He found her in the dark with a vodka martini, tears tracing a path down her cheeks through makeup he never realized she wore, assuming her skin was as alabaster and white as the petals of a lily. She loved lilies- let it slip one night when they were walking through the gardens in Central Park- and he'd filed it away under 'Pepper' in his mind, for the days when he'd make her so angry that flowers were the first stage of an hour long apology.
"Pepper-"
"Don't, Tony. I have to figure out how to tell Antonia- you know that, right? I'm going to be the one who tells her that he's dead, that he died in some freak accident that I'll have to write up in a press release so no one knows that SHIELD exists. So no one knows that he died saving the world from alien invaders. Because no one knows that Norse gods exist in helmets with sloping antelope horns..." She choked on the words as her throat clogged with a sob that ended in another drink, and he imagined the liquid burning as it slid down her throat. He knew how alcohol burned, how it hit an empty stomach like a closed fist, like Thor's hammer striking its target. Pepper Potts held her alcohol about as well as anyone whose life was spent slugging espresso on the sly, and he wondered how long it would be before grief and exhaustion worked with the soporific effect of the vodka to ease her into unconciousness.
"You don't have to figure that out tonight." He stepped into the room and scanned his surroundings, realizing that he hadn't taken care to examine the plans when giving her free reign at the décor. A large window overlooked the city, leafy plants flanking it on either side, the chair in which she sat turned to take in the panoramic view. It was the city lights that provided what little illumination they had, save for his RT, and Tony wondered how long she'd been sitting with only the city for company before he'd come. "I'll go with you to Oklahoma-"
"Oregon." Pepper tossed back the last dregs, picked up a toothpick with three olives on it and twirled it between her fingers. Plucked each olive off, one by one, and swallowed them like pills. "She lives in Oregon. I could tell her over the phone, save myself the trip. But it doesn't seem right, Tony. I just...none of it seems right."
"It never is," He was solemn, more so than he thought he'd ever been with Pepper, memories of his parents flickering through his mind like a movie- a slideshow of the most profound loss he'd ever experienced in his lifetime. He knew the sensation of pain, both emotional and physical, and knew that if anyone was going to understand what she needed it would be him. "It's never right, Pepper, and it's never fair. But Phil Coulson died brave, and if there was ever a hero to be celebrated, it was him. All we can do is right by him, and going to Oregon to tell her he's gone is the best thing you can do to honor his memory."
She hiccuped, a sound so soft he nearly missed it, and again as he listened, the sound morphing into sobs so deep and broken his heart shattered to hear them. He'd never realized how close she'd grown to the agent whose existence he took great pride in mocking, whose stoic demeanor was never broken by his incessant need to be difficult. Knowing now what he hadn't known then, Tony Stark came to the conclusion that he'd do everything he could to make it right- to help her mourn the friend he'd never known she had.
"Let's go to bed." Hoisting her into his arms he let her snuggle into his shoulder and cry, the tears soaking his t-shirt even as his skin absorbed the warmth from hers. They'd sleep tonight, together, and tomorrow he'd fly her to Oregon to help deliver the news to another who Phil Coulson held dear...and to help heal the wound that news would leave behind.