Summary: Tony's life is altered when Pepper walks out. But it is altered even more drastically the day she walks back in.

Disclaimer: I am trying something a little different with this one, so no infringement or offense intended. I don't own any of them - Marvel does.

Stark Contrast

He was flipping restlessly between ESPN, Fox Sports, and CNN when he flipped past the Weather Channel, pausing when he heard the weatherman assert confidently a sixty percent chance of showers over the next two days. Rain in Malibu was somewhat rare and had a way of revealing secrets buried under layers of dust. It had a way of stirring up things. A little over four months had passed since she'd quit her job and moved away. It rained on her last day in Malibu, the day she finally left him, so it seemed fitting it would rain the day she decided to come back. There was something literarily symbolic in how the rain followed her; at once washing everything clean, stirring up in him things he didn't know how to process, her leaving causing him finally, after a lifetime of solitude, to understand the difference between being alone and being lonely. He could imagine the rain taking her hand, saying, 'Come on Pepper, let's wreak a little havoc.'

They'd barely spoken when she handed in her resignation. He, of course, tried to talk her out of it, but she was adamant. Something quiet yet forceful was in her, it said: Keep out. It said: I gave you everything, and you broke my heart. It said: I will never forgive you. He couldn't bring himself to put up a fight, not in light of everything that had happened.

After he had time to think about it, he categorized it as simply getting caught up in the moment, his restraint collapsing under his need for her. After years of a tenuous building of their relationship, he'd shown up on her doorstep in the rain, needing desperately to check on her, to make certain that she was okay, needing to prove to himself that that psycho hadn't hurt her. If she was surprised to find him standing there, forlorn and pathetic, she didn't let on. Instead, she invited him in. She stood there, next to her kitchen island, freshly showered, in her tank and yoga pants, him standing feet in front of her just staring. She knew him. Knew his mind, knew that silence was not meant to be awkward or rude, but that his mind had to work through whatever had brought him there. It was when she moved to pull her wet hair into a ponytail that he had been spurred to action. The sight of the bruising on the left side of her neck was his breaking point. He inched closer, wordlessly, and stroked the tips of his fingers gently over her neck, the only words uttered were quiet and raspy, "He hurt you." And then his lips were on her neck, sweetly, innocently, like a salve to her wound, kissing it to make it better. But when his tongue slipped through his lips and tasted her skin there, she began to feel him rain soft kisses all along her neck. He gently inched his way toward her mouth leaving a trail of sensual, soft kisses and finally, finally he laid claim to her mouth. It was a total firestorm of heat, and heart and emotion, a vortex that swept them both up and away. And later, she said nothing when his hand insinuated itself between her shirt and body. Mouths crashed together again, need was defined and reciprocated as he pushed her shirt over her head while she unbuckled his belt, and they were falling hard into something so beautiful he didn't have time to stop and think.

They made their way to her couch, hurriedly and clumsily and landed on it with a bounce, neither stopping for even a second. Later, when he ran his hand up her thigh, his name floated out of her mouth in a gasp; she was impossibly warm and wet, and he didn't think any woman had ever felt that good. There was one moment when she regained her senses, when she placed her hands on either side of his face and forced him to look in her eyes. He knew what she was asking, but she said it anyway, in a low, husky voice, "Tony, are you sure? Because this is real, and this can't be just a one time thing."

Removing her hands from his face, he pinned them above her head against the soft fabric of her sofa, not so hard she couldn't free herself if she so desired, but with enough force to stake a claim, to give her an answer. A sharp intake of breath, and then he was inside her, trying not to think about what he was going to say when beauty receded and reality set in.

Time passed, and they moved in perfect sync, shadows dancing on the wall, and the perfection of it made him close his eyes against the swell of emotion so foreign to him. He didn't want to feel this much for anyone, and he hated how easy it was to love her, hated how she invaded all the secret parts of him, and that she, in turn, didn't despise him for what she found there. As dawn broke and the first rays of morning spread in irregular patterns over their bodies, erasing the shadows from the walls and ceiling, he bit back her name as he spilled into her with a force so strong he felt he might actually pass out.

He remembered there was something delicate about her wrists, he could wrap his hand too easily around the bones and skin there, something intrinsically vulnerable about her caused him to not let her bear the full weight of his body. Her arms were wrapped around his back and she was holding him, as if he might get up and walk away. Surprising himself, and probably her as well, he dropped kisses on her forehead and told her he loved her. They eventually moved to her bed where they made love twice more before morning. Eventually, she woke him and although pleased to find him still there, insisted he leave telling him that he needed to return home and shower and sleep even if for a little while before his required presence at the board meeting.

Unbeknownst to her, when he did return home to sleep, his fears got the best of him. In the deepest recesses of his being, he feared for her. How could he keep her safe? His identity as Iron Man automatically placed her in danger. How could he ever survive without her? How could he survive the guilt if anything ever happened to her because of him? His dreams were riddled with horrific images, Pepper in danger, Pepper dead, and all at his own doing. The brutality and veracity of his fears haunted him. He knew he was being selfish, and for once, he wanted to do what was right, despite what he wanted. It wasn't until later that morning, when she'd shown up with her demure little smile, his morning coffee, and a muffin that he told her it had been a mistake. She handed in her resignation two weeks later, had not said one unkind word, and didn't bother with goodbye. That had been 3 ½ months ago.

