Fandom:
Iron Man (movieverse)
Rating: PG-13 (may change later)
Pairing: Tony/Pepper
Summary: It
will not be long, love...
Disclaimer: Most of the characters and situations in this story belong
to Marvel Comics, Fairview Entertainment, Dark Blades Films, NBC, and
other
entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement
is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. All others
belong to me, especially Cedric, and if you want to borrow them, you
have to ask me first.
Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.
Cincoflex and Laura27md,
betas extraordinare!
Note: I do realize that the flight time between Japan and California is
longer than described, but come on, this is Tony Stark. He
probably designed a faster engine for his planes in his sleep.
Also, regarding Pepper and Happy--really, folks, don't you trust me? *grin*
*********
"I dunno." Happy looked doubtful. Virginia sighed in mild
exasperation.
"I'm getting cabin fever, Happy. I understand why Tony wants you
keeping an eye on me, but really, the third guy probably crossed into
Mexico before I even made it home." She kept her voice level; two
days of doing nothing in Tony's house had her almost stir-crazy, but
she didn't want to sound irrational. In fact, Happy had no power
to keep her inside, but she didn't want to hurt him by pointing that
out, or get him in trouble with Tony. "Besides, I really need to
pick up a few things from home."
Happy squinted, and then surprised her with a sudden grin. "I
could use some fresh air."
He insisted on taking the limo, but Virginia insisted on sitting up
front, and they chatted easily on the way to her apartment. It
was a lovely day, sunny but with a nice breeze, and she threw open her
balcony doors when she got home to let some air in.
Happy sat on her couch and watched ESPN as she watered her plants and
did a few small chores. She packed some more clothing to take
back to Tony's place and emptied the dish drainer, regarding the
broiler pan thoughtfully as she put it away.
You miss him.
It wasn't really a surprise.
"Lunch is on me," she told Happy firmly as the limo pulled out of the
garage, and he chuckled.
"I never argue when a pretty lady offers me food," he said. "As
long as it's not salad."
"Red meat only," Virginia promised solemnly. "El Rosales
okay?"
"Sounds good." Happy slid the limo expertly into traffic; the
restaurant wasn't far, and within minutes they were being seated at a
window table, with Virginia considering a margarita mostly out of
pique. Normally she didn't drink alcohol before evening, but
since she had nothing to do...
In the end, though, she settled on hibiscus agua fresca, and Happy
chose iced tea, which didn't surprise her; he was on duty, lunch or
no.
They placed their orders, and she settled in to enjoy the chips and
salsa already on the table. She had just begun pushing the chip
basket towards Happy when she saw his smile fade to a frown as he
looked past her shoulder and out the window.
In the time it took her to draw a quick breath, he'd flipped the table
onto its side, sending salsa, silverware, and bud vase flying, and was
hurtling across the resultant space. Virginia heard a terrifying crack
and the musical crash of glass, and didn't resist when he engulfed her,
rolling them both to the ground regardless of chairs and other diners
and pressing her flat to the floor with his own body. Shouts
mixed with screams overhead; there was a sharp pattering like rain, and
the squeal of tires.
The screaming continued. Virginia both felt and heard Happy huff,
but he didn’t move, and she held still despite the pain of his
weight and the corner of her purse digging into her hip. This
sort of thing had happened once before, someone in Sri Lanka taking a
shot at Tony, and the safest thing to do was to hold still.
Except Tony’s not
here.
It seemed an endless few seconds before Happy shifted, carefully
lifting himself on his hands, but he was still hovering protectively
over her and Virginia didn’t do more than roll half-over to look
up at him. He was scanning their surroundings, face set and
scowling; the screaming, a woman’s, trailed off, but the babble
of excited voices didn’t let up.
Happy nodded down at her. “Gun,” he said softly, and
Virginia reached up to slide his pistol from his shoulder holster,
flicking off the safety. She wasn’t the best shot in the
world, but she knew how to handle a handgun; and Happy had no backup to
provide cover. He wanted her armed.
With a quick heave he flipped over, ending in a crouch and almost
immediately falling out of it to land on his backside with a
hiss. Virginia scanned the crowd around them, but she could spot
no immediate threat. The window they’d sat next to was gone,
and shattered safety glass was everywhere like a sudden icefall; the
restaurant was crowded with diners sitting and standing, and more
people were gathering on the sidewalk. In the distance, a siren
wailed.
