Illegitimate Prodigy

Take care of it

It was nearly pitch black on the grounds of the Avengers facility, with the exception of the watch towers in two of the corners. When he had originally designed the building, he didn't feel it was necessary to place to many security guards at each end of its fences. One, because he didn't want the property to look like a prison and two, there were people residing inside the vicinity that were perfectly capable of protecting themselves from intruders. At least he hoped so.

He stored his suit he unexpectedly had to use in his new shop, and he stood in silence under all the blue color coming from random tech that was still running. He contemplated tinkering— with anything to keep his mind from wandering too much to this Vulture situation. He should be angry... furious even. Toomes targeted Annabelle. His— daughter. He let his eyelids flutter to a close, his hand meeting his square jawline and exhaled a deep sigh. "Annabelle." He whispered, realizing he had left her at the facility all day to adjust by herself. With Pepper having to take the jet to DC and Tony going back into the city, there was only Vision. Who, oddly enough, hadn't been around all that often.

His feet carried him out the shop, the light on the door blinking to confirm that the shop was locked. Most tech hadn't been moved to the new building, so his workspace was rather empty. So the locks weren't protecting anything— just a giant open room held up by concrete walls.

Leisurely tip toeing down a few stair cases, Tony arrived at the bottom floor. The only light penetrating the interior of the building was the moonlight through the large windows, making the grey walls appear white.

He hoped his daughter was asleep to avoid the interaction of what he was doing in the city. It was easy to lie but it bothered him when it came to Belle. He passed by the family portrait, and did a double take of his mother. The resemblance between grandmother and granddaughter was remarkable. Same almond shaped eyes, thick but well trimmed eyebrows. Dark chocolate brown irises. The smile. It gave him an uncomfortable twist in his stomach, not because of the resemblance, but of how his mother was killed. Maria would have never anticipated Tony having a child. His playboy lifestyle, drinking habits and lack of interest of having any kind of a family— she almost accepted the fact that her son would never give her grandchildren.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Elizabeth's "surprise, I'm pregnant," was less than enjoyable for Tony. She was already 3 months along when she realized, which explained her moodiness and constant sickness.
"I already told my parents," she spoke softly.
"You already told them?" Tony's brown eyes beamed her direction. "Do you expect us to be one big happy American family?! Do you want me to pick you out a ring now?!"
Elizabeth shuttered at his reaction, her aquamarine eyes pooling with tears immediately. "Don't do that." He hated crying. "Don't you dare." Sympathy he lacked, and staring at a woman he cared about— someone he would even consider saying he loved— while she cried bothered him more than she knew. Tony's parents never accept crying as a response, and taught the younger Stark to turn his emotions off.
He was running a company now— creating weapons for the military, was a well known billionaire and the last thing he needed was a wife and kid to hold him back. To prevent him from creating a legacy for himself. He left his pregnant girlfriend at her New York flat, and was immediately on a jet back to California. The plane ride was not pleasant, the entire time he was fuming while sitting across from his father's confidant, Obadiah Stane. Obie still ran parts of the company after Howard's death. Blunt and very particular about how Tony ran Stark Industries, who he did business with and even who he dated. The older CEO was not terribly amused by Tony's relationship with Elizabeth and informing him that she was carrying Tony's child would push him over the edge.
"Moody this evening?" Obadiah said, sipping his scotch. Tony didn't avert his gaze away from the round airplane window, his thumb and his forefinger on his right hand rubbing his jaw line that was beardless at the time. A child. A child that had his blood running through its veins. He never imagined being a father because he never believed he was ever going to be one. The idea became such a cumbersome situation in his head, practically giving him shivers.
Obadiah stared impatiently, and he didn't have to ask anymore questions for the Stark to know that he was waiting for some sort of answer. An exasperated breath left his lips, before letting his gaze fall back on Stane. "Elizabeth is pregnant."
He could see Obie clenching his jaw, the motion moving slowly up the sides of his heads above his ears. "Goddamn it, Tony. What did I tell you? Pregnant? Really??" He slammed his scotch down on the wooden drink holder attached to his chair. His hand aggressively met his tie, fiddling angrily. "You told her to get rid of it, right?" There was no way to describe how Tony felt when he heard that sentence escape his business partner's mouth. He felt the need to punch him, but why? To defend a child, HIS child, he wasn't even sure he wanted anything to do with?
His fists closed tightly around the arm rests of the chair, his eyes beaming angrily. "It's not my decision. It's hers."
"Don't get soft on me now, Tony." Obadiah quickly retorted, his voice rough now. "Convince her to take care of it." He stood up from the chair, his right hand sweeping over his bald head, and his left index finger pointing directly at Tony. "Convince her. Or I will."

The somber glare coming from Tony's eye sockets probably didn't intimidate his colleague, but it was the only response he felt appropriate. Obadiah was a professional at putting on a fake, approachable demeanor. Unfortunately, Tony was beginning to see that side was completely fake the years following his father's death.

—————————————

Stark couldn't imagine the life that could have been had Elizabeth actually aborted Annabelle. The two probably wouldn't have been in each other's lives much longer. Months, maybe another year tops. The memories he had when he had rushed to the hospital, dressed in a suit, having just gotten off a plane from Afghanistan to display a demo of a new weapon. The baby was in distress, the umbilical chord wrapped around her petite little neck.
Minutes before he had gotten there the doctor had decided on an Emergency C-Section, and the first words that escaped Elizabeth's mouth when Tony entered the room were, "I told you not to take that stupid trip right before the baby was due!" He nearly responded with a sarcastic remark, but there was more anger heard in her voice that ever before, the labor obviously taking its toll on her body.
The nurses gave Tony a surgical gown, and a blue cap to cover his hair. Not the most flattering and his skin itched from being so uncomfortable. The hospital staff rushed his child's mother into the surgical room, Tony's hands sweating onto the metal bar aside Elizabeth's bed. He was quite oblivious to Lizzie's grunts and groans, watching the people around him move quickly.
It appeared they had previously given her an epidural, expecting a more natural birth but Annabelle, of course, didn't want to come out as planned.
"Tony." Her blue eyes turning to him, her left hand extending to him. "Can you hold my hand? Please." At first he stared, his eyes dropping to her open hand. Lizzie taking in air came more audible as she took longer— deeper breaths. The hesitation lasted only momentarily, his hand scooping up hers.
"Of course."