Fandom: Iron Man (movieverse) Rating: R Pairing: Tony/Pepper Summary: It's Pepper who's hurt, but it's Tony who needs the comfort...   Disclaimer: Most of the characters and situations in this story belong to Marvel Comics, Fairview Entertainment, Dark Blades Films, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them.  All others are mine, and if you want to borrow them, you have to ask me first.  No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit.  Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any. Thank you to everyone who reads and lets me know what they think.  I appreciate it more than I can say.   Banner by the most generous Cincoflex!       ********* Pepper sighed and set down her BlackBerry.  It was ten in the morning and Tony had already called three times since leaving the house at seven-thirty.  Normally such behavior betokened either distraction on his part, or a desire to tease her--certainly not uncommon--but she had no information he was seeking, and he’d been serious each time.  She didn’t know whether to be flattered, annoyed, or just freaked out that he wouldn’t stop checking up on her.    At least he finally went to work.  He’d stayed home for two days despite Pepper’s protests, naturally stubborn and unnaturally quiet.  But either she or Jarvis had finally convinced him that she was well enough to be left on her own.    She was seriously tempted to just let the next call go to voicemail, but it seemed unkind somehow.  At least I know how to work the wretched thing now.  She hadn’t quite dared touch her laptop just yet; not that she expected more than perhaps an operating system upgrade, but Pepper knew her own methods, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face her own cryptic shorthand notes when she didn’t know what they were referring to.    Coward.    Pepper sighed, and rubbed her eyes, leaning her elbows on her desk.  The little home office was new to her, though Tony had assured her it had been put in for her in late 2006.  It was an eerie mixture of strangeness and familiarity--she recognized things like the framed photos on the wall and the novelty pens in the holder, but the laptop was a later model than she remembered and the chair, while set at exactly the right angle for her back, was completely new to her.    Once again she probed her memory for any trace of the missing time, without success.  Her brain insisted with perfect logic that it was 2005.  Pepper knew she should just let it go, that pressing for more would probably push any memories further away, but she couldn’t help it.  Her entire life had been turned upside down in one morning and shaken until the pieces had fallen onto the floor, and she felt like she was working from outdated plans in trying to put them back together.    I never expected my life to turn into a damned soap opera cliché!    A faint, nearly tuneless humming reached her ears; Severin was passing by in the corridor.  Tony’s housekeeper had arrived at nine-thirty, grunted at the sight of her, and gone about his duties without so much as an expression of surprise.  Pepper had only seen the crabbed little man perhaps twice before; he had been working for Tony for years.  In fact, if she recalled correctly--though Pepper was less inclined to trust her memory than usual--Severin had worked for the elder Starks for a decade before their deaths.    She had to wonder what he made of his employer.  Tony had built robots to vacuum the carpets and wash the floors, even scrub the tubs, but it was Severin who stocked the house with paper goods and clean towels, collected Tony’s laundry and sent it out to be cleaned, and performed all the little chores that were outside a robot’s abilities or Tony’s interest in programming.  And if he had any opinions at all, he never ventured them.    Pepper knew better than to go out and try to start a conversation, though she had a sudden desire to talk to someone--anyone--who wasn’t her boss or her boss’ computer.  Severin would just grunt again and detour around her.    But the idea took hold.  Pepper sat up straight, tapping one finger against her lips, not really seeing the terminal on her desk through which Jarvis had been tutoring her in remedial current events.  Why not?  There’s no reason I can’t leave for a bit.  It’ll probably do me good, in fact.  I need to get a glimpse of real life.  Three days of cramming history in the mornings and watching crime drama in the afternoon was leaving her feeling distinctly claustrophobic.    “Screen off,” she told Jarvis firmly.  “I’m going out for lunch.”    The AI did not reply, but the screen darkened, and Pepper rose to go find some shoes and socks.  Now that it had occurred to her, the desire to get out of the house for a few hours was strong.  Tony’s house was something of a refuge, true, but it was also limiting for all its size.  And it’s only been four years.  