I wake up to the sound of my alarm blaring through the cold morning air. The chill in the room is a stark reminder that Christmas is creeping closer. Groaning, I tighten my third blanket around myself, trying to cling to the last bit of warmth. My breath forms soft clouds in front of me as I finally sit up, rubbing my eyes and mentally preparing for the day.
After brushing my teeth, I slip into my old flip-flops, soft from years of wear, and make my way downstairs. The wooden steps creak under my weight as I descend, but halfway down, I freeze.
Tony Stark—the Tony Stark—is standing in our living room, talking to Maria like it's the most normal thing in the world. He looks... young, younger than I expected.
I stay on the stairs, listening.
"Tony, you need to take some responsibility now," Maria says in that gentle, firm way of hers. "It's important you spend time with her."
Tony shifts uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck like a kid caught skipping class. "Mom, I've got a lot going on, you know that."
"I do," she replies softly, placing a hand on his arm, her eyes full of that patient warmth she always has. "But family comes first. She's been waiting to know you."
Tony glances away, clearly uncomfortable. His response is a grumbled, "Yeah, yeah, I'll try."
Howard, who's been busy adjusting his suit in the corner, looks up and raises an eyebrow. "He hasn't even met his own daughter in almost three years. Quite the track record, huh?"
Tony shoots him an irritated look. "I don't need the sarcasm, Dad."
Howard shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his face. "It's not sarcasm, it's reality. You've been too busy playing around to realize what you're missing."
Maria sighs, probably used to this dynamic by now. "We have to go for a few days," she says, turning back to Tony, "but we'll be back before Christmas. You've got time to get to know her." She gives him a soft smile. "She's an intelligent child, Tony. Just like you were at her age."
Tony rubs his neck. "Yeah, sure. I'll... I'll try. Don't worry"
I want to laugh. The man who will face down aliens and save earth can't even look his own mother in the eye when she tells him to spend time with his kid. But I stay quiet, watching from the stairs.
Maria looks at tony as she dosen't quite believe him, but nods her her head instead.
Howard finally finishes adjusting his tie and calls out, "l'll check on her." He stride over to stairs and catches sight of me and his whole demeanor softens. The stern businessman melts away, replaced by someone warmer. Kneeling over me, he smiles, his voice gentle. "Ah, there's my princess. Already up, huh?"
Resting his hands on my shoulders. "You're growing up so fast," he says, almost in awe. "I'm sorry we won't be here for your birthday, but we'll make it up to you. Promise." He pats my head affectionately, his eyes twinkling with genuine warmth.
I nod slightly. "It's okay."
Howard chuckles softly, lifting me effortlessly into his arms and carrying me down the stairs. "We'll be back before Christmas, and I promise I'll get you something special."
He sets me down on the couch, ruffling my hair one last time. I glance over at Tony, who's been watching this whole exchange with a look of mild surprise. His eyebrow arches as he takes in Howard's behavior, clearly not used to seeing this side of him.
"Huh... didn't expect to see that," Tony mutters under his breath, almost to himself.
Maria walks over, giving me one of her soft smiles. "Come here, Elle. There's someone you should meet." She gestures toward Tony. "This is your father."
I glance up at Tony, who's standing awkwardly by the window, arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. My expression is blank as I say, "Hi."
Tony blinks, caught off guard by my flat tone. "Uh... hi, kid," he says, clearing his throat. "So... how are you?" He's trying—trying—to start a conversation, but he sounds like he's never spoken to a child in his life.
I shrug. "Okay, I guess."
Maria leans down, kisses my forehead, and whispers, "If you need anything, call Jarvis, okay? And try to give your dad a chance, for me." I nod, mostly out of habit.
Maria and Howard leave, the door closing softly behind them. Now it's just me and Tony. We both stand there, staring at each other, neither of us moving. The silence stretches, thick and awkward. Tony shifts uncomfortably, glancing around the room like he's hoping someone will rescue him.
