Collapse: 2/?
Title: Collapse
Author: backporchpoet
Pairing: Pepper/Tony
Rating: PG-13 just to be safe.
Length: 4,051 words - Part II in a series. ( Missed Part I? Click here.)
Summary: AU. Tony quite literally drags Pepper along for the Jericho demonstration in Afghanistan. For Pepper, things just keep getting worse.
Note: I don't have any betas so, any errors are my own. If you spot a mistake let me know.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own the rights to Iron Man or any of it's characters. A girl can dream though, right?
After years of being in Tony Stark’s employ, Pepper finds that she is now an expert on blocking out his insufferably loud music. She wouldn’t go so far as to call it bad, it’s just always about ten times louder than it ought to be. The stereo in the back seat is blasting Let Me Put My Love into You by AC/DC. She’s sure her knowledge would surprise Tony, but she has a habit of paying more attention than he thinks she does. In contrast to the Brian Johnson’s voice accompanied with guitars echoing off the doors, the only sound that comes from Pepper is the gentle tap of the stylus to the screen of her Blackberry, and the occasional tink of her manicured fingertips to its outside casing when she’s become impatient with how slow her connection is out in the middle of nowhere. The stare of the soldier sitting across from her isn’t one she notices, but once the stylus in her hands has been slipped back into its holder Pepper glances up, observing that his eyes are not quite on her so much as they seem to be on something just over her shoulder.
His mouth is slack and he’s sucking in breaths of air between his lips poised dangerously close to her neck. Being so engrossed in her work she hadn’t felt each slow exhale against her skin until just then, hot and measured against the curve of her neck and she’s uncomfortably aware of it now. This is where she cues up a transition of her thoughts, something about the visual of Tony slumped in his seat using her as a pillow makes Pepper think of a puppy: a really big sloppy one that runs into tables and breaks things and leaves devastation in its wake- one with devastatingly large brown eyes that everyone finds so hard to say no to. Except she’s impervious to them, which is why she was hired- she’s never had a problem maintaining that level of control. All he’s missing is the cold wet nose and she’ll be able to enroll him into obedience school like she’s always dreamed of.
This isn’t so unusual.
Not the fantasies- though thoughts like this aren’t strange or unheard of for Pepper. But Tony falling asleep anywhere without much notice is standard.
While drumming her fingertips over her knee, the occasional bump in the road jostles the head on her shoulder but his breathing remains the same, deep and slow and he’s practically catatonic and she marvels at his ability to look so peaceful while his head is being jerked around.
It’s easy to read the soldier’s eyes, it hits her when she observes his face while he goes from looking out the window to Tony’s hunched form, leaning against her. She’s seen it enough times before. This soldier is a fan, maybe not of his work as much as his lifestyle but the admiration is showing every time he fidgets in his seat. He’s easily the youngest among them (he looks like he’s in his 20’s) with wide eyes that keep bouncing back and forth between giving Pepper a curious glance and watching Tony all but drool on her shoulder.
“Tony?”
He doesn’t stir at all and the wide eyes lock with hers before quickly averting their gaze almost apologetically. This is not new, but Pepper can’t say she has never liked those gazes or the implications that seem to go with them. In one swift not-so-subtle motion she rolls her shoulders.
“Tony. We’re nearly there.”
She can see it through the windshield, past the dust, though it’s faint at best, but outlined clearly. The missiles themselves look disturbingly like some kind of landmark, and she frowns because the entire landscape looks like a science fiction movie. Dust clouds and miles of desolation are reminiscent of being on the surface of another planet.
Tony jerks his head and rubs his temple, a bump in the road doing what Pepper’s slender shoulders could not and he gives her a look that makes him look like a cranky child.
“You’ve got boney shoulders, Potts.”
“I hope you’re well rested, we’re almost at the demonstration site.”
“Dangerously boney,” he’s mostly speaking over her. “Not comfortable in the slightest.”
“I’m not here to make your trip comfortable,” she reminds him and Tony ignores her entirely, looking out the window and squinting before glancing her over. Something akin to recognition crosses his face and for the first time since they arrived, he notices she’s changed out of the suit she’d been wearing yesterday.
“That looks good on you. You like it right? I made sure that duffel had all the necessities.”
Oh yes, the duffel. The bag that had been tossed onto the plane as carefully as she had, contained nearly everything she needed, she can at least give him that much credit. Regardless if Tony actually packed the bag himself or not, (probably not, though she can’t imagine who had since she most certainly hadn’t) he had confirmed her own sneaking suspicion that that he was most certainly the one who’d decided what went in it.
The first clue had been when Pepper found matching lace underwear. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but then there had been the matching garter belt.
Pepper takes a deep breath and Tony is already prepared for her, practically bursting from the seams with smug self-satisfaction.
“Is that what you’re calling them now? Necessities?”
“I could nix the euphemism all together if you’d prefer...”
“I’d prefer something with a little less subtext.”
