Invincible
By: Eva Grimm
Chapter One: A Forged Heart

"Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead."

Oscar Wilde

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Iron Man, Tony Stark, or any other Marvel intellectual property. Invincible is a fan-based work and not sold for profit.

***SPOILER ALERT: Spoilers for any Marvel movie and comic book — they're going to happen. You've been warned.

Friday, August 29th, 2003 09:32a, PST | 10880 Malibu Point, 90265

"Miss Stark, Miss Potts is here. She's heading towards the workshop."

Megan paused her welding briefly, a look of consternation crossing her face. "Jarvis what day is today?"

The smooth, robotic voice of her AI quipped back with a definite lilt of amusement, "Why do you ask questions when you already know the answers?"

"Shit." The workshop came alive as its owner flew into action. The metal Megan had been fusing together was left abandoned on a wheeled workstation, which had already begun steering itself out of sight. Megan had already taken a step aside where she met her metal wardrobe halfway and flung its chrome finish doors wide. She yanked her clothes off and threw them into a basket inside the wardrobe as metal arms snaked their way out of the packed contents, clothes fit for a press conference clutched in their three-fingered grasps.

"No shower, Miss Stark?" Jarvis asked, as Megan hastily donned her red undergarments.

"You said she's here, didn't you?" Her red, sleeveless blouse went on next. "Besides, I'm going to Afghanistan. I'll be drowning in my own sweat soon enough."

"And the flight over, Meg?" Pepper called out as she descended the stairs.

She sounds happy, Megan mentally noted. Charcoal, white-pinstripe pants in hand, she began to sit down onto nothing, a wheeled chair skidding to a halt under her just in time. She pulled the bottom to her pant-suit on and replied, "It's my plane. They can get over it."

Pepper reached the door to the workshop and, after punching in the code, stepped through the unlocked door. "Your plane, which was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago."

Megan winced, remembering that Rhodey was flying over with her, and grabbed the proffered black boots another metal hand had procured from the depths of her closet. The boots would be warm — very warm — but it was the lesser evil compared to sand-induced chaffing; the tight fit, when worn under her pants, would stave off most, if not all, of the sand.

"I'll tell Rhodey I'm sorry when I get there. I'd forgotten, and... Well, it's my plane. It isn't leaving without me." She slipped her arms into the matching suit jacket, ready to begin the corporate dance. Obie had asked her to handle the demonstration, and while she ordinarily hated being in the public eye, he had been rather insistent. Camera shy or not, she did have a certain flair, and the Jericho presentation they had prepared was all about flair.

"You should apologize about the awards presentation while you're at it." Another wince. "Megan, I have to run some things by you before you dash off into the desert."

Megan had already begun making her way to the red Audi R8 parked nearby, a red purse hanging off her shoulder. She turned back to face Pepper, a glazed look briefly flickering across her eyes, then answered, "The art collection is all yours, Pep, so do whatever you want about the Jackson Pollock. Tell MIT that there's a reason I did all my coursework online. Do you really need me to sign off continued funding for my mom's charity?"

Pepper didn't miss a beat. "It's overpriced, I'll tell them you said no, and yes, that's the legal world. How did you know what I was going to ask?" She was familiar with Megan's occasional glassy-eyed stare. Whenever she had that look in her eyes, it meant she was having a 'moment of genius,' as Megan liked to call them. Megan Stark was a special woman. Her genius allowed her to remember the forgotten, deduce the unknown, and fix the unfixable. Her secret kept her from being social, from being honest. Pepper could count on one hand the number of people Megan trusted with her secret and have one finger left.

Megan strode back over, graced the clipboard-bound contract with her signature, then began making her way to the Audi. "Jarvis has access to your docket. Ironically, I need you to do something for me too."

Pepper quirked an eyebrow. Of course — she's a quick reader. "I've got plans."

The sports car came to life as its owner pulled the suicide door shut. The wheels screamed as Megan hit the gas, rocketing the car forward. Before it got far, she twisted the wheel and sent the car power-sliding towards Pepper. Pepper panicked and moved to jump out of the way, but the car came to a screeching halt next to her before she had moved an inch.

The window slide down, and Megan stuck her arm out, a small box covered in white wrapping-paper and a gold bow in her hand. "I need you to have a good time on your birthday for me."

