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.    If it weren't for Cincoflex, I couldn't do this.  She has patiently kept me on track, soothed my fears, cheered me on, and made sure I do this right.  Thank you, my dear.     Note: I am pretty much talking out of my hat when it comes to amnesia in this chapter.  Call it dramatic license.  But then, this is based on a comic-book universe in the end...a little exaggeration is nothing.       ********* “Ready?” Tony asked, looking Pepper over with approval laced with apprehension.  It had been ten days since her fall, and he really thought it was too early for her to return to work, but both Pepper and Jarvis said otherwise, and Tony wasn’t willing to fight both of them.    Besides, if she’s at work, I can keep an eye on her personally.    Pepper gave him an impatient look.  “Let’s go.”  She was wearing one of her tidy suits and looked very professional; any residual bruising was hidden by her clothing.  To the outward eye, she appeared no different than usual.    The only people who know she lost her memory are you and Rhodey, Tony reminded himself again.  Any hiccups can be explained by the fact that she fell down and hit her head last week.  That was the official story for Pepper’s week-long sick leave--a mild concussion.  It was even perfectly legitimate.  “All right, let’s get this show on the road.”    His PA rolled her eyes and preceded him out the door, making a beeline for the limo door being held open by a beaming Happy.  The driver touched his forehead to her in a gesture of congratulation, and she dimpled back at him, sliding into the car with practiced grace.  Tony had to wonder if the reversal of their usual order was pure enthusiasm on her part, or the prompting of her subconscious; up until they’d become lovers, she had always entered the car second, but after that alteration, the manners his parents had hammered into him resulted in letting the lady go first.  The initial switch had caused some small confusion, he recalled, with Pepper bumping into him outside the limo more than once and blushing scarlet.  He’d often used the opportunity to steal a kiss...    She already had her BlackBerry out and on as Tony settled into his seat, and he listened with a certain amusement to her soft cursing.  She’d spent most of Sunday triaging the e-mails that her subordinates hadn’t handled, but the phone was demonstrably still fighting her.    Tony cleared his throat as they passed through the gate.  Pepper spoke without looking up.  “You have a conference call with the Belgian Ministry of Defence at ten and a meeting with the reactor division at two-thirty.  Aside from that your day is your own.”    He felt his mouth curving up.  Trying to prove something, are we?  “That’s not what I meant,” he replied, which at least got her to raise her eyes from her phone.    “Yes, Mr. Stark?”  Tony caught the flash of uncertainty in her eyes, and reminded himself that for all her eagerness Pepper was probably more scared of returning to her job than he was for her.    “I know you looked over the building map, but just stick with me when we go in and I’ll take you straight up to my office and then yours.  That way no one will notice a thing.”    She bit her lip.  “Okay.”  A brief hesitation.  “Thank you.”    He nodded once and sat back, deciding to be satisfied for the moment.  Pepper returned to her phone, though not to the cursing; Tony wasn’t sure if she was finally getting the hang of the new model, or if she had just run out of invective.    When they reached the office he delivered on his promise, sweeping in like it was just another ordinary morning and leading her upstairs to what Rhodey rudely referred to as the Penthouse suite, emphasis on the title.  Tony kept up a light patter of rambling complaint, nothing Pepper had to really concentrate on, so as to give her a chance to surreptitiously look around.  Knowing her powers of observation, one good look was all she’d need anyway.    Within ten minutes she was safely at her desk--her office adjoined his--and Tony felt he could leave her there for the moment.  “Let me know if you need anything,” he murmured in her ear as she sat down, not missing the light flush that ran up her throat at the proximity of his mouth to her skin.  “That includes needing to know where you keep the rubber bands and paperclips.”    “Left side, second drawer down,” she murmured back wryly.  Tony blinked, and bent down to pull open the drawer in question.    “I’ll be damned,” he said softly at the sight of the boxes.  “Did you remember that?”    Pepper shook her head, lips turning up.  “That’s just where I always keep them.”    Tony closed the drawer and headed for his office.  “Excessive organization is the sign of an unbalanced mind, Potts,” he said in a solemn tone, not looking back.    The amused sniff followed him out.        