“What? You don’t like Chantilly lace?”
There isn’t a response at first. Pepper doesn’t like when he does this, let alone when he does this in front of other people. It’s even worse because these people are in fatigues and regarding them both with as much amusement as they can hide behind straight faces.
“No need to thank me, Potts. Consider it a belated gift.”
He would mistake her silence for thanks. “It’s hardly gratitude,” she proclaims and turns sideways to face him. “Besides, I already received a gift from you. I don’t have to tell you that your choice was exceptionally inappropriate.”
“No, but maybe I just like to hear you say it.”
The humvee slows and pulls to a stop, and Pepper moves faster than she thinks is possible, sliding off the seat and stepping out of the Jeep in one swift motion. It’s a clear statement to Tony, she thinks, just as it always is when she turns her back to leave him with his own thoughts. It almost goes as planned until Pepper lurches forward, tumbling out of the humvee by no fault of her own, the heel of her shoe sinking into the unsteady ground and throwing her off balance.
This is what happens when she is so desperate to escape the conversation that she follows the soldier out and into the blazing sun without really getting a good look at the ground first.
She’s braced herself for an embarrassingly ungraceful face-plant into the sand, resigning herself to the fact that she probably deserves it and if she’s going to eat dirt then at least she can do it without flailing and squawking in an undignified manner. She shuts her eyes close and is ready for impact when her shoulders are suddenly steadied- and before she can say anything he’s smiling against her ear, she can feel it. For a moment she’s filled with terror and Pepper wonders if he has an inkling that she’s wearing the ‘necessities’ underneath her navy blue pinstriped ensemble, because she loves Chantilly lace; loves that it fit her perfectly and loves it even more when it’s not coming out of her paycheck.
“Watch that first step, Miss Potts, it’s a doozy.”
Not that she’d ever tell him that ever. She’s not wearing it because he got it for her and she believes this with conviction because she’s been saying it over and over to herself since she’d slipped them on.
Left foot still dangling in mid-air, she reacquaints her feet with the ground and manages out of his grasp with a “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” before yanking her right heel out of the sand. Pepper steadies herself with as much poise as she can muster after floundering only moments ago. In these few seconds it hits her that the sun is blinding and she shields her eyes as everything goes white. She’s glad because it makes it that much easier to avoid his gaze completely, that much easier to ignore him.
It makes it that much easier to miss the bemused expression on her face as he climbs out behind her.
The alien feel of this place is only amplified now that she’s standing in the midst of it instead of watching the landscape fly by outside the window. It’s desolate, and she had anticipated that, but the air is almost painfully dry despite the heat and the looming shadows of the Jericho missiles casting long dark lines that stretch diagonally and cut across the decorated soldiers, contrasting with the white hot light of the sun. Tony steps through the shaded area, oblivious to the way it runs across his neck and over his adam’s apple as he slips back out into the sun, waving a dismissive hand towards Rhodey who is speaking to him in a hushed tone that’s still authoritative, even if Pepper can’t clearly make out his words.
Pleasantries aside, it’s clear that this is about business, and the weapons demonstration begins quickly, neatly assembled rows of men who now comprise Tony’s audience fall into line while he’s simultaneously sauntering over to his designated position in front of them, pushing his sunglasses up higher against the bridge of his nose with his knuckles. She hadn’t seen him pull them out of his jacket pocket, but wishes he had enough forethought to pack her some SPF 1,000 instead of lace panties because she’s positive she’s going to burn to a crisp in the Afghani sun.
Necessities. Right.
It’s only been ten minutes and she can feel the heat sinking through her skin and in her mind she’s turning a lovely shade of carnation pink similar to the crayon color- or maybe she’s thinking of burnt sienna. Tony looks young compared to the men in front of him, his boyishness is severe against all the other faces. He’s rubbing the back of his neck now, clearing his throat and leaping head-first into what sounds like a well-planned introduction, but Pepper really knows is something pieced together moments before he set foot up there, if he even thought that far ahead at all.
Certain lines she’s heard before- quotations attributed to his father and quick references in passing while in front of his associates. These are the only times he mentions the looming figure: when it involves business. That’s where that particular ghost resides, and Tony only lingers on it in a passing context, closed off from everything and hidden neatly behind a pair of ray bans and a smile.
It’s a clear-cut division between him and the rest of the world, and Tony likes that distance, likes the barrier better than he realizes he does, but Pepper can’t blame him very much because she’s wise enough to know that losing someone isn’t healed or whisked away by time. It’s a weight to carry.
“Find an excuse to let one of these off the chain, and I personally guarantee you the bad guys won’t even wanna come out of their caves.”