Yesterday, she called and said she was coming to Malibu for a couple of days and that she needed to speak with him. He didn't have time to question her, because she said she was working and needed to get back to a meeting. She had given him few details about her trip, and then she hung up and he stood there, everything he'd never been able to say, right there…he'd ordered Jarvis to calculate the odds that she was coming back to him.

He worked in his garage that day, tinkering and puttering the time away by focusing on the suit. Eventually Jarvis reminded him that she would be coming and that he may want to shower for her benefit. As he was ascending the stairs to head to his bedroom and shower, Jarvis announced that Col. James Rhodes was calling.

"Patch him through, J."

"Hey buddy."

"Hey Rhodey. Back from whatever shithole they sent you to this time?"

"Yeah, for now. Hey, the General told me you postponed the latest Iron Patriot spec meeting that we had scheduled?"

"Okay, first the name is still stupid. Second, yeah I did. Pepper is coming today."

Rhodey's response was preceded by a lengthy pause. "Yeah, look, man…just…be careful. I know how you feel about her. Shit, vice versa too. But you have to give her some space. Did she even say what she wanted to talk about?"

"Nope. Obviously she is miserable without me. I am sure she'll beg to come back."

"Yeah, knowing Pepper, I am sure that's what it is. Who wouldn't beg to come back to the crying, the puking, the explosions, the whining, the tantrums-"

"Hey…whose side are you on here? And besides, I gave all of that up a long time ago…well, most of it anyway."

"Look, just…just call me later and let me know how it went."

"Sure thing, Jimmy. I will spill all of the gossip and juicy deets as soon as I have them. O..M…G…"

"Dude, fuck off. Whatever. Just call me."

"Later Rhodey."

Tony would never forget the way Rhodey had looked at him upon hearing the news of Pepper's resignation. Because of his close relationship to Tony, he and Pepper had also grown extremely close. Rhodey had looked betrayed, and later asked him in an earnest voice, "God, Tony, what did you do?" He hadn't answered then, but he wondered if Rhodey had figured it out; if so, he never mentioned it to him.

By the time he made it out of the shower, Pepper was sitting on the living room sofa. It was a cool day in Malibu, and she sat hunched over, a bulky knit sweater pulled around her body. There was a large suitcase beside her, and she sat looking somewhat anxious. "Hi Tony," escaped, almost whispered. She didn't smile, and he noticed she looked tired, more tired than he'd ever seen her look in all the years he'd known her. He could only nod, and then he brushed by her to sit at he opposite end of the couch. After they sat, unspeaking for a moment, she slowly rose and moved away from the couch. "I need to use the restroom."

She was in there longer than he thought necessary – really did she come all this way to drop a deuce in his bathroom? - but eventually she reappeared and curled up in the chair opposite him. They had been together only that one night, but she had practically lived in his home. She appeared at ease with settling in for the long haul, and he felt unnerved. He wondered what was so pressing that she'd come back to Malibu, and how it involved him. He'd called her once in San Francisco, and she'd hung up on him. When he tried agains later to reach her, the number was disconnected. He got the message. He thought it better to let her go, even though he loved her, even though he thought about her and missed her. Even though, more than anything, he'd wanted to make things right between them. There was, however, such a vast wasteland between wanting to and knowing how. In the end, he just wanted her safe.

So she was sitting there, playing with the frayed edges of her sweater, and he thought it the perfect time to set the record straight. "Um…I'm sorry, Pepper, for everything. I…I never meant to hurt you," he said in his most sincere voice.

Tilting her head back, she laughed bitterly, sadly, closed her eyes and shook her head. He didn't know what was so funny about his apology. He'd been a bastard, he wasn't about to deny it, but he was a sincerely sorry bastard. She folded her hands in her lap and looked at him, so seriously, brows furrowed together. "I'm pregnant."

What had to have been moments later, an insistent tapping caught his attention; he looked over at the windows, saw rain trailing in nonsensical patterns down the glass. A serious fog seemed to have settled into his brain, and he was disoriented from it. Glancing at Pepper, he saw that she was looking down at her folded hands, some of her earlier bravado gone, and it was then that he saw the slight bulge of her midsection, masked by the sweater she was wearing. He did not bother asking if it was his, he knew the baby was theirs and didn't want to insult her by asking such a question. She would not be sitting in front of him, telling him she was pregnant, if it were another man's baby. It was January, which meant she was probably over halfway through the pregnancy.

"At a loss for words?" she questioned in that agonizingly heartbreaking voice she used so often with him.

"Yes," he answered, looking down.

