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!       ********* “Today’s topics may cause you some distress,” Jarvis said when Pepper sat down at her desk.  She raised a brow at the monitor and sipped from her coffee.    “All right,” she said after a moment, wary but curious.  The schedule the AI had created for her listed Stark Industries-related history for the morning, and she wondered what had happened.  “I assume you’re talking about Obadiah’s death?”    It had been a shock to find out that the company’s genial, energetic CFO was dead.  She had mentioned him in passing the night before, wondering out loud how he felt about the results of the last election, and Tony’s face had closed down into a blank.  He’s dead was all Tony had said, but there was obviously more to the story, and while she hadn’t pressed, Pepper couldn’t help wondering what had happened.    “In part,” Jarvis replied.  “Many things have happened during the past eighteen months that may seem incredible, but they are necessary if you are to rebuild your store of knowledge.”    Pepper sighed.  “Cryptic doesn’t suit you, Jarvis.”    The AI didn’t sigh, but she got the feeling it would have liked to have that affectation available.  “I am trying to prepare you, Ms. Potts.  Mr. Stark has me monitoring your vital signs, and I am to alert him should you become distressed in any way.  However, I do not wish to cause him unnecessary distress either.”    Pepper thought that over for a moment.  The notion that Jarvis was listening to her very heartbeat was annoying but not terribly surprising, and she had to admit that the circumstances over the weekend had rather warranted the caution.  We’re way past the weekend, though.    “Can I countermand that one?” she asked at last.    “No.”    “Oh well,” she muttered into her coffee.  “All right, I’ll try to be Zen about whatever it is you’re not telling me.  Can we get on with it, please?”    The screen in front of her brightened with a graph of stock prices, and Jarvis began his lecture.      Three hours later slow tears were trickling down her cheeks, but Pepper kept her breathing deep and even, so as not to force Jarvis to alert Tony.  It had taken the AI only about forty minutes to cover the company’s normal progress; the rest of the time had been taken up with Tony’s kidnapping and its aftermath.  Jarvis had presented the events mainly from the viewpoint of the company alone, but Pepper’s imagination was doing a fine job of filling in the more personal details.    It felt horrific.  How could I forget all this?  He was gone three months...      She could barely imagine what that must have been like.  The agony of realization, and then the slow, equally painful death of hope, because while Tony had an unmatched propensity to land on his feet, three months was far too long to have believed he was still alive.    And yet, he’d survived.  Come back with new technology and a new attitude, and sent his company into convulsions with the announcement that it would make no more weapons.    And within days, Stark Industries’ headquarters was half-destroyed, Obadiah had died in a plane crash, and Tony Stark had told the world that he and his latest creation were one and the same.    Grandstanding, Pepper thought bitterly as she watched a recording of the press conference.  Then she wondered why it made her so angry; it was really nothing less than might be expected from Tony.    Rummaging absently in her desk, Pepper found a tissue and mopped her face dry as the recording ended.  “I think...I need a break.”    “A sound decision,” Jarvis approved.  “After lunch we can continue with company history to the present day.”    Pepper frowned, not liking the idea.  “Come on, Jarvis--there has to be more to this than what you’ve shown me.”    “Of course there is,” the AI agreed.  “And you were a vital part of these events.  But...”    It wasn’t hard to follow where Jarvis was so blatantly pointing her.  “But it’ll upset me, and you’ll have to call Mr. Stark.”    “Precisely.”  He paused a moment.  “However, there are a number of alternatives.”    Pepper grinned.  “Your biosensors don’t extend as far as the beach, do they?”    For something with no face at all, Jarvis could convey a smile very well.  “They do not.”    She tossed away the tissue and rose to stretch.  “I think I feel the need for some sun, Jarvis.  How about I take my laptop down to the beach after I eat something?”    “The sunblock is in the mudroom on the ground floor,” Jarvis replied serenely.    A salad and a generous application of SPF 30 later, Pepper lugged a folding deck chair, her laptop, and a bottle of iced tea down to the beach.  Sunscreen notwithstanding, she settled in the shade; it would make it easier to read the screen of the computer.  Once she was comfortable--shoes kicked off, toes dug into the sand, drink to hand--she took a deep breath.  “Okay.  Let’s have it.”     