He waves his arms and the missile launches in the air, another instrument listening obediently to the conductor’s movements- to the hands and the jerk of the wrists and it’s ripping across the sky faster than her eyes can follow it. There’s a second or two before the missile unfurls dozens of smaller missiles and they screech and zig-zag across the sky. For a moment it’s almost pretty like fireworks make designs in the sky but as quickly as the thought escapes her they’re descending towards the mountains behind where Tony stands, arms outstretched in a manner that has years of catholic schooling making Pepper’s brain immediately link it to some kind of religious symbol. It’s either that or when Russell Hammond climbs up onto the roof while drunk out of his mind in Almost Famous screaming ‘I am a golden god!'
Pepper decides that the latter is decidedly more appropriate than the former. Tony’s not really a messiah as much as he’s like a glorified rock star. At least in his own mind.
“For your consideration- the Jericho.”
Dozens of small explosions sound off behind him, dust shooting up vertically over each of his shoulders and it’s only a moment before they’re all hit with the after-shock. Tony gets pushed forward a few steps and hats are flying off the heads of Generals and Pepper is embarrassingly flung back a few feet her backwards against something solid. Blindly reaching up a hand to fix her hair, Pepper rests her free hand against the metal case she’s collided with. That’s going to leave a mark.
Quite literally ending with a big bang, the men in uniforms begin to cluster together and Tony’s approaching her with long strides stopping next to her and blinking at her as if he’s waiting for something.
“Move it or lose it, Pepper.”
Not quite understanding this request, Pepper blinks at him almost indignantly until she notes his hands poised on the clasps of the case, ready to open it only she’s got her hand in the way.
“Oh, sorry,” and she slides her hand off the lid of what Tony reveals to be a bar, taking a glass for himself and offering her one that they both know she’ll decline.
He shrugs, lifts up the glass towards the sky as he leaves her to trail behind him, mumbling something about 500 million dollar purchases before raising his glass towards the sun, amber liquid twinkling in his glass and Tony’s toasting to peace when his phone vibrates in his pockets.
“Well, that was painless,” Rhodey looks pleased as he matches Pepper’s stride. Tony’s conversation falls out of ear-shot and Pepper can’t tell who he’s speaking to but it’s a video call and that narrows down the possibilities.
“Yes, what were his exact words? Interesting, educational and impressive?” She’s counting them off on her fingers. “I don’t know about the first two but they seemed impressed, at least.”
“He did say it would be a cake-walk,” he offers but he accompanies a nod with her words. “They were impressed. They always are.”
There’s an amicable silence and he’s right, because she’s been around the man who links them both together long enough to see the trend with how people receive him. Critics aside, men admire his success, intelligence, while envying his way with women who love his status, his money and his charms. His mind conceives things at a pace leagues ahead of everyone else and it’s both a blessing and a curse, being the arms dealer with a following.
He copes with a scotch in one hand and a warm body in the other.
This is how he self-medicates.
Rhodey parts ways with Pepper once he sees Tony’s phone disappear back into his pocket. He’s trying to catch him before he climbs into the humvee but is greeted by the sound of the door closing accompanied by Tony’s head sticking out of the window, drink at his disposal while Rhodey braces one hand against the door ready to speak.
“Hey, Tony-”
“I’m sorry,” Tony interrupts, speaking too quickly for Rhodey to interject at all. “This is the fun-vee. The hum-drum-vee is back there.”
“Nice job.”
Tony just nods nonchalantly, “See you back at base.”
Pepper catches the exchange while she’s hoisting herself into the vehicle, stealing the makeshift seat of the soldier who’d been staring at them earlier. Generally, a humvee holds four people comfortably, but Tony had insisted Pepper ride with him, and conversely Rhodey was adamant about not sacrificing safety for Tony’s need for a security blanket. He’d denied that was the case at all but Rhodey has Tony figured out pretty well by now, and drops the subject entirely. Ultimately the compromise had been throwing a particularly heavy crate full of God-knows what into the humvee and using it as a makeshift seat.
All things considered, especially after the earlier ride, Pepper didn’t mind forsaking comfort for distance and some dignity. It wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury but at this point of the trip, Pepper isn’t expecting much of anything, except for things to get continually worse.
The engine roars and the youngest of the three soldiers, Jimmy (she overhears someone call him that as they pile into the car) sits beside Tony, looking a little nervous when the genius in the Armani Suit glances between him and his personal assistant. For a second Pepper thinks he might say something about the change in seating but instead he takes a long drink of scotch before turning on the stereo. Instantaneously the music picks up where it left off, playing the last 30 seconds of track 5 of the CD before changing over to the next song.
Pepper is busy playing email-tag with M.I.T. regarding Tony giving his speech. Haranguing was not the word to begin to describe them and her patience is wearing thin. There’s a haunting efficiency about Pepper, a level of mastery with the stylus that you can’t teach someone- the kind of mastery that comes from first hand target practice. Right now she’s got a two substantially sized paragraphs going in this reply, and none of it is polite or cordial and before she hits send in what can only be explained as a fit of sheer clarity, she thinks better of it and closes it.
“Is it true you went twelve for twelve with last year’s Maxim cover models?”
