Tony sighed, set down his drink, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed a hand across his forehead. He gritted his teeth and looked around his lab. Everything was so...quiet. He had never been good with quiet.
Of course, he supposed it was his own fault. He was, after all, the one who was pushing everyone away. The one who was doing seemingly crazy things like donating all of his art to the Boy Scouts and signing over his company to his assistant. The one who was throwing ridiculous parties, and shoving his best friend through walls.
No one ever told him that dying was this lonely.
Then again, by the same token, he knew that it was all necessary. He had to take care of things. Clean up. Make sure the right people wound up where they deserved before he kicked it and couldn't control his own estate anymore. It needed to happen. They just didn't know it yet.
Okay, well, maybe not the partying and violence thing. He hoped once he was dead people would skim over that.
Briefly, Tony thought back to what he found himself saying at the beginning of the Expo about legacy. Once upon a time, he thought this tower would be his. He thought that this was his big, fat gift to the world. A bunch of weapons. A bunch of weapons, and money, and, and technology. He used to imagine his funeral - if it ever came; people like him lived forever, right? - would be full of people. Mainly crying women, broken hearted that he was gone.
And if he had died in Afghanistan like he was supposed to, that would have been exactly what his legacy was made up of.
But he didn't.
Tony had wondered a lot since then (especially during those first few months) why he had made it through. He wondered how exactly he had gotten back to Manhattan, back to his old life, and had been granted the opportunity to go back to business as usual - with the exception, of course, of the giant hunk of glowing metal in his chest keeping him alive. It would have been all too easy to forget what he saw, and go back to the way he was used to living. But he took a different path.
Tony Stark was many things, but he was never a fool.
Instead, Tony used his second chance to try - key word - to fix things. He did his best to start living a life of some meaning. Being...virtuous? He tried to use the suit to fix the world...and tried to do little things too, like making Pepper smile more, and sending Rhodey dinner reservations for him and his girl every once in a while. He did his best. He thought he was doing it right.
And then...this.
Everything had gotten so screwed up. All because he was...well, dying.
He was dying.
...Shit.
It had all gone so fast. Tony had never been one for looking back or being sentimental...but now he almost wish he had. Because now he was stuck looking back on a life that seemed to be played in fast forward everytime he thought back on it as a whole. There seemed to be an infinite of blurry sleepless nights full of colors, and too few moments that were burned into his mind as things he shouldn't - and couldn't - ever forget.
There were the obvious ones like his mother's last words to him (and his father's, for that matter), the first time he ran into Rhodey (Rhodey called him an ass), the day that he decided he wanted to go to the beach (she protested about professionalism the whole time, but she looked beautiful).
God, Pepper. Tony leaned forward with his elbows resting on his desk, and rubbed his hands tiredly over his face. She looked so sad now. Stressed, dissappointed...and mostly sad. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was running hot and cold on her, and she had had enough. He knew she was probably just confused and frustrated. They had come so close to each other so many times, and he never failed to push her away again. For so long she was the only consistent thing in his life...and the only consistency he could provide to hers was that he would be out with a different girl every weekend, and she would have to clean up after him.
Tony wished he could have given her something better. He was sure that even given a time machine he wouldn't have settled down back when he should've, but he could have given her more time than he did. He had still spent countless hours with her but...it seemed like when he was looking at the end, it wasn't enough. He had bought her expensive dresses, and jewelry, and fancy dinners, and simultaneously stolen her away from her social life, her family, and any and all free time she previously had. He had hand picked her from a pool of hopeful looking airy blondes - she stood out from a crowd - and then her had sequestered her. And now none of it seemed like it was enough.
Tony knew he should have told her sooner. It seemed cruel now. What what was he supposed to say? Hey, Pep, listen, I've been thinking, you're the most amazing person I've ever met. You're beautiful, and strong, and I have next to no idea why you're still here. We should date, yeah? Oh, by the way, I'm dying, so you'll only get about three or four months out of me.
No. He wouldn't do that to her. It'd break her heart. And his. If he had one of those. Somedays he wasn't sure anymore.
"Sir, Ms. Potts is approaching," J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him in a clean, polished tone. "Shall I send her away?"
Tony hesitated, and then sighed. "No, that's okay. Go ahead and let her in."
Tony heard the door open and shut, and the click of heels walking across the room. They started out fast and then got progressively slower until they just stopped.
"Tony?" Pepper asked gently after a moment, her voice shattering the silence that rang through the place.
Tony turned part of the way around. "Yeah?"
Pepper's eyes drifted across the bottle and glass on his desk. "You've been drinking." She sounded like her heart was somewhere in her stomach.
"Yeah," Tony said again. "Not a lot. I mean -"
"The bottle is half empty."
Tony looked back at it and then up at her. "Oh."
Pepper nodded slowly, seemingly holding something back. Wordlessly, she picked up the bottle and the glass and took them back to the bar. She set the bottle down with a soft clink, and started wiping down the glass.
Tony watched her silently. Even now, with everything he had done, she was still taking care of him. He owed her so much. She didn't have her blazer on like she normally did. Instead she wore a kelly green button down tucked perfectly into her pencil skirt, which was starting to wrinkle across her lap from sitting. He could tell she had been there too long.
Pepper finished her task and let out a calming breath, leaning against the bar. "What aren't you telling me?"
Tony blinked at her. "What?"
Pepper turned around and locked her eyes onto his. "There's...something that you aren't telling me. The way you're acting, this isn't you Tony this is -"
"The old me?" Tony finished for her, eyebrows raised.
Pepper looked away, a hint of shame on her features. "That's not fair, you know that I -"
"No, but that's what you were going to say, isn't it?" Tony pressed. "I'm being Old Tony again. The partying, the drinking. I'm pre-suit Stark all over again, right? And that's what's really bothering you. You want there to be something wrong with me, because you can't stand the thought that I'm exactly who everyone else thinks I am." He chuckled coldly, wishing he could stop but knowing he was too far in. He looked away, and then met her confused blue eyes again. "Face it, Pep. People don't ever change."
Pepper was silent for a moment, either struck speechless or too angry to speak. A flush crept up her cheeks. "Well, excuse me for believing that you were a better person than all of the tabloid stories, topless women, and bottles of alcohol would have led me to believe. It won't happen again," she told him in a cool, calm, and detatched voice. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"
"That will be all, Ms. Potts," Tony said, watching her walk back across the room. When she had almost reached the door, he called out, "Pepper."
Pepper turned around, taking a deep breath. "Yes?"
"I lied," Tony admitted.
Confusion twisted Pepper's face. "What?"
"I lied," Tony repeated. "Back in Monaco. When I told you that green wasn't your best color, I lied," he cleared his throat and stood up, walking over to her and lightly putting his hands on her shoulders. He brushed off a bit of stray fuzz off of her left shoulder. "It's actually my favorite on you. It does something with your...hair and...eyes."
Pepper stared back, unimpressed. Tony could almost see the wheels turning in her brain. The coldness that remained from his earlier remarks. "Thank you," she said simply.
He searched her face for a moment, "Pepper, I-"
"Goodnight, Tony," Pepper cut him off. She briskly turned and left.
Tony pressed his lips together and shook his head. He walked back to his seat and fell heavily into it. Good Lord he was an asshole. No wonder she had given up. It was better this way, though. It had to be.
"Hey, JARVIS," Tony called out to the computer.
"Yes, sir?"
"When I'm gone, you'll take care of her, right?"
"I'll do my best, sir."