Malibu can’t have changed that much.    The first snag came when Pepper picked up her purse and remembered that while she usually parked her car in the driveway at the front of the house, she had no idea where it now was.  Well, think about it.  If you live here, it’s probably with the rest of the cars in the garage.    She was a little uncertain about going down to Tony’s sanctum when he wasn’t there, but the door accepted her palmprint and code without hesitation, clicking open easily and letting her through.  The row of cars, however, presented another problem--her familiar silver Audi wasn’t among them.    Great.  Did that get upgraded too?    The morning of her release from the hospital was somewhat foggy, but Pepper did remember pulling keys out of her purse at some point.  Yes, there they were, in the pocket where she always put them--no house keys, but three sets of car keys.  The lack of house keys made sense, since the mansion was accessed by code rather than more old-fashioned methods; but Pepper looked at the car keys with some trepidation.  It wasn’t hard to match them with specific vehicles, but--   Tony lets me drive those?    There was absolutely no way that she was going to take a fifty-year-old classic sports car on a lunch drive.  However, the key ring also held a remote clicker, and when Pepper pressed the button, the sleek little Mercedes convertible at the end of the row purred to life.    “Terrific,” Pepper muttered.  “The cars start themselves now.”  She wondered as she climbed into the car if it was one of Tony’s little “upgrades”, but given that there seemed to be no ignition slot at all she had to conclude that it was a manufacturer feature.    It was a sweet car, though.  The instant Pepper cleared the garage tunnel and broke out into the sun, her aggravation melted away, and she pushed the button to lower the top and laughed as the wind swept in.    The drive into town was swift, and Pepper even found a hairbrush in the glove compartment, exactly where she would have put one, to repair the damages caused by driving with the top down.  She pulled the scrunchie from the handle, smoothed out her tangles, and pulled her hair into a casual twist; the sore spot on her scalp was hardly more than tender now.    She spent a glorious two hours.  Some shops had come and gone, but her favorite coffee bar was still right where she’d left it, and so was the deli where they knew her by name.  If she didn’t pay too much attention, Pepper could pretend that nothing was wrong at all, that she was just taking a rare and well-deserved day off to relax and enjoy herself.  She bought a new pair of sunglasses--nothing expensive or high-end, just something to shield her eyes on the trip back to the house--and treated herself to some ice cream, a new historical mystery, and half an hour on a park bench, just soaking up fresh air and life.    She was reaching for the Mercedes’ remote when her BlackBerry rang again, and she barely glanced at the caller ID.  “Yes, Mr. Stark?”    “Where are you?”  His voice was tight.    “Downtown, I went out for lunch.”  Pepper frowned.  “Why?”    “I came home and you weren’t here.”  The words were precisely spoken, and Pepper knew that tone.  He was angry; not just annoyed, but really angry, a rare event and a significant one.  Normally her job was either to soothe that anger or direct it, but Pepper felt her own temper rising in return.    “Jarvis could have told you where I went,” she reminded him shortly.  “I didn’t sneak out.”    “Pepper, you--”  He broke off, and she could picture him squeezing his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose for control.  “You’re not entirely healed yet.  I don’t think you should be out by yourself.”    The pleasure she’d taken in freedom was fading, and Pepper raised her chin even though he wasn’t there to see it.  “You’re entitled to your opinion, Mr. Stark,” she said stiffly.  “But I am a competent adult and free to go where I wish.”  And if you tell me I’m not competent--    He said something she couldn’t quite make out--probably an obscenity--then sighed harshly.  “I know that,” he said after a moment.  “But will you please come home now?”    His flat tone made her want to do precisely the opposite, but she’d been about to leave anyway.  And, Pepper had to acknowledge bleakly, she still didn’t have any place else to go.    I should do something about that, she thought distractedly.  “All right.  I’m on my way.”    She clicked off the connection and started the Mercedes, pointing it back towards the mansion.  One of the first things she had done that noon was check her bank balance; she was prudent with money, so she had no worries, but it was good to know her assets exactly.  The figure had startled her, however.  I guess Tony’s still in the habit of giving me bonuses whenever he feels like it.    