-Based off the 1941 movie, Penny Serenade. Yes, I love the classics.


The stairs creaked with her every movement, reminding the wife of the first time she walked up them. They were happier then. Closing her eyes, she could hear their idiotic giggling laughter as they raced each other to find out who could carry the most boxes. They ended up breaking two sets of china, in a time frame of under thirty minutes. A fluctuating smile graced her cold, wind-chapped lips, and she stopped to bask in the greatness of the memory. So many precious things had occurred in this house, but the honeymoon ceased before it even began. Tragedy and pain was all that existed in that house now; nothing could make it change - not all the love in the world.

Her eyes reopened, a few tears spilling over the dam she built. She shook her head, and blinked the rest of them back. Sadness needn't interfere either. It was better for the both of them; her husband required time to himself, she understood that, no matter how much she wished to disbelieve it. This was not an issue they could work out. Caroline was still fresh in their minds, especially his, and time separated from each other would allow themselves to cool and recollect. It wasn't if she didn't love him, that was false, she merely needed to get away for a while.

The wife's hand clenched around the suitcase she held as she took the final step to reach the landing, and turned around with an absent mind, only to have her broken hazel eyes coming face to face with the nursery door, left wide open. A small, stuffed teddy bear could be seen on the now unused pink-sheeted bed. The guileless animal seemed magically enhanced by the moonlight streaming in from the window; its red bow radiated with a childish light, and the black, plastic nose appeared to twitch, almost as if their daughter were playing with it again. With rushed steps, she approached the alabaster-painted door, and closed it gently, the habit she had gained while tending for the child she so desperately wanted back still present within her battered subconscious.

While she ran a quaking hand through her roseate hair, a soft melody dangled within her ears. She perked up, and stiffened, blinking wildly to prevent any more tears from leaving her defenses. Turning around, she saw Rhodey looming above an old record player, with a look of grief upon his face. It didn't affect her rage over the music, however.

"Don't play that, Rhodey." Pepper strolled into the living room, clutching her suitcase with a death-grip. "I'm leaving."

After her words, she heard her best friend emit a sigh, and he stopped the record. As he took the vinyl off the player, and slipped it back into the case it came from, she could hear him mutter, "This is a bad idea. Don't you want to think this over?"

She sucked in a breath through her nose, walking over to an armchair. "I've thought it over, for days." she kept her eyes on the suitcase as she placed it on the cushion, and unclasped the gold-colored locks.

"You and Tony have been married for a long time now." Rhodey raised his chin, gliding the vinyl casing inside its respective place in a family scrapbook.

"But we don't need each other anymore. When that happens to two people," she shook her head, "There's nothing left."

Rhodey set down the scrapbook, and turned around to face Pepper with a look of disapproval written deep inside his chestnut orbs. "I'll let you pack." he said in a quick manner, and left the living room, trotting down the steps two at a time, until finally, she heard the entry-way door open and shut, the same creak sounding from its hinges as they day they first walked in.

She dipped her head for a moment, just to gather her thoughts, then lifted it to meet the eyes of an innocent little girl, whose life was stolen years before it could begin. Precious, large brown eyes stared back at her, accompanied by a bright, shining face who could do no wrong in her mind. She never did, either. Even though she was never fully their child, it felt as such, considering they raised her from the time she was a tiny, holding baby. Another weak smile curved Pepper's lips as she remembered the day they brought her home from the adoption center, after weeks upon months of endless paperwork, and Tony firmly against a child any younger than two years, for whatever reason. Despite his dispute, he grew attached to her anyway. They both did.

With trembling hands, she grasped the framed portrait. Her husband wouldn't mind her taking it. She longed to hear Caroline's joyful laughter, to chase her around the house playing "Tickle Monster" again. Perhaps staring at her picture long enough would help to ease the pain, just a tad. A lone sob escaped her lips as she delicately placed the precious memento inside an empty pocket within her suitcase, where it wouldn't jostle, or be at risk for cracking. It was much too valuable.

Unfortunately, her eyes then wandered over to the record player while searching for more relics to carry with her. The old record player was a gift Tony bought, just for her, on their anniversary. It even had a small, engraved note on the top. Not being able to resist, she strolled over to it, and lifted the photo album Rhodey left there into her hands. It was their scrapbook of sorts, that they put together themselves. Although, a considerable amount of effort was put into it by her to persuade her husband to place the pictures in the correct slots.

A nostalgic feeling settled in her chest as she flipped through the pages, landing on memory after memory, after irreplaceable memory. From the days when they were teenagers, to the present days that used to be filled with the joys of being a parent. Once she had finished browsing, Pepper placed the time-table back upon the record player, and picked up her suitcase. But something drew her back; perhaps it was the nursery door, or maybe it was her own self-conscious, but whatever it was, it wanted her to look more closely at their keepsakes. So, unable to fight the temptation, Pepper dropped her suitcase back on the armchair, and returned to her spot beside the record player, and picked up the scrapbook, turning one page to the very first entry. Hidden in the center was an ancient record, scratched and abused, but loved all the same. Pepper's shoulders relaxed as her mind played the song embedded inside it. The gentle rhapsody never ceased to warm her heart, despite its romanticism.

Pepper slipped the ample black disc from its snug confines, and examined it front-to-back before positioning it on the player. She picked up the needle, and rested it at the beginning, allowing herself to become lost in the various reflections emerging in front of her eyes. There was a part of her that missed those days. So much, in fact, that the simple record converted to a portal, taking her back to the first time that song played.

To the first time he walked her home.


A/N: They do still make record players by the way. I have one. Just so no one creams me or anything.