Private e-mails between Rhodey and Obadiah and Pepper.  Brave words that didn’t quite hide despair or grim determination.    A brief phone call that crackled with static and emotion.  “We found him, Pepper--he’s okay--”    Press photos of Tony thin and battered, one arm in a sling, staring out at the crowd in front of him with eyes that bespoke horrors.    Scans made by Jarvis of what now kept Tony’s heart from being sliced to ribbons.  Mark I, Mark II.  A glass box.    The real reason the Iron Man suit worked the way it did.    Board minutes, detailing Obadiah’s scheming and treachery.    An image of Tony and Pepper in the workshop, both scowling, both poised on the edge of some decisive moment.    The files she’d retrieved from headquarters.    Obadiah prying the reactor from Tony’s chest.    Obadiah’s suit.    Betrayal.  Death.    Change.      Pepper stayed on the beach long after the last streaks of sunset had vanished, listening to the waves stroke the shore.  The iced tea was long gone and her computer sat closed in her lap, Jarvis silenced, but she didn’t move.    Nor did she cry.  It was all too big, too strange, too deep; too much.  The Tony she knew wasn’t just changed; he was gone, outgrown like a too-small skin, and the man who lived in the house clinging to the cliff above her was as much a stranger as the self Pepper had lost.  She didn’t recognize the Obadiah who had sent Tony out to be murdered; she didn’t recognize the Tony who’d come back with a purpose burning in the center of his chest.    And she didn’t recognize the woman who had pushed the button to kill both of them.    Pepper wondered distantly if it made more sense if one had lived through it.  Somehow I doubt it.    Eventually, her body called her back, demanding warmth, a bathroom, and something to drink.  Pepper folded up her chair mechanically and trudged back up to the house, leaving the chair outside the mudroom with its fellows and letting herself quietly inside.  No one waited for her at the top of the stairs, but she’d seen the silhouette watching out one of the main windows, and found enough curiosity to wonder how long he’d been standing there.    She went to bed, and in the morning Tony was gone.        He hadn’t wanted to leave her, but Jarvis had turned up evidence of SI weapons being used in Georgia against U.N. peacekeepers.  Even at supersonic speeds, though, it took hours to fly that far, and the long stretch of ocean below gave Tony time to brood.    Normally he liked the outbound flights.  There was a lot of beauty to be found if one looked for it, and in between planning sessions with Jarvis Tony often let himself slip into a sort of trance, where thought trailed off and he and the suit and his reactor all became a whole, moving through time and space not as a weapon but as a work of creation.    Or he napped, trusting Jarvis to alert him if something came up.  This time, though, he did neither.  He arrowed into the dawn, thinking dark thoughts about guerilla fighters who didn’t respect the lives of those trying to help them, and aware underneath of what he was leaving behind.  And worrying.    He knew what Pepper had learned the day before; Jarvis had never tried to conceal her curriculum.  Tony didn’t like it; she was pushing herself way too hard.  But there was no way to stop Pepper, short of angering her enough to make her leave.    God help me, I can’t do that.    She hadn’t come to him.  Not with questions or concerns or even disbelief.  Hell, I’d settle for a tongue-lashing.  Whatever Pepper thought of the events of a year previous, she wasn’t telling.    He hadn’t felt so helpless since--    Tony pushed away the memory of Obadiah’s insidious croon, his casual dismissal of everything Tony was--of Pepper’s very life--and wondered instead what Pepper was up to.  Was she sleeping?  Crying?  Packing to leave?    “What’s she doing?”  It had become a common question over the last week, and Jarvis always answered.    “She is in bed, sir,” the level voice replied.  “Vital signs do not indicate overt distress.”    Tony breathed out a laugh that held little humor.  “She’s upset, but she’s trying to hide it,” he interpreted, and the AI did not deny the assessment.  “I shouldn’t have left.”    “Sir, to be frank, Pepper would not thank you for neglecting your mission to watch over her without cause.”  Jarvis’ voice held a touch of crispness.    Tony squeezed his eyes shut briefly in lieu of rubbing them.  “Are you talking about Pepper as she was, Jarvis?  Or Pepper now?”  He knew he sounded bitter, but if he couldn’t speak truth to his own computer--    The answer came laced with the sympathy that Tony didn’t quite remember programming in.  “Ms. Potts is a single person, no matter how you persist in thinking of her as two separate beings.  She may make different choices now than she did a year ago, but her personality has not regressed or simplified.  