"And what about this terrorist?" Hannah asked, picking up the pages of the journal again and pocketing her inhaler. "Even if you don't involve yourself with Uncle Sam, you could still pass on intelligence through Natasha?"
Tony shook his head. "No. It's not my problem to worry about."
Rose Hill, Tennessee
December 23rd, 2012
The Mandarin was very much Tony's problem to worry about. He cursed as the water tower came crashing down, Savin grinning at him sharkishly.
He was stuck in the middle of Rose Hill, Tennessee, with the most psychotic person on the planet. Oh, and Savin. And Brandt, wherever she had disappeared to. The two were also psychotic, in a different way. But seriously, the kid–Kenner? Keener? Ah, yes, Harley—had shot him with a potato gun for snarking back at something the kid had said. Who does that?
Not to mention he had no clue where his daughter was right now. Or Pepper. He didn't even know where Milo was, though he was confident he was near his grandparents and that Remy or Logan was able to keep him safe. What a terrible grandfather he was, Tony thought, causing all this on his grandson's sixth birthday. Today was supposed to be a great day. God, Hannah was going to kill him. If he didn't get killed by these flaming psychopaths first.
He had to get his head on straight. Incapacitate these two and any other soldiers the Mandarin had sent, find Pepper, find Hannah, find Rhodey, find the President. His list of rescuees was growing much longer and he huffed. Scrap that. Find Hannah first. He knew Pepper was able to escape the mansion thanks to his suit, but he had no idea where Hannah was still and oh God she was pregnant. He shook his head. No, he had to take care of these hellfire assholes and then he could worry about his daughter. He was no good to her if he was dead.
One Week Before
Malibu, California
December 20th, 2012
"Rhodey, I'm sorry, but the name is ridiculous," Hannah laughed, coloring one of Milo's drawings at the restaurant table.
"Hey, look, I wasn't on the branding team."
Hannah cracked up that the Iron Patriot required branding in the first place.
"Haha, cough it up," Rhodey muttered, rolling his eyes as Tony reached across the table and gave Hannah a fist bump. "It tested well with focus groups."
"I am Iron Patriot," Tony mocked.
"War Machine was a little too aggressive, alright? This sends a better message," Rhodey insisted.
"Really? Platypus, lessening the aggression is probably not the common sense move here." Tony ruffled Milo's hair and frowned at his drawing. It was a boat, aflame. "Uh, kid? What's that?"
Milo shrugged. "I don't know. Dreamed it."
Tony tuned back into the conversation Hannah and Rhodey were having.
"It's like Iron Man's and Captain America's love child," she was saying, and Rhodey was shaking his head in exasperation.
"Please never say that."
Hannah shrugged. "Should have put me in a focus group. Who was on those things? People with a love for primary colors? Like, say, toddlers? Or was it six year olds?"
Milo scoffed, scribbling more red onto his drawing. "Even I have much better taste."
Rhodey groaned and Hannah laughed. "You still have a few more days until you're six, buddy."
Milo grinned up at her. "But you're already letting me light the menorah!"
Hannah smirked and kissed his forehead. "Only because I'm right there with you. You should never…?"
"Be around fire without an adult," Milo quoted proudly. "I know, Mommy."
"Good."
Hannah looked to where Rhodey and Tony were quietly having a heated discussion about another Mandarin bombing. Her stomach fluttered anxiously. Something about the logo still bothered her, but she shrugged it off again, determined to enjoy her afternoon spent with Tony.
"Nobody can ID a device," Rhodey was saying. "There's no bomb casings."
Hannah blinked in surprise, before frowning as Tony's and Rhodey's conversation circled around to Tony's lack of sleep.
She groaned. "Dad, no. We've had this conversation before. If you don't get any sleep, Milo isn't allowed in your lab."
Tony and Milo both pouted at her, but she was unmoved.
"Fine," Tony huffed. "I'll take a nap when I get home."
Two younger children ran up their table, asking Tony to sign their drawings. He agreed, chatting with the children as he began scrawling a message on their drawings.
"The Pentagon is scared," Rhodey said quietly. After what happened in New York… I mean, aliens, come on. They need to look strong. Stopping the Mandarin is a priority, but it's not–"
"It's not superhero business, I get it."
"Right. It's American business."
"Uh huh, that's why you have a branding team and focus groups," Hannah grumbled.
She frowned as Tony's hands shook and the blue crayon snapped in his hands. He buried his face in his hands, his face pale.
"Tony, are you okay?"
"I broke the crayon," he muttered in response. He bolted from the table and Hannah watched in concern, tugging Milo along as Rhodey followed closely on Tony's heel.
"Tony!" Rhodey called.
Hannah heard Tony mumble something inside the suit of check, suit, make sure, and okay before he stepped into the Iron Man suit and collapsed to his knees. Hannah tucked Milo next to Rhodey and ran up to Tony.
"Jarvis, check the heart. Check the…check the…is it the brain?" His voice sounded faraway to Hannah, and panicked.
"No sign of cardiac anomaly of unusual brain activity, sir," Jarvis responded.
Hannah stooped down. "Tony, you're having an anxiety attack."
"No, that's not right."
"I have the same diagnosis, sir."