Finally, he clears his throat. "So... what's your name, kid?" He winces as soon as the words leave his mouth, realizing how ridiculous the question is. I'm his daughter, and he's asking my name. Real smooth.
I raise an eyebrow. "Estelle Maria Stark," I say, my tone flat as ever.
"Right... of course," he mutters, looking more awkward by the second. Before he can say anything else, I turn on my heel and head to the kitchen.
I hear him sigh as he follows me in. I pull a chair over to the counter, climb up, and grab the cereal box from the cabinet. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time, probably wondering why a four-year-old is doing this on her own. I pour two bowls of cereal and set them on the table without a word.
Tony finally sits down, still looking a bit lost. "You do this often?" he asks, his voice less awkward now, but there's still a trace of uncertainty.
"Yeah," I reply, pouring milk into the bowls. "They're usually out."
Tony frowns slightly, almost like he's guilty. "Figures" he mumbles, more to himself than to me. He stirs his cereal absentmindedly, clearly still uncomfortable.
I grab two spoons, placing one in front of him, and sit down across from him. We eat in silence for a few minutes, the sound of cereal crunching filling the room. Tony glances up at me occasionally, probably trying to figure out what to say. It's obvious he's out of his depth, and I'm enjoying watching him squirm.
Finally, he clears his throat again. "Uhh... happy birthday," he says, his voice uncertain.
I look up, my mouth twitching into a half-smile. "It's tomorrow." ln my driest voice .
His face flushes immediately. "Right... tomorrow," he mutters, forcing a weak smile. "Well, happy early birthday, then."
I don't bother responding. I just keep eating, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He stirs his cereal again, clearly trying to come up with something else to say.
"So," he starts, clearly fumbling for a topic, "what do you do... for fun? You like... toys, or...?"
I swallow my cereal and shrug. "I like reading. And uaually, Gramps let me in his lab."
Tony blinks, clearly surprised. " You use With Howard's tools? Seriously?"
"Yep," I say, pushing my empty bowl away. "He teaches me stuff."
Tony leans back, expression shifting—surprised, envy?. He leans forward his elbows resting on table, smirking a little. "Well, I'll be damned... little engineer, huh?" He pauses for a second. "Maybe we've got something in common after all."
I don't respond, just give him the same blank stare. Tony shifts in his seat again, clearly unsure how to handle the silence.
After another long pause, he sighs and rubs his temples. "Look, kid... I know I'm not great at this. But... I'm trying, okay?"
I watch him for a moment, considering his words. He seems... sincere, but I'm not sure what to make of it. The silence stretches between us again, and Tony looks like he's about to give up.
He chuckles awkwardly, leaning back in his chair. "You know, your mom wasn't lying. You're a lot like watching me put my foot in my mouth."
I can't help it—the corner of my mouth twitches. Maybe there's a little truth in that. But I'm not giving him the satisfaction of knowing I think he's right.
Eventually, I stand up and take my bowl to the sink. "I'm going to the lab," I say, already heading out the door. Tony doesn't stop me, but I can feel his eyes following me.
As I walk away, I can hear him mumbling under his breath, "Well... that went better than I expected"
It's hard to say if things will change, but for now, watching Tony Stark struggle to talk to a three-year-old might just be the most entertaining part of my day.
I stayed in Howard's lab longer than I intended, engrossed in one of his old engineering books. The quiet hum of the machines and the soft flicker of the overhead lights were oddly comforting, wrapping me in a false sense of peace. I glanced at my watch—it was almost 7 p.m.
I sighed and closed the book, rubbing my eyes. I should head to the kitchen and maybe find Tony. He'd been awkward earlier, but at least he was trying. As I stood up, a wave of dizziness hit me, and I felt my legs wobble beneath me. I took a shaky step forward, but my body wasn't having it—I stumbled, catching myself on the edge of the table.
My head throbbed, a familiar pounding that I tried to shake off. But it didn't stop. Instead, it intensified. My chest tightened as though a heavy weight was pressing down on me. I gasped for air, my vision blurring as sharp pain stabbed through my skull.
