[A/N]: This is a big one.
It got heavy as I sat down to write it. While working on this chapter, I kept thinking about One Piece. What if someone with healing powers had come to Kuma and healed Bonney before everything went wrong? What if he never had to become the World Government's pawn? Seeing a similar situation in the MCU where a father joined the villains for his daughter's sake, I poured those feelings into this.
Hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what worked and what didn't.
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Time crawled at thirty thousand feet, even in one of Stark's jets. What should've been a three-hour hop from New York to D.C. took barely an hour, then another fifteen minutes by helicopter to the Naval Observatory.
Tony swirled the ice in his glass, fingers drumming against the armrest. They'd been quiet since takeoff, both lost in their own heads.
Jay finally broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"The shrapnel. Near your heart." Jay turned from the window. "I got all that palladium out of your system, but I could pull those metal pieces out too. Ten minutes, maybe less. How come you never asked?"
Tony's hand went to his chest automatically. "Huh. Most people would think it's about trust. Like maybe I figure you'd mess it up somehow."
"But that's not it."
"Nah." Tony stared down at his drink. "You really want to know? This thing," he tapped the reactor, "it's not just keeping me alive anymore. It's become who I am."
Jay didn't say anything, just waited.
"Before Afghanistan, I was just some rich prick who made weapons and threw parties. Smart prick, granted, but still just a guy building stuff that killed people while telling himself he was saving the world." Tony's voice dropped. "Then I wake up in a cave with a car battery wired to my chest and everything I thought I knew about myself went right out the window."
He leaned back, staring at the clouds. "Iron Man isn't my job, Jay. It's me. You take away the reactor, take away this constant reminder of how close I came to dying, to losing everything that mattered, and what then? Do I go back to being the guy who thought cruise missiles were just expensive party favors?"
"You don't trust yourself without it."
"I don't trust myself to remember what rock bottom felt like. Why I started building armor instead of artillery." Tony's laugh was bitter. "This keeps me honest. Keeps me grounded. It's my daily reminder that the old Tony Stark died in that cave, and something better came out."
Jay sat with that for a moment. "Hell of a thing to carry around your heart."
"Yeah, well." Tony shook his glass, ice clinking. "Some days I think I'm ready. That maybe I've changed enough that I don't need the reminder anymore. But then I look at what I've built, who I've become, and I wonder if pulling it out would be like removing a load-bearing wall."
"What if it would?"
Tony went quiet. Just jet engines and the soft hum of his reactor. "Then maybe I'm not ready to find out who I really am without Iron Man watching over my shoulder."
Jay nodded. "When you are, just say the word."
"I know. Thanks for not pushing it."
"We all move at our own pace when it comes to letting go."
Tony swirled the ice in his glass, fingers drumming against the armrest. "So, you gonna tell me why we're flying off to meet the Vice President, or do I just keep running through conspiracy theories?"
Jay's eyes tracked the Potomac below. "I need a sit-down with someone your money can't buy."
"Rodriguez? Christ, Jay. Please tell me we're not about to commit treason."
"Nothing treasonous. Just... politically messy."
The helicopter touched down on manicured grounds where the Vice President's residence sat beyond wrought-iron gates. Ancient oaks cast long shadows across perfectly maintained lawns.
Secret Service materialized instantly, earpieces buzzing, weapons hidden but ready. Jay's screening dragged for twenty minutes.
"Mr. Jay," Agent Morrison said. "Apologies for the delay, but we needed full verification."
Tony breezed through in under two minutes. "Should I be insulted they trust me more than you?"
"Probably."
Inside, portraits of founding fathers hung alongside modern American heroes. Fresh flowers sat arranged. Every detail calculated to reassure voters.
Tony muttered, "God, I hate being judged by ghosts." He glanced at Jay. "Why am I here? You don't exactly lack for leverage."
"When people see you, they see America's golden boy genius. When they see me, they see a loaded gun."
Vice President Rodriguez hunched over his desk, sleeves rolled up, briefing papers scattered across mahogany. He looked up and smiled at Tony, that practiced campaign smile.
"Tony, good to see you. How's the clean energy initiative? The President's been asking about our timeline."
Then his eyes found Jay, and something shifted. Cooled. The smile remained, but his posture straightened. "Mr. Jay. Your reputation precedes you."
A subtle gesture sent his security detail retreating outside. "So. What brings the Power Broker to my home?"
"I need White House backing for a mutant integration project."
