The first thing Pepper heard when she came to was the slow and thankfully steady beeping of a heart monitor. It was just a little too loud and just piercing enough that it almost made her wince, the shrill staccato of the beeps echoing too much around her already pounding head.

Her eyes were already closed, but she still squeezed them tighter anyway. She tried to tune out that stupid, irritating beeping so she could focus on remembering where she was or figuring out why something tugged on her arm when she tried to move it, but then she heard a soft rustle of fabric next to her and felt the pressure of warm, rough fingers around her own.

"Careful, love."

That wasn't Tony. She knew it in a split second. It wasn't his voice, didn't have that constant undercurrent of dripping sarcasm and wasn't exactly as clean-cut from years spent in front of the public. Tony didn't call her that, either. He always called her Pep or honey and… well, some other things that she wouldn't repeat outside the bedroom, but there was only one person who called her love, and that person was Bruce. She could tell by the gentle rasp in his voice and the heat of his skin, because for some reason he always ran a little warmer than Tony did.

Pepper forced herself to peel her eyes open and look at him, except for the first moment or two it wasn't him she saw – it was some kind of blinding, pristine white that even looked sterilized by the disinfectant she could detect in the air. After a few rapid blinks and a second to adjust, her eyes found the rough bed sheets draped over her and the thick needle in her skin just above the edges of a bandage, then she found Bruce, worry drawn into his face like a carving in stone.

Great. She was in a hospital.

What the hell happened?

"Why am I here?" she managed to ask, narrowing her eyes slightly in the bright light. Her voice came out soft and scratchy, her normal confident ring of professionalism nowhere to be found in her four tiny words, and she almost cringed at how awful she sounded.

"You don't remember," Bruce said simply, nearly huffing out one of those dry, humorless chuckles of his. "Of course you don't remember, you were out cold for a while there. There was, uh…" he shrugged one of his shoulders, clearly giving himself a moment to figure out how to explain while he rubbed his thumb gently over the back of her hand. "There was an accident. Tony was drinking," he decided not to mention that Tony had been drinking more than usual, "and there was a bit of an accident in his garage. You got caught up in it, unfortunately, but… you're going to be okay, I promise. Just a few scrapes, maybe a slight concussion… there's a pretty nasty wound on your shoulder from some glass, but it'll heal. You'll be fine."

Pepper didn't quite know why he felt the need to keep reassuring her that she'd be fine. Of course she'd be fine; she was Pepper Potts, she didn't really have any other choice. Everything else could be falling apart at the seams, Tony could be falling apart, hell, she could be falling apart, but she would always be okay. She had to be.

But that fleeting pass of Tony's name through her hazy brain suddenly made her realize that he wasn't beside her. A quick glance at her surroundings told her that he wasn't even in the room or outside the door, and her brow furrowed. "Where is he?"

Bruce hesitated, and that little pause made Pepper's heart almost skip a beat. She would have felt it anyway, but the rather noticeable hiccup in the rhythm of the heart monitor in the background clearly compelled Bruce to not stay quiet any longer. "I don't know," he answered, simply and honestly. "He came in here with me at first, but then he left. Told me to stay here with you, so I did. I don't think he could have gone far, though."

It was Pepper's turn to pause. Part of her was touched that Bruce had stayed, and of course he did, because he was Bruce Banner and he was definitely one of the most openly selfless and caring people she'd ever had the pleasure of knowing – she also knew that he loved her and she loved him too, even if they hadn't quite admitted it yet. The other part, though, almost wished he hadn't stayed. Tony probably needed Bruce more than she did at the moment, the fact that he wasn't even in the room or maybe even the building said that well enough. Tony was the one who was very obviously broken right now, she knew that without even having to see him, and unlike Pepper, a few bandages and a couple days of rest wasn't going to fix him.

"He's blaming himself," Pepper stated simply, and Bruce's silence was enough to tell her that she was right. "You need to go find him," she added a moment or so later, "you don't need to be with me right now."

"Of course I need to be with you," Bruce countered, holding her hand a little bit tighter in his, "you're hurt."

Pepper managed to give him a wry smile. "I'm fine, Bruce," she said, leaving no room for argument. "Tony isn't. And he obviously doesn't want to talk to me right now, but he'll probably talk to you."

There were a few seconds of silence while Bruce seemed to have an internal argument with himself until he eventually sighed softly, nodding like he always did when he knew Pepper was right (it was something they all saw so often that it was almost amusing). "Alright," he agreed, "I'll go look for him. But if anything happens to you, my butt will be right back here in this chair, okay?"

"Okay," Pepper said, just the slightest traces of a laugh in her raspy voice. "Thank you, Bruce."

Bruce smiled at her, not quite wide enough for the corners of his eyes to crinkle in that adorable way she and Tony both loved, but enough that she knew he meant it. He slowly stood from his chair and leaned towards her, giving her hand a final squeeze while he placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "You're welcome, love."