A small smile graced Pepper's lips as she took the present and softly thanked her. She didn't appreciate Megan's antics, but she knew there was love in them. Ever since Megan's parents died in the car accident, Pepper, Obadiah, James, and Happy had been her only "family." Jarvis too, Pepper thought to herself. But Jarvis was an AI, so he could be programmed to keep her secret. People were different; trust was needed if secrets were to be kept. One hand — On one hand, Pepper could count the people Megan trusted, the people she called family.

Her eyes alight with mirth, Megan slipped her red Oakley Pulses on. With her laughing eyes blocked from view by black tinted lenses, she called out, "I'll see you tomorrow!" and the Audi took off once more. The roar of the engine echoed through the workshop as the car made its way up the ramp. Eventually, the last whispers of the vehicle's presence vanished.

Pepper turned in surprise as a second chrome wardrobe rolled over to her. "Your gift, Miss Potts," Jarvis' smooth voice announced. She turned her eyes down to glance at the gift lying in her hands. Jarvis answered her unasked question, "Two parts."

She deftly removed the wrapping around the box and found earrings — each with a navy blue, diamond shaped gem set on silver wire hook. She reached to open the metal doors, already knowing what she would find within. Hanging inside was a beautiful, navy-colored gala dress — one she had been eying for some time. She put her face in her palm and shook her head slightly. "She's either stalking me or 'deducing the unknown' again." She smiled. "I'm not sure which I prefer."

Friday, August 29th, 2003 10:20a, PST | Los Angeles International Airport, the Tarmac

James Rhodes watched with a practiced scowl as the Audi R8 approached the plane and stopped near the stairs into the plane — where he was standing. Happy Hogan, who was waiting nearby in order to take the car back to Malibu, stepped forward and flipped the door up and open.

A sheepish grin plastered across her face, Megan stepped out of the car. "Sorry, you two. Got caught up in work."

Rhodes smirked, shattering any pretense of anger gone. "You don't need to apologize, Meg. I'm your man."

She placed her Oakleys in her purse and strode up the stairs. Her grin took on a more humorous look as she said, "My man, are you? I'm not sure you're my type."

As she reached the step he was on, she leaned in to kiss his cheek. Rhodes accepted the gesture while rolling his eyes. "The last thing I want to discuss is your 'type.'" The two of them began to make their way up the rest of the stairs.

Rhodes entered the plane first, and before she crossed the threshold, Megan turned her head to glance back over her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, Happy. Not a scratch!" Happy chuckled and gave her a mock salute as the door shut.

Friday, August 29th, 2003 11:05a | International Airspace, the Pacific Ocean

"Megan — I need a word."

Megan looked up from her laptop and was immediately swept up by the intense look in Rhodes' eyes. She briefly glanced around the cabin and saw that the two of them were alone, the flight staff apparently occupied with other matters. She closed her laptop with a brief snap and set aside all thought of work for the moment. "What's up, Rhodey?" She had a suspicion but held her tongue and waited for confirmation from her longtime friend.

Rhodes said nothing for a moment as he collected his thoughts. He didn't like the notion of having this conversation, but it felt oddly important, so he plowed ahead. "When I put on this uniform, do you know what I recognize?"

Megan quirked an eyebrow as she gave said uniform a once-over. She smiled and quipped, "That three buttons is seriously old fashioned?" Rhodes sighed in frustration. No dice, Megan noted. "Sorry. Just... Trying to lighten the mood."

Rhodes gave her a weak smile. "It might be old fashioned, but that's the point." He briefly paused. "Megan... When I put this uniform on, I know that other people wear it too. They're my comrades — they've got my back."

Her suspicion confirmed, Megan softly replied. "And you... You've got my back. You, Pepper, Happy, and Obie are my comrades."

Rhodes nodded, glad she was following him. "The world knows you, but they don't know you, Meg. You're more than what they think you are." Tears had begun to sparkle at the corners of her eyes, so he leaned forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I just wanted you to know that we're here for you — no matter what." Megan smiled, unable to help it. It always made her happy to think of her extended family.

The cabin door slid open, interrupting the moment. One of the flight staff, a young, blonde lady stepped through the open door and froze when she saw the two of them: Megan, with tears shimmering in her eyes and a smile on her face, and Rhodes, with his hand resting on her shoulder. Of course, she jumped to the wrong conclusion. "Sorry! I'll leave you two lovebirds alone." She swiftly fled back through the door, sliding it shut once more.

Megan laughingly quipped, "It seems she thinks you're my type."

Rhodes groaned.

Saturday, August 30th, 2003 04:42p, AFT | Somewhere in Afghanistan

Megan awoke in a panic, her thoughts awhirl with the final moments before she fell unconscious. The last thing she remembered was looking at her chest, and...