"Not now...," I muttered under my breath, but the pain wasn't listening. It only grew worse. Blood trickled from my nose, and I swiped it away with a trembling hand, only to cough hard, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.
I needed my meds, Now.
I pushed myself toward the door, clutching my chest with one hand and stumbling into the hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last, my legs barely carrying me as I made my way toward the stairs. I gripped the railing, trying to focus through the pain, blood still dripping between my fingers.
As I approached the top of the staircase, I heard Tony's voice coming from the living room. His tone was tense, something I'd never heard from him before.
"What? No… No, you're not—" His voice wavered, and he clutched the phone tighter, his knuckles whitening. "Mom and Dad are dead? How? When?Where?"
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The room spun around me as I strained to hear more, but my ears started ringing—loud, piercing. My vision blurred again, and I could barely make out anything Tony was saying. The only words that echoed in my mind were dead, Howard, and Maria.
I clung to the banister, my body trembling. The ringing in my ears drowned out everything else as the pain in my head escalated. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, the pressure in my skull growing unbearable. The air around me felt thick, too heavy to breathe.
A shocked, choked noise escaped me. I had tried to hold it back, but the realization of their deaths hit me hard. Tony's gaze snapped to me, his eyes full of a mix of pain and disbelief. He saw my reaction and immediately knew that l heard eveything . But l don't register anything other than that they are dead.
Without another word, Tony ended the call, his face a mask of anguish. He looked at me one last time, his eyes reflecting the depth of his shock and grief. Then, without saying anything further, he turned and snatches his car keys and sprints out of the house, in a rush.
"No... no, no, no..." The words spilled out of me in a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the ringing. I couldn't stop it. The denial, the helplessness—it all merged into one chaotic whirlwind of emotion.
The room fell into silence as I stand there stareing at nothing as the silence pressed down on me like a suffocating weight. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the floor, overwhelmed by a torrent of questions. Why did this have to happen? Why did everyone I love have to be taken away from me? Was there something I could have done differently? Could I have saved them if I told them everything? The crushing guilt gnawed at me, amplifying my despair.
"No, no, no, no, no," I muttered helplessly, staring at my trembling hands. The words came out in a desperate whisper as an intense, excruciating pain surged through my body. It was unlike anything I had felt before, and a raw, uncontrollable cry ripped from my throat. My back arched violently, muscles tensing, as a blinding light erupted from somewhere deep within me.
At first, the light was a faint glow, barely noticeable, but it quickly grew brighter, burning hotter, until it felt as though it was tearing me apart from the inside. I gasped as glowing lines began to appear on my hands—thin, bright cracks running across my skin. They pulsed with energy, spreading upward like branches from a tree, crawling up my arms toward my shoulders, glowing hotter and brighter with every passing second.
The pain intensified, each new line bringing another wave of agony, until my entire body felt like it was about to explode. The light was blinding now, radiating from every pore of my being. I screamed, the sound raw and guttural, as a powerful surge of energy burst out of me.
The windows around me shattered, glass exploding outward in every direction. The lights overhead flickered and died, and every object in the room seemed to tremble in response to the wave of power radiating from my body. Some of the shattered glass sliced into my skin, sharp lines of blood mixing with the glowing cracks, but I barely felt it. The overwhelming energy consumed everything.
I fell to the floor, the force of the power driving me down as the glowing lines on my skin pulsed with violent intensity. My screams grew weaker, fading into choked gasps as the light and pain merged into a chaotic whirlwind. My vision blurred, the world around me reduced to fragments of shattered glass and glowing streaks of energy. I could feel the life draining from me as darkness closed in, swallowing me whole.
With one final gasp, I collapsed amidst the wreckage, the light fading as I slipped into unconsciousness.
It's been almost two years since I've seen her. My own kid. That thought sits heavy in my mind as I watch Dad adjust his suit in the corner, getting ready for yet another business trip. He's always on the move—just like I've been lately. Too much going on to stop, to even think about it.
Maria's voice breaks through my thoughts, gentle but firm. "Tony, you'll need to take some responsibility now. It's important that you spend time with her."
