Blair Stark. The daughter of Tony Stark, she's spent her entire life surrounded by brilliance, adventure, and the kind of pressure only a Stark could know.
The complicated emotions that come with being a Stark.
In the beginning, Blair was just a lit...
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Two and a Half Months Later
Blair Stark had never been one for violence.
Her philosophy was simple: if two people had an issue, they should sit down and have a mature conversation.
Unfortunately, maturity wasn't something she saw often in the world around her. Especially now, with her dad missing for two and a half months.
And this? This was far from a mature conversation.
The garage was quiet except for the soft hum of the computer as Blair tinkered with one of her dad's designs. She was engrossed, not realizing the importance of the incoming video call from James Rhodes until the sound blared across the speakers.
Blair didn't hesitate; she answered immediately. As soon as his face appeared on the webcam, Blair's eyes narrowed, her emotions boiling over. Before anyone else could even get a word in, she spat out, "How dare you let him out of your sight, Rhodey! You sicken me."
On the screen, James Rhodes looked taken aback. His normally calm demeanor faltered for a moment, but before he could respond, a heavy hand landed on Blair's shoulder. Obadiah Stane. He spun her around in her chair, towering over her like a menacing shadow.
"Blair," Obadiah said slowly, his voice dripping with false concern, "do you honestly think this is how you should be talking to Mr. Rhodes?"
Blair glared up at him. She had never trusted Obadiah—something about him always felt off, as if he was hiding something, playing both sides. Her gut told her that he was part of the problem.
"I think I have every right," she snapped back, twisting her shoulder out of his grip.
"Because I know my dad, and I know for a fact that this wasn't an accident. Something isn't right."
Obadiah's face hardened, but before he could respond, Pepper Potts stepped in. She knelt down beside Blair, her eyes soft but filled with concern. "Blair, sweetheart, maybe we should hear Rhodey out. There are things we don't fully understand yet."
Blair hesitated, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "Fine," she muttered, crossing her arms. "But I'm not a little kid. I get what's happening, even if none of you will say it out loud."
Rhodey, who had been silent up until now, rubbed his face with his hands, clearly exhausted. "Look, Blair," he began, his voice heavy with guilt, "we're doing everything we can. But... we don't know where Tony is. We don't know who has him. We don't know how long it's been or what they want. We just... don't know. And... there's a chance—"
Blair froze, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She could hear the unspoken words hanging in the air, a chance he might not come home.
The moment those words registered in her mind, Blair shot out of her seat. She couldn't handle it, the fear, the uncertainty, the possibility that her dad might not be coming back. Without saying a word, she bolted up the stairs, out of the garage, and onto the patio, her feet carrying her on autopilot. She needed air. She needed space.