If she wanted to, Pepper could afford quite a few nights in the best hotel Malibu had to offer, not that she would be that extravagant.  In fact, she could put a down payment on a house.    You promised to stay for a while, her conscience reminded her.    Pepper’s lips tightened.  “A few days,” she muttered.  “I could leave tomorrow.”    You were lovers.  He’s probably frightened about you being gone, the insidious whisper went on.    And that made Pepper pull over onto the shoulder, suddenly even angrier.  She threw the car into park with a jerk and slammed her palms on the steering wheel.  “She was his lover,” she snapped to no one at all.  “Not me.”    And for an instant she hated herself, the four-years-older Virginia who had decided to give in to Tony Stark’s obvious charms, who had known a year of them before disappearing in a puff of smoke and leaving Pepper dizzy and bewildered in a world that wasn’t hers, with the responsibility of her boss’ heart on her hands.  Because it was pretty clear that was what it was.    Not that Pepper thought it was more than a passing infatuation on his part--that was the worst of it.  The Tony Pepper had known for years now specialized in one-night, three-day, one-week stands; he was capable of becoming temporarily fascinated by a woman for a little while, and the longer she held him off, the more fascinated he could get.  The only conclusion Pepper could draw was that after holding him off for years she herself had managed to captivate him for longer.    And he’s such a little boy in some ways.  Still suffering, to some degree, from the sudden, tearing loss of his parents.  Sure, he would tire of her sooner or later, and then there would be a mess the likes of nothing previous; but until then, to walk away from Tony was to hurt him in a way that Pepper just didn’t think she was capable of.    “How could you do this?” she raged at her silent, older self.  “How could you be this stupid, this shortsighted?”  Because Pepper knew him.  She knew his patterns, the way his mind worked--how he never allowed himself to really love, because to love was to lose.  And she simply couldn’t understand how she would have allowed herself to enter into a relationship that could only end in pain and loss and humiliation.    Pepper leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and choked out a few angry sobs, enough to loosen the knot of rage and hurt in her chest.  As they subsided, she realized something else.    She didn’t want her memory back.    I don’t want to be the woman who gives up everything for a fling.    The thought spread a sort of cool calmness over her anger.  Pepper put the car back into drive and pulled cautiously onto the road, smiling grimly.  At least the odds are on my side.    As she drove up the driveway, Pepper considered parking in the front, but her conscience twinged again, and she made for the garage instead.  The car didn’t really belong to her, it belonged to the person she used to be.  And it did deserve better than being left out to the wind and weather.    Tony was waiting in his workshop when she pulled the Mercedes into its spot--not working, not even sitting, just leaning against one table with his hands in his pockets and a careful lack of expression on his face.  Pepper braced herself as she got out of the car, reminding herself to be fair, but instead of yelling, Tony merely pushed away from the table edge and approached.  “Did you have a nice lunch?”    The complete absence of anger in his voice surprised her.  It wasn’t suppressed; it was gone.  She eyed him warily, her purse in one hand and her new book in the other.  “Yes, actually, I did.”    He nodded once.  “Good.”    Pepper looked at him, taking in details with automatic care.  He looked tired--not the sleep-deprived exhaustion of the aftermath of one of his creativity binges, but worn, like he had too much on his mind to sleep.  He’d pulled his tie askew as usual, but he still looked like he’d come straight from the boardroom, a man conscious of and confident in his power.    And he was afraid.    The realization took her aback, even after her earlier revelations.  “I’m sorry,” he said, quiet and blunt.  “You’re absolutely correct, you have every right to go where you want.”    The simple statement immediately made Pepper feel guilty, but she reminded herself sternly that she had no reason for guilt.  Nonetheless, her tone was softer than it might have been.  “Yes, I do.”    A muscle twitched in his jaw.  “Will you agree to letting me know if you do?  Maybe just for the next week or so?  For the sake of my nerves.”    It was a reasonable request, under the circumstances, and she couldn’t quite refuse.  “All right.”    Tony released a long breath, then pulled one hand from his pocket and held it out.  “Truce?”    Pepper transferred her book to her left hand and met his with her right one.  As it always was, the touch of his skin was a small shock--the sheer life pouring off him was something she never quite got used to.  