Reacquainted
To see her Stark plummeting out of the sky over a ravaged New York had quite literally almost stopped her heart.
Mind still muddy from the last high, something like a scream had escaped her as she tried to watch the news, find her phone and dial her remote at the same time.
Obviously, Jena was a mess.
It took another 20 minutes to calm down, and a further ten to find her cell phone, hiding under the couch she had fallen asleep on. By that time, the world had stopped twisting at the edges of her vision and she had had the sense to turn the volume up on the TV, and so caught the newscasters explanation of 'yesterday'.
Panic had gripped her for only a second before the rest of the woman's sentence - 'miraculously, he survived, thanks in part to the Hulk' - penetrated the fog stubbornly settled around her ears. On the inside of her head. Yeah, she was never getting high again.
An hour later found her sneaking out of the ratty apartment she shared with the other girls - all already out working - beating a hasty retreat to the entrance to the sewer she used to slip away from Maxwell. Of course, she was dressed for work, in case the man caught her, and she didn't think she'd escape being smacked around for being 'late' - which was a relative term because most customers didn't come looking for their services until at least half past ten but Max was anal that way - but at least he wouldn't automatically think she was trying to ditch work altogether.
If worse came to worse, she could swipe some money from Stark. If she got to see him. The rest of the news had reported that the other superheroes -and wasn't that a trip? - had all last been seen at Stark Tower and Jen didn't have any illusions as to who the man would rather spend time with.
She just needed to see him.
Stark and she hadn't ever had a good relationship. For starters, she'd pegged him for a john and he'd immediately spotted that she was waaaaay to young to be on the streets. Whatever he'd had in mind by bringing her to his cushy Malibu house Jen was sure she'd never thought it'd end with her getting a whole house to herself. And free from Maxwell. Even if it hadn't lasted, Jen could appreciate that.
She made it to Stark Tower, with its lone 'A' in less time than she thought possible. The building was, surprisingly, both open and not surrounded by a teeming horde of press monkeys. She supposed the roads being torn up as they were had something to do with it. Or maybe no one wanted to tangle with the Hulk.
Stark had never actually invited her here, but he had given her access codes, even while mentioning that she was keyed into the security system and shouldn't have any problems accessing the personal floors, one of which was apparently for her. She ignored him, of course. She wasn't falling for that again.
Sure enough, there on the little blue display screen above the elevator keypad the Words 'Welcome, Jena' blinked at her cheerily before the elevator began a steady climb to the top. Knowing Stark'd said she'd have access and seeing it be real was...a trip, for one. Adults - and she still called older people that because most days she still felt twelve - didn't often say what they meant or did what they said. Tony had only been marginally better in that he'd done most of what he'd promised her that night, and even though she hadn't agreed to it, the fact that some things didn't get done and that the whole thing fell through days later had gotten him lumped in with the rest of the undependable adults in her life.
This was depressing.
Jena shifted in the small, moving room, painfully aware of how short her skirt truly was in the bright artificial lights. Usually it didn't bother her, and she scowled when she realized that somewhere? She still wanted Stark's damn approval. Moodily, she folded her arms, wishing she'd thought to bring a jacket - there were more than enough in the apartment from men who couldn't risk their wives smelling something odd - but there was nothing for it. Stark could come to his own conclusions, his own judgements. Whatever.
She just needed to see him.
_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Never let it be said that she could not make an entrance.
Jena supposed that, seeing as everyone who should have access to the penthouse was actually in the penthouse meant that the penthouse elevator popping up and springing open would gain its fair bit of attention.
She hadn't expected for Stark to drop his glass.
Or for the entire room to go silent.
And really, that last observation? Background info, only possible after years of having to know what the people around her were doing so she didn't get surprised. Because in the foreground? Stark was marching toward her with a stupid, wet look in his eyes like he was looking at some really rare, really precious metal. Or something.
Before she knew just what to do with that - because yeah, the part of her that still wanted him to make good on that adoption? Could not even at that look - Stark had grabbed her in the most gentle crushing grip she had ever been held in and Stark actually, literally, breathed her name.
Before the quibbling, needy part of her could convince her body to melt against him, Jena found her voice. "We had an agreement about touching, Stark."
