AN: well here we go, chapter 2, I want to say a big thank you to the 6 reviews i got and the many more follows/favorites

without further ado

Read, Review, and Enjoy!

Chapter two

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?" I asked Peter two days after Uncle Ben's funeral.

"Nothing is wrong with me," Peter said.

"That's crap, Parker, and you know it," I said. "You're twice as strong as the last time I've seen you plus your hands keep sticking to things."

Peter's head shot up. "Promise you won't tell," he said.

I raised my eyebrow at him giving him what I had dubbed my famous 'are you kidding me' face.

Peter held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright," he said laughing. "Come on."

We were heading out when I saw Aunt May in the front room.

"Give me a sec," I told Peter and then headed over to Aunt May.

"Hey, sweetie," she said looking up from the couch.

I sat next to her on the couch and took her hand. "Peter and I are going out for a little while to get some fresh air," I told her. "If that's ok with you."

Aunt May smiled and kissed me on my forehead. "Thank you for letting me know," she whispered.

"Do you need anything else from us while we are out?" I asked her.

"Eggs, please," she said.

I nodded my head. "I'll let you know when we are headed to the store," I promise.

I left with Peter and once we were out of the house he turned to me. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

"Because she wanted to know where you were going," I said.

"She didn't ask," Peter said a little confused.

"Do you want me to be honest right now?" I ask, knowing that we had a rule; once we ask that question whatever the person replies, either with tell the truth or lie, we can't hold that person responsible.

"Yes," Peter answered as we walked to wherever he was taking me.

"The last time she tried to tell you what to do or where you were going, Uncle Ben died. " I said, "She is worried about you, she's not sleeping, you can see the bags underneath her eyes. And she doesn't know what to tell you to do."

Peter threw is arm around me as we arrived. "What should I do?" he asked.

"Just do what I did," I explained. "Let her know if you are leaving, ask if she needs anything, take an interest in her concerns."

Peter didn't say anything as we walked, I didn't say anything. He needed time to process what I had said and I needed time to think about how nice it would be if someone did that for me.

"Red," Peter said as we arrived to where he was taking us. "Why haven't you told your dad that that's how you feel?"

"He didn't call me," I whispered, "On my birthday. I turned sixteen. And he didn't call. In fact, he hasn't called since he left. He left me all alone and hasn't spared a thought about me since. I don't even think he knows I'm in New York."

I heard beeping, it was steady. I tried to open my eyes but I couldn't, I was so tired. I tried to move my fingers, my toes, anything but nothing was working.

I panicked; I wasn't in control of anything. I wanted to cry.

The warm feeling of sleep crept back up and surrounded me. I tried so hard to fight it, to stay awake. But I couldn't.

And the darkness took over again.

My best friend was a superhero; I don't know how I felt about that. In fact, I still don't. All I know is that he couldn't keep wearing that ridiculous outfit, so I made him a new one. It was my going away present because today was my last day in New York. I showed up at his school and I caught him pinning that bully, Flash, to the lockers.

"Peter!" I said running towards him.

Peter let go and turned to look at me, and I could see it in his eyes; he wasn't ok. He could lie to the world and he could lie to Aunt May, hell he could even lie to himself, but he couldn't lie to me. I knew him too well.

Peter looked at his hands and I knew where his thoughts had gone. So I gave him a hug. It took two point five seconds but he returned it.

"I'm not okay," he told me.

"I know," I said, "That's why I'm staying."

"You are?" he asked.

I nodded my head. Yes there were things I needed to do back in California but my family was here. And that thought hurt me more than it should.

I lost count of how many times the darkness and I played that game, it always ended the same way; me trying to figure out how to move, how to open my eyes, how to do anything, and the darkness always coming in and taking over.

Until it didn't. The darkness didn't win, I did. And I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. Pain was the first sensation I felt. And then panic.

The first person I saw was Pepper. She was sitting in a chair asleep, her hair was shiny and clothes were wrinkled making it look like she had been there for a few days.

"Pep," I tried to get out but my voice was hoarse. I licked my lips and tried again, "Pepper."

She woke up and saw me staring at her. "Oh my god, Scarlett!" she cried seeing me awake.

"What?" I started to ask.

"Shh," she said stroking my hair. "Sweetie don't try to speak, I'm going to get the doctor okay?"

She had tears in her eyes as I nodded that I understood. She left and returned with a doctor before I had time to even think about what had happened.