She glanced back at Hogan, and the crimson smear on the floor made her
heart lurch. “Happy!”
He looked back at her, grimacing, and Virginia ignored protocol and
safety and all good sense and scooted over to him on her knees, shoving
the gun into his hand with her eyes fixed on the rapidly growing puddle
under his leg. “Dammit!”
Happy coughed a laugh, looking rapidly around. “Through and
through.” He relaxed slightly. “They’re
gone--”
His pants leg was soaked from hip to knee. She looked up at the
people crowding around, ignoring the stares and the excited
babble. “We need an ambulance now!”
“Cops are coming,” someone said, but her attention was back
on the hole in Happy’s leg. Virginia grabbed a couple of
napkins from the nearest table and pressed them against the topmost
wound; Happy grunted, but she put her weight into it, because though
his blood wasn’t spraying, it was leaking out far too fast for comfort.
“Lie down,” she snapped at him. Happy blinked at her,
which was frightening--he was never slow on the uptake--but after a
second or so he holstered the gun and lay back slowly.
The siren got louder, and Virginia heard more tires screeching, but her
attention was all on the rapidly-soaking napkins under her hands.
Uniformed legs surrounded them, crisp orders were passed, but she kept
her eyes on Happy’s leg, trying to will the blood to slow.
“Think I’ll get a bonus out of this?” he asked, his
voice low, and she sniffed.
“You’d damn well better. I'll forge it myself if I
have to." The banter was automatic, and she was grateful, because
it kept her from screaming.
That was meant for me
was overlain by frantic fear for Happy, whose face was greenish-white
despite the change in elevation. "Did you hear how many
shots?"
"Two, maybe three." She'd only heard one. Happy's eyes slid
closed, and Virginia shoved brutally at his wound to make him open them
again. "Uhgh. Boss was right about you."
"What do you mean?" Keep
talking, she begged silently. Stay awake--
"Rough when you're scared." The words were a mumble.
Virginia felt her throat close, but then gloved hands pushed her aside
and two bodies nudged her quickly back.
"We have him, ma'am, just let us work." The EMTs' whole focus was
on Happy, and it took Virginia a moment to gather her thoughts enough
to shuffle back and stand up. Her hands were slick with blood,
and she could feel her pants sticking to her knees where more blood had
soaked in.
"Ma'am? Ms. Potts?" The voice was polite, and Virginia had
to blink twice before she could focus on the cop standing next to her,
a young man no more than her height with a mustache that seemed to be
trying to make up for his lack of years. But his eyes were calm,
and the hand under her elbow was polite. "Come this way,
please."
It didn't surprise her that he knew her name; she wasn't quite the
public figure that Tony was, but Virginia knew she had been all over
the news lately. She let the cop lead her a few steps away, but
balked at going too far from Happy. "The shooter--"
"Gone," the young man said, nodding at another cop nearby. "We
have patrols out looking now, with more once we get a
description. There were plenty of witnesses, anyway."
She swallowed hard, turning to look back, but she couldn't see much of
Happy past the busy EMTs. "Was--was anyone else hurt?"
The cop shook his head. Virginia felt something wet touch her
hands, and looked down in startlement to see the other cop--a
woman--wiping at the blood with a disposable cloth. "Are you
injured, Ms. Potts?" the young man asked.
Virginia shook her own head, distracted. "I...who was it?"
She didn't know why she was asking the question. The restrained
menace of Three seemed to linger in the back of her mind, spilling
forth like a poison. He's
trying to shut me up.
"We don't know yet, ma'am. We'd like to ask you a few
questions."
The woman finished with her hands and gave Virginia a gentle
smile. "We can take you down to the station, and you can
call--"
"No." Virginia
pulled her hands away, resisting the urge of the tug on her
elbow. "I'm not leaving Mr. Hogan."
The name sprang to her lips automatically; she felt herself shifting
into her professional mode, as if all this had to do with Tony and she
was just the manager behind the scenes. "I'll answer questions,
but it'll have to be at the hospital."
The officer hesitated, glancing back at the EMTs, then nodded.
"I'll drive you, ma'am."
Past his shoulder she saw a gurney being lifted up on its wheels like a
cot on stilts, Happy's form bulking dark against the white
covering. She took a step forward, but before she could speak the
whole thing was wheeled rapidly out towards the waiting
ambulance.