She still possesses the memories and experience of the last four years; she merely cannot access them with her conscious mind.”    “You make it sound so simple,” Tony grumbled.    “Humans are never simple,” Jarvis countered.  “But they often make things harder for themselves.”    Tony had to snicker.  “You’ve been uploading philosophy again, haven’t you?”    “Psychology,” the AI corrected.  “I have been researching experimental treatments for retrograde amnesia.”    “And?”  Tony felt a surge of hope.    “Unfortunately, sir, there is still no conclusive pattern among successful treatments.  The mind must choose its own time to heal.”    Tony sighed.  “Figures.”      His mission was brief, and hearteningly easy.  Iron Man’s reputation seemed to have preceded him, because fully half the thugs Tony chased down dropped his weapons and surrendered the moment he lifted his gauntlets.  And, as much fun as it was to blow things up, that suited him just fine.    The other half, though, got a few good shots in before they, too, went down, and the bruises made themselves felt as Tony started the long flight home.  “One of these days we’re going to have to come up with a better alternative to those anti-tank guns,” he grumbled, punching through the sound barrier.  “I’m getting tired of buffing the scratches out of this thing.”    “Speaking as the one who actually does the buffing, I agree,” Jarvis said.  His mild sarcasm made Tony grin a little; he liked it when the AI snarked back.  “Your fatigue levels are high; may I suggest a nap?”    “You know I never sleep on the way home.”  He couldn’t; there was too much adrenaline still running around his system.  Of course, he had passed out a few times on return trips, but that was before certain upgrades to the armor.  “Is Rhodey up yet?  Patch me in.”    The colonel came online yawning, but perked up at Tony’s report.  “Dude, nice job.  You better be careful or the U.N. is gonna try to annex you.”    Tony snorted.  “Ban can try.  Listen, wake up for me here.  There’s more you need to know about.”    He kept the explanation of Pepper’s accident and its results short, but Rhodes was quick to pick up the implications.  “Damn, Tony.  She doesn’t remember anything about the last few years?”    “Not so far.”  Tony exhaled, briefly fogging his HUD.  “It’s only been a week, though.”    “Still.”  Tony could picture Rhodes’ expression of concern.  “That’s...complicated.”    “Just a bit.  I don’t need to tell you to keep this under your hat, do I?  Pepper still has her job, but...”    “’Course not.”  Rhodes laughed a little.  “You think I like watching your stock price drop?  No, actually I do, it’s always entertaining, but you know what I mean.  If it gets out that Pepper’s off your back indefinitely, somebody’ll panic.”    Tony relaxed.  “Thanks, man.”    “Now, tell me why the hell you didn’t let me know sooner!”  The colonel’s raised voice was just loud enough to make Tony wince.    “We weren’t sure what was going to happen,” Tony said, sticking to the truth if not all of it.  “She was physically okay enough for the hospital to release her, and if you ever read your damned e-mail--”    “I’ve been off the Internet for the last few days,” Rhodes replied, a hint of guilt creeping into his voice.    “Yeah, yeah, super-secret Air Force stuff,” Tony teased.  “Man, when are you going to retire and let me hire you?”    “When hell freezes over, you think I want to work for you?  You’re worse than a four-star.”  Rhodes chuckled, and then his voice sobered.    “She doesn’t remember that the two of you are together, does she?”    It hurt to say it.  “No.”    Rhodes let out a long breath.  “Tony...”    In that one awkward word was more honest sympathy than Tony could deal with just then.  “Yeah, well--sooner or later her memory has to come back, right?”  He didn’t wait for an answer.  “Anyway, she’d probably like to see somebody besides me, so if you want to stop by--“    “Absolutely.  I’ll bring Chinese.”    It was a relief in a way to have someone else know what was going on, Tony acknowledged to himself after signing off with Rhodes.  Part of him had wanted to keep Pepper’s amnesia a secret--to protect her, yes, but also because mentioning it to others would make it more real.    But if Rhodey knows he can keep an eye on her too.    In the back of Tony’s mind was also the thought that if something happened to him, Pepper at least would have one other protector until she was well again.  Once upon a time Tony had thought himself invincible, but that had ended in a spray of shrapnel, and now he counted every day a gift, even if he rarely spoke the name of the giver.    Yinsen.  What would you say to all this?    It was a wistful, whimsical thought, but three months in the clammy darkness of their prison had taught Tony to value his savior’s wisdom.  He’d been angry for so long, until he’d finally realized that Yinsen had wanted the freedom he’d chosen.    