"Hey, Scarlett," the doctor said walking into the room. He started to explain what was wrong with me as Pepper gave me some water and fussed over me.

I had been in a coma for a week and a half. I had third degree burns and they had to pull several pieces of shrapnel out of my back.

Bruises and cuts all over my arms and face.

But what I was frozen at was the fact that my spinal cord was injured, to be more specific my lumbar segments L1-L5 were damaged. According to the doctor it was a D on the Asia scale which was good. It wasn't permanent but recovering the use of my legs would take a long time and some physical therapy.

I couldn't walk, not forever but right now I couldn't walk, I couldn't be the independent person I had spent my last seventeen years being.

"I'll set someone up to come over to your house to start on the physical therapy." The doctor said.

"When can I leave?" I asked him.

"You can leave today, but you have to rest. Rest and time are the only things that are going to heal you," He said.

I nodded my head and the doctor left to go get my release papers.

"Where is my dad?" I asked Pepper wondering where my dad was. He normally didn't do hospitals but I thought he would at least see if I was okay.

"Scarlett, maybe we should talk about it later," Pepper said, tears coming back into her eyes.

This was wrong. I was used to my dad not being here and Pepper was used to telling me; this shouldn't have been any different.

Rhodey walked into the room with a vase full of orchids, my favorite flowers.

"Scar," Rhodey said setting the vase down next to my bed.

"Uncle Rhodey where is my dad?" I asked, slightly panicking as to why they aren't just giving me the usual line.

Rhodey and Pepper exchanged a glance.

"What?" I asked, the heart monitor started to pick up.

"Scar, what do you remember about what happened?" Rhodey asked sitting on the edge of the bed.

I stopped and tried to think. I was learning how to fly from Cory and then I woke up here.

"I don't remember," I panicked, the heart monitor fully beeping erratically as I started having a panic attack.

"Scar," Rhodey said, "It's okay, but I need you to calm down."

The doctor walked in with my release papers and Pepper turned towards him.

"She is having problems remembering," Pepper said to the doctor.

"It's extremely common for people who go through trauma," the doctor explained to me like I was a two year old, "but these memories will come back on their own time. It's important you don't go trying to dig them up. Sometimes our minds hide the memories we can't deal with it."

I nodded my head; I didn't trust myself to speak at the time. Everything was sinking in and I wanted to get out of here.

"I'll see you back for your checkup in a week," he said smiling at me then leaving the room.

"Scarlett?" Pepper asked me.

"I wanna go home," I said quietly, because I had finally put it together, why my dad wasn't here. Why Pepper and Rhodey weren't willing to tell me the truth.

Because my dad wasn't here, and not just here in the hospital here.

Here as in not in the United States, he was still back over seas.

I didn't say another word, and honestly the only thing I remember was I went to step out of the wheelchair to get into the car and I couldn't do it. Rhodey had to physically pick me up and put me in the car.

Pepper and Rhodey didn't say a word the entire car ride. They had that silent conversation that only adults seem to be able to pull off.

We pulled up into the driveway and Rhodey and Pepper got out of the car.

While I sat there, Pepper got a chair out of the trunk of the car. Rhodey opened the door and helped me into the chair.

He started to push me when I finally snapped.

"I've got it!" I said as I pushed my way up the driveway.

I made it into the house and through the living room till I got to the balcony that overlooks the beach. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back as I listened to the sound of the waves.

And then I heard the door open and close behind me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered loud enough for Rhodey to hear, "I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's okay," Rhodey said coming to stand next to me. "I deserved it."

I shook my head. "No, it's not." I said.

"Scarlett," Rhodey began then looked away. "Listen, your dad, he was taken."

"He's not going to die," I said straight away. "We are going to find him." I needed to entertain that idea now and not think about anything else, I couldn't think about anything else.

"You need to start to get ready for the fact that he might—" Rhodey tried again.

"No, he's not going to die. We're going to find him," I said again, my hands shaking as I gripped my wheelchair.

"Scarlett," Rhodey tried for a third time.

"HE ISN'T GOING TO DIE!" I scream at him. "He cant, he can't die. Uncle Rhodey he is all I have and I can't lose my dad." I started to panic, again. What was I going to do? I'm underage and I needed someone to take care of me.

"Hey," Rhodey said squatting in front of me.

"I can't lose my dad," I sobbed the tears finally spilling over.

"And you're not going to," Rhodey said. "But I'm going to need you to breathe."