Virginia took a deep breath, closed her hands into careful fists, and
nodded. "Let's go."
It was the longest five hours he could remember spending. Tony
paced around the cabin of his plane, unable to sit still, cursing every
moment they weren't flying fast enough and cursing himself more for not
taking Pepper's call. He'd been absorbed in retuning the reactor,
and it had been two hours
before he'd even picked up the phone to check his messages.
Someone had tried to kill her--damn near succeeded--and he was half the
world away.
He'd heard the trembling fear in her voice despite her calm
phrases--fear for Happy--and that fear was an additional burden on his
own heart. Tony hadn't been able to get a hold of her since, and
he was deeply afraid that it meant she was still at the hospital, where
cellphones were not permitted. Is
he even still alive?
Tony knew Happy would give his life for Pepper, hefty paycheck or not,
but he found himself praying that the sacrifice hadn't been
necessary. The idea of life without that silent presence at his
shoulder was painful.
He even found himself wishing for his armor, as impractical as that
was; putting it on without the 'bots' help might be possible, but it
would require two or three friends and an assortment of tools, as well
as at least a couple of hours of free time. But the flight time would be less.
By the time they began to land he was ready to get out and push,
but fortunately for Tony's temper his arrangements were in place.
A car was waiting on the tarmac when he climbed out of the plane, with
a Customs agent standing by, and Tony barely had to pause for the
formalities. He dismissed the driver and swung in behind the
wheel, and as he made his way out of the airport grounds and dove into
traffic he wondered grimly what Happy had done to deserve ending up in
the same hospital twice in such rapid succession.
Nothing. That's the
problem.
Pepper had left instructions at the hospital's front desk, so no one
argued when Tony asked for Happy's location. He took the stairs, too
impatient to wait for the elevator, and mounted them two at a time to
reach the ICU waiting lounge. The room was anonymously
well-appointed, only the odor of antiseptic marking it as belonging to
a hospital rather than a hotel, but Tony hardly noticed; all his
attention was immediately fixed on the slender figure huddled up in a
low armchair.
His temper, already precarious with guilt, tipped towards fury at the
sight of Agent Donovan sitting in the next chair, his dark head bent
over hers. The relieved Pepper
came out harsher. "Ms. Potts."
Pepper looked up, and the relief on her face made him ashamed.
She rose up hastily, and Tony closed the distance between them and
wrapped protective arms around her, glorying for a guilty second in the
fact that she was seeking him out. But her hard hug was brief,
and then she was drawing back. "He's out of surgery," she
reported. "I have power of attorney for him here, so they let me
see him, but he's still under."
The news, welcome as it was, made him briefly dizzy. Tony let his
hand linger at her waist, needing the additional touch. "Simple
gunshot, right?"
Pepper nodded. "It nicked an artery, but didn't hit bone.
They had to transfuse him." She shuddered. "He almost bled
to death."
He bit back horror at the thought, and reached for confidence.
"He'll be fine then. I'll probably have to lock him up to take
sick leave." Tony gave her a cockeyed look. "Like someone
else I could mention."
Her laugh was hardly more than a sputter, but it made her eyes light
for a moment, and that was enough. "Well." She
sobered. "We're pretty sure that it was...was Three who was
shooting."
Pepper gestured at Donovan, who had risen to stand by his chair,
regarding them both with a coolly professional gaze. His voice
was level. "Mr. Stark."
Tony returned a short nod. The hostilities would have to wait;
Pepper's safety took precedence. "So why haven't you caught this
asshole yet?"
All right, most of the
hostilities.
The agent's mouth twisted, and it was clear that at least half the
annoyance belonged to the situation rather than Tony. "Oddly
enough, because he's not acting like a professional."
That, Tony understood. It was one of the small weirdnesses of
tactics: a tyro could gain an advantage through sheer ignorance, if the
opponent was expecting a smarter move. "You think he's winging
it?"
"It would seem so." Donovan rubbed a hand over his short beard,
showing a trace of weariness. "We expected him to head for the
border and try to get out of reach."
Beside him, Pepper shivered, and Tony realized that she hadn't moved
away, that his hand was still resting on the small of her back.
He let the I told you so fall
away; impolitic didn't even
begin to describe how that would sound. "So what have you
got?"
