My chest shudders as I jump up in my bed, grasping at the sheets for dear life and searching for breath. A shiver traces its way over my arms despite the sheen of sweat covering every inch of my body. The house is deathly silent, which I'm thankful for. It means that I didn't ruin anyone's night by screaming from another nightmare.

Well, another night of memories haunting me.

I'm just lucky that I didn't blow out the power to the house. It's a small bit of luck that I savor but refuse to push as I climb out of bed. Maybe I should have Tony bring the 'coffin' over just in case, or maybe I should start working on a more portable prototype.

Either way, I want to—need to—get my mind off things. My fingers sporadically twitch at the urge for action, whether it be tinkering or fighting. Anything to either distract my mind or raise my heart rate will do. Ideas pop into my head as I sneak through the house.

There's a part of me that wants to go elsewhere, that wants to patrol and maybe use some low lives as a punching bag, but I made a promise to Dad that I wouldn't. It's mostly a bad habit I've created to keep my mind from drifting back to those nights.

"Lia Stark. Access Granted." FRIDAY's disembodied voice seems to scream against the silence as the workshop doors click open. I shake my head and brush off the lingering nightmares and a weird feeling of hearing myself referred to as a 'Stark.'

"Hello, boys," I whisper to empty suits and various bots. I absentmindedly walk around the lab, fingers trailing over the cold metal of various tools, which send a comforting shiver through me. Dad's blueprints hover on every now lit screen, and I allow myself to succumb to the curiosity and snoop on what he's been doing.

My eye catches on a certain project. A small smile tugging at the corners my lips as I take in every spec. "I guess great minds really do think alike." I chuckle to myself as I move it to a screen closer to the workstation and gather a few starting pieces. "Hopefully you won't mind a few modifications, Dad."

The telltale tap of feet descending the staircase is what finally snapped my concentration and gives me any clue of the early hour. I rub my eyes, finally feeling the strain from working for who knows how long. "I should've known you'd be down here." Dad chuckles as he enters the lab. There's a twinge of concern that laces over his voice as he asks, "Couldn't sleep?"

I avoid meeting his eye. We both already know the answer, and I don't quite feel up to explaining another nightmare. The pity and concern practically radiate off of him, and it makes my stomach churn in disdain. I go back to fiddling with the circuitry to distract myself.

Tony's defeated chuckle breaks the tense silence when he finally notices what I'm working on. "You found the blueprints."

"Yeah." I drag the syllable out and feel the blood rush to my cheeks in embarrassment. "I came down here to tinker, and, well—you aren't exactly good at hiding things." A cheesy grin teases my features at the comment. It's a double-edged comment. After all, he could barely keep his Iron Man secret, but I've been his best kept secret since we met.

He remains stoic as he correct my current work in a few places. I gnaw on my lip to keep myself from bursting with a million questions or worry that I've upset him. Still, he can read me better than I give him credit for, and as if he can sense my emotions, he looks up at me with the classic Stark smile.

I break, and the questions come pouring out. Although, there's only one that makes it through understandably. "It's for me, right? It's a suit to wear as Phantom."

He doesn't say anything, but the smile answers for him. There's a surge of excitement and pride that ripples in my chest. All because my dad thought enough of me to make a suit of my own. "Don't get carried away just yet," Tony tells me, his expression suddenly cold and serious. "You have a lot to learn and do before it's officially yours."

My heart drops a fraction, but I know deep down that a chance is better than nothing. I nod my head, now even more determined to make him proud.

He seems shocked by my reaction—or lack thereof. "I just—I need to make sure you're ready for this. It's obvious you've got the abilities, and now you've had training. The last big question is if you're in the right headspace. You've been through a lot, but you haven't opened up about any of it."

I let out a sigh and continue to work on the suit. "What am I supposed to say? Two people are dead because of me. Not injured, dead. Not to mention, my former boyfriend who is pretty much a veggie now because of me. Mum can barely look me in the eye or touch me without flinching. I mean, she sent me away because she can't stand to be around me anymore.