The words hung between them. Tony's whiskey glass stopped halfway to his lips.
"A mutant integration project?" Rodriguez's voice carried careful neutrality. "You understand the complexities. The political capital required, the backlash from our base, the Congressional hurdles."
"I'm asking you to be on the right side of history."
Rodriguez's laugh held no humor. "The right side of history? Let me paint you a picture of reality, Mr. Jay. Sebastian Shaw nearly triggered World War III. Magneto came within inches of assassinating the President on live television. Last month in Detroit, one mutant child had a nightmare and two city blocks disappeared. One mutant child."
He moved to the window. "Insurance companies have redlined entire neighborhoods based on suspected mutant populations. Real estate markets crash at rumors of mutant activity. Every committee hearing, senators demand tighter restrictions, more surveillance, registration requirements. And you want me to build them a neighborhood?"
Jay remained steady. "District X. A place where mutants can live without hiding. Homes, schools, jobs. Normal life."
"And when crime statistics spike? When property values crater? When some child loses control in a classroom full of eight-year-olds?" Rodriguez's voice rose. "The backlash won't just bury mutant rights, it'll bury everyone associated with the project."
Jay leaned forward slightly. "That's why the rollout matters. Steve Rogers cuts the ribbon. Captain America himself. The Fantastic Four provides scientific credibility. Stark Foundation builds the infrastructure." Jay's voice stayed level. "My name never touches the headlines."
Rodriguez went very still. As VP, he knew about Rogers' revival, still classified. "Rogers' status remains classified, and even if he were willing to go public..."
"He represents something this country needs. Trust. Hope. The idea that we can be better than our fears."
"You're asking me to stake my political future on something seventy percent of Americans fear."
Rodriguez stared out at the Washington Monument rising in the distance. When he turned back, his political mask had slipped.
Jay's voice softened. "Then stop thinking like a politician. Think like a father."
The temperature in the room dropped.
"Your daughter. Jenna. The eight-year-old with Spina bifida, the severe kind. She's been in a wheelchair since birth."
Rodriguez's face went white. "Don't you dare bring my family into this."
"Three months ago, your chief of staff reached out through discrete back channels, looking for anyone who might help where conventional medicine had failed." Jay's eyes never left Rodriguez's face. "I wasn't capable then. The enhancement changed that."
"That's extortion."
Jay paused, conflict flickering across his expression before the mask of necessity returned. "No. It's two fathers who want better for their children. You want Jenna to walk. I want every mutant child to stop hiding in fear." His voice grew quieter. "We can both win."
Rodriguez gripped the back of his chair, the internal war playing out across his features.
"Show me."
Walking through the residence, the atmosphere shifted from political theater to something intimate. Family photos lined the hallway. A child's artwork hung at eye level, bright finger paintings declaring "I LOVE MY DADDY" in crooked letters.
They heard her before they saw her, bright laughter mixing with clumsy puppy barks.
Jenna sat in her wheelchair near the garden fountain, surrounded by her mother and two older brothers, tossing a tennis ball for a golden retriever puppy.
"Hammy, bring it back!" She giggled as the pup tripped over his own feet. "He's still learning. Daddy says learning takes patience, but I think Hammy might need extra."
Mariana Rodriguez looked elegant even in gardening clothes, but her eyes never strayed far from her daughter. The boys, Diego and Carlos, took turns chasing the ball when Hammy got distracted.
Jay approached slowly. "Hey there. What's your pup's name?"
"Hamilton! Like the President, but I call him Hammy because he's silly." She threw the ball. Hamilton chased a butterfly instead. "He's... still working on that part. Carlos says he's got attention problems, but I think he just finds everything interesting."
Jay's laugh was genuine. "He's perfect. Learning's way more fun than knowing everything anyway."
He studied her animated expression. "What's your biggest dream, Jenna?"
Her expression turned wistful. "To race Hammy to the big oak tree and back." She pointed across the vast lawn. "All the way there and back, running together like the kids at school do with their dogs." Her voice grew smaller. "The doctors say maybe someday they'll figure out how to fix me, but..."
She shrugged with practiced resignation.
"What if we tried right now?"
Jay's hands began to glow with soft green light as he placed them gently on her legs.
Mariana stepped forward instinctively, but Rodriguez caught her arm.
"This might feel strange. Like bubbles in your legs."
"Ooh!" Jenna giggled, squirming with delight. "It does! It's like drinking soda but in my legs! Are you magic?"
"Something like that."