Over the next two weeks, he learned to recognize when a memory was returning.  Pepper would freeze, her eyes widening to stare at nothing as she strove to capture the recollection, and Tony always held his breath for fear of making a sound that would chase the elusive thing away.  She wouldn’t always tell him what she remembered, but sometimes she would smile afterwards, or frown; twice she had to wipe away a tear or two.    He wanted to ask what she remembered.  He wanted her to share with him, the triumph of remembering, wanted to ease the sorrow or anger that sometimes came with the memories.  And sometimes he did ask, but not always.  This Pepper was harder to deal with, in a way; he wanted something she wasn’t ready to give, and he was so afraid of losing her that he feared to push.    She was healing visibly, though.  Her first day back at work had worn her out so badly that she’d fallen asleep on the drive home, and Tony had carried her in to bed, her sensibilities be damned.  Not that she’d woken, even when he slipped off her shoes and tucked her in.  It was difficult to leave the nylons, but removing those was out of the question both for her privacy and his self-restraint; as it was he hung over her a bit too long, breathing in the scent rising from her warm sleeping skin, and had to go deal with the resultant hydraulic pressure afterwards.   But every day after that she grew more confident, and that he loved to see.  And every day he crossed his fingers and hoped, because she was still at the mansion despite her plans to move out.  Her apartment was chosen, but not yet ready, and Tony wondered how long he could get away with bribing the flooring subcontractor to stall before Pepper found out.     Tony quizzed Jarvis about retrograde amnesia, demanding more detail.  Jarvis pointed out dryly that each case was different, but informed him that because humans tended to remember general impressions and major events, most of Pepper’s missing four years was likely to remain blurry anyway.  Tony had to admit the point; it wasn’t like he could run every moment of a given week past his mind’s eye either.  “Of course, that’s why I have you,” he told the AI, down in the garage as he contemplated suit schematics.    “And I live to serve,” Jarvis snarked back.  “One other item of note is that the loss of memory sometimes extends to a particular traumatic event in the sufferer’s past.  For instance, an amnesia victim who was in a car accident six months prior to memory loss may find that their amnesia dates from just prior to the accident.”    Tony frowned and absently adjusted a virtual flap in the image before him.  “You mean the subconscious is actually causing the amnesia?”    “Not exactly.”  Jarvis’ tone went pedantic.  “It is more that the subconscious takes advantage of the amnesia to conceal trauma from the conscious mind.”    “Weird.”  Tony considered the notion briefly and discarded it.  Nothing traumatic had happened to Pepper in mid-2005; she’d been her usual efficient self that summer, not even taking the vacation that Human Resources tried to force upon her.  “Is she still having nightmares?”    He’d rescinded the close monitoring order as Pepper’s energy returned, but he still had Jarvis keeping a surreptitious eye on her while she slept.    “No, sir,” the AI answered.  “Her sleep is often restless, but she does not display the levels of agitation that you specified.”    Tony sighed, and contemplated slipping sedatives into her supper, but figured that would get him into more trouble than it was worth.  I used to have ways to get her to sleep, he thought with a mixture of regret and lasciviousness.  Of course, Pepper had used the same methods on him just as often.    Not that he’d argued.    Tony rubbed the back of his neck and wondered why life was so fucked up.    Pepper’s voice came over the intercom, pulling him out of his musings.  “Pizza’s here, and if you don’t get up here soon I’m starting without you.”    Tony grinned and stood up, stretching.  One nice thing about Pepper’s returning to work was that her attitude towards him had normalized.  It was still more formal than he liked, but at least she wasn’t wary about baiting him any longer.    And it’s Friday.  I wonder if I can talk her into a weekend at the Dubai house--    Pepper was already sitting at the table when he got to the kitchen.  “Beer?” he asked as he headed for the fridge, but Pepper shook her head and Tony hid his sigh.  She claimed that drinking alcohol with him was unprofessional, and maybe it was, but to him it was always one more sign that things were not as they should be.    He got himself a longneck, though, and joined her, and they shared out the pie and began eating in easy silence.  Pepper had changed out of her work clothes and wore a scoopneck top and loose yoga pants, and Tony wanted to slide around to her side of the table and just snuggle up to her.  