My chest!

Her body ached all over, but she knew she had to tend to that wound — the gaping hole where some god awful weapon had carved its way into her flesh. It didn't matter where she was, at least for the moment. She had to tend to that wound, or she was going to die. Her will incensed by a burning desire to live, she commanded her arms to move. They burned with effort, but they eventually lifted up and moved to check her chest.

One did, anyway. Her left arm was stopped as it ran into a wire that her eyes, bleary from sleep and no energy, had not seen. The wire was only slightly jarred, but the movement was enough for to feel that it was connected to the area of her chest that had been injured. She tore her eyes from the ceiling of what appeared to be a natural cave formation and let her head flop to the left. The wire was connected to a car battery.

"Oh god," she murmured, her voice hoarse.

"Miss Stark," a voice from somewhere to her right said. "It's nice to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

Her eyes glazed over as she scrounged through her memories to place the voice. "Ho Yinsen?" Had she said that aloud? Her body was beginning to go into autopilot. "New Year's Eve 1999, technical conference in Bern, Switzerland."

Yinsen chuckled. "Your memory serves you well, Miss Stark. Your lecture on integrated circuits was inspiring, especially from someone so young." Megan heard the scrape of a chair and footsteps approaching. "I'm sorry I couldn't do better with your wound. My tools are... limited here." She twisted her head to face upwards again and found Yinsen above her, his finger and eyes directing her attention to the wound in her chest. She followed his gaze and took in the sight.

Her blouse was gone, replaced with a loose fitting tank top that was tattered and dirty. Given its worn appearance, she concluded that it had originally been owned by someone else — a man, if the size and cut were any indication. A circular hole had been cut over her sternum, just above her breasts, exposing a cylindrical mass of metal. The wire (Two wires, she mentally corrected.) from before were attached to the mass. Red and black wires connected to a car battery? Is this thing...

"An electromagnet?" she inquired aloud.

Yinsen nodded gravely. "I removed as much shrapnel as I could, but it wasn't nearly enough. The magnet is keeping them from entering your atrial septum. Without it, you would be dead within a week."

"That's my heart, right?" Megan was a genius, but anatomy wasn't her forte.

"It is."

"Wh–who attacked me? Why? Where are we?" She hadn't meant to yell at Yinsen, especially since he had apparently saved her life, but it was all so much. She needed to ground herself. She had been brought to death's door... Oh god. Tears broke free as she began to panic. "The attack — was I the only one who survived? Rhodey was in one of the other cars!" Had they only wanted her? Did that mean they had killed everyone else?

"Miss Stark!" Yinsen's voice pulled her back from the dark possibilities that had begun to race through her mind and coat it in fear. "Panicking is not a luxury you can afford, I am afraid. I will answer your questions as best as I can, but we have little time."

She wanted to scream at the world, to grapple with the heavens and force everything to be all right again. But she couldn't. She didn't know if it was Yinsen's warning that stopped her, or if her body simply didn't have the strength to muster up a good scream. "Tell me." She looked up and locked eyes with Yinsen. "Please."

For a moment, Yinsen said nothing, his eyes searching hers for something only he could see. He finally nodded, as if to himself, and spoke. "They call themselves the Ten Rings. I do not know why they attacked your... convoy?" He tilted his head slightly, the question lingering. When Megan affirmed his guess, he continued. "As for where we are, we are somewhere in Afghanistan. As your fellow prisoner, I'm afraid I don't have a more specific location than that."

"You said we 'have little time.' Why?"

Yinsen grimaced. "I was given explicit orders: 'Do not let her die.' I can only presume that they want to use you, Miss Stark." He pointed at her head. "They either want you for this." He moved his to point below her waistline. "Or for this."

Megan closed her eyes as the gravity of the situation became apparent. She remembered the chaos of the attack, the fierce, reckless disregard for the lives of her soldier escorts. They hadn't been cautious at all in their attack, nearly killing her in the process. While she couldn't rule out the possibility that they had intended to kidnap her, the odds heavily favored a more fortuitous scenario: a merciless attack and an unexpected discovery. The question was whether they wanted Megan Stark, the genius mechanic, or Megan Stark, a woman they could fuck. Yinsen was right — she didn't have time to panic over Rhodey and his comrades. Rhodey was a soldier, trained by the best and forged in the fires of war; he could have (Would have! she fiercely amended.) handled himself. She, however, was out of her league.

"Miss Stark... Regarding the second possi—"

Megan's eyes were open in an instant, locking onto Yinsen with a look of fear.