It’s always at the most inopportune parts of a conversation that Pepper decides to start listening again. It happens without fail.
She suddenly wishes she hadn’t scrapped that email. Clarity is overrated.
“That is an excellent question,” and Tony takes off his glasses to emphasize his point. It’s such an excellent question that he needs to ensure and command direct eye contact before continuing. “Yes and no. March and I had a scheduling conflict, but fortunately the Christmas cover was twins… Anything else?”
She’s pinching the bridge of her nose, now, partly at the reminder. The scheduling conflict had been on March’s end. Her wedding, actually, which occurred in June, not March. That phone conversation had been particularly painful for her. March had the uncanny ability to make everything she said sound like a question, made possible by all her sentences being punctuated with a high-pitched inflection of her voice.
“You’re kidding me with the hand up, right?”
Jimmy looks like he might faint or throw up from nerves. Pepper hopes if it’s the latter that he turns his head away from her general direction, even if the sentiment is really sweet. She doesn’t think she can handle being vomited on, on top of everything else.
“Is it cool if I take a picture with you?”
“Yes. It’s very cool.”
He takes out a digital camera from one of the dozens of smaller pockets on his uniform and falters for a moment, his glance moving from Pepper to his friend in the front seat. He does it again and looks like he’s going to ask Pepper to take the picture but loses his nerve and passes he camera to his comrade, who’s riding shotgun.
Pepper raises an eyebrow and watches Tony joke around with the kid sitting next to him, though it’s mostly one-sided, Jimmy not realizing when Tony is being serious or not, but very few people can peg that aspect of his personality down. There’s a playfulness in his tone throughout the conversation. Tony is a lot of things: selfish, irresponsible, foolhardy, and did she mention selfish? He was however, not a mean spirited man. He watches her off to the side and smirks when they lock eyes and Pepper crosses her legs quickly at the ankle.
It’s hard to hear their chatter over AC/DC, and she doesn’t bother to try and follow it because it barely involves her at all. She seizes this particular moment to make a list of things to do upon setting foot in Malibu again. First on the list is slather on some aloe vera, applying liberal amounts to the parts of her body that are now tinged a lovely shade of pink. She thinks after that she might take Tony up on his guilt-laden offer for some time off.
She has half a mind to tell him now, in the middle of him posing for a picture, and there’s apparently some technical difficulties because they still haven’t taken it yet-
There’s a loud explosion and Pepper tumbles off of the crate and lands in an inept heap on the floor with her feet somewhere well over her head, though miraculously her Blackberry is planted firmly in the palm of her hand and both of her shoes are still on. She scrambles to her knees and turns around to the front of the car and nothing prepares her for the wave of panic that washes over her.
All Pepper can hear in her ears is Tony shouting, asking what’s going on, and the steady rattle of bullets piercing metal and she feels numb. The once neat line of cars traveling down the dirt road aren’t visible anymore through the smoke but she’s pretty sure the one they had been driving behind is spitting up flames violently into the air. It takes less than a second for the airman who’d been driving to swing her door open only to fall into a heap as a stream of bullets hit her, louder than they’d been before. Closer. Before Pepper can register the passenger door slamming she catches one last glimpse of the man who’d been riding in front before the glass shatters and she hears the sickening thud of his body against the dirt.
She’s going to die too, she thinks as Tony calls for Jimmy, it starts more like a stutter, a sucession of Wait, wait, wait’s and a desperate plea for a gun but Jimmy can’t hear Tony. He’s not the nervous boy with admiration in his eyes anymore. He’s a man, a soldier, and the transition makes Pepper’s blood run cold because her voice isn’t coming to her but if she could call upon it for a second she’d will him back into the car. He tells them to stay there.
Stay. Here.
Two steps after he turns around there’s another explosion, whatever bomb caused it burning holes through the door that sealed Jimmy’s fate and Pepper doesn’t know how to handle this sort of thing.
She’s going to die, she thinks. She’s going to die like Jimmy.
She’s ill equipped for war-zones and gunfire. Tony’s already looking for a way out, the gears in his brain turning and he grabs Pepper by the wrist so tightly that it’d be painful if she could feel anything but panic.
“We have to get out of here Pepper. We have to go. Damnit, Pepper, look at me.”
His gaze is steady and her eyes find his. Pepper is shaking, but she’s taking deep breaths and trying to ignore the explosions going off just yards away. It’s difficult at first but it’s easier to ignore compared to the overwhelming surge of regret that hits her then. It’s a lump stuck in her chest and she tries to swallow it down.
“Just follow me, alright? Don’t let go of my hand. We’re going to get out of here.”
Something about the way he says it makes her believe him, and she feels like Pepper Potts again. She thinks to herself that just maybe there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that they can make it out of this nightmare together.
Tony forces a smile and swings the door open, Pepper stumbling out after him, her legs gaining momentum with each rattling of a machine gun, with each explosion they narrowly miss.