The agent grimaced. "Varying eyewitness descriptions of the
vehicle, but no clear picture of the shooter or the driver.
Someone did get half the license plate, though, and my team is checking
for video surveillance."
"Happy saw something," Pepper put in, her voice betraying strain.
"But I didn't."
"We'll be talking to Mr. Hogan as soon as he's able for it," Donovan
said, bending his head slightly at Tony's inhale. "We won't
stress him, Mr. Stark. My team is well aware of the limitations
of someone who's been wounded."
Tony had no doubt that they were, but resolved to have a hand in the
questioning if at all possible. Happy would probably stress himself
in an effort to get across all the information he could. He
opened his mouth, but again the agent got in first. "The best
place right now for Ms. Potts is a safe house. We can provide
escort as soon as she's ready to--"
"I'm not leaving until Happy
wakes up," Pepper burst out angrily. "And--"
Tony stepped away from her, aware that remaining close might betray him
into a more physical display of protectiveness than anyone was ready
for, and glared at Donovan. "My house has tighter security than
anything the FBI can provide."
"Except that Ms. Potts was tracked from there," the agent pointed out
smoothly. "Will you keep her a prisoner until this man is
found?"
Pepper drew herself up. "I won't hide," she shot back.
"He's not going to run my life."
Donovan arched a brow. "That's all very well, but what happens
when he comes after you again? Are you willing to risk an
innocent getting in the way?"
Low blow, Tony thought
furiously as Pepper went pale, and kept his voice even. "I can
get more security in here within the hour."
She shook her head distractedly. "No--who, Tony? Jorge and
Eunice? Tristan? I can't put them at risk either--"
"A private firm, then," Tony countered; there was no one on the SI
headquarters security roster that Pepper didn't at least know by
name. "Professionals. They'd have body armor--"
Her eyes flashed. "Body armor wouldn't have helped Happy!"
Pepper put a hand to her forehead, and Tony could see the exhaustion
dragging her down. "I could just go away, somewhere where no one
knows me..."
He fought back panic at the idea of her
leaving
him, and forced himself to think. And the solution fell into
place, as easily as a coin into a slot. "Yes. I've got just
the place."
Pepper looked at him, and he could see the argument forming, so he
reached out and took her hands gently in his, noting for the first time
the scrapes along her forearms. "Potts. Trust me, will
you? Let me handle it."
"Tony, I--" Her forehead was creased, the way it got when she had
a headache, and he made a mental note to find some analgesics.
"Ms. Potts," Donovan began, but before he could go on a throat cleared
behind them, and Tony turned with Pepper to see a nurse in the
doorway.
"Harold Hogan's family?" the woman said, eyes flicking over all of
them.
Tony released one of Pepper's hands but kept the other. "All but
blood," he confirmed, and she smiled dryly.
"He's awake. You can visit for five minutes, if you keep your
voices down."
Pepper's shoulders straightened, and she strode towards the nurse with
a fair approximation of her usual confidence. Tony paced her
until Donovan's voice reached his ears. "A word, Mr.
Stark?"
He let Pepper's hand go, and nodded her on when she glanced back,
waiting until she was out of earshot before turning. "Special
Agent?"
"I'm sure you remember my saying that there is no room for amateurs in
this kind of situation," Donovan said quietly.
Tony regarded him sardonically. "There were two attempts made on
my father's life before I was even born," he said. "A car bomb
almost took out him and my
mom
when I was three. I've had bodyguards since before I could
walk. And last year people tried to kill me, oh, five or six
times." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "And Stark
Industries has an entire division specializing in personal protection,
for which I've designed at least forty prototypes, to say nothing of
Iron Man. I may not be a team player, Agent Donovan, but I'm not
an amateur."
Donovan regarded him for a long, assessing moment. The man's eyes
were so deep a black as to be unreadable, but Tony saw something shift
in him, and figured he'd passed the test.
"It's highly irregular," Donovan said at last, "but I'm inclined to
make a field judgment and let you take care of Ms. Potts'
security. If only because an uncooperative witness is her own
worst enemy."
Tony let the conditional pass. "Trust me, where we're going he'll
never find her." He jerked his chin at the agent. "Which
reminds me, once we leave the hospital she will be incommunicado.
I'm not bringing her back until this guy is caught. So if you
have any more questions, ask them soon."
