Call it Intuition

By: Armitage Blade

DISCLAIMER: Marvel owns Iron Man. I don't. End of discussion. Any lines/scenes you recognize come from the movie. If you can't figure it out, it's in Pepper's POV.

Goodbye?

I sigh as the door shuts behind the latest of Tony's one night stands. 'Taking out the trash' for the man is not how I wanted to begin my birthday. Alas, this is usually par for the course, and has been since I started working for this billionaire playboy genius. Unfortunately for me, I also count him as my friend, and I believe, in some twisted way, he calls me friend as well.

The phone in my hand rings, and I note the time as I answer. He's running late for the flight to Afghanistan, where he'll be demonstrating the Jericho missile system. While on the phone with Larry, who owns a Jackson Pollock piece Tony is "interested" in, I decide to get him out of the house as fast as possible. I start down the stairs to the garage/workshop area, hearing the percussion and bass of the current song getting louder as I reach the bottom.

Keying in my code, I had Jarvis turn down the music so that I could not only hear who I was on the phone with, but also so that I know Tony will actually hear me.

"Please don't turn down my music." I hear him say as I finish up my phone conversation.

"You are supposed to be halfway around the world right now." I reply as I get closer to where he is working on the hot rod that he and his dad started so many years ago.

As he starts arguing about the benefits of having your own plane, I sigh and start on the list of things that I know need to be covered before he leaves. Getting rid of the latest conquest? Too easy, even when she was trying to be catty with me. The Jackson Pollock piece? He decided he wanted it, and authorized me to buy and store the piece for him. The MIT Commencement speech? I penciled it in for him, but for all of his blustering about it, I knew he would agree when the time got closer.

It was when I was trying to get him to sign the paperwork I carried that he finally caught onto my speed, even more efficient than usual. He begins his usual inquisition.

"What are you trying to get rid of me for? You got plans?" He asks.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"I don't like it when you have plans."

"I'm allowed to have plans on my birthday."

After his shock that it was my birthday, he insists that I get something nice for myself on him. I simply inform him that I already did that. I do consider it odd that he actually wanted to know what I had received from him this year, which I mentally file away for inspection later.

He finally signs the paperwork, smirking as he does so. He starts to head for the stairs when he stops and turns around. He simply looks at me and says, "Happy Birthday, Pepper. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

I roll my eyes. That is such a typical Tony comment. "Oh please. Blondes aren't my type."

I let out a chuckle as he gapes at me. There's only one way to get him on his way now.

"Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

That seemed to do the trick. He snapped out of the surprised state he was in. "That will be all, Miss Potts. See you in a few days."

After he finally gets out the door (with a shout to Happy to race him to the airport), I see myself out, asking Jarvis to lock up after I leave. As I drive away from the mansion, I can't help but feel like I had just said a more permanent goodbye than I intended.

I give myself a mental shake and remind myself that this isn't the first time he's done this. Wherever this irrational fear came from, it needs to leave. He's done countless presentations and demonstrations without incident. He'll be back and finding new ways to annoy, irritate, and drive me up the wall within a few days.

Right?

Telepathy?

Tony's been missing for six weeks.

That's the thought that floats through my head as I finish up some work at the mansion. To many, including Obadiah, it seems weird that I still work from my office at the mansion when my employer and-strangely enough-friend isn't here. It's not as weird as one would think.

Besides the fact that my offices at Stark Industries' headquarters are not used very often and full of other PA's for the other major heads, I enjoy not having to go into work and be subject to office politics. I've begun to hate the fact that the Board of Directors and Obadiah are beginning to insist that I start looking for another job, since they are chomping at the bit to have Tony declared dead.

I don't believe for one second that Tony is dead. Call it intuition, call it sixth sense, call it whatever you like. I just don't believe that he is dead.

Well, okay, so maybe it's because I had a dream last night. Was it pleasant?

Ha! That's like asking if Tony was in a monastery, answered by a resounding "HELL NO!" from the monks in residence. From every monastery worldwide, oaths of silence notwithstanding.

My dream took me into a cave with a giant vat of water. I felt like I was grounded to the room until something happened, but not actually present. Trust me, I tried to move things and leave the room. I think I may have caused a small ripple on the surface of the water. A group of Middle-Eastern looking men dragged someone into the room. The man had a burlap bag over his head, which was forcefully yanked off his head, eliciting a small hiss of pain. Looking at his face, I had the feeling that I should recognize the man, but what I saw there had me second-guessing myself. There was a weird lump in the center of his chest, and the cables connected to the car battery he was holding gave me the impression that the thing in his chest was somehow keeping him alive.