Part I | Part III
Author: backporchpoet
Pairing: Pepper/Tony
Rating: PG-13 just to be safe.
Length: 4,051 words - Part II in a series. ( Missed Part I? Click here.)
Summary: AU. Tony quite literally drags Pepper along for the Jericho demonstration in Afghanistan. For Pepper, things just keep getting worse.
Note: I don't have any betas so, any errors are my own. If you spot a mistake let me know.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own the rights to Iron Man or any of it's characters. A girl can dream though, right?
After years of being in Tony Stark’s employ, Pepper finds that she is now an expert on blocking out his insufferably loud music. She wouldn’t go so far as to call it bad, it’s just always about ten times louder than it ought to be. The stereo in the back seat is blasting Let Me Put My Love into You by AC/DC. She’s sure her knowledge would surprise Tony, but she has a habit of paying more attention than he thinks she does. In contrast to the Brian Johnson’s voice accompanied with guitars echoing off the doors, the only sound that comes from Pepper is the gentle tap of the stylus to the screen of her Blackberry, and the occasional tink of her manicured fingertips to its outside casing when she’s become impatient with how slow her connection is out in the middle of nowhere. The stare of the soldier sitting across from her isn’t one she notices, but once the stylus in her hands has been slipped back into its holder Pepper glances up, observing that his eyes are not quite on her so much as they seem to be on something just over her shoulder.
His mouth is slack and he’s sucking in breaths of air between his lips poised dangerously close to her neck. Being so engrossed in her work she hadn’t felt each slow exhale against her skin until just then, hot and measured against the curve of her neck and she’s uncomfortably aware of it now. This is where she cues up a transition of her thoughts, something about the visual of Tony slumped in his seat using her as a pillow makes Pepper think of a puppy: a really big sloppy one that runs into tables and breaks things and leaves devastation in its wake- one with devastatingly large brown eyes that everyone finds so hard to say no to. Except she’s impervious to them, which is why she was hired- she’s never had a problem maintaining that level of control. All he’s missing is the cold wet nose and she’ll be able to enroll him into obedience school like she’s always dreamed of.
This isn’t so unusual.
Not the fantasies- though thoughts like this aren’t strange or unheard of for Pepper. But Tony falling asleep anywhere without much notice is standard.
While drumming her fingertips over her knee, the occasional bump in the road jostles the head on her shoulder but his breathing remains the same, deep and slow and he’s practically catatonic and she marvels at his ability to look so peaceful while his head is being jerked around.
It’s easy to read the soldier’s eyes, it hits her when she observes his face while he goes from looking out the window to Tony’s hunched form, leaning against her. She’s seen it enough times before. This soldier is a fan, maybe not of his work as much as his lifestyle but the admiration is showing every time he fidgets in his seat. He’s easily the youngest among them (he looks like he’s in his 20’s) with wide eyes that keep bouncing back and forth between giving Pepper a curious glance and watching Tony all but drool on her shoulder.
“Tony?”
He doesn’t stir at all and the wide eyes lock with hers before quickly averting their gaze almost apologetically. This is not new, but Pepper can’t say she has never liked those gazes or the implications that seem to go with them. In one swift not-so-subtle motion she rolls her shoulders.
“Tony. We’re nearly there.”
She can see it through the windshield, past the dust, though it’s faint at best, but outlined clearly. The missiles themselves look disturbingly like some kind of landmark, and she frowns because the entire landscape looks like a science fiction movie. Dust clouds and miles of desolation are reminiscent of being on the surface of another planet.
Tony jerks his head and rubs his temple, a bump in the road doing what Pepper’s slender shoulders could not and he gives her a look that makes him look like a cranky child.
“You’ve got boney shoulders, Potts.”
“I hope you’re well rested, we’re almost at the demonstration site.”
“Dangerously boney,” he’s mostly speaking over her. “Not comfortable in the slightest.”
“I’m not here to make your trip comfortable,” she reminds him and Tony ignores her entirely, looking out the window and squinting before glancing her over. Something akin to recognition crosses his face and for the first time since they arrived, he notices she’s changed out of the suit she’d been wearing yesterday.
“That looks good on you. You like it right? I made sure that duffel had all the necessities.”
Oh yes, the duffel. The bag that had been tossed onto the plane as carefully as she had, contained nearly everything she needed, she can at least give him that much credit. Regardless if Tony actually packed the bag himself or not, (probably not, though she can’t imagine who had since she most certainly hadn’t) he had confirmed her own sneaking suspicion that that he was most certainly the one who’d decided what went in it.
The first clue had been when Pepper found matching lace underwear. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but then there had been the matching garter belt.
Pepper takes a deep breath and Tony is already prepared for her, practically bursting from the seams with smug self-satisfaction.
“Is that what you’re calling them now? Necessities?”
“I could nix the euphemism all together if you’d prefer...”
“I’d prefer something with a little less subtext.”