"I'll do that." Donovan's expression was irony itself, but Tony
had no time for it. Happy was waiting.
Happy didn't look awake when
Virginia stepped past the drawn-back curtain, but when she brushed her
fingertips cautiously across the back of his hand his eyes opened,
focusing blearily on her. She smiled, her own eyes
prickling. "Hi."
The big man's lips twitched under the oxygen cannula, and he turned his
hand over. Virginia engulfed it with both of hers.
"Y'okay?" he mumbled.
She had to laugh, just a breath's worth. "Thanks to you."
Happy smiled tiredly, and she could see the amusement. "Just
doin' my job."
That made the tears spill over, and Virginia wiped them hastily
away. This was by no means the first time she'd encountered
violence in Tony's employ, and she had been shielded from harm by other
bodyguards as well as Happy in the past; but none of them had nearly
died protecting her. The squeeze of his fingers on hers, though,
told her he understood.
"Bonus," she retorted. "I can do his signature perfectly--"
"I damn well hope you can," Tony said softly, coming up beside her, and
she felt the warmth of his hand settle on the small of her back
again. It was surprisingly comforting. "But you won't have
to."
Hogan stirred, sobering. "Sir--"
Tony shook his head, and Virginia felt something passing between them,
inaudible but tangible. Whatever it was, it made Happy relax
again.
Tony reached out and gripped his shoulder lightly. "The FBI is
going to come by and ask you some questions when you feel better.
I know they're asses but..."
Happy's mouth curled up slightly. "You keep her safe,
right?" His voice was slurring, and Virginia saw his eyes start
to slide shut.
"Promise," Tony told him, squeezing his shoulder before letting
go.
Happy nodded, one jerk of his head, and his eyes didn't open.
Virginia leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Get better," she
told him sternly, and his fingers tightened on hers before going
lax.
They were silent passing the other patients in the ICU, but as soon as
they were out Tony spoke. "I need a phone, Potts."
"There's a bank of them in the lobby," she replied automatically, but
he shook his head again.
"Something not so close to the front doors." His thumb stroked
her spine, and Virginia stepped away from his touch, remembering
belatedly that it wasn't really appropriate under the
circumstances.
"I think there's a booth in the waiting room." Her own hands felt
empty without her BlackBerry, but then they'd felt empty for days
now.
"Good. I need to call Rhodey."
Agent Donovan was still in the waiting room when they reached it,
scribbling in a small notebook, but he rose when they came in.
"Mr. Hogan is doing well?"
Virginia managed to smile at him for caring. "Yes. Thank
you."
Tony shot the man a glance of dislike and took himself over to the
little desk that held the phone. Virginia sighed, but Donovan
didn't appear to be taking offense at her boss' rudeness. His
attention was all on her, a dark and hooded gaze that nevertheless held
compassion. "I realize you're tired, Ms. Potts, but I do have a
few more questions if I may."
She let out a breath and sat down, opening her hands in a resigned
gesture. "We're here. We might as well."
The questions were more of the same--descriptions of her captors,
details she might have forgotten, anything she’d noticed from the
shooting. Donovan sat opposite her, clearly trying not to loom,
and she answered as best she could, but there was only so much she
could say. "I truly don't remember anything more," she said
finally, biting her lip at the tremble in her voice. "I
didn't--"
Virginia broke off, rubbing her aching forehead, and Donovan
sighed. "I'm sorry, Ms. Potts. I know this is
difficult."
Difficult? she wanted
to scream at him. I've had the
week from hell and just seen
one of my best friends get shot,
and you're pretending it's just difficult? But
that wasn't fair. To him, it was probably routine.
Donovan's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward slightly.
"If you would rather not remain under Mr. Stark's protection, we can
still offer you the safe house," he said quietly. "Despite his
claims, the FBI does have considerable resources at its command."
She was so tired. A
safe
house, far away from everyone she knew, actually sounded good; no
friends to endanger, no Tony to confuse her. But it would mean
cutting herself off from updates on Happy's condition, possibly
indefinitely. And--
I can't do that to him.
Tony might be playing the capable, incisive businessman just now, but
she hadn't forgotten--couldn't
forget--the desperation she'd seen in him when she returned, or the
feel of his gasping breath against her neck as he'd wept. Her
going into hiding now would be too much for him.