I shift uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. Responsibility? I've got enough of that already. "Mum, I've got a lot going on. You know that."
"I do," she replies softly, placing a hand on my arm. "But family should come first, Tony. She's been waiting to know you."
I glance away. "Yeah yeah, l'll try."
Dad, still focused on adjusting his tie, chimes in. "He hasn't even met his own daughter in almost three years. Quite the track record, huh?"
I glance at him, irritated. "I don't need the sarcasm, Dad."
He shrugs without looking up. "It's not sarcasm. It's reality. You've been too busy playing around to realize what you're missing."
I grit my teeth, swallowing the retort I want to throw at him. And what about the things you missed. Mum sighs softly, clearly not wanting to push the issue, and turns back to me with a small smile.
"We have to go for a few days, but we'll be back before Christmas. You've got time to get to know her," she says, her voice softening. "She's an intelligent child, Tony. Just like you were at her age"
I rub the back of my neck, the discomfort growing. "Yeah, yeah, I'll...l'll try. Don't worry."
Mum looks at me for a moment, not beliving me, but she just nods. She gathers her things.
Dad finally finishes adjusting his tie and calls out, "I'll check on her." He strides to the stairs and spots Elle standing quietly, l can't see her since dad's standing over her. His usual stern demeanor melts away instantly as he kneels in front of her. "Ah, there's my princess. Already up, huh?" he says, his voice filled with warmth I've never heard from him before.
He puts his hands on her small shoulders "You're growing up so fast," he says, almost in awe. "I'm sorry we won't be here for your birthday, but we'll make it up to you. Promise" His hand pats her head tenderly.
she just stares up at him with those big brown eyes, calm. She nods "lt's okay."
It's like she knows him, like she's used to this kind of attention from him.
Dad chuckles softly, lifts Elle into his arms, I finally get a good look at her—really look at her. It's been almost two years since I've seen her, my own kid. That thought sits heavy in my mind as I watch dad picks her up in his arms.
Now, looking at her in his arms, l see her. She's almost three years old, and I've missed all of it. Her wide, chocolate-brown eyes—eyes that are just like mine—there's a hint of gold in those dark brown, that blink up at him with a calm curiosity. Her soft, midnight-black hair, inherited from her mother maybe, frames her face in waves. She's got delicate features too, a small face with plenty of baby fat on her. There's something else there, something sharper beneath the softness. A blankness in her expression, her eyes look to intelligent for someone her age.
He sets her down on the couch, ruffling her hair. She glances at me, l look at her still surprised .
"Huh... didn't expect to see that." I murmer not expecting dad's behaviour or her
Mum walks over to Elle, giving her a soft smile. "Come here, Elle. There's someone you should meet." She gently takes her hand and leads her over to me. "This is your father."
I stand awkwardly by the window, my arms crossed, feeling like I don't even belong here. Elle looks up at me with those wide, familiar eyes, her expression completely blank. "Hi," she says in the small voice, and it hits me like a punch in the gut.
I blink, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "Uh... hi, kid." I clear my throat, fumbling to find words. "So... how are you?"
She shrugs. "Okay, I guess."
Maria leans down and kisses her forehead, smiling gently. "If you need anything, call Jarvis, okay? And try to give your daddy a chance for me, will you?" Elle nods slightly, her expression never changing.
With that, Mum and Dad leave the house, the door closing softly behind them, leaving me alone with her. The silence is thick, and I can feel her eyes on me. I have no idea what to do next.
I clear my throat, shifting uncomfortably. "So... what's your name, kid?" I cringe as soon as I say it. Stupid question. I know her name, but it's all I can think of.
She raises an eyebrow. "Estelle Maria Stark." Her tone flat .
I feel like an idiot. "Right... of course," I mumble, trying to recover from the awkwardness. Before I can say anything else, she turns on her heel and heads into the kitchen, leaving me standing there like a fool.
I sigh and follow her, watching as she pulls a chair over to the counter, climbs up, and grabs a cereal box from the drawer. She moves with a kind of independence I wasn't expecting, l honestly don't even know what was l even expexting. She pours two bowls of cereal and set them on the table without a word.