I nodded my head as I tried to control my breathing, but I couldn't.

"Scarlett," Rhodey said, "In, out, in, out."

I focused on his words. In, out, in, out until I could finally breathe again.

"You need to come inside, take some medicine," Rhodey said.

I started to shake my head. "I don't want any medication," I protested.

"I told you she wouldn't take them," Pepper said coming to check on us since she heard me screaming.

"And I'm not," I said, "I'm not taking any meds."

"Scar," Rhodey tried to reason.

But I shook my head, I couldn't think my mind was racing and my thoughts were scattered.

"The doctor didn't give me any medication," I said as that thought managed to come into my grasp.

"He gave us some sleeping pills," Pepper said.

"I don't want to sleep," I said. "I've slept for twelve days."

"Well that's good," Peter said walking into the room, "because that would be boring."

That was all he said, because Peter was my best friend in the entire world. He knew me like the back of his hand and he knew that I didn't want to hear how sorry he was for my loss or that I was going to get better soon.

"I got it from here, Peps." Peter said pushing me away from Pepper and Rhodey.

We got away from the adults and Peter wheeled me around to face him.

"What's wrong, Red?" Peter asked. "I haven't seen you have a panic attack in years and according to Pepper you've had two already."

"Something is wrong," I said. "And I can't put it together right now but something is really wrong."

"Talk to me," Peter said.

"I woke up today," I said.

"I know, Pepper called me, " Peter said.

"And they didn't keep me for observation, or even run a couple of tests. He just let me go." I said.

Peter stopped and looked at me. "Okay, points for that being weird, but your injuries are cuts and bruises minus the spinal injury and they are sending a physical therapist over."

I nodded my head. "I don't know what to do," I said putting my head in my hands. "I don't know what I'm feeling or thinking or what to do. I—" my voice faltered as hopelessness settled over me.

"I know you want to help find your dad," Peter said. "But you need to get you taken care of first."

"I'm fine," I said.

"No you're not," Peter said. "You're in pain and you are freaking out and we are going to spend today getting you back to a somewhat stable condition and then tomorrow we are start looking for your dad."

I took a deep breath, "I can't lose him," I said. "I know that we fight and hardly have any kind of relationship but I need my dad."

"I know," Peter said bending down in front of me. He gave me a big hug. "I know, because I know everything about you."

I buried my head in his shoulders and I cried, and I cried.

I don't remember the last time I cried that much; the last time I let go of all the emotions I was feeling and all of the control that had ruled my life.

"Come on, Red," Peter said picking me up and taking me to our home base.

We had made it when Peter spent the summer with us when we were fourteen; added it to my floor of the house. We wanted to be spies that year so we made a home base. And eventually the name stuck as we added furniture and posters and such over the years; it has always been our escape.

He sat me down on the couch and moved my legs up so I could curl up into his side. Max soon came running into the room, jumping on my lap like he did when he was a puppy even though he was three times too big for that now.

He licked my face, well in dog terms I guessed he kissed my face. Trying to make me feel better and then soon lay down at my feet with his shaggy head on my knees; just like he always does.

"I can't walk," I sobbed. "I can't get to my room without somebody carrying me."

Max just sat there, his head on my knees while I ranted; my ever faithful dog.

I knew I sounded childish. I would eventually get the use of my legs back and that was an opportunity that most wouldn't have. My back would always have the scars and that's okay, I didn't really care about it, but my legs, the use of my legs. Topping it off with the fact everyone seems to think my dad was dead.

It wasn't an attractive cry, it was ugly and I was pretty sure I ruined Peter's shirt but eventually I fell asleep.

I woke up, still on the couch and curled into Peter's side, who was watching some soap opera on television.

"You know for such a fancy house, you really have crappy cable in here," Peter said as he popped some popcorn into his mouth.

"Ugh," I moaned pressing my head against his shoulder.

"Crying for an hour will do that to you." Peter said handing me a glass of water and some aspirin.

"Thanks," I said as I took them and turned to the TV. "So what's going on?" I asked as I scratched the top of Max's head as a thank you for being there for me through my mental breakdown.

"Well, I was only watching this until you woke up," Peter said, "because you are far more entertaining."

I scooted my way up so I was no longer curled into his side but sitting up next to him. I moved each leg forward.

"See?" Peter said handing me the bowl of popcorn. "You did that all by yourself."

I shoved him a little bit and started to laugh.

"Better?" he asked me.

