" My father moved past the man, not even sparing him a second glance.

"Yup." He regarded Grace once again with a confused look.

"I didn't know you had a granddaughter."

"Neither did I Capscicle." His tone was colder than it should have been but the man didn't seem to notice.

"Are you Captain America?" Grace looked curiously up at the man.

"Yes, but you can call me Steve. What's your name?"

"My name is Grace Elizabeth Stark. Why are your clothes stretchy?" The man – Steve – seemed caught off-guard by the sudden question, and I couldn't blame him. He looked down at his attire.

"I, um-"

"Amy said you weren't real, but I told her 'yeah huh!' but then she told me that her daddy said you were just pretend and that somebody made you up because they wanted attention."

"I'm sorry, who's Amy?" He looked at me, asking for answers but I was just as lost in my daughter's ramblings as he was. I shrugged.

"She's in my class! But I told her that her daddy didn't know what he was talking about. Then she called me dumb and went to play with Trevor."

"Grace-"

"What's that!" She ran off in the direction her grandfather had gone without even glancing in our direction. I felt a migraine forming but ignored it, instead giving a weak smile to the confused man.

"Sorry about her. She can be a bit... much at times." He waved the apology off and gave me a boyish smile. I wondered if all guys went through some sort of class or something to perfect this type of smile.

"No problem, ma'am. It's nothing I can't handle." I playfully winced.

"Ohhh, I have a problem with the whole 'ma'am' thing. Just call me Sophie, alright?" He nodded.

"Follow me, we'd better get going soon." I opened my mouth to ask a question but then noticed the rather large jet that was taking up space in the room. It was obviously some sort of military craft.

"Well I guess that answers how we're getting to our destination. Now, can someone please tell me where we're being taken?"