Finally, I sit down at the table, still feeling like I'm intruding in my own house. "You do this often?" I ask, my voice less awkward now, though there's still that edge of uncertainty.
"Yeah" She doesn't look at me, pouring milk into the bowls "They're usually out."
"Figures," I mutter under my breath, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. I've been out too.
Grabbing two spoons, placing one for me , she sits we sit there eating in awkward silence, the sound of cereal crunching between us, I glance up at her again.
She's so small, so calm, and I feel this sudden urge to say something—anything to make this less painful. She's almost four My daughter, and I don't even know what she likes, how she spends her time, or who she really is. And she's ignoring me in favor of eating.
I clear my throat, trying to think of something meaningful to say. The birthday. Right. Dad mentioned it earlier. Maybe that's my way in.
"Uh... happy birthday," I mumble, awkwardly stirring my cereal with the spoon, still unsure how to talk to her.
Elle looks up, corner of her moth twiches almost into a smile. She responds in the driest voice I've ever heard, "It's tomorrow."
My face flushes slightly with embarrassment. Of course, I got that wrong too. I can't even wish her happy birthday on the right day. "Right... tomorrow," I say, forcing a weak smile. "Well, happy early birthday, then."
She dosen't bother to respond, clearly unimpressed, and keeps chewing her cereal, not bothering to correct me any further. The silence stretches between us again, heavier than before.
I stare down at my half-empty bowl, I can't even get a simple thing like her birthday right. Yeah , great job me fucking thing up.
"So," I try breaking the silence after a few minutes again, "what do you do... for fun? You like... toys, or...?" I trail off, realizing how stupid I sound.
She shrugs, taking another bite of cereal. "I like reading. And usually, Gramps lets me in his lab."
I blink, surprised. "You use Howard's tools? Seriously?"
"Yep," she says, pushing her bowl away slightly as she finishes. "He teaches me sometimes."
I lean back, stunned. Howard's letting her in the lab? Teaching her things? When I was her age, he barely had time for me, let alone showed me how anything worked. And now, here's Elle, already learning from him. It stings more than I want to admit
And now, here's Elle, only four, and he's letting her into the lab. He's teaching her things, showing her the ropes, probably smiling down at her the way I always wanted him to smile at me. Where was that guy when I was growing up? I feel a strange mix of emotions bubbling up—envy, guilt, and something I can't quite place.
I lean forward, my elbows resting on the table. "Well, I'll be damned... a little engineer, huh?" I smirk. "Maybe we've got something in common after all."
But Elle just stares at me, her expression blank. I wonder if I've already blown it, if I've missed my chance to connect with her. The hope I'd felt fizzles out quickly, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
"Look, kid... I'm not great at this. But... I'm trying, okay?" I say, my voice quieter now.
She doesn't say anything, and I can't tell if she believes me. The silence lingers, thick and uncertain.
I chucle a bit. " You know, maybe mom wasn't lying. You're a lot like me. Enjoying watching me put my foot in my mouth." Her mouth twiches and l know l am right.
Eventually, she stands takes her bowl to sink "l'm going to the lab." She says already heading to the hallway. I watch her go.
I sigh and lean back in my chair, staring down at my half-eaten bowl of cereal. I let out a small chuckle, " Well... that went better than l expected."
I just sit there, watching her go. As the door swings shut behind her, I lean back in my chair and sigh, mumbling to myself, "Well... that went better than I expected."
I sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the wall, the quiet of the house pressing in on me. Hours had passed since I'd tried, and failed, to connect with Elle. I screwed it up. The cereal, the birthday—everything I'd done had been wrong. Every word felt forced, every attempt to reach out felt hollow. I hadn't been there for her, not in any way that mattered.
Now, here I was, sitting alone in the dark, trying to figure out how to fix it, but knowing deep down I'd blown it before I even had the chance. How do you become someone's father after being gone for so long? How do you make up for lost time when the distance between you feels impossible to cross?