“What? You don’t like Chantilly lace?”
There isn’t a response at first. Pepper doesn’t like when he does this, let alone when he does this in front of other people. It’s even worse because these people are in fatigues and regarding them both with as much amusement as they can hide behind straight faces.
“No need to thank me, Potts. Consider it a belated gift.”
He would mistake her silence for thanks. “It’s hardly gratitude,” she proclaims and turns sideways to face him. “Besides, I already received a gift from you. I don’t have to tell you that your choice was exceptionally inappropriate.”
“No, but maybe I just like to hear you say it.”
The humvee slows and pulls to a stop, and Pepper moves faster than she thinks is possible, sliding off the seat and stepping out of the Jeep in one swift motion. It’s a clear statement to Tony, she thinks, just as it always is when she turns her back to leave him with his own thoughts. It almost goes as planned until Pepper lurches forward, tumbling out of the humvee by no fault of her own, the heel of her shoe sinking into the unsteady ground and throwing her off balance.
This is what happens when she is so desperate to escape the conversation that she follows the soldier out and into the blazing sun without really getting a good look at the ground first.
She’s braced herself for an embarrassingly ungraceful face-plant into the sand, resigning herself to the fact that she probably deserves it and if she’s going to eat dirt then at least she can do it without flailing and squawking in an undignified manner. She shuts her eyes close and is ready for impact when her shoulders are suddenly steadied- and before she can say anything he’s smiling against her ear, she can feel it. For a moment she’s filled with terror and Pepper wonders if he has an inkling that she’s wearing the ‘necessities’ underneath her navy blue pinstriped ensemble, because she loves Chantilly lace; loves that it fit her perfectly and loves it even more when it’s not coming out of her paycheck.
“Watch that first step, Miss Potts, it’s a doozy.”
Not that she’d ever tell him that ever. She’s not wearing it because he got it for her and she believes this with conviction because she’s been saying it over and over to herself since she’d slipped them on.
Left foot still dangling in mid-air, she reacquaints her feet with the ground and manages out of his grasp with a “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” before yanking her right heel out of the sand. Pepper steadies herself with as much poise as she can muster after floundering only moments ago. In these few seconds it hits her that the sun is blinding and she shields her eyes as everything goes white. She’s glad because it makes it that much easier to avoid his gaze completely, that much easier to ignore him.
It makes it that much easier to miss the bemused expression on her face as he climbs out behind her.
The alien feel of this place is only amplified now that she’s standing in the midst of it instead of watching the landscape fly by outside the window. It’s desolate, and she had anticipated that, but the air is almost painfully dry despite the heat and the looming shadows of the Jericho missiles casting long dark lines that stretch diagonally and cut across the decorated soldiers, contrasting with the white hot light of the sun. Tony steps through the shaded area, oblivious to the way it runs across his neck and over his adam’s apple as he slips back out into the sun, waving a dismissive hand towards Rhodey who is speaking to him in a hushed tone that’s still authoritative, even if Pepper can’t clearly make out his words.
Pleasantries aside, it’s clear that this is about business, and the weapons demonstration begins quickly, neatly assembled rows of men who now comprise Tony’s audience fall into line while he’s simultaneously sauntering over to his designated position in front of them, pushing his sunglasses up higher against the bridge of his nose with his knuckles. She hadn’t seen him pull them out of his jacket pocket, but wishes he had enough forethought to pack her some SPF 1,000 instead of lace panties because she’s positive she’s going to burn to a crisp in the Afghani sun.
Necessities. Right.
It’s only been ten minutes and she can feel the heat sinking through her skin and in her mind she’s turning a lovely shade of carnation pink similar to the crayon color- or maybe she’s thinking of burnt sienna. Tony looks young compared to the men in front of him, his boyishness is severe against all the other faces. He’s rubbing the back of his neck now, clearing his throat and leaping head-first into what sounds like a well-planned introduction, but Pepper really knows is something pieced together moments before he set foot up there, if he even thought that far ahead at all.
Certain lines she’s heard before- quotations attributed to his father and quick references in passing while in front of his associates. These are the only times he mentions the looming figure: when it involves business. That’s where that particular ghost resides, and Tony only lingers on it in a passing context, closed off from everything and hidden neatly behind a pair of ray bans and a smile.
It’s a clear-cut division between him and the rest of the world, and Tony likes that distance, likes the barrier better than he realizes he does, but Pepper can’t blame him very much because she’s wise enough to know that losing someone isn’t healed or whisked away by time. It’s a weight to carry.
“Find an excuse to let one of these off the chain, and I personally guarantee you the bad guys won’t even wanna come out of their caves.”