"I--thank you, Agent Donovan. But I'd go crazy with nothing to
do." The smaller truth was good enough as an excuse. "At
least with Tony looking after him will keep me busy."
The intent gaze softened. "I'm sure it will." His smile was
austere but genuine. "Though you might try letting him take care
of you for a little while; you've been through some rough times."
Virginia shook her head in lieu of a reply. Donovan stood, and
automatically she rose too; he reached into his pocket and handed her a
business card. "If you think of anything else, or change your
mind...the line is monitored twenty-four-seven."
"Thank you," she said, to be polite, and put it into her purse.
Her mood shifts were starting to scare her; she wanted to blame it on
adrenaline, but it felt deeper somehow, as if something fundamental was
beginning to crumble. She returned Donovan's murmured farewell,
turning as he slipped gracefully past her, and was startled to see Tony
watching her from the desk chair. His expression was
somber.
"Was Rhodey in?" Virginia asked, more out of politeness than
curiosity. Tony rose.
"Yeah. He's going to come in and keep an eye on Happy for
us. I want someone on his side when the Feds question him."
"He's not a suspect, Tony!"
she protested, annoyed. Tony's quick smile was without
amusement.
"He'll wear himself out trying to help, you know he will. Rhodey
will make sure he doesn't push himself too hard."
"You could do it yourself," Virginia pointed out.
Tony gestured towards the door. "I'm going to be with you."
She thought about arguing, but couldn’t summon the energy.
"Where are we going?" She let herself be herded out of the room,
a neat trick since Tony was carefully not touching her now.
"One of my overseas properties. I don't think we'll have to be
there too long; the FBI may be pricks, but in this case they've got
more reach." He looked her over, face hardening. "You need
a change of clothes."
"If we're going overseas I'll need my passport,"
Virginia retorted. "At least."
"It's being handled." Tony glanced at his watch, then halted next
to a map of the hospital displayed on the corridor wall. "Hold on
a sec."
For no reason that she could discern, Virginia felt tears rising again,
and set her teeth to force them back. She wanted a shower
desperately, to go with the clean clothes; Happy's blood had dried into
her pants, making them stiff and strange against her shins. Her
headache was getting worse.
Tony finished consulting the map, and eyed her sharply. "Can you
hold on a few more minutes, Potts? All we need to do is get
downstairs."
She scraped together control, and lifted her chin, reminding herself
that she had handled multinational crises and Tony insulting heads of
state without losing it. "I'll be fine."
His grin was sudden. "That's the spirit. Come on,
stairwell."
They went down three flights on stairs not really meant for visitors,
to judge by their bare utility. At the bottom waited a tall man
in a security guard's uniform, whose glance took them both in
swiftly. "Your car's here, Mr. Stark," he said.
"Good. Lead on." Tony gestured Virginia through the door
ahead of him, after the guard, and they emerged into a receiving area,
which currently held only two other guards, one seated at a desk.
She looked up at their escort and nodded, then returned her attention
to the monitor on the desk, and Virginia guessed that she was watching
a feed from a video camera.
Their guard pressed a button on the wall, and the rolling door on the
receiving dock rattled noisily upward. Cool night air swept in,
and she breathed it in, suddenly stifled by the hospital
atmosphere.
Just beyond the dock waited a late-model luxury sedan, dark and
anonymous. Tony trotted down the dock's steps and opened the door
for her, and she slid into the plush interior, recognizing Tristan at
the wheel. The Stark Industries security officer, small and mild
and a crack shot, gave her half a smile in the rear-view mirror.
"Mr. Hogan okay?"
"He will be." Virginia settled back as Tony closed the door, and
reached for her seatbelt, wishing that they could roll down the
windows. The door opposite hers opened, and Tony ducked
inside.
"Straight to the airport," he instructed. "And keep your eyes
open. If you see anything suspicious, anything at all, speak
up."
"Yessir." Tristan started the engine.
The ride to the airport was brief and uneventful. Virginia tilted
her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, trying to regulate
her breathing and praying that Tony wouldn't start a
conversation. Mercifully, he didn't, just exchanging the
occasional quiet word with Tristan as they slipped through
traffic.
It felt like she was abandoning Happy. Virginia knew it wasn't
true; barring complications, he was going to be fine, and would
probably be out of the ICU in the morning. And you can't hang around the hospital
until he's ready to go home. Not to mention putting others
there in danger, should Three track her down.