"Am I supposed to say that I still see Henry's face everywhere? That when I get cold I have to remind myself I'm not back in that van drowning or in that alleyway with a knife to my throat?" Tears stream down my face as I struggle to get the words out, and my knuckles turn white as I grip the edge of the work table.

"Do you want me to talk about how much I resent Mum for everything? Because she was the one that let me think you didn't care or want me my whole life. She let me think that Jim—who has always looked at me like I'm one of his experiments—was the closest thing I would get to a real dad.

"Am I meant to say that it's my fault for the crash? I had begged to work a little bit longer on the project, and then in the car I'm the one that started the argument that distracted Jim for that split second. I'm the one that the medic was trying to save when the battery exploded and made me this disaster waiting to happen."

I start to hyperventilate, and I know if I say another word I'll go supernova again. Yet, I want to. Not for the destruction, but for the relief of the pain bubbling under my skin. "It's my fault." I whisper as my Dad pulls me into his chest and lets me sob into his shirt.

"Deep breaths, bug. In. Out." He whispers into my hair and soothingly rubs a hand up and down my back. I shakily follow his instructions, because the last thing I need is to add my own dad to my list of supernova casualties. "There you go. Just like that."

There's a long, tense silence that nestles its way between us. I can feel Dad's own ragged breathing as he too is trying to hold back tears. "Why did you never tell me about any of this?"

"Because I didn't know how, and somehow, it felt like if I did, then it all was real. There's no more pretending it's all a bad dream when you say it out loud." I mumble and pull away from him. "At least before I could tell myself I was gonna wake up one day to find out it was another nightmare. Henry would still be my crappy boyfriend that I planned to break up with, and I'd be hanging out with Trish and Will like any other time. Now, I'll wake up and realize it all happened. I'll have to wake up and deal with it all over again."

"Yeah, you will." Dad tells me as he brushes a hand through my hair. "Except now, you're not gonna have to do it by yourself. We'll work through both of our nightmares together."

I bite my lip and hold back the tears from the odd sense of comfort the words bring. "I'd like that. Maybe we can do it while we work on my new suit?" Dad shakes his head with laughter and nods with a beaming smile.

We work together in silence for awhile, and it's the first time I've felt content and calm in a long while. The closest word I can find to explaining it is—family. After all, this is one of the few times Dad and I have been able to connect in person.

Eventually, he breaks the silence with a heavy sigh. "Well, that's all we can do for now because you—my little bug—have got to get ready for school."

"Five more minutes?"

"Nope, I'm not gonna be the reason you're late today." He ruffles my harrow which I send him a nasty glare for. "If it makes you feel better, I'll wait until you're back to work on it."

"How about when I get back from what will hopefully be my first of many decathlon practices?" I question with a hopeful grin.

He smiles down at me with a raised eyebrow and the trademark Stark smirk. "Decathlon? How did I not hear about this before?"

"Well, I have my first meeting today to see if I'll make the team." I shrug my shoulder and stare down at my sock-clad feet. "Nothing's official. For all I know, they may not want me."

"They will." There's a sense of confidence and surety that only Tony Stark could have, and I half wish it was something I inherited from him instead of my mother's chronic self-doubt. "Unless they think you're too smart for them."

"Or if they realize I know nothing about American history and can't do chemistry to save my life?" I retort sadly and head out the door with Tony following. "I didn't grow up here, and they didn't exactly have extensive courses on the history of another country back home. All it would take is them asking me something about America, and I'm screwed."

"Don't sell yourself short, Lia. You excel in almost every other subject—aside from Chemistry, I know." He sighs and drops his voice in preparation for a hefty dose of parental advice. "The trick is never selling yourself short. The moment you doubt yourself, so will everyone else."

"Is that your secret?"

"Yep." He tells me with a wide smile. "Now go get ready to knock 'em dead today."

"Fine. I'm going." I laugh and take one last look back at him—back my dad. "You better not finish the suit without me!"

He holds his hand up in mock innocence and nods. "I promise."