He waves his arms and the missile launches in the air, another instrument listening obediently to the conductor’s movements- to the hands and the jerk of the wrists and it’s ripping across the sky faster than her eyes can follow it. There’s a second or two before the missile unfurls dozens of smaller missiles and they screech and zig-zag across the sky. For a moment it’s almost pretty like fireworks make designs in the sky but as quickly as the thought escapes her they’re descending towards the mountains behind where Tony stands, arms outstretched in a manner that has years of catholic schooling making Pepper’s brain immediately link it to some kind of religious symbol. It’s either that or when Russell Hammond climbs up onto the roof while drunk out of his mind in Almost Famous screaming ‘I am a golden god!'
Pepper decides that the latter is decidedly more appropriate than the former. Tony’s not really a messiah as much as he’s like a glorified rock star. At least in his own mind.
“For your consideration- the Jericho.”
Dozens of small explosions sound off behind him, dust shooting up vertically over each of his shoulders and it’s only a moment before they’re all hit with the after-shock. Tony gets pushed forward a few steps and hats are flying off the heads of Generals and Pepper is embarrassingly flung back a few feet her backwards against something solid. Blindly reaching up a hand to fix her hair, Pepper rests her free hand against the metal case she’s collided with. That’s going to leave a mark.
Quite literally ending with a big bang, the men in uniforms begin to cluster together and Tony’s approaching her with long strides stopping next to her and blinking at her as if he’s waiting for something.
“Move it or lose it, Pepper.”
Not quite understanding this request, Pepper blinks at him almost indignantly until she notes his hands poised on the clasps of the case, ready to open it only she’s got her hand in the way.
“Oh, sorry,” and she slides her hand off the lid of what Tony reveals to be a bar, taking a glass for himself and offering her one that they both know she’ll decline.
He shrugs, lifts up the glass towards the sky as he leaves her to trail behind him, mumbling something about 500 million dollar purchases before raising his glass towards the sun, amber liquid twinkling in his glass and Tony’s toasting to peace when his phone vibrates in his pockets.
“Well, that was painless,” Rhodey looks pleased as he matches Pepper’s stride. Tony’s conversation falls out of ear-shot and Pepper can’t tell who he’s speaking to but it’s a video call and that narrows down the possibilities.
“Yes, what were his exact words? Interesting, educational and impressive?” She’s counting them off on her fingers. “I don’t know about the first two but they seemed impressed, at least.”
“He did say it would be a cake-walk,” he offers but he accompanies a nod with her words. “They were impressed. They always are.”
There’s an amicable silence and he’s right, because she’s been around the man who links them both together long enough to see the trend with how people receive him. Critics aside, men admire his success, intelligence, while envying his way with women who love his status, his money and his charms. His mind conceives things at a pace leagues ahead of everyone else and it’s both a blessing and a curse, being the arms dealer with a following.
He copes with a scotch in one hand and a warm body in the other.
This is how he self-medicates.
Rhodey parts ways with Pepper once he sees Tony’s phone disappear back into his pocket. He’s trying to catch him before he climbs into the humvee but is greeted by the sound of the door closing accompanied by Tony’s head sticking out of the window, drink at his disposal while Rhodey braces one hand against the door ready to speak.
“Hey, Tony-”
“I’m sorry,” Tony interrupts, speaking too quickly for Rhodey to interject at all. “This is the fun-vee. The hum-drum-vee is back there.”
“Nice job.”
Tony just nods nonchalantly, “See you back at base.”
Pepper catches the exchange while she’s hoisting herself into the vehicle, stealing the makeshift seat of the soldier who’d been staring at them earlier. Generally, a humvee holds four people comfortably, but Tony had insisted Pepper ride with him, and conversely Rhodey was adamant about not sacrificing safety for Tony’s need for a security blanket. He’d denied that was the case at all but Rhodey has Tony figured out pretty well by now, and drops the subject entirely. Ultimately the compromise had been throwing a particularly heavy crate full of God-knows what into the humvee and using it as a makeshift seat.
All things considered, especially after the earlier ride, Pepper didn’t mind forsaking comfort for distance and some dignity. It wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury but at this point of the trip, Pepper isn’t expecting much of anything, except for things to get continually worse.
The engine roars and the youngest of the three soldiers, Jimmy (she overhears someone call him that as they pile into the car) sits beside Tony, looking a little nervous when the genius in the Armani Suit glances between him and his personal assistant. For a second Pepper thinks he might say something about the change in seating but instead he takes a long drink of scotch before turning on the stereo. Instantaneously the music picks up where it left off, playing the last 30 seconds of track 5 of the CD before changing over to the next song.
Pepper is busy playing email-tag with M.I.T. regarding Tony giving his speech. Haranguing was not the word to begin to describe them and her patience is wearing thin. There’s a haunting efficiency about Pepper, a level of mastery with the stylus that you can’t teach someone- the kind of mastery that comes from first hand target practice. Right now she’s got a two substantially sized paragraphs going in this reply, and none of it is polite or cordial and before she hits send in what can only be explained as a fit of sheer clarity, she thinks better of it and closes it.
“Is it true you went twelve for twelve with last year’s Maxim cover models?”