Stark squeezed her, not seeming to care about their agreement - which had never been ratified, especially since she'd ended up sobbing into his chest minutes after they'd made said agreement - or that his guests were all giving them some serious looks, from shocked curiosity to a venomous kind of disbelief that Jen did not want to be around to hear the explanation to. But if the news was right that guy was from the 40's; a white man hugging a black girl was probably still a big deal for him. For that, Jen was tempted to return the hug.
Only just.
She settled for poking Stark in his side. "At least let me look at you? You scared me half to death. You'd think you'd at least let me know you were going to war with an army of aliens in a flying metal suit!"
That got a reaction. "I did call you, long before the fighting started." Stark had separated enough to give her that hard, wet, intense look again, the one she didn't have a clue of figuring out because Stark was acting all wrong. Again. "I called your phone at least -"
"47 times, yeah I know." She shot a cautious look around the room again, taking note of the blatant staring, only allowing herself to relax a fraction when she didn't spot him. "And another 50 times yesterday, though I don't know how you managed that flying around aliens and nearly getting yourself killed." She took a full step backwards and gave him a pointed once-over when he released her but held onto her hands. "I'm glad to see you're in one piece, at least. Now I can get out of here before your keeper gets back."
Stark, for his part, kept quiet, but his eyes had that cold, calculating fire in it like the night he'd tangled with Maxwell. Jena realized, too late, that he'd given her a more serious once over and found her outfit lacking. In fact, her skirt could burst into flames from the strength of his glare alone, and a great many conclusions were being drawn behind those eyes, if she didn't know better. Uh-oh. Something in her stomach clenched and she tried to pull away. Stark, of course, did not relent.
"There's a rather large piece of the puzzle I'm missing, J, and I need you to help me find it." He tilted his head to the left, eyes flicking up to scrutinize her face. "Who exactly is my keeper?"
And Jena was not going to go there. Not with him. Not tonight. "I gotta go, Stark." She yanked her hands down, bending her knees to give her more momentum, careful to catch herself on the turn as her hands slipped out of his - roughdrysowarm - so she could scramble back to press the elevator call button. "Max will be waiting and unless you're going to cover me for tonight I gotta find some customers quick."
That, if anything, was the wrong thing to say.
Stark picked her up. Jena was well aware that she was on the lighter end of the weight spectrum. She was all of five feet tall and although curvy enough to do fairly well with attracting customers, her poor eating and sleeping habits and a bit of recreational drug use when she needed to psyche herself up to go out to work all negatively effected her health, which meant that she did not weigh whole lot near what she was supposed to. That being said, Stark was also on the shorter end of the height spectrum and she'd never thought those designer suits hid the muscles she could feel bunching against her skin, but she supposed four years was long enough time for the man to hit the gym. The only reason she didn't attempt to hit him - this was *Stark*, he wouldn't have hit her back - was because he'd fought off an alien horde yesterday and had hit the ground pretty hard and as wrong-footed as she felt right this minute she didn't want to cause him any more pain.
For now.
He set her on a suddenly-clear couch then sat himself on the coffee table, scooting forward to trap her knees between his own and wouldn't you know it? They were now eye to eye. So Jen had the glorious privilege to see that Stark was well and truly furious, and only just barely holding it back. All of her quips and complaints died on the tip of her tongue and her heart stuttered behind her ribcage, just like that night four years ago, and Jena suddenly felt very, very small.
But not in danger, which was the weirdest thing.
"I haven't seen or heard from you in about four years, so forgive me if I'm a bit confused, but I'm sure I cleared your debt with Maxwell."
That wasn't a question, but Jena figured some kind of answer was wise. She nodded, careful to look just submissive enough to not pose a threat but not as terrified as she currently felt because when Tony did his whole Merchant of Death thing? Completely terrifying.
"So how did you end up working for him again?"
This wasn't right! Stark wasn't being his regular, blase' self and Jena was quickly becoming not able to deal. Because that look? That would fit on some predatory dinosaur with ease, and it was doing something to the small part of her that wanted someone to protect her. Because that look was pure wrath for someone, and Jena got the distinct feeling it wasn't her.
She tried, a few times, to speak, but honestly she didn't know how to form the words. Looking away helped. "After you left for Afganistan, Stane came by and said you'd changed your mind and that I should leave. He offered to tip and everything and he wasn't, you know, rough..." And really, Jena got the distinct impression she should really pay more attention to what came out of her mouth because the way Stark could go completely still and his eyes look like burning coals? Absolutely amazing. With a dollop of terrifying, even if that wasn't aimed at you.