The hug she’d given him had eased a little of his loneliness, but he still ached for the touch of her skin, and that was outside of his baser urges.    Pepper was looking pensive, and Tony finally spoke.  “Something on your mind?”    She shrugged, and looked down at the half-eaten slice on her plate.  “Nothing.”    “Uh-huh.”  Tony wiped his fingers on a napkin.  “Try again, Potts.”    He half-expected her to become irritated, but instead her mouth quirked sadly.  “I miss Obadiah,” she said reluctantly.    The memory might be lost to her, but it wasn’t to him.  Tony instantly recalled the night she’d found him sodden drunk for the first time in months, and forced him to talk, to finally admit that he mourned the loss of the man who had been mentor and foster-father and friend to him for so long.  He’d sobbed into her shoulder, felt her arms tight around him, heard the hitch in her breathing as she wept as well--for the man Stane had once been.  Iron Monger had meant both their deaths, but Obadiah...    “I do too,” he said at last, and it was true.  Tony felt guilty; it had never occurred to him that Pepper would feel the loss afresh.    She pushed her plate away.  “I don’t understand it,” she said, her voice soft.  “The man I remember would never have done anything like that.  And it’s weird not having him around.”    Tony knew that Obadiah had taken over a lot of the duties he himself had shirked in earlier years, and he realized now that Pepper had probably depended on the man to handle things that she couldn’t get Tony to take on.  To find herself back in a job grown unfamiliar, without that aid to depend on...even if Tony had become more responsible, it had to be hard.    He hesitated, but the sight of her drooping shoulders was just too much to take.  Rising, Tony rounded the table and crouched next to her chair to surround Pepper in a hug.    For an instant she was stiff, and he braced himself for a shove, but then she leaned into him, her arms slipping shyly around his waist.  Tony held her close, luxuriating guiltily in the chance to touch her, and rubbed her back soothingly, telling himself that he was only returning the comfort she’d given him earlier.    No more than a friend would.  Really.    “He was a good man, before,” Tony said quietly, speaking the truth that it had taken him months to admit.    Pepper nodded against his shoulder, and gasped once in a near-silent sob.  Tony hugged her harder and pressed his cheek against her hair, wishing for words to heal her since he couldn’t do as he wanted, which was to pull her into his lap and kiss her tears away.    Far too soon, though, Pepper sighed and pulled back, and he forced his arms to let her go.  She wiped surreptitiously at her eyes.  “Sorry.”    Tony snorted, and stood, reaching out to tap her nose lightly with one forefinger.  “Shut up, Potts,” he said easily, managing not to laugh at her cross-eyed expression.  “Eat your dinner.”    Her smile was slow but definite, and they finished the meal in peace.        “What do you mean the floors aren’t ready yet?  You told me last week that they would be done by now.”  Pepper tapped her fingers angrily on her desk, staring out her window as she listened to the excuses the apartment manager was spouting on the other end of the line.  She was halfway tempted to give the place up and look for another one, but it was exactly what she wanted and had a great view besides--much better than her old place.  Fed up, she lowered her voice to the steel-edged register that had board members paying attention and middle managers hopping to.  “If the floors are not done in three days, I am suing for breach of promise.  No, I am not interested in the completed unit, I want that one.  Yes...thank you.  I will hold you to that.”    Pepper set the phone in its cradle with the gentleness of complete control, and stood up to pace a bit, quite aware of why something relatively trivial was so annoying.  I’m getting too comfortable at the mansion.    Resuming her job had been a blessing in many ways, and now, a month later, she was feeling in control and on top of things.  She still ran into gaps in her knowledge fairly often, but Tony had linked her BlackBerry directly to Jarvis, and if the information wasn’t already at her fingertips, the AI could find it for her within seconds.  And every day I remember a bit more.    The trouble was that they were slipping into an easy rapport outside of work.  Living in the same house meant it was silly to try to eat meals separately, and anyway Pepper had already been in the habit of trying to make Tony stick to some kind of food schedule.  But despite her refusal of his invitation to Dubai for a weekend, and another Iron Man mission, they had still somehow ended up watching old movies some nights and walking on the beach at least once.    