My thoughts were interrupted by the sharp ring of my phone. I blinked, staring at the screen for a second before picking it up. Jarvis. He wouldn't be calling this late if it wasn't important.
"Hello?" I answered, trying to keep my voice steady, but there was an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Mr. Stark?" Jarvis's voice was calm, but there was something in it—a tremor, almost. "I'm afraid... there's been an accident."
An accident? My grip on the phone tightened. "What kind of accident?" I asked, standing up quickly, my heart pounding in my chest.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, just long enough to make my stomach drop. "It's your parents, sir. They've... they've passed. There was a car crash. I'm terribly sorry."
Passed? I felt the blood drain from my face, my breath catching in my throat. "What?" My voice cracked as panic surged through me. "No... No, you're not—" I stumbled over my words, pacing frantically as I clutched the phone tighter. "Mom and Dad ...are dead? How? When? Where?"
Jarvis's voice was steady, but the weight of his words hit me like a sledgehammer. "It happened earlier this evening. They were on their way to the airport. I'm afraid the details are still coming in, but it's all over the news."
I stopped, frozen in place. My world narrowed to that single moment, those words echoing in my head. Dead. No. This couldn't be happening. "Tell me this is a joke. This can't be real," I whispered, my breath coming faster, panic rising. "This can't be happening."
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark," Jarvis said quietly. "They're gone."
Gone. I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. I couldn't breathe. "No..." I choked out, my voice barely audible. "They're... dead? A car crash?"
Jarvis paused, his voice full of sorrow. "Yes. I don't have all the details, but... it's true. I can send someone to you, sir, if you'd like."
I couldn't respond. The words weren't sinking in. I was suffocating in the reality of it, my chest tightening with each second that passed. This isn't real. It can't be real. My mind reeled, struggling to make sense of it.
I heard a soft, choked noise from behind me and turned toward the stairs. Standing there, at the top of the steps, was Elle. Her face was pale, her breath short, and I knew instantly—she'd heard everything.
Her wide eyes locked onto mine, full of fear and confusion, her small body stiff and unmoving. She didn't say a word, and I didn't either. There was nothing I could say. The weight of what had just happened, of what she'd heard, hung in the air between us.
I stared at her for a moment, my own grief and shock crashing down harder as I saw the fear in her eyes. She didn't know what to do, and I sure as hell didn't either.
I should've said something—anything. But I couldn't. I couldn't deal with it. I couldn't deal with her. Not right now. So, without a word, I hung the phone and turned away, grabbing my car keys from the table. My legs moved before my mind could catch up. I needed to get out.
As I sprinted out of the house, the cold night air hit me, but it wasn't enough to clear my head. The last image of Elle standing on the stairs, pale and terrified, burned in my mind. I left her there. Alone
I arrived at the hospital Jarvis had texted me about, but I barely remember the drive. Everything was a blur, my mind fixated on one thing: Elle. My hands were shaking so badly on the steering wheel, I thought I'd lose control of the car more than once. My heart was pounding, each beat harder than the last, and my stomach felt like it was twisting itself into knots. By the time I stumbled out of the car, I could barely feel my legs. Each step toward the entrance felt heavier than the last, like I was being pulled underwater, fighting to stay afloat.
The bright, sterile lights of the hospital lobby hit me like a slap in the face, too clean, too calm for what was happening. My eyes landed on Jarvis and Obadiah, standing together near the reception desk. Jarvis, usually composed and stoic, looked rattled, his usual calm nowhere to be found. Obadiah, with his tall frame and stern presence, seemed off too, a flicker of something I'd never seen on his face before—worry.
I stumbled toward them, my mouth dry, words stuck in my throat. Before I could ask them anything, my phone rang. The sound cut through the air like a gunshot. My hands fumbled as I pulled the phone from my pocket, nearly dropping it.
"Who?" I managed, my voice cracking, barely holding it together.
"Mr. Stark," the voice on the other end said, calm but urgent. "There's been an explosion at your house."