I nodded my head. "How is it that you knew exactly what I needed?"

"Because you are Scarlett Stark," Peter said still facing the television, "and you are expected to bounce back from this, take over for your dad in the company if, by the small factor that, we didn't manage to find him. But you are also Red, my best friend and sister who is a seventeen year old girl, you love to do yoga in the mornings, and walk across the beach when you get upset. And you still, deep down, think that you and your dad can have some sort of relationship."

I took a deep breath, "So I'm not crazy?"

Peter chuckled, "Well, not in that sense," he said.

I looked at the clock, "I have eight more hours until I have to get my act together."

Peter looked at the clock and nodded, "Yes you do."

"Can I take a rain check on those hours?" I asked.

"I thought you would never ask," Peter said grinning.

I nodded my head, "Let's get to work."

"Pepper came in while you were asleep," Peter said. "The doc who gives you the creeps is sending over a physical therapist. He will be here next week."

"Next week?" I ask shocked that we weren't jumping on this as soon as possible.

"Pepper said that giving you a week might help," Peter stopped unable to find the words.

"Calm me down?" I offer to him.

"I was going to say mellow you back out but yes," Peter confessed.

"Your computer lab is down the hall," Peter said, "How do you want to get there?"

I thought about it, "Um, I just need the wheelchair."

"That's my girl," Peter said and he moved my wheelchair into my view with his foot. Max barked and hopped off of me and sat next to the chair. Peter chuckled, "See, even Max is proud."

I gritted my teeth, as Peter moved the chair right in front of me.

"You can do it," Peter said, and he said it only once and I only needed to hear it once.

It was painfully slow, I cursed and growled at Peter, but he didn't say anything. No more encouragement or jibs to get me to go faster, he was there for me and that was all I needed.

"Why is it that I have no use of my legs but I can still feel pain?" I asked Peter as we made our way slowly over to the computer lab.

"Pain is good," Peter commented. "Means that you can heal, it's when you can't feel anything that we need to worry."

We got to my computer lab.

"So we need to figure out the last place that he was," I say looking at the computers.

Peter nodded and took the computer to my left as we started to trace the steps of our trip.

"So I managed to find the last trace of his cell phone," Peter said.

"Ok, I've hacked into the CIA," I comment. "Send me the coordinates and I will have all of their satellites point to there."

"I'm sorry did you just say that you hacked into the CIA?" Peter asked.

I turned my head to face him. "It's my dad." I answered simply.

Peter nodded, "So only the CIA?" he teased.

"No, I'm working on NSA right now," I continued to type.

"Should I make a list?" Peter asked.

I scooted my wheel chair out and faced him. "I've already started on it," I grinned. "is that a problem for you?"

Peter shook his head; "As long as we get cells close by each other I'm good."

"Cells?" I ask. "Peter, between my money and your superpowers if we can't escape we deserve to be in prison."

Peter chuckled and the two of us sat in silence listening to the computer program I programed to break into the government and staring at the computer screen where Peter had brought up the place where my father had last been seen.

"Just say it," I growl out knowing that something has been going on in Peter's mind from the way he has been fidgeting the past few minutes.

"It's just this," he gestured to the computers.

"If you have a problem then you can leave," I said pointing to the door.

"No," Peter quickly corrected. "That's not what I have a problem with; it's the amount of work you're doing to find him."

"Is that a bad thing?" I ask.

"Scarlett, for the past eleven years I've seen you go above and beyond in everything that you do for just a glimpse of recognition from him. You were valedictorian of your high school when you were thirteen and three and a half years later you got a doctorate in nuclear chemistry."

"Your point?" I ask

"Your dad didn't show up to either of those graduations," Peter pointed out.

I shook my head. "It was just my high school graduation and he had a business meeting for my college one," I defended him.

Peter smiled and leaned his head on my shoulder. "And he has no idea that you defend him with every breath you have."

I shrug my shoulders. "He doesn't need to know," I said.

"I think he does," Peter disagreed.

"Peter, if I tell him now that I wished that we spent more time together as I was growing up do you know what he would do?" I ask him.

Peter shook his head and remained silent.

"He would drink," I whisper. "He would become so depressed that he turned out just like his father that he would drink even more than he already does and I would lose him that much more. I had a great childhood, I never wanted for anything. I have a family, maybe not in the traditional since, but I have people who love me just as much as I love them and I'm not going to ruin what little relationship I have with my dad over something that is in the past and cannot change."