The man’s spare face rose in his memory, smiling gently, spectacles reflecting the red-gold of firelight.  He’d been one of the few people who had looked at Tony and seen neither icon nor problem, but merely a man.    No words came to him, though, no whisper of counsel; just the compassion that had been an integral part of Yinsen.  A part of Tony still grieved for the loss--not just of the man’s life, but of his potential.    Look what he did with me, after all.    But Yinsen would probably laugh kindly at him for the thought, and Tony let it go.  The best way to remember him was to not waste his gift.      The house was quiet when Tony got home, and he was sweaty and starving despite the energy gels stocked in the suit.  Getting out of the armor still took twice as long as putting it on, though the process was smoother than it used to be; and he deliberately kept himself from looking towards the corner where Pepper usually waited for his return.  He didn’t want to see it empty.    So when he stepped off the assembly platform, desperate for a shower, the sight of her actually there made him jump.  “Fuck, Potts, you scared me.”    Pepper didn’t answer, just unwrapped her arms from around her knees and stood.  Tony watched her approach and realized that he had no idea what to expect.  Not the post-mission kiss he secretly treasured, probably not the scolding he usually ignored--    Pepper came to a halt in front of him, staring not at his face but at his chest.  Oh.  He lifted a hand in nervous reflex to tap the reactor.    “You could have told me, you know,” she said softly, without lifting her eyes.    Tony’s mouth twisted.  “I did.  You passed out cold.”    Pepper sniffed gently, and extended a cautious forefinger.  “...May I?”    “Hold on.”  Tony reached for the zipper that started on one side of his throat and crossed to the opposite shoulder and down, and pulled.  A moment later he shrugged out of the top half of the coverall, letting it hang down around his waist like the peel of a particularly battered banana.    She hadn’t been repulsed the first time, just torn; fascinated by the device, and appalled at what he’d endured.  This time Pepper seemed more fascinated than horrified, but any thoughts he had on the subject fled as her fingers stroked over the reactor and brushed his skin.    He’d always had an active libido.  Afghanistan, and its subsequent voluntary chastity, had given Tony a new respect for self-control, but the last year he had had Pepper in his bed as well as his heart.  Worry and caution had muted his usual responses the past few days, but now...    Now all his senses were suddenly focused on the woman standing a few inches away.  Her exploratory touch was sending fire along his nerves, and she smelled absolutely delicious.  It took him locking every muscle to keep from just leaning in and taking the kiss he wanted, and giving her the one that had been waiting ever since she’d stirred in the hospital bed.    And then doing something blatant and very, very erotic right there, showers and missing memories be damned.    Tony gritted his teeth and reminded himself that while Pepper might not be disgusted by his implant, she would be if he gave into his raging hormones.  The lizard part of his brain urged him to try anyway--after all, she had been attracted to him for a long time, she’d said so herself when they first got together--but she couldn’t remember and he was determined to be good about this.    He’d seduced a few women who were reluctant, or at least pretended to be, but he’d never pushed himself on a truly unwilling one, and he was not going to start now.    When Pepper’s fingertip traced one of the shrapnel scars, though, he grunted involuntarily, and caught her hand firmly in his, pulling it away from his eager skin.  “Playtime’s over,” he said roughly.    Her brows drew together, but when her eyes finally met his, he saw the pupils dilate as she finally took in his condition.  She blushed and bit down on her lower lip, and he felt the tic in his cheek start up at the unconsciously seductive move.    “Sorry,” she said in a low voice, and stepped back, pulling her hand free from fingers that he had a hard time opening.  She turned away and walked to the stairs, her pace normal though every line of her body bespoke a desire to hurry.  “I assume you’re hungry,” she said as she started up them, not looking back.  “I’ll put together some lunch.”    Tony watched Pepper climb out of sight, long legs and bare feet, before he stripped off the rest of the neoprene and left it where it fell.  But the grin on his face as he stepped into the shower was just about uncontrollable, because her scent had changed the second she’d figured out just how much she was turning him on.  Deeper, richer--the unmistakable pheromones of arousal.    Disgusted, my ass.    Humming, he turned the water on cold.          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