Stark seemed to lose all his color he was so pale, and there were muffled swear words from various places in the room - because oh riiiiight they had an audience. Jena had to mentally rewind and see what she'd mentioned - oh. Oh that was bad. How had she let that slip? "Stark, its okay. I was used to it, remember? And I've had worse - "
Wrong thing to say.
A vase on the other side of the room exploded, a clap of thunder fairly burst her eardrums and Tony's eyes slid shut as he *trembled*.
This was...frightening. Stark hadn't been nearly as mad when he'd read her for shame the night he'd taken her to his huge house out in Malibu. And as much as logically, she knew being this close to an angry man was badbadbad, Stark honestly didn't seem angry with her, but instead *for* her. Jen figured in had something to do with Stane, and couldn't find a morsel of pity for the man. He deserved whatever Stark would dish out.
She chanced a glance around the room and found that everyone looked more or less pissed off. Jena could get that on an abstract sort of level, even though they didn't know her. Most of the white people she'd met hadn't liked to be reminded of some of the realities of her life since it didn't fit into their cushy way of life or common experiences. She didn't think it was a race thing; it was more of a don't-talk-about-it-because-it-makes-us-uncomfortable type of thing. There were a few that had gotten *righteously angry* on her behalf, which she figured Stark's team - the Avengers? - fell into. She'd wait and see, though, because adults? Not reliable. Righteous anger today could turn to aloof indifference or apologetic inaction overnight.
And then Stark opened his eyes. Jena would forever remember that look. Because that look? Everything. It was an apology and a promise and vows and protection and revenge and fierce and safe and Jena almost didn't know how to handle it. As it was, she only barely held back tears.
"I'm sorry." Stark's voice was a breeze over a desert.
"It's okay." Jena didn't know how the words made it past the lump in her throat.
"No, its not. When I got back Stane told me you'd taken a friend and gone to backpack through The Philippines. I didn't have a reason to not believe him, and money came out of your accounts in all the right places. You texted me back quickly enough so I thought everything was fine, you just didn't want to be around some old guy who could boss you around yet and we'd figure out the father-daughter thing later - "
"You don't have to - " Jena struggled to speak through her tears because really? Some of the things she'd done for Maxwell those early days when she'd gone back? The things she'd done for food - and she'd had accounts? Plural? - "It's okay, I know that wasn't real. You don't have to pretend."
Stark stared at her a half second before he used her hands - when did that happen? - to draw her forward till she had no choice but to meet his blazing eyes. "I filed those papers the very next day."
And that was just too much. The dam broke. Jena lost it.
_*_*_*_*_*
Personally, Tony wanted to give a very big "Fuck you!" to the universe.
He'd only just began to make peace with the craphole that was his life before Agent - and that would likely hurt for months - had shown up and handed him that folder. Yeah, Pepper was a big help along the 'get it together, Stark, there's a life to be living' road, but that road was a rough one, and he'd needed a bit of extra time on some places.
Jena Pandora Stark had been the one stable star in the crazily spinning planetary maze that was his life. She was safe, away from danger, able to spread her wings and figure out who she was without abusive pimps and shithole foster parents.
To find out that she hadn't been hurt more than Tony's vast vocabulary could describe.
He watched her breathe, resting on his chest, more or less draped across him. Not that he minded. He couldn't mind. She could pretend to be asleep for as long as she wanted. Tony felt he owed her at least that much.
He was painfully aware that he had utterly failed. He'd known, both when he'd made the offer and when he'd signed the papers, that he hadn't had a clue on how to be anyone's father. That hadn't seemed to matter to him too much, as she had been months away from eighteen and wouldn't really need anyone to call 'dad'. He'd convinced himself that he was fine with offering her a name that could get her almost anywhere and access to enough money to get her everywhere else. She'd asked for a house to call her own, away from his shenanigans, with a backyard for a garden. He'd agreed without complaint. His only request was that she keep him updated, and let him know if she needed anything.