Peter just took my hand and squeezed it softly.

I blinked back tears as the words I had just spoken aloud play around in my thoughts. Everything was true, I had a great childhood, I was given every opportunity to excel and I had. If things were different and I had my way I would give it up for an actual relationship with my father in a heartbeat. But we can't always get what we want and I couldn't erase the past.

"Besides," I say my voice just a little bit stronger. "Maybe when he comes back home we can bond"

Peter just squeezed my hand again. "Maybe," he said.

I know Peter doubts it. He doesn't think that my father even deserves to be called that. I had to practically beg him not to say anything last year when he missed my birthday for the fifth year in a row.

My birthday is complicated, my dad once told me when I asked why he was sad. It's both the best and worst day of his life. The best in that I was born, but the worst in that my mother left us on my first birthday. So it really was just a question of which outweighed which; the broken heart or the little Stark running around the building.

Peter thinks it should be me, no contest, hands down; I shouldn't have to feel guilty about wanting to celebrate my birthday because my mother left us. Honestly I don't know how I feel about it. I know that when I see my father stumble in the house on my birthday I feel guilty and sad. It's complicated and that is the only word that can describe our relationship.

And that is something that Peter has never been able to understand at how it could be complicated. I know Pepper and Uncle Rhodey think the same thing and I think Happy and Cory do as well; they just don't vocalize it to me as Peter does.

"Maybe when I turn eighteen I'll just run away," I comment.

"Yeah," Peter agrees knowing that I was completely joking. "Come to New York with me."

"We could get an apartment," I added smiling thinking about the life I would have if I were anyone else but Scarlett Stark.

"You could go by Clara so no one knows who you are," Peter said. "I know you have always liked Clara."

That was true and something Peter and I have never discussed. Actually I haven't said a word about that since I was eight when I asked Pepper why everyone called me Scarlett instead of Clara. The answer was simple even then to an eight year old.

My mom named me Clara.

My dad named me Scarlett.

And just like that I was fine with being called Scarlett. Scar, if you were lucky enough to be considered a member of my elite family as I call them; and 'Red' if you were Peter, and only Peter.

"It's creepy that you know that," I comment.

"Nah," Peter laughs. "I know everything about you Red,"

I laugh too, it was a soft chuckle at first then it turned into a real laugh.

Then it just turned pathetic.

It was that strange half cry half laugh, full on 'she has lost it' kind of laugh.

Tears came down as I tried to reign in my thoughts about how the only person in the world who knew everything thing about me was Peter and not my father.

Peter soon realized where my thoughts were going on pulled me into a deep hug again.

"I didn't mean that," he said kissing the top of my head.

"I know," I sobbed. "But it's true and I think they gave me something because I don't cry ever and all I can do today is cry and I think its freaking Pepper out because she wants to give me medication for it and all I can think about is how that creepy doctor who didn't follow any protocols was the one to give them to her. And what if it's not really medication but some kind of other drug?"

Peter chuckled and I felt his body vibrate through the hug he gave me. "Red, its okay that you are crying today," he reassured me again.

I opened my mouth to retort that I was suppose to be calm and collected but Max barked and the two of us broke out of the argument to see that a small green box had pulled up on my computer screen.

I grinned at him as I pull up the screen, "Well that's the NSA cracked, all of their satellites are now pointed at where we were. What do you think?" I ask as I turn around to face Peter. "FBI or NASA next?"

"What's the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division?" Peter asked.

"The what?" I asked looking at his computer screen.

"I've never heard of it before" Peter commented.

"Well, whatever it is it needs an acronym," I reply.

"Are you going to try and hack it, too?" Peter asked.

I turned and started to type. The thing you need to realize is that if you can break into one government satellite program you can break into them all, it's just a matter of finding the right algorithm and programing the computer to do the rest. This can be done with JARVIS, my father's AI program, but I chose to do it by hand. That way JARVIS has no record of it ever being done, because a) my computer lab runs on a different server I designed (don't tell my dad) and b) I prefer to do my hacking old school anyway. But this Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division had computer programming I have never seen before.

"Whatever it is," I said, "It has a higher security than the FBI does."

"Can it be done?" Peter asked.

I shrug my shoulders, "With the program I'm using for everything else no, not a chance. To break in it's going to have to be done very sneakily and a little bit at a time."

"So, we will hack everything else then work on that?" Peter offered.

I nodded my head, "Sounds like a plan."