But he shook her hand once, briskly, then let her go, stuffing his hand back into his pocket hastily.    Pepper took her own deep breath to settle herself.  “Did you eat lunch?”    Tony shook his head.  “I wanted to eat with you.”    That definitely brought the guilt back.  “Well, you still need food.  Come upstairs and I’ll sit with you while you eat.”    She headed for the stairs, and Tony followed.         He couldn’t sleep.    Normally, insomnia sent Tony to his workshop or to the bottle, but he’d curbed his drinking drastically over the past year and he was wary of starting again.  It hadn’t been that much of a temptation for a while; not only was he aware that his drinking distressed Pepper, her mere presence cut down on the urge.    But now that she was...not gone, never gone, his mind chanted desperately, but temporarily cut off from him--the restlessness and melancholy was resurging, forcing him off of his couch in the basement and onto the starlit terrace overlooking the sea.    Part of him acknowledged ironically that perhaps the broken-down couch was part of the reason he couldn’t sleep; it was fine when he was reeling from staying up two days straight, but it was a far cry from a high-end mattress with room to stretch out.  But somehow he hadn’t been able to bring himself to sleep in what had been their room.    Not without Pepper curled up beside him.  Anything else felt like a travesty.    And the rest of Tony knew that he couldn’t sleep because he was worried, he was frightened, he was missing the feel and the scent of his love in his arms, her slow breath against his neck, her leg thrown over his.    He hissed out a breath and propped his arms on the low wall of the terrace.  Without a moon the world was muted, details lost in the darkness, though the ocean was hushing and glimmering under the fairy silver of the stars.  The lack of light felt good in a way, wrapping around him, letting him drop the mask he’d had to wear since Pepper had woken in their bed and tried to slip away.    Something changed today, and I don’t know what.    It had been absolutely terrifying to come home and find her gone.  Tony hadn’t even realized that she’d taken a car, since Happy had dropped him off at the front door; she’d just been gone.    Jarvis had had to up his speaker volume by half again to be heard over Tony’s shouts.  And it had taken a stern warning from the AI--as stern as Jarvis got, anyway--to calm him enough to make a reasonable phone call.    He’d managed to hold onto his temper, though.  Barely.  And it was a good thing, because between when Pepper had hung up and when she’d got home, Tony had realized how fragile a hold he had on her.    She’s just had her life thrown into chaos.  She’s clinging to work because it’s familiar, but upset her too much, dumbass, and she might quit.    And leave.    And then what’ll you do?    The idea was pure panic in theoretical form.  He’d had to remind himself, repeatedly, that Pepper didn’t remember that she loved him, or that she had many reasons to stay.  Fortunately, she seemed to have accepted his apology.    She’d looked so much better when she’d come back, so alive, her face pink and her eyes brighter.  Tony had had to grit his teeth to keep from just scooping her into his arms and kissing her dizzy, because that was exactly what he did when the love got to be too much to hold in.    Love...it was weird, he mused silently, tilting his head back to see the stars.  He’d loved his parents, had a couple of crushes as a teen; it could even be argued that he loved Rhodey, the brother he’d never thought he’d have.  But the first true love for him was, quite simply, the last, and in the depths of the night and of his mind, he wasn’t ashamed to put it that way.    Virginia-Pepper-Potts.  Stubborn, gorgeous, smart, a total pain in my ass...I didn’t stand a chance.    It was as though all the opportunities to love he’d never taken were concentrated on her, pouring out over her in as wide a stream as she’d permit.  It was a glory and a wonder to him that he was capable of feeling so much, and a greater wonder that it was returned.    Her love was quieter, he thought, but she’d been caring for him longer--longer than he had known how he felt, anyway.  There were times when it seemed like he had always loved Pepper, consciously or not.    But now the memory of that love had been erased--no, not that, Tony corrected hastily.  Hidden.  Concealed for a while.  Pepper still loved him; she just didn’t know it--      Hell.    He bent his head, closing his eyes wearily.  And wondered if she was having trouble sleeping too.         Chapter One      Chapter Two     Chapter Three    Chapter Four    Chapter Five    Chapter Six     Chapter Seven    Chapter Eight    Chapter Nine    Chapter Ten    Chapter Eleven    Chapter Twelve    Epilogue    Iron Man Home Feedback