Her eyes flew open at a sudden thought. “Tony, what about
Happy? He may have seen the shooter. If Three goes after
him...”
Tony’s face was hard to see in the darkness; the tinted windows
kept out most of the glow from the streetlights. But he reached
out and laid a hand over hers for a moment. “He’ll be
fine. Hospital security and the local cops both know that he may
be at risk, and as soon as he’s released Rhodey’ll take him
down to the house in Hawaii. He can get a tan while he heals
up.”
The news was reassuring; Tony’s estate on Kauai was not only an
extremely private compound but was under his mother’s maiden
name. Very few people even knew he owned property there.
“Is that where we’re going?”
“Nope.” Tony leaned forward as Tristan took the
airport exit. “Head back to the commercial entrance,
please.”
Within twenty minutes they were climbing up the stairs into one of
Stark Industries’ executive jets, the engines already whining up
into readiness. Virginia automatically sat down and strapped
herself in, ignoring the alarmed glance of the steward at her
appearance. Tony spoke briefly to the man, too low for her to
make out, then headed up front to talk to the pilot as well; by the
time he came back they were already taxiing to the runway.
Normally Virginia had nothing to do with the plane's more private
amenities; she had been known to nap on the couch on occasion during a
long flight or a late one, but the tiny bedroom and even tinier shower
at the back of the plane were strictly Tony's territory. But once
they reached cruising altitude, she accepted Tony's direction without
argument and went back to find the bag that had been packed for
her.
It was her own suitcase from Tony's house, containing two changes of
clothes and her toiletries, and it was so welcome a sight that Virginia
didn't even wonder too much about who had done the packing for
her. She had to make the shower quick--the water supply on board
was limited--but it was a relief to wash off the tacky remains of
Happy's blood.
When she emerged from the bedroom, Tony looked up from his seat.
"You look better."
She shrugged. He pointed at the couch, and rose. "Sit
down. Please."
More baffled than annoyed, Virginia complied. Tony picked
something up from the table behind him and surprised her by kneeling in
front of her, tossing the box onto the couch. It was a first-aid
kit, and he reached out and took her wrists carefully, turning her arms
over to examine the scrapes left by Happy’s tackle.
His face was very still, and she found herself so fascinated by that
control, by the absolute lack of his usual humor, that she let him dab
antiseptic cream on the deepest scrape and fasten a bandage over
it. When he was satisfied with her arms, he sank back onto his
heels and lifted her feet onto his thighs, peeling off her socks to
examine her healing cuts. She thought about protesting, just on
principle, but decided again that it would take too much effort.
What he saw seemed to satisfy him. Tony replaced her socks,
somewhat awkwardly, and looked up at her. "Are you hurt anywhere
else?"
She had a bruise on her hip and two on her knees from the landing, but
she wasn't about to mention them and there was nothing he could do for
them anyway, so Virginia shook her head.
Tony nodded once, and pushed himself to his feet. "You need to
eat something," he said firmly. "I know Jacques has some
soup--"
The plane dipped suddenly as it hit an air pocket, and Tony
staggered. Automatically she reached up and pulled him down
beside her, bracing them both as the plane shook and rattled.
Then the ride smoothed out again.
"Or maybe just sandwiches." Tony's eyes were wide, fixed on her
face, and he seemed to be waiting, but Virginia didn't know for
what. Then he blinked, and looked away. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she said, sheer habit.
The turbulence continued, off and on, and Virginia forced down half a
sandwich but left the rest despite Tony's cocked brow and the steward's
clucking. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten, but
she just wasn't hungry.
"Do you want a drink?" Tony asked her softly when Jacques had taken
their plates. "A little relaxation couldn't hurt, Potts."
She shook her head. She was so tired that it felt like her eyes
were crossing, but the last thing she wanted was something that would
erode her barriers here, where Tony would be no further than a few
yards away. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not, but we'll let that pass," he retorted, and waved
Jacques off. It was odd for him to refuse alcohol, but Virginia
was too exhausted to consider it.
The turbulence, while not dangerous, was too active for her to lie down
on the couch without a seatbelt. She put her head back in her
chair instead, and closed her aching eyes.