I stopped breathing for a second. The world around me seemed to slow down. "Explosion?" I repeated, the word tasting bitter in my mouth.
"The firefighters are on scene. They're clearing the debris," the voice continued, each word feeling like a punch. "We... we haven't found a body yet."
I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. "What about Elle?" I croaked, barely able to get her name out.
The silence on the other end stretched for what felt like hours. "We found a child in the wreckage. She's alive, but bleeding heavily."
I felt the ground disappear beneath me. My legs gave out, and I crumbled to the floor. The phone slipped from my hand, clattering to the ground. Jarvis was at my side instantly, his hand gripping my shoulder. "Tony, breathe. Focus on your breathing."
I could barely hear him through the ringing in my ears, through the storm raging in my head. I felt like I was drowning, the world spinning around me in chaos. Obadiah's voice broke through the haze, steady and firm. "Tony, there's been an explosion at your dad's house. I just got word."
The words didn't seem real. I felt like I was watching someone else's life fall apart. But this was mine. And Elle… Elle was in that house.
Obadiah's hand rested on my shoulder, his voice lowering. "Go to her, Tony. I'll take care of everything else here. Go to your daughter."
I forced myself to nod, but I couldn't stand. I didn't have the strength. Jarvis took the car keys from my trembling hand. "I'll drive," he said, leaving no room for argument.
I let him. I couldn't fight it. I was too broken to argue.
The drive felt endless, each passing second dragging on as if time itself was punishing me. The city lights blurred together, my mind racing. I couldn't lose her. Not now. Not like this. I had barely even known her, and now I might not get the chance.
When we reached the hospital, I barely remembered stumbling out of the car. I rushed inside, the receptionist's voice a distant echo as I demanded to know where Elle was. Jarvis stepped in, speaking calmly but quickly, and soon we were led to the ICU.
The hallway was long, too long, and my legs felt heavier with every step. The nurse stopped in front of the doors to the ICU, her hand gentle on my arm. "Sir, you should sit for a moment. We're doing everything we can for her."
I sank into the chair she offered, my body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. I stared at the floor, trying to pull myself together, but every second that ticked by felt like a hammer driving nails into my chest. My phone buzzed again. Rhodey's name flashed on the screen.
I answered it, my voice barely a whisper. "Rhodey..."
"Tony, what the hell's going on? I just heard there was an explosion." His voice was full of concern, but I couldn't respond right away. I swallowed hard, trying to force the words out.
"My parents..." I started, but my voice cracked. "They're dead, Rhodey. And Elle... Elle's in the ICU." The words came out shaky, broken, as if saying them made it real.
There was silence on the other end before Rhodey's steady voice came through. "I'm on my way, Tony. Just hold on. I'll be there soon."
I hung up and buried my face in my hands, my body wracked with sobs I couldn't hold back. The weight of everything was crushing me, making it impossible to breathe. My parents were dead. Elle, my little girl, was lying somewhere behind those ICU doors, fighting for her life, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
"I shouldn't have left her there," I muttered, my voice barely audible. My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. "I should've been there."
The guilt was unbearable. I had spent so long running from everything—running from her. And now... Now I was faced with the very real possibility that I could lose her, too. The reality of it hit me harder than anything ever had.
"I promised I'd be better," I whispered to myself, my voice shaking. "I promised I'd be there for her."
But I hadn't been. I hadn't done anything right.
The harsh hospital lights above me buzzed softly, and the cold, sterile smell of the place made my stomach turn. I felt like I was suffocating, trapped in this limbo of guilt, fear, and regret. I couldn't lose her. Not Elle. Not after everything.
I gripped my hair, pulling at the strands in frustration, trying to hold on to whatever shred of sanity I had left. The beeping of machines from behind the doors echoed faintly, reminding me how close I was to losing her.
Elle. I couldn't lose her. I just couldn't.
All I could do was sit there, waiting, drowning in my own failure, praying it wasn't too late for her. For us.
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[ end of chapter two]
A/N: more about the light will be explained in the next chapter, for now enjoy this. Thaks for reading