Yinsen hesitated under her scrutiny, but he pressed on. "Your clothes were haphazard when you were brought to me. I presumed the worst, but I have not checked. I wanted your permission first."

"Ah." Megan squirmed slightly but otherwise relaxed, her fear abated. "You don't need to worry. I'm infertile."

"I know."

The fear reared up in her again, stronger than before. It tore at her insides and compelled her to act. Her battered and weary body moved on its own, forcing her upright. Her hand wrapped tightly around Yinsen's dusty tie and pulled him down to eye level. "How?"

Yinsen, to his credit, was calm before Megan's fury. "How do I know? Or how do I want you to kill me?"

The second question broke her free from natural instinct, her hand limply falling to her side. Yinsen still stood at eye level, matching her gaze levelly. "The former. I am not a killer. But... if I don't like your answer." The rest was left unsaid.

Yinsen calmly replied, "Miss Stark, unless you have surgery to remove it, there will always be a risk of someone seeing."

"You said you didn't check."

"I didn't. Your pants were pulled taut around... it when they placed you on this table."

Megan's head snapped down and flushed a bright red at the sight. She immediately adjusted her pants to lay properly and muttered, "I should've worn a fucking skirt."

A faintly humorous smile played across Yinsen's lips. "Quite." He pulled himself upright once more. "I was referring to checking the... other option. Regardless, you are 'infertile,' as you so aptly put it, so the choice is entirely yours."

For the moment, however, the choice was neither of theirs. The doors to their makeshift cell/workshop slammed open and a guard gestured for them to come out and spoke to Yinsen in a language Megan couldn't place.

Yinsen moved around to the other side of the table Megan was on, picked up the battery, and handed it to her. "They wish to speak with you."

Saturday, August 30th, 2003 05:18p, AFT | Hideout of the Ten Rings, Somewhere in Afghanistan

A Jericho — they wanted her to build them the most destructive weapon Stark Industries had ever designed. And that wasn't even the worst revelation: they were using her and Obie's weapons. She had seen her company's label plastered on several dozen containers as the guards forcibly led her out of the structure, which was indeed a cave. It was everywhere in the little makeshift town outside the cave as well. Bombs, missiles, guns, ammunition — all hers — was stacked next to hovels filled with her captors.

Everything, all that had happened, had incited a crisis of identity in her. She had just wanted to build like her father and honor his memory, to protect her home from the terrors of the world. In truth, she had been the unwitting terror all along, staining her father's legacy with the blood of Americans. And Yinsen, though he had not meant any harm, had inadvertently challenged her femininity. Seventeen years — she had been Megan Stark, a girl, for seventeen years. Yet in one moment, just one instant where she had not had control of how she was sitting, her female image had been tarnished.

The guards had brought Megan and Yinsen back to their makeshift cell some minutes ago. Overwhelmed by her experience, her identity crisis, and her uncertainty of how to proceed, Megan had sat down in a chair, her elbows planted squarely on the table with her head in her hands.

"Who am I, Yinsen?"

"An interesting question," Yinsen replied as he dragged over a different chair and sat across from her. "I know you as Miss Megan Stark, a brilliant young woman with unparalleled inventive talent. These men know you as 'the most famous mass murderer in the history of America,' someone who can build them a weapon beyond their wildest dreams." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "These are the pieces of your legacy. Right now, your life's work is in the hands of murderers. Is that how you want your legacy to end? Or are you going to do something about it, Megan Stark?"

Her head still in her hands, Megan eyed the magnet that kept her alive — her metal heart. She drank in the sight and thought about her parents. It wasn't anything about the magnet in particular; their death was recent, just under two and a half years ago, and she still thought of them often. Her parents had always been protective of her, choosing to home-school her despite how busy work at Stark Industries was. Once, before she understood how unique she was, she had asked her father why they never let her leave their side.

"Daddy, why are you and mommy always around?"

Howard looked up from his work and smiled at his daughter. "Do you know what the heart of our company is, sweetheart?"

Megan answered brightly, "The arc reactor, of course!"

"That's right, Megan. Do you know why?"

Megan was thoughtful for a minute, her young mind carefully considering the possible reasons. "It's a power source, so the company wouldn't work

without it?

Howard chuckled. "It is a power source, but that's not why."

Megan was nonplussed. "Then why?"

Howard scooped his young daughter up into a hug. "The reactor is a promise of a bright future. The company wouldn't die without power, but it would crumble without that promise — without its heart."