I couldn't help it as a shudder made its way through my body. How inhumane!

They forcefully held his head under the water for a few moments, pulling him back up before he could take a giant gulp of water instead of air. When they pulled him back up, I finally recognized him. What in the hell have they done to you? I could only think as I saw how battered and tattered his body was. The absolute panic in his eyes scared me even more. I never saw panic in his eyes. Ever.

He got one gulp of air and went under again. I finally was able to gasp out his name.

"Tony!"

I can't imagine what he saw under that water, but I prayed that he had heard me. If I could even give him that level of comfort, I would be happy.

I was brought along with them as they flipped the burlap sack over his head and "led" him through the cave to the outside. My eyes didn't have such a hard time adjusting to the bright light, but I could tell his did. They led him down to the stockpile of weapons outside the cave, and I noted with horror the company logo.

This was not good. I could tell just by the stance that he was downright pissed about the situation.

The panic in his eyes gave way to determination as he quickly plotted a way to get out of that damned cave. I could tell that he would be damned if he was going to die there.

It just became his project-the most serious one he's ever undertaken-to get home. Alive.

When I woke up, it wasn't even a question in my mind of 'if'.

It simply became a matter of 'when'.

When would Tony finally make it home?

Haunted?

I surprised everyone in the past six weeks. Many swore I was channeling Tony's bull-headedness when I refused to write his obituary in front of the Board and Obadiah. I was probably the only person who didn't believe he was dead, and-unfortunately for Obadiah-they were more willing to believe me. How could they doubt the woman who, for all intents and purposes, ran both Tony Stark's life and Stark Industries?

Could you blame me, though? For the past six weeks, I've been urging him on from halfway around the globe, hoping that he'd be able to find his way out and make it back to the States. I got a call from Rhodey three days ago, saying that they found him. They had to debrief him, and he'd call again when he figured out where to pick up Tony from.

Rhodey finally made that call last night. He and Tony were flying in today.

Still, the fact that I'd be seeing my boss and friend in a few short minutes for the first time in three months was enough to make me tear up just as Happy was pulling onto the tarmac at Edwards Air Force Base. Damnit.

I know he'll give me hell about my red eyes and the tears, but I think I'm allowed: I've been haunted by what I saw six weeks ago. The man he was over there scared me. Tattered, broken, panicked, determined. I saw it all then, and the knowledge that these past three months forced a metamorphosis scared me because I know that the determination I saw then will be present from now on.

Again, don't ask me how I know.

I take a couple extra minutes to compose myself so that I'm not falling apart as he's walking off the plane. I know I'll be the first one he'll actually talk to once he's off the plane, so the need to be completely composed is imperative. I just pray that the façade holds until it is safe for me to cry alone.

As the plane taxis up and stops, I begin to wonder how he's going to look after three months. The word 'haunted' floats in the back of my mind, on the fringes of my consciousness. I know he must have begged Rhodey to get someone in to make him look at least halfway decent. He is Tony Stark, after all. He has an image to maintain, even if he's just been through Hell. I'm also willing to bet that Rhodey, in a panic, called Jarvis to help him out.

What? I am the man's right hand. It doesn't take intuition to know that particular fact, simply twelve years of working for him will teach me what I need to know.

The cargo bay ramp unfolds and I can see the two of them. Tony shakily stands up from the wheelchair and grabs onto Rhodey for support as he walks down the ramp. My smile and cool façade falters several times before he gets off the plane, but by the time he reaches the end of the ramp, I manage to finally get it under control. Shaking off both Rhodey and the paramedics, he makes a beeline for me.

He has a cool exterior as he walks up, but it has emptiness behind it. I don't dare say anything, for fear he would call me on my own bluff. The physical coolness of his smirk seems to counteract the slight worry I see in his eyes.

"Hm. Your eyes are red. Few tears for your long lost boss?" He asks me. I give him a smile, but only I seem to know it's still shaky.

"Tears of joy. I hate job hunting." I reply, same cool tone of voice I would normally use. Two can play his game.

"Well, vacation's over." He replied, blowing past me and getting in the car.

I shake my head ruefully. The more things change, the more things stay the same, it seems.

Oh, if I only knew how wrong I was.