Tony POV
She was so beautiful.
That was the only thing I could think when I laid eyes on her.
She had my brown eyes and brown hair, slightly wavy as it reached a little below her waist. Her skin was like her mother's, tan and Greek. Her lips were a blood red, just like her mother's. She was of average height for a fifteen year old, but extremely thin. Her cheekbones were more visible than they should be, and her cheeks were slightly hallow. My . . . child. God, that's going to take some getting used to.
"Hey, kid," I say a little awkwardly. She looks at me, not saying a word. Probably freaked out.
"So, what's your name?" I ask her, hoping to get an answer. When I had asked Fury not to tell me anything about her, I meant it. I didn't want to hear it from him, considering he is a spy. He is THE spy. His secrets have secrets. "Mine's Tony."
"I-Isadora," she stuttered out quietly as she refused to make eye contact with me.
"Isadora?" I questioned, taking a seat in the available chair on the other side of the table. "I'm guessing that's Greek?"
She nodded her head quickly "Y-Yes, sir."
"Just like your mother," I said quietly. She looked up at the mention of her mother. Curiosity burned in her eyes, along with something else I didn't want to see. Fear and pain. No one ever wants to see their child in pain. Even if you've only known them for a couple of minutes, it still bothered you.
"My m-mother, sir?" Isadora says with interest. I look at her with a smile, loving the way her eyes showed so much emotion.
"Um, yeah," I answer a little late. "Yeah, I knew your mother." Her eyebrows raised in shock. She was barely seated on the chair, almost jumping up from what I guessed and hoped was excitement.
"You d-did, sir?" She questioned me with a small smile. "What w-was she like?" I got a puzzled look on my face. Hasn't she been living with her mother all these years? Who's she been living with?
Realization finally hit me and my heart dropped into my stomach. I felt nauseated as I Iooked at my daughter. No, I thought to myself. She can't be an . . . orphan. She can't.
"You don't live with your mother?"
She shakes her head. "N-No, sir. I never h-have. All I-I know is that her n-name is Stacia Z-Zervos and she was f-from Kozani. That's it, s-sir." I look at her with a pained expression as she opens her mouth to say something, "H-How did you know m-my mother, sir?" She whispers in fear. I can see her trembling, afraid of what she thinks I'm going to do to her.
Anger filled me immediately. Something or someone had made my daughter afraid. No one is naturally scared to ask questions. My poor daughter . . .
"Isadora," I say quietly. I look at her with the same pained expression as before. How would she react to me telling her I was her father? Would she be happy? Sad? Angry? Indifferent? I hoped for the first.
"I'm . . . your father." I say clearly. I look up at her to gauge her reaction. She looks at me first with a confused expression, as if she was still processing what I had said. Then, a shocked expression overcame her face.
"Y-You're m-m-my father-r-r?" She nearly yelled. I nodded my head. She keeps looking at me, as if she were inspecting me to make sure I'm really her father. Her eyes travelled from my head down to my torso as she took me in. Suddenly, a look of sadness overcomes her face as she looks down. And I might have imagined it, but I saw a tear run down her cheek.
"Why d-didn't y-you w-w-want m-m-me-e-e?" She whispered in a broken voice, wiping the cascade of tears off her cheeks.
My heart broke in that instant. All of my selfishness and greed disappeared as I looked at my daughter crying, questioning me about something I didn't know about. In that moment, I realized that I had accepted being a father and would put her first. Always.
I got up from my chair quietly and slowly made my way to her. I crouched down in front of her, pulling her hands away from her face and holding them in mine as I looked into her tear filled eyes.
"Isadora, I didn't know you existed until a couple of hours ago." I whispered with so much emotion in my voice. I could feel my throat tightening, the urge to let the unwanted tears spill over my eyes increased. Tony Stark isn't supposed to cry. "Your mother and I had separated from each other around the time she got pregnant with you. I hadn't heard from her since the day we decided to go separate ways. I'm . . ." I stopped, not being able to get the words out without bursting into tears. I cleared my throat as I let only one tear roll down my cheek. "I'm so sorry," I say to her closing my eyes as I continued to let the tears fall.
I felt her warm hands wipe my tears away. I looked up to see her smiling at me, her eyes crinkled slightly. Just like me, I thought to myself.
"D-Don't be upset," she whispers, "There's nothing to be sorry f-for. Like you s-said, you didn't know."
I smile at her, instantly falling in love with my daughter. I had known her for a few short minutes, but she had already captured my heart. It's crazy to think it possible for someone to live another person almost instantly. I never really was good with human emotions.
"So," I began as I went over and dragged my chair to sit next to her, "Tell me more about yourself. What's your middle name?"
"Eir," she responded quietly.
"Eir?" I question lightly, "What does that mean?"
"It's from Norse Mythology. She's the Goddess of Healing and Medicine" She says with a smile. I smile back as I look at her.
"That's a nice name. Your mother was into that stuff." She blushes and looks down, thanking me. "Where do you live?"
"Boston, Massachusetts." I looked at her knowingly. That's where her mother and I had met at a conference. It wasn't love at first sight at all. More like "lust at first sight". Her mother was breathtaking, tall and leggy with blonde hair and green eyes. She was a bombshell. Little did I know that looks can be deceiving. She was an ugly person on the inside. Rude, uncaring, and selfish. I was too blinded by lust to see past her external beauty until the day we separated.
"And I'm assuming you live with a foster family?" I continue quietly. Her face is suddenly clouded with sadness as she looks down, avoiding my gaze. She shook her head slightly.
"No?" I say, "Than, at an orphanage?" She shakes her head again, still not looking up at me. Now I'm beginning to get confused. She's an orphan. Correction: She was an orphan. She didn't live with foster parents or at an orphanage. Where had she been living? She's not old enough to live on her own, considering she's probably around fifteen years old. It doesn't make any sense.
"Well where do you live?" I ask as she looks up at me. The same fear and pain is still in her eyes. How badly I wanted to make that pain go away.
Dear god, I'm getting soft. Tony Stark is not a soft person. I'm rock hard. I don't have emotions and I save the world on a weekly basis. But that's all changed in a matter of hours just because of a small girl.
"W-Well," she stutters out quietly, then pauses hesitantly. Not wanting to continue, she looks down and begins to play with the hem of her shirt. I wonder why she stutters, I think to myself. Does she have speech problems or is she just cold? Is she scared of something?
"You can tell me, sweetie," I whisper to her. She looks up at me with an expression of shock on her face. Why was she so shocked about small things? It's like she's never had the opportunity to experience certain things until today. Like she's been deprived her whole life.
"W-Well," she says again, this time quieter. "I-I . . . d-don't . . . l-live . . . a-anywhere."
I stared at her blankly, processing the words over an over again in my mind. I don't live anywhere. I don't live anywhere. I don't live anywhere. I began to feel nauseated again, wiping the sweat from my brow as I placed my forehead against the cool metal table. My hands reach up and grab my chest as the pain starts. Oh god, please not again.
The familiar fear creeps up my spine as my breathing turns into gasping. I shut my eyes in fear as I grab at my chest. I can faintly hear Isadora get up from the chair abruptly, the metal furniture piece hitting the floor with a loud clang. She grips my shoulders tightly and attempts to calm me down.
"Mr. Tony! Someone help! Please!" She yells to no one in particular.
The next thing I hear is the sound of the metal door bursting open and a pair of high heels running towards my direction. I feel someone grab my head lightly and force me to look up. Opening my eyes slightly, I'm met with nothing but a blinding white light.
"Tony!" I hear Pepper yell as my eyes shut again and darkness envelopes my mind as I loose consciousness.