Week 1
It wasn't uncommon for the darkness she'd just settled into to get rudely interrupted by the gentle buzz of her phone and the ethereal blue light it projected. If Pepper concentrated hard enough, she could almost ignore it. Unfortunately when you've spent the day working your ass off for the man who should be doing half your workload, and it's 3am and you nearly slipped in the shower, concentration isn't easy to come by. Her fingers crawled along the wooden polish of the dressing cabinet and capture the phone, sliding it to answer murmuring a sleepy (and moderately annoyed) "Hello," into it.
The voice that responded wasn't the one she was expecting. It wasn't the slightly higher pitched tone of a man - specifically Tony Stark - that had gotten more than just tipsy. It wasn't a man slurring bad pickup lines into the phone while he probably had three girls hooked under his arm, a drink balancing precariously in his hand curled around them. It wasn't her boss. It wasn't Tony.
It was his best friend's voice instead.
"Pepper, look, I know it's late there but you have to listen to me—"
"Rhodey?"
"Yeah, it's me. We have a situation," he hesitates, and she can swear just for a second there, his voice broke. James Rhodes was a solid man, and if anyone was as trained as she was to never betray the slightest hint of emotion, or sensitivity at least, it was him.
She sucks in a nervous breath. She knows what this is about. He's probably gotten himself injured, accidentally burnt himself in one of his demonstrations with his missiles. Who knows.
"Tony's missing."
She's a lot more awake than she remembered being. Her heart sinks rapidly. Whatever she was expecting, doesn't even come close to this. "What?" The way the word slips from her lips it's fragile, it immediately gives away the worry that's come to strike her.
"He's—- look I'm sorry Pep, I really am," She can't even respond, she's too busy trying to take in the situation. "We don't know if we can- if we can find him but we're doing the best we can,"
"Thank you," It's all she can say but it holds more meaning to it than just that. Like a 'please bring him back safely, please for the both of us'
After she hangs up she reclines and curls up. The room's not as cold, the light streaming in through the gap in her curtains doesn't bother her and the hours of exhaustion have washed away. She can't even cry. She wants to cry. She'd rather be weeping than feeling the way that she does. Utterly lost.
Week 2
Tony's never felt frightened before, because what's there to fear when you're ultra smart, ultra rich and ultra famous? He's invincible, man on top of the world some would call him.
That's a lie. Fear is an emotion he's familiar with, he's simply learnt to repress it. But here in this cave, with his heart being kept alive by a car battery, and his life on the line he can't help but allow himself the freedom to let all that repressed fear wash over him. He goes through the typical stages. Denial, anger, hopelessness but that's what it narrows down to. Tony Stark genius billionaire, feeling afraid. Terrified almost.
Of course it's for his life, any sane person would and though most would doubt it he does have a measure of sanity. But it's not just that. It's the fact that his weapons surround him and that maybe The Merchant of Death is a fitting title after all. It's the regret that he hadn't stopped drinking or sleeping around before all this happened and that he could possibly just die a playboy, asshole who sure, made some great gadgets and weapons but never had any real secure ties. All except one.
His first thought is Pepper. The smile she gave him before she sent him off. Oh god, how he'd forgotten her birthday of all things. Just another thing to add to his list of growing regrets. He misses the way she smells, not the clean smell of his bedroom or the smell in his workshop but her. The way she smells like cinnamon and vanilla frosting with just a hint of lilacs. The way her hair smells perfectly shampooed when he can get close enough to catch the faintest whiff of it. Oh, he just misses her. He hates that her heels aren't clicking around him and neither is her pen, and her voice isn't the one ordering him no it's Ho Yinsen and the various Ten Rings terrorists that check in from time to time. If he could only call her just to hear her voice one more time.
Some time in the middle of the night he realizes he may never hear that voice ever again. He's never felt so cold before.