It’s always at the most inopportune parts of a conversation that Pepper decides to start listening again. It happens without fail.
She suddenly wishes she hadn’t scrapped that email. Clarity is overrated.
“That is an excellent question,” and Tony takes off his glasses to emphasize his point. It’s such an excellent question that he needs to ensure and command direct eye contact before continuing. “Yes and no. March and I had a scheduling conflict, but fortunately the Christmas cover was twins… Anything else?”
She’s pinching the bridge of her nose, now, partly at the reminder. The scheduling conflict had been on March’s end. Her wedding, actually, which occurred in June, not March. That phone conversation had been particularly painful for her. March had the uncanny ability to make everything she said sound like a question, made possible by all her sentences being punctuated with a high-pitched inflection of her voice.
“You’re kidding me with the hand up, right?”
Jimmy looks like he might faint or throw up from nerves. Pepper hopes if it’s the latter that he turns his head away from her general direction, even if the sentiment is really sweet. She doesn’t think she can handle being vomited on, on top of everything else.
“Is it cool if I take a picture with you?”
“Yes. It’s very cool.”
He takes out a digital camera from one of the dozens of smaller pockets on his uniform and falters for a moment, his glance moving from Pepper to his friend in the front seat. He does it again and looks like he’s going to ask Pepper to take the picture but loses his nerve and passes he camera to his comrade, who’s riding shotgun.
Pepper raises an eyebrow and watches Tony joke around with the kid sitting next to him, though it’s mostly one-sided, Jimmy not realizing when Tony is being serious or not, but very few people can peg that aspect of his personality down. There’s a playfulness in his tone throughout the conversation. Tony is a lot of things: selfish, irresponsible, foolhardy, and did she mention selfish? He was however, not a mean spirited man. He watches her off to the side and smirks when they lock eyes and Pepper crosses her legs quickly at the ankle.
It’s hard to hear their chatter over AC/DC, and she doesn’t bother to try and follow it because it barely involves her at all. She seizes this particular moment to make a list of things to do upon setting foot in Malibu again. First on the list is slather on some aloe vera, applying liberal amounts to the parts of her body that are now tinged a lovely shade of pink. She thinks after that she might take Tony up on his guilt-laden offer for some time off.
She has half a mind to tell him now, in the middle of him posing for a picture, and there’s apparently some technical difficulties because they still haven’t taken it yet-
There’s a loud explosion and Pepper tumbles off of the crate and lands in an inept heap on the floor with her feet somewhere well over her head, though miraculously her Blackberry is planted firmly in the palm of her hand and both of her shoes are still on. She scrambles to her knees and turns around to the front of the car and nothing prepares her for the wave of panic that washes over her.
All Pepper can hear in her ears is Tony shouting, asking what’s going on, and the steady rattle of bullets piercing metal and she feels numb. The once neat line of cars traveling down the dirt road aren’t visible anymore through the smoke but she’s pretty sure the one they had been driving behind is spitting up flames violently into the air. It takes less than a second for the airman who’d been driving to swing her door open only to fall into a heap as a stream of bullets hit her, louder than they’d been before. Closer. Before Pepper can register the passenger door slamming she catches one last glimpse of the man who’d been riding in front before the glass shatters and she hears the sickening thud of his body against the dirt.
She’s going to die too, she thinks as Tony calls for Jimmy, it starts more like a stutter, a sucession of Wait, wait, wait’s and a desperate plea for a gun but Jimmy can’t hear Tony. He’s not the nervous boy with admiration in his eyes anymore. He’s a man, a soldier, and the transition makes Pepper’s blood run cold because her voice isn’t coming to her but if she could call upon it for a second she’d will him back into the car. He tells them to stay there.
Stay. Here.
Two steps after he turns around there’s another explosion, whatever bomb caused it burning holes through the door that sealed Jimmy’s fate and Pepper doesn’t know how to handle this sort of thing.
She’s going to die, she thinks. She’s going to die like Jimmy.
She’s ill equipped for war-zones and gunfire. Tony’s already looking for a way out, the gears in his brain turning and he grabs Pepper by the wrist so tightly that it’d be painful if she could feel anything but panic.
“We have to get out of here Pepper. We have to go. Damnit, Pepper, look at me.”
His gaze is steady and her eyes find his. Pepper is shaking, but she’s taking deep breaths and trying to ignore the explosions going off just yards away. It’s difficult at first but it’s easier to ignore compared to the overwhelming surge of regret that hits her then. It’s a lump stuck in her chest and she tries to swallow it down.
“Just follow me, alright? Don’t let go of my hand. We’re going to get out of here.”
Something about the way he says it makes her believe him, and she feels like Pepper Potts again. She thinks to herself that just maybe there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that they can make it out of this nightmare together.
Tony forces a smile and swings the door open, Pepper stumbling out after him, her legs gaining momentum with each rattling of a machine gun, with each explosion they narrowly miss.
Part I | Part III