Jay closed his eyes, face tightening with concentration as he worked, threading new connections between damaged nerves, coaxing life back into muscles, realigning bones.
"My legs feel warm," Jenna reported with scientific curiosity. "Like when you sit funny and they fall asleep, but backwards. Is that supposed to happen?"
"That's your nerves waking up. They've been sleeping for a very long time."
Behind them, Carlos whispered, "Holy shit, is this really happening?"
"Language," Mariana scolded automatically, but her voice cracked.
Diego had gone silent, staring at the soft green glow with awe.
"Okay, Jenna. Try wiggling your toes."
She stared down at her feet with intense concentration. Then her eyes went wide.
"They moved! They actually moved! Mama, look!" She wiggled them again, then her whole foot. "I can feel them! I can feel everything! It's like they were hiding and now they're saying hello!"
Mariana's hands flew to her mouth. Diego grabbed Carlos's arm. From the house, staff members had gathered on the porch.
"Take your time. Your muscles are remembering how to work."
Jenna gripped her wheelchair armrests with determination. She pushed herself up slowly, shakily, but rose on her own power. Her knees wobbled, almost buckled, then found strength.
"I'm standing. I'm really standing."
One step. Tentative and uneven, but undeniably a step. Another. By the third, she was walking independently.
Rodriguez made a sound like laughing and crying had collided.
Then Jenna looked up at her father with the biggest smile in the world and took off running, awkward and stumbling but absolutely running straight toward him.
"Daddy! Look how fast I am!"
Rodriguez caught her as she crashed into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed.
"Daddy, guess what? Now I can run for President too, just like you!"
The dad joke hit Tony like a physical blow. He barked out a laugh that was half sob. "Kid learns to walk and immediately starts campaigning. Jesus, she's got better political instincts than half of Congress."
Jenna wiggled free and chased Hamilton around the fountain, her steps getting steadier. The puppy bounded in circles with her.
"Come on, Hammy! I can keep up now!"
Mariana collapsed onto the grass, crying openly. Diego wasn't even trying to hide his tears. Carlos alternated between grinning and wiping his eyes.
The staff stood transfixed. Rodriguez's security detail watched with naked amazement.
Rodriguez stood watching his daughter race in circles with her dog, chest heaving.
Eight years of specialists and experimental treatments and watching his baby girl smile bravely while doctors used words like "irreversible" and "learn to adapt."
"Eight years," he said, voice thick. "Every specialist in the country. Mayo Clinic, Johns Hopkins, Walter Reed, they all said permanent damage, nothing more we could do." He looked at Jay with reverence. "And you just... you gave her everything. Her future back."
Jenna had reached the oak tree and was running back with Hamilton bouncing beside her.
"Did you see? I made it all the way!" She crashed into her mother's arms, breathless and glowing. "Mama, I made it to the tree and back! Just like I dreamed!"
Rodriguez's voice carried new certainty. "Whatever you need for District X, you have it. Committee hearings, budget appropriations, press conferences."
He paused, watching Jenna teach Hamilton fetch. "If this costs me the next election, so be it. Nothing in politics matters compared to what you just gave us."
Jay handed him a plain white business card. "Keep this feeling. When the polling numbers turn ugly and the attack ads start running and your colleagues question your judgment, remember this moment. Remember her face." "District X is going to need every friend it can get."
"Daddy, come play!" Jenna called, waving both arms. "Hammy figured out how to run with me instead of away from me!"
Rodriguez smiled genuinely for the first time all day. "On my way, mija!" Then, quieter, turning back to Jay, "Thank you. I know those words aren't sufficient, but... thank you."
Near the helicopter, Tony pulled Jay aside.
"You scare the hell out of me sometimes. You take something pure, healing a child, and somehow make it the most effective political negotiation I've ever witnessed." He shook his head. "That little girl makes a dad joke before she can even walk properly, and I'm laughing so hard I can barely breathe. "
On the flight back, Jay sat quietly before pulling out his phone.
"Callisto? It's me. Everything's approved. Full government backing confirmed. District X is a go."
Tony watched him during the call and said, "If you ever decide to go corporate, give me advance warning. I don't want to wake up one morning and discover you've acquired Stark Industries while I was distracted by your latest miracle."
Jay's smile was faint, his eyes distant.
"I'll keep that in mind."
[A/N]: I write across multiple fandoms. Support my writing and get early access to 45+ chapters, exclusive content, and bonus material at my P@treon - Max_Striker.