He released Megan from his arms and kissed her gently on her forehead. "Your mother and I are always around you, Megan, because you are our heart."

"The arc reactor."

"Arc reactor?" Yinsen asked in confusion.

Megan grabbed some nearby pencil and some paper and began to sketch him a rough diagram of the machine. "Obie and I have one back home powering one of our factories. My father built it back in 1971. It took him and his team 12 years to make."

Yinsen glanced over the paper. "Ah, yes. I have seen this before. It's a very large machine." He looked up at her. "May I ask how this will help?"

"My father once called this reactor the heart of Stark Industries; it's a part of its legacy." She picked up the battery that powered her magnet-heart. She locked eyes with him, her fire rekindled. "They damaged my heart. I need to fix it."

Saturday, December 6th, 2003 11:08a, AFT | Registan Desert, Southern Afghanistan

Megan stumbled across the burning hot sands, lost in thought and desperate to find shelter. The desert temperature had begun to heat the metal rim of the hole in her sternum, burning the surrounding flesh. There was no longer a battery in the hole; instead, it had been replaced with a miniature arc reactor. She silently thanked Yinsen for his help. She never could have made the reactor in that god-forsaken cave without his steady hands. He deserved thanks for more than the reactor, though. He had put himself on the line to help her prepare her escape plan, and he later sacrificed his life to ensure it would succeed.

It had been a risky plan, and she normally would have abandoned it in favor of something more secure. Time however, had been short in supply; they two of them had had to make do. She had always intended for her arc reactor to be a heart for more than just her.

With steady hands, Yinsen carefully placed the palladium core Megan had prepared into the arc reactor. He examined it with curiosity. "What can it generate?"

Megan held her new heart in her hand, it's bright, blue light the same as the heart of her company. "If my math is right..."

Yinsen chuckled, "It always is, isn't it?"

Megan smiled. "Three gigajoules per second."

"That could run your heart for fifty lifetimes."

Her smile twisted into a smirk. "Or something big for fifty minutes."

What they had built was, indeed, something big — a full-body, metal power suit. When Megan had finished the design and showed Yinsen what their freedom would look like, he jokingly commented, "So you're going to yourself into an iron woman." She had promptly corrected him (It will not be made of iron!) but the name had made her giggle; it was certainly fitting.

The suit had been the risky part, and compared to it, the escape itself should have been smooth sailing. If she were superstitious, she might have believed such thoughts jinxed it. The time to escape came when the Ten Rings had finally grown too impatient to let them live. She had donned the suit and prepared to clear a path for her friend, but Yinsen knew the power-up sequence would take too long and had rushed out of the cave to buy her time.

"No, stop!" Megan screamed at Yinsen as he rushed towards the doors that lead out of the cave. "Stick to the plan!"

Yinsen paused at the doors and glanced over his shoulder at her. "This was always the plan, Miss Stark."

"But... No! Don't you have a family to get back to?"

Yinsen gave her a rueful smile. "I'm from a small town called Gulmira. My family's graves are there — they are dead. I'm going to see them now. I want this."

Megan stared at him and, in a broken voice, replied, "Thank you for saving me."

Yinsen knew he needed to move now if he was going to hold the terrorists off long enough for the suit to be ready. "Don't waste it. Don't waste your life."

When the suit had finished powering on, Megan tore through her captors. And as she made her way out of the cave that had been her prison for over three months, she systematically destroyed all of their weapon stockpiles. She had refused to leave her company's weapons with those murderers. When the hideout finally laid in ruins, she fled into the skies. It had been one of the most liberating experiences in her life, second only to her sixth birthday, but it had also been brief. Her suit gave out on her, forcing her to crash-land somewhere in the desert. The suit, which had already been rather frail, understandably didn't survive the crash. Even if she had wanted to preserve the suit, she knew there was no way she could drag the pieces through the desert on her own.

So Megan abandoned the ruined suit, the precious freedom she and Yinsen had forged. And so she found herself stumbling across the burning hot sands, lost in thought and desperate to find shelter.

"Your mother and I are always around you, Megan, because you are our heart."

"Yinsen... Thank you for saving my heart."

The sound of helicopters filled her ears; it was probably the most beautiful noise Megan had heard in her life. She yelled and screamed for help, waving her arms in a furious effort to be noticed. The crew did notice her, and they began to land. Somehow, she managed to wobbly cover the distance between her and the grounded helicopter, and as she reached the side door, it slid open to reveal Rhodes.

"Next time, you ride with me, okay?"

Megan collapsed into his arms, tears streaming from her eyes.