The Famous Pepper Potts (
wildlyconflicted) wrote2012-01-31 04:02 pm
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[For Tony]
The world filtered through to her in pieces. Flashes, distant and muddled, too real to be a dream but too obscure to be reality: Tony's voice, strangled with fear and impatience; lights first bright and then dim; the efficient brush of fingers across her skin. Instinctively, she felt she ought to be up, doing something, anything, but every part of her was inexplicably heavy, weighed down with the mantle of sleep. For a long time she gave into the perpetual downward tug into the murky, drifting depths and let herself float there in the dark.
Consciousness returned to Pepper with a sudden, sharp intake of breath. Eyes slit open, the colors of the room were muted, desaturated, as faded as she herself felt. Disoriented but too worn to care much, she stared blearily at the ceiling.
A bed. She was in a bed. And she hurt more than she could have imagined was possible.
Consciousness returned to Pepper with a sudden, sharp intake of breath. Eyes slit open, the colors of the room were muted, desaturated, as faded as she herself felt. Disoriented but too worn to care much, she stared blearily at the ceiling.
A bed. She was in a bed. And she hurt more than she could have imagined was possible.
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The house... the house hadn't gone down easy, either, but in a different sense. He hadn't even cleaned the dust, the ash off. It would've meant getting up and leaving. Having the armor on meant he didn't have to, trying to get the grime off would have defeated the purpose.
It was probably symbolic, too. Everything seemed to be, all of a sudden. Especially the glowing circle in Pepper's chest.
"Pepper?" he said. More cautiously than usual. If she wasn't waking up on her own, he didn't want to do it. He almost didn't want to it either way, he didn't want to face it. He wanted her awake and well, but he didn't want her to have to wake up and know to do it.
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"What-" she began, throat dry and rough, the sound wanting to stick fast in her throat. "What happened?"
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Everything exploded, that's what happened. The past blew up in his face with a literalness liable to induce despair.
"You had-" he started, but it caught in his throat. Shrapnel didn't seem to cover it.
"A Jericho leveled the house," he said. "I took care of- I dealt with it."
He hadn't taken care. His whole life, he hadn't taken care, and look where they were. He hadn't taken care of Pepper, that was for sure, because look where they were. Look what was in her chest.
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She'd been there, obviously. In the house, when it happened.
"It's okay," she instinctively assured Tony in a rasp, and shifted a hand to pat weakly atop the mattress in his general direction. Even with just his face showing, he looked absolutely miserable. "Everybody else- Nobody- It was just me?"
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Casualty didn't seem right. She was alive. But, still, it was the word that came to mind.
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Carefully, Pepper reached a hand to curve against her cheek and forehead, confirming that she was scratched and bruised but not horribly disfigured. She briefly wiggled her toes to confirm she wasn't paralyzed or missing a limb. Her chest felt as if she'd been sat on by an elephant, but she was apparently all there. Was he really so distraught that she'd been in danger? That she got banged up? He wasn't nearly so upset after the dinosaur thing.
Forgetting herself, she drew a too-sudden breath to ask what he was hiding, and for a couple of seconds the pain was practically blinding, sharp and hot, radiating from ribs and breastbone. Instinctively her hand flew up to press against her chest and there stilled as fingers caught on the curve of metal beneath the blankets.
Immediately, Pepper began shaking.
She didn't want to look. She couldn't make herself look. This couldn't be happening, it wasn't happening. There was no possible way.
"…Tony?" she managed, a thin, shuddering sound, plaintive and childlike.
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He remembered this. He remembered waking up with a car battery plugged into his chest. Empathy wasn't exactly a Tony Stark strength, exactly, but he had lived here in this moment and he had not enjoyed it.
"Pride of the Freedom Line," he said, bitterly. "If the blast doesn't kill you, the shrapnel- it was the only way to keep you alive. I had to do it."
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She wanted desperately to believe that none of it was real, that she was perhaps still dreaming or even coma-ridden, but Pepper Potts had not earned her reputation by succumbing to irrationality. Furthermore, she hurt far too much for it to be untrue.
Covering her eyes with one shaking hand, she turned her head away, grief-stricken for reasons she couldn't yet place.
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Wrong, was what it was. All of this, it was wrong.
He wasn't in the business of collatoral damage. It should be him in that bed, or nothing at all.
"It'll be-" he stopped, because while he could be flexible on facts, he wouldn't outright lie and say okay, something like that. "I gave you the new one. No palladium poisoning. So."
He swallowed. He still had nothing, basically.