And then, nothing. He hadn't had much time to think about it before the trip to Afghanistan and after he returned...well, he hadn't been in the right frame of mind for much. He'd expected her to pop up, if at least to make sure he was alive so she wouldn't have to deal with being the Stark heir - a point that had freaked her out quite a bit when they'd discussed it - but when Obadiah had explained that she'd gone on a backpacking trip and that he'd been keeping her updated, Tony had relaxed. After Stane...it took a bit longer to wrap his head around a lot, and when he did reach out, asking for a picture from the Philippines, Jena had obliged. It never occurred to him that she'd just pulled the photo from Google.
He'd thrown himself into putting the company back together, removing Stane's cronies from the board of directors, reminding himself to eat, and then palladium. Hammer. Vanko. That was all so much that when Jen's purchases started coming from Thailand and then further east, he'd decided not to contact her. Sure, he'd setup a whole protocol with JARVIS in the event of his death, to help her deal, and of course he had factored Pepper into that plan though she didn't know it yet, but he'd decided Jena had deserved a break from the type of stress knowing he was dying could bring and let her travel.
At the time, he thought it was a damned mature decision. Idiot.
Now? Jena should count herself lucky if he ever let her out of his sight again. They were burning this outfit at the first possible opportunity; she could wear some of his clothes until they were able to go shopping. Hell, if he had to fly to the nearest undamaged Macy's and buy things himself, he would, the press be damned.
That had been one of the main reasons he'd kept the whole thing hush-hush: he had more than enough paparazzi following him at any given time and neither of them wanted to expose her to those vultures. She, because she was uncomfortable with the attention and knew that "TONY STARK ADOPTS UNDERAGE PROSTITUTE" would be a headline they wouldn't be able to get rid of and he because he had many enemies, and he did not want to give them anyone to use against himself.
For about the fifth time that night, and maybe the fiftieth since he'd first met her, Tony wondered at how he could possibly care for someone so quickly.
Jena had been as prickly as could be, sarcastic and mulish and downright rude when she chose to be that first night, but there was something about her eyes that screamed "Frightened Bunny-Deer Hybrid. Please Cuddle." Which that night? Would have gotten him kicked square in the nads. Which was why he'd promptly wrapped her in a blanket and plopped her on the couch. It wasn't so much that she hadn't been prepared to...work...when he'd picked her up. It was that he didn't stick to the script, had been completely unpredictable and then had called her out on her age. It didn't help that he'd then, jerk that he was, managed to accurately guess at most of her life story and then tell her what exactly he thought of the choices that she'd made.
He hadn't wanted to be mean, exactly. It was just that something in his gut screamed at him to protect her, and the easiest way to do that had been to get her unsettled as quickly as possible so she could see how much help he could be. He'd thought he had stayed aloof and unaffected, but the two weeks between that night and his flight to the Jericho demonstration had been spent obsessively reorganizing every single asset he had to make sure that Jena was never discovered by anyone who wanted to do him harm and that she would never want for anything as long as she lived, ordering just about anything he thought a seventeen year old girl would like or appreciate, and ruthlessly hunting down any and all of her former foster parents and ruining their lives. Jena would be safe and sane if he had anything to say about it.
He had not counted on Stane.
The house he'd bought for her in New Jersey had had the beginnings of a small orchard behind the house, and hadn't come from any of the on-record subaccounts. Stane should not have ever known about that, should never have known about her, and it burned Tony even now to know just how much of a reach the bastard had had into his life.
To tell his new *daughter* that he'd changed his mind, when she probably had been wondering or fearing that very same thing...to rape her - because Tony didn't care how consensual it had looked, Jena had been seventeen and definitely emotionally compromised and Stane was old as hell and fully aware of what he was doing - made Tony want to find the man's skeleton and set it on fire.
Ignoring her still pretending to be asleep, Tony crushed Jena to his chest. She squirmed for a moment before settling, her breathing finally evening out, and Tony pulled the throw blanket up over her shoulders. Bruce had draped it over them both some time ago, and Tony had looked up to see the room empty, Bruce retreating on bare feet through the door behind the couch. That was good. Tony didn't know how he was going to explain any of this to team - because they'd just saved the world so yes, they were a team whether they agreed with him or not - doesn't play well with others his ass - then realized he didn't have to explain to anyone, save Pepper. Everyone else...well, a partial explanation. At least letting them know Jena would be sticking around. Because again? Never letting her out of his sight.
They'd figure this father-daughter thing out together.