Work Text:
It’s been six months since Tony Stark has seen his 16 year old daughter, and the toll that’s taken on the compound is obvious.
It was normal at first, as if she’d just gone on camp, or was staying with a friend, but after three weeks the mood shifted.
Tony was snappy, restless, constantly stressed, looking for anything to take his mind off of the situation, it’s safe to say many workshop fires had to be put out.
The rest of the team was.. off. They all saw Jamie as a niece, or someone to look out for, they had watched her grow up, watched her go to school, watched her go through all the embarrassing phases, but then it just stopped.
The fight that caused it was bad.
They usually fought a lot, but it was never that serious, it always ended quickly and was resolved in a few minutes, it was part of their relationship, arguing.
It wasn’t like their usual fights about chores or grades, or Jamie doing something Tony deemed stupid- even though it was definitely something he would’ve and had done- this one had something else to it.
Real anger. Not just pettiness. Jamie was sick of always living in her father’s shadow, and all the bottled up emotions came through, and it ended in her shouting that she never wanted to see him again, Tony agreeing, and Jamie storming out of the tower.
Jamie had always been exactly like her father, genius, sarcastic, reckless, witty, charming, but she also was kind, and patient, thoughtful, and nobody really seemed to know where she got that from.
But most people focused on her similarities with her father- she is pretty much a carbon copy of him, same dark hair, same brown eyes, same facial expressions, and a lot of the time she liked it, she liked being her fathers daughter, but when she got older she grew to hate it.
And that’s what led to her leaving.
She’s been out on her own for six months, at sixteen years old, with no financial help, nothing, and absolutely zero contact with her father, or the Avengers.
Jamie has been working as a waitress at an old diner in South-Side Chicago, barely scraping by and hating it, only pushing through out of pure pettiness against her father.
But that pettiness slowly wore away when things kept going wrong.
The first problem was the diner she worked at shutting down, work health and safety risks.
The second was no more jobs available for her, she probably printed fifty resumes, and never got a call back.
The third was running out of money, no job meant no income, and she still needed to eat, bathe, and purchase hygiene products.
The fourth was getting evicted, unable to pay rent on the already back end apartment meant the landlord got sick of her really quick, and showed her the door when she was two months behind.
She had been sleeping in an old car in someone’s backyard for $100 until the person got evicted and their house got put back on the market, so since then she’s been living on the streets, at sixteen, with no money, and no contact with her family; and really, really missing her dad.
It was pouring down with rain, so she took shelter in an ancient phone box, hiding from the cold.
—
The phone in Tony’s workshop rings once, twice, three times before Tony finally picks it up.
“You’ve reached T-”
“Hello, You have a collect call from: DaddycanyoupleasecomepickmeupIhavenomoneyandI’minChicagoandIneedhelp, Do you accept the charges?”
The world freezes, just for a second, Tony would recognise his daughter’s voice anywhere, especially this tearful, snotty, terrified one, asking for help.
In this moment all of the anger and sadness and pettiness dissipates, because all Tony wants to do is look after his daughter.
“Jamie?”
The pause that followed could be written in history books.
“Dad? It’s me.”
Tony can hear the rain pattering on the glass, and his little girl’s soft sniffles as she tries to hold it in.
“Jamie, Babygirl, where are you?”
She chokes slightly, unable to hold it in.
“I’m in Chicago, Southside, I’m sorry. Can you please come pick me up? or send someone to pick me up? I don’t have any money and I don’t know anyone and I’m so sorry.”
Tony’s on the verge of tears himself now, but he agrees, and tells her to stay put, grabbing snacks, a blanket and a hoodie before getting in his car and driving to Chicago.
He doesn’t bother to tell anyone, he doesn’t care about them right now, all that matters is getting his daughter safe, and warm, and comfortable.
Its almost midnight by the end of the 12 hour drive (made 10 by Tony’s constant speed being at least 20mph over the speed limit) But the second he hits the Southside he’s scouring the streets for his daughter.
And that’s when he sees her, sitting by the phone box, knees drawn to her chest, drenched, crying, scared.
His chest feels as though it’s filled with shrapnel all over again.
He stops the car and runs to his daughter, the anger trumped entirely by relief that she’s okay.
Jamie stands, and hugs her father so tightly it would hurt if he wasn’t hugging her back with an equal pressure.
“I’m sorry.” Jamie whispers, face buried in her dad’s chest.
“It doesn’t matter right now. I just want you home.”
The drive back to New York was quiet, but it was comfortable quiet, Jamie slept most of the time, catching up on lost rest over all the stress, and Tony just relishing in the fact that his daughter was safe, and back with him.
The team was thrilled to see Jamie back home, but no one as much as Tony. Yes, the father and daughter had their things to work out, and they’re arguments to have, but they no longer ended in someone walking out, they were resolved and gotten over, because Tony never wants to lose his little girl again.