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"What?" she said, not nearly as forcefully as she would have liked. Her voice still sounded impossibly weak, the act of drawing breath too much of a trial for much more.
"No," she added in a whine, and then was crying again, fat, unabashed tears sliding down her cheeks. Had all those long, horrible months been for nothing?
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It may have been the first time in Tony's life he'd assumed someone was reacting to news about themselves, rather than him.
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"We'll share it," she insisted, and her chin lifted slighty, some steel coming back into her spine despite the damp state of her face. "Until you can make another new one, we'll switch out." The look on her face suggested she was prepared, even in her current state, to battle him on this if need be.
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"...maybe not that fine," he said, finding that this allowed him to straighten up some, too. "I had the suit to protect me, you're-"
Injured. Not broken but... battered. Because, as had been going through his mind, of him. Which was just another reason not to cave on this one.
"I'm not going to weaken your immune system right now. Non-negotiable. When they clear you to be up and about we'll argue about it again."
By that time, hopefully, he'd have put together his own replacement.
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Through the cottony throb of her headache, she wondered if it would be possible to switch them out by herself while Tony was asleep. She wasn't above it, but was also at that moment highly medicated.
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Somewhere, he'd messed up. Hadn't seen everything coming, hadn't covered all the angles. Some genius.
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She flopped her hand in his direction in a vaguely insensed fashion, wishing she had something to throw at him since she clearly couldn't give him a solid shove to wake him up.
"This isn't about you. Just stop it," she added, and hiccupped around a sob in a completely childish manner.
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"I don't- we'll discuss it when you're better. Pete's stopgap means it'll barely be getting sick-"
Which was an argument for her side, as well.
"-later. Iloveyoutoo."
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For quite a long time, she stared at him in complete startlement. And then it actually hit her.
Every time her chest hitched it sent a fresh wave of pain radiating outward from her breastbone, but she couldn't stop herself, couldn't reel herself in to be anything even approximating dignified. Both hands at her face, shoulders shaking, she sobbed.
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Now he just felt worse, and stared at her, aghast and completely at a loss.
He twisted in his seat, in case there was a doctor about to render some kind of medical assistance to Pepper's condition, which was...
...about the same, just with extra crying. Not a medical issue. Emotional. His fault. Some more. And he had exactly no basis for figuring out how to proceed. He started pulling a gauntlet off, anyway; h'd had about enough of sitting there in the armor, and touching even her hand with the metal in the way wasn't even the slightest bit the same.
"...could have timed that better."
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"Could you hand me a tissue please," she finally managed on an unsteady exhalation, perilously close to blowing her nose on the sheet, which was not exactly what the moment called for.
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He handed it over, with the hand he'd managed to get the armor off of, watching her cautiously, as if she might-
Well, as if she might start crying again.
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She might have agreed that yes, his timing was extraordinarily poor. Not only did he deftly choose a moment when she was already emotional, but he waited until she'd been at death's door to comprehend how important the gesture was. She could have made a very strong case for his being absolutely horrible at this.
The thing was, that wasn't at all what she wanted to do.
"Thank you," she finally settled on, a flush high in her cheeks as she peered at Tony over the now-ragged tissue.
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The crying had subsided, and she wasn't yelling at him. In other circumstances, he'd have counted it a win.
In other circumstances, she wasn't in a clinic bed and they hadn't been arguing over who got to wear the poisonous arc reactor. (Him, obviously. He'd have to find a doctor to back up that it would always be a bad idea this close to the accident. Which meant finding a doctor he could pay off with air conditioning or something.)
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"Not just that- Although that was nice. Um." She floundered, her thought processes frustratingly slow. "Unexpected. But I mean all of it, getting me out and the chest piece and-"
Only then did it occur to her that he must have literally taken it out of his own chest to hand it over for her. Through the thrum of her headache and the powerful urge to cry, she realized that he probably would have done as much even if he hadn't had a replacement.
"Just thank you," she finished, chin still trembling a bit despite her best efforts to reel in the waterworks.
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The most he could have done was ensure none of it had been necessary. Been better prepared. Done... something. Kept the house standing. More importantly, kept Pepper standing, instead of laid up here.
"You're welcome," he said, louder, overriding the previous thought. "Thank you. For... not- Do you need more painkillers? Doc!"
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"Please stop shouting," she said, and laid her other hand across her forehead as she closed her eyes. "And stop beating yourself up. You saved the life of the woman you love. And she loves you. I love you. Painkillers would be good, though. Without shouting."
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Now, though, he had a doctor to track down and browbeat into providing additional painkillers.