Well, to be fair, Pepper had gone for a walk and Tony had invited himself along, but either way her attempts to keep a respectable distance between them wasn’t working.  Tony ignored the barriers she tried to set up, with the sublime indifference to rules that was one of his hallmarks, and Pepper sometimes found it very hard to fight back when the alternative was a rather lonely evening in her room--the one place in the house that Tony would not, in theory, enter without permission.    It was all part of his determination to change her mind, that was clear.  But he’d surprised her there too.  Who would have guessed that Tony Stark the playboy is a closet romantic?    The brief notations in her diaries hadn’t prepared her for the roses that appeared on her desk at work every Tuesday.  When Pepper had confronted him about them, Tony had told her with only the barest trace of smugness that they were something he’d been doing for months, and if he stopped now people would wonder why.    There were also the tulips he’d filled her home office with last Sunday--literally filled.  She’d spent an hour finding places around the house to put the vases, cursing him under her breath and blushing.    There was the small gold box she found under her pillow every night, the one that held two of her favorite chocolate truffles.  When she’d taxed him about coming into her room, he’d admitted that he’d programmed Butterfingers to make the deliveries.  And grinned and sauntered off, leaving her sputtering.    There was his habit of leaning over her while she sat at her desk, invading her personal space as he pretended to read over her shoulder--bringing every nerve alert and sending her heartbeat skyrocketing.    There were the times she looked up, at work or at home, to find his gaze on her, hot with a promise that he never fulfilled.    And there was the bag of Cheetos--her weakness--and a curt note telling her to “Take a load off, Potts” on her desk at work when her period had begun.     Pepper could deal with flirting.  She wasn’t sure how long she could deal with Tony’s dedicated, oddly gentlemanly attempts at seduction.    She sighed and resumed her seat.  Tony was currently in a meeting with several people from the Environmental Protection Agency, and would be for at least an hour longer.  Her own work was up to date, aside from the eternal cascade of e-mails, but she simply wasn’t in the mood to deal with them at the moment.    Tony...    He was driving her quietly nuts.  Pepper had always felt a certain level of physical attraction towards her boss; it was just about inevitable, and only somewhat toned down by also witnessing his less than sterling qualities in action.  She’d built up a certain immunity to his pheromones and charm over time, but that didn’t mean she didn’t notice.    All his efforts now were...disconcerting, to say the least.  To know, at least objectively, that she had enjoyed his more intimate company for so many months already, made her wonder almost incessantly what it had been like.  After all, she’d seen the results of just one evening’s worth of his formidable concentration many times before...the idea of having it on a regular basis was a bit dizzying.    And he’d changed.  Pepper had to admit that.  It had taken her a while to really believe in it, but the evidence was there to be found when she started looking.  Tony was still making headlines on a regular basis, but it was because of Iron Man, not because he was tomcatting; and Jarvis had obligingly informed Pepper of when she’d moved in and the list of changes Tony had offered to make.    In fact, according to the AI, she’d had to be very firm to keep Tony from redesigning half the house just to make her feel welcome.     I just don’t know.  Tony had never made a secret of what he wanted--memory or not, she was his desire.  But Pepper just wasn’t sure that she was ready or even willing to restart their relationship.    I must have loved him.  I wouldn’t have done this otherwise.  She blinked in bewilderment and resumed her seat, automatically smoothing her skirt.  But I don’t...I don’t know what I feel now.    There had just been too much change lately.  And whatever she did feel for Tony was complicated.  I’m not going to rush into anything.    Pepper sighed, and leaned her elbows on her desk and her forehead on her hands.  His low half-whisper echoed in her memory, begging her not to leave, and when did Tony Stark beg anyone for anything?  It hurt to think of him so desperate.    But I need space to think.    It was why she was insisting so hard on the apartment, still.  To her fragmented memory, the mansion was still Tony’s territory.  Pepper needed room that was completely her own, that kept him at a decent distance.    I have to do what’s right for me.    Lifting her head, Pepper firmed her chin and woke her computer.  The e-mails wouldn’t disappear on their own.     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