"I didn't know when I left, but I figured it out soon after. I – I didn't know what to do, but I thought you deserved to know, no matter how it ended between us - not that there was much to end...um…I don't really want anything from you, I have plenty of money. I'm not here to trap you, you don't ever have to see me again if you don't want to, but you deserved to know. He's yours too." The endless rambling was uncharacteristic of this always-composed woman and spoke to her level of anxiety. By the time she had finished, his brain was hard-pressed to keep up. After a few seconds, his head snapped up, and he found her looking at him with a pitying expression softening her features. As soon as their eyes met, the mask of indifference slipped easily enough into place.

"He?" Tony asked.

"Uh…yes, he. I had the ultrasound a few days ago, it's definitely a boy," she smiled. "I was on the pill. You knew that, but it didn't work. Obviously. I was shocked. I didn't plan any of this, I wouldn't do that to you. Or to me. I waited – I mean - I wanted to make sure everything was okay with him before I told you. No sense coming back here and turning everyone's life upside down if something happened," she trailed off. "First baby, and my age, the chances of miscarriage were higher, but he's…he's perfect." she explained.

Tony was still stuck on the previous revelation. "A son?"

"Yes," she answered.

A thousand memories went rapid-fire through his brain. He saw a small boy with Pepper's hair and his eyes, looking up at her and asking where Daddy was. His small face faded and morphed into another, a nine-year-old Tony looking up at his mother, asking when Daddy was coming home. His mother looked down and said gently, firmly, "Next month, Anthony. He is working." This image morphed into the newspaper photos of him standing, in his suit and tie, at the gravesite, saying goodbye to his parents. Sometime later, when his childlike hope had faded, and he'd become a man, he swore he'd always be there for his child should the opportunity arise. If nothing else, he would be there. And now, he realized that he would not be there. How would he be a father from over 400 miles away? Something inside him broke apart, the jagged edges of realization doubling him over, desperation settling itself in his stomach. It made him wish he had tried harder with Pepper, had called her until she listened. He wished he had not been such a coward no matter how overwhelmed by her and his feelings for her he had been. Yes she needed to be safe, but who better than Iron Man to do that?

Bringing a shaky hand up to his head, he wrapped his fingers around his forehead and tried to squeeze away the dull ache he felt there. "What the hell does…does this mean?" he asked quietly.

"It means…it means I'm going to have a baby. And that you," she paused, "that you are going to be a father…if you want to be," she finished.

"I…I do. Yeah. I mean, I do." he said, in the off-kilter Tony way that he had.

"Okay. That's fine," she said. "I won't keep him from you, that's why I'm here. We need to work out a few things."

"Jesus! More than a few things, Pepper." But what he really meant was: Please forgive me.

As if she understood his implication, she looked up, and in her eyes he found his answer: No.

Arching her back, she untied her sweater, eased out one shoulder at a time, and then draped the sweater across her lap. She was wearing a navy blue shirt that fit her like a glove. Tony noticed immediately the way pregnancy had made her breasts fuller, and he saw now, the noticeable swell of her abdomen; her belly was small and round, but jutting out in the way that was especially endearing when a woman was first pregnant.

"You look –" he stopped, not knowing what would be appropriate to say. And then he went for broke, because she was having his son, and maybe he'd never again get the chance to say this. "Huge. Ha…I mean, well, you look beautiful," he said, eyes focused on her stomach.

She gave him a small smile, and then looked away. "Jesus, Potts, what are we going to do?" he asked.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, we don't have to figure it out right now. Why don't we meet for later after dinner and we can talk. Give us both time to let this all sink in." She laid her hand on her stomach, and stroked it in a soothing way, as if she were talking to the baby. "I really need to get some sleep. I've been sick as a dog and my OB has been on me to get more rest, so if you can have Happy drop me at my hotel, I'd appreciate it," she said, her hand still moving in lazy circles over her stomach.

"You can stay –"

She interrupted, "No."

"Pepper –"

"I got a cab here, I can get a cab to the hotel if I need to, I just didn't want to bother renting a car. I'm not staying here, though," she said, getting up from the chair.

There was nothing quite as surreal as watching Pepper Potts, this woman he once knew, this woman now pregnant with his child, stomp over and wrestle her suitcase to a standing position; and then he was worried, because he remembered her saying something about a higher risk, and he didn't like the way she was straining with the suitcase, didn't like how it was bumping against her stomach.

Rising unbidden, from some place so deeply buried inside him, the words were, 'Stop, that's my son in there, and I don't want anything to happen to him. Or you.' What came out was, "Stop, you're going to hurt yourself," he said, moving toward her. "I'll – Happy can take you to your hotel, if that's what you want, but please just stop messing with this thing." He took the suitcase from her, and was surprised at how heavy it was. "You shouldn't be carrying this," he said more irritably than intended.

"Who else is going to carry it for me, Tony?" she laughed.

"Me," he said. She looked away, everything under the surface rising up. "I'll help you," he said, one hand holding the suitcase handle, the other hand resting on her shoulder. "I'll help you."

Something warred inside her, he could tell because she closed her eyes the way she always did when she was considering something, but he knew by the way she inhaled, the way her jaw was set firmly in place, that his offer was not going to be accepted, not today, anyway.

"I've got it," she said, taking the suitcase from him, although she didn't attempt to carry it anywhere, just stood there fingers gripping the handle.