Her sleep was shallow, unrestful. The bumping of the plane kept
pulling her awake, and it seemed like she never quite got away from the
roar of the engines or Tony's low voice. But Virginia couldn't
force herself to stay awake, either; she rose and sank on an uneasy
tide, dreaming flashing dreams of shopping for jewelry on an endless
street or trying to make out words in a murmuring cacophony.
There were no nightmares, at least.
By the time they landed, it was dawn, and she stumbled out of the plane
still dazed with exhaustion; the cold morning air seemed just another
aspect of dream, and did nothing to wake her. Tony bundled her
into another car, and it was five minutes before she could organize her
thoughts enough to frame the question. "Was coming all the way to
Japan really necessary?"
Tony didn't look at her; he was watching the scenery pass by outside
the limousine. "Dunno. But whoever was shooting at you will
have a very hard time tracking you this far."
"Tony--" she protested. "All they'll have to do is look up where
the plane went."
The corner of his mouth curled up, sardonic. "They can stake out
the Tokyo apartment for a year if they want. We're going to
Matsue.”
Pepper was asleep again before they even hit the highway, and Tony was
grateful. She didn’t look so wounded
when she was sleeping; the desire to comfort her could be overridden by
the need to let her rest. He thumbed off the limo’s air
conditioning and rode in silence, every so often glancing over at the
figure curled up in the opposite corner. Matsue is the perfect place for her to
rest.
The city wasn’t their exact target; there were Stark properties
throughout the world, and one of them was a rather old estate on the
shore of Lake Shinji, quiet and beautiful. Unlike many of his
houses, this one Tony had purchased himself, with the early profits
from his first patent; he’d been fifteen at the time, and in love
with Japan.
Also unlike most of his properties, he had never invited anyone to the
lakeside property, keeping it as an absolutely private refuge. He
didn’t visit often--there wasn’t time--but it nonetheless
boasted a small, full-time staff, holding the place ready for him
whenever he needed it. Pepper had been there twice before, and he
knew she admired the traditional building, which was furnished in
classic Japanese style.
It was mid-morning by the time they reached the house, passing through
first woods and then the well-tended gardens. The lake was just
visible beyond another band of trees, but at that moment Tony had no
interest in the water.
Yuu, the housekeeper, was waiting at the front door when Tony got out
of the limo. Pepper didn’t stir; he motioned the driver to
open her door, and gathered her up, holding her close as he turned
towards the house. At the sight, Yuu turned slightly and spoke to
someone within, then stepped out of the way as Tony neared.
He nodded in response to her bow, unable to return it, and with her
usual quick perception she skipped the formalities, merely leading him
to the nearest of the two private rooms. One of the other staff
was unrolling the futon, and Tony bent and laid Pepper carefully on the
thick mattress.
Yuu ordered the man from the room with a soft word, and stood at the
foot of the bed as Tony slid Pepper’s shoes from her feet and
pulled up the quilt to cover her. “Is she ill?” the
housekeeper asked.
Tony straightened, suddenly aware of how tired he was; it was an effort to find
the right words in Japanese. “No.
Just...hurt.”
He grimaced, not knowing how to explain, but Yuu didn’t
ask. The sturdy woman, whose greying hair betrayed her age,
looked down at Pepper for a moment. “We’ll take care
of her.”
Tony smiled slightly. “That’s why I brought
her.”
An hour later he was clean, full of soup and fruit, and dressed in a
cotton yukata. He sat crosslegged against the doorframe of
Pepper’s room, sipping slowly from a cup of sake and watching the
quilt-covered mound that was his sleeping assistant.
Jarvis had relayed messages from both Rhodey and Happy; the chauffeur
was doing well and already complaining about having to stay in bed, and
Rhodey would make sure that he got safely to Hawaii. The reactor
in Tokyo was running green at the moment, though Tony did want to swing
by and have another look at it soon. All his responsibilities
were covered.
But despite his weariness, Tony couldn’t bring himself to
move. He knew he should go to bed and at least try to catch up on
some of the sleep he’d been skipping, but he still felt like
Pepper would disappear if he turned his back. It was irrational,
but he couldn’t help
it.
What he really wanted to do was climb up on the futon with Pepper and
hold her, but her own reaction aside there was the staff to think
about. Yuu’s people did not gossip, but he didn’t
want to change their perception of Pepper.
So he sat, and listened to the birds singing in the garden outside her
window, and watched. And never noticed when consciousness slid
away.
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