Rhodey moved Hannah back gently and rapped on the head of the suit. "Come on, man, this isn't a good look. Open up."
Hannah looked around nervously at the crowd beginning to gather.
"Sorry, I gotta split," was Tony's reply, and he shot off.
Milo stared after him, his eyes filling with tears. Rhodey looked at Hannah, then her son, and sighed. "Come on, kid, I'll drive you home."
Malibu, California
December 21st, 2012
"You need to go to therapy."
Tony looked up from where he was tinkering with Dumm-E. "Nah, I'm good, thanks."
"Tony."
"I thought we were finally getting around to dad."
"Dad," Hannah stressed. "You need help."
"I'm fine, kid."
"You left us and jetted off to goodness knows where, Tony."
"I said I'm fine!"
Hannah flinched as he shouted. "Dad. I can't–you can't ask me to stand to the side while your PTSD eats you from the inside out."
Tony threw the wrench down with a bang. "I don't need a shrink, Hannah. I don't need help. What I need is for you to quit talking about it. Just–stop. I got a date night with Pep tonight, I gotta be on my best game, alright?"
Hannah stared at him angrily. "If you want to let this eat you up inside, fine. But you're not going to make me watch it. Call me when you get your shit together."
She stormed from the lab, Tony staring after her, gaping.
Malibu, California
December 23rd, 2012
"Mama!" Milo wailed, running to fling himself into Hannah's arms. "Happy is hurt!"
"What?" Hannah asked, shutting her book and bolting towards the main living room in the mansion.
No one was in the living room. "Milo? Do you know what happened?"
Milo was crying, face buried in her thigh. "There was fire, Mama. And Happy is hurt!"
Hannah whipped her phone out and called Pepper. "Pepper? What is happening?"
"Oh god, Hannah. Are you home right now? Don't go anywhere."
"What's going on?"
"There was another Mandarin attack, this time on the Chinese Theatre. Happy was caught up in it."
Hannah covered her mouth in shock. "Did he…"
"He's being rushed to the hospital. He's stabilized, but they're not sure."
Hannah's eyes filled. Happy, who had always been so good to her, who had helped give her necessary insight when she and Tony were at each other's throats.
Happy, who was in critical condition.
"Milo. Come here, kiddo. I'm going to let you go stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a few days. An early birthday sleepover. What do you think?"
She didn't see Tony until the next day, but even then she didn't see him in person. She saw him on the news.
"And on the off-chance that you're a man, here's my home address: 10-8-80, Malibu Point, 90265. I'll leave the door unlocked."
"Oh no. No, no, no, no."
Hannah bolted towards the garage.
"Jarvis, emergency protocol "Bug Out" activated. Can I take a car for a ride, please?" Hannah requested as she hurried down the stairs. Well, hurried as much as she could in her very pregnant condition.
"Of course, Ms. Stark. May I recommend the porsche?"
Hannah snorted. "Only if it can fit a booster seat in the back."
"I believe that can be arranged."
"Awesome. Milo!"
"Might I inquire where you are going, Ms. Stark?"
"I'm going to go to Milo–he's with my parents," Hannah sighed. "Jarvis? Call Logan and Remy. Tell them to get to my parents and stay there with Milo. We can't rely on Tony."
As she got the carseat Jarvis directed her to buckled into the backseat, her phone rang loudly from her back pocket. She grabbed it, holding it between her ear and shoulder as she checked the buckles one last time.
"Hannah? Jarvis said you grabbed the bug-out bag."
"Of course I grabbed the bug-out bag!" Hannah hissed angrily. "You gave your address to a terrorist, Tony. I'm not staying here, at said address, with my babies."
"Whoa, look. Let's not make rash decisions–"
"You are the last person to lecture me on rash decisions," Hannah snarled. "I'm leaving, going to my parents. Remy and Logan are going to meet me there. Pepper is on her way to pack and leave, too. Figure this out, Tony."
There was silence on the other side of the phone.
"And–don't die," Hannah finished softly, her voice cracking. "Stay safe. As much as you can. Please."
Tony sighed. "Okay."
"Hey, kid. What the hell?" Logan's gruff voice came through the speakers. "Rems and I leave for an hour for a meeting with our gang and everything goes to hell in a handbasket."
"Are you at my parents yet?" Hannah said, her tone pleading.
"Yeah. We got your small pint kid here with us. He's fine. Where are you?"
"I'm on my way, Logan. I–" She slammed on the breaks. Someone was standing in the road. "Hey, hang on."
The figure walked towards the car, and Hannah frowned as their hand began to glow.
"Logan."
The figure walked closer, and she hit the gas, trying to swerve around them.
"Hannah?"
The figure reached out, hand meeting and melting the passenger door.
"Logan!"
"Hannah!"
There was a loud scream.
Then a beep as the call dropped.
Half an hour away, Logan stared at the phone in horror. "Remy! We've got a big problem!"
Piper and Snippy:
Oh gosh, hey guys. It's been...two years since I updated? I got married. I graduated college. I started teaching. I realized this story is six years old and I still haven't finished it. I'm so sorry. I hope I can pick it back up. Let me know what you think: is anybody still reading this?