Sorry, not much of a musical inspiration for this one. But, I did intend for this to be a particularly humorous chapter, so I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER IV

DOCTOR, WHO?

Tony awoke, once more, to blinding light and a horrid headache. Were there hangovers in heaven, or was this was just déjà vu? Maybe hangovers were like bad credit—they carried over, no matter where you went (and, he had enough experience with that one). He tried opening his eyes. Sore and tired, they slowly adjusted to the light to reveal a blur of white and orange. Well, look at that, heaven had color.

The palette sharpened to form a human being dressed in white. Or an angel. A ginger angel. This particular angel wasn't as sexy as he had envisioned. She was disappointingly modest, actually. She looked too much like Pepper.

"Tony? Tony?" she called. Her voice was quivering. He could now see the tears rolling down her usually-composed face.

Tony sighed. He wasn't sure if he was relieved that he hadn't died, or disappointed because he hadn't gotten to cozy up to attractive heavenly women.

"Miss Potts," he decided to say, surprised by the hoarseness of his own voice, "are you crying? Because, I didn't think fire-breathing dragons could emote."

"You're alive!" Pepper was too overwhelmed with euphoria to do anything but trap him in a hug. The last time he had seen Pepper, she'd been abnormally angry—no, furious. An emotion Tony wasn't even sure she was capable of. Now, she'd turned into a Cuddle-Me Teddy Bear.

Still, his muscles were sore and he winced under her aggressive embrace. "Try not to 'Hulk Smash' me, will you?"

"Oh, sorry," Pepper instantly withdrew into her chair. She took a deep breath and tried rubbing her reddened face with her white coat sleeve. It was already stained all over the place with makeup. She blew her nose on it. "Don't ever do that to me again. Didn't I say to never scare me again? This is the probably the second time you've almost died!"

"Yeah, I know. Sorry, it's a habit," Tony said sarcastically. "I'll try not to do it again."

Pepper slapped his foot. "Stop that!" She was not amused.

"So, you still…well, I wouldn't say mad—"

She cut him off with a curt "yes."

"Ooo-kay. So, uh, what happened after…"

"You mean, after I found you passed out in a puddle of vomit and nearly had a heart attack? After that?"

Tony cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, after that."

Pepper's gaze fell. "Well, I thought…I thought you were dead and, and…" She paused, wiping away some tears and sitting up straighter, as if crying had been an irrational reaction. Then she added quickly, "The company was in a panic. I mean, who was going to be CEO if you were gone?"

"How 'bout you?"

"Stop, that's not funny, Tony. You know how that went. Too much…stress, I think. And, that probably wouldn't look too good. I mean, me resigning as CEO, then coming back—"

A grin crept across Tony's lips. "You know what I mean. Screw the company, I mean you."

"Well, I cried. And yelled at the pizza guy," she said, then added in a rush, "Because, you know, I was upset that the, um, company was going under. And, I hate job hunting."

He couldn't help laughing at that one. "The pizza guy? You don't eat pizza."

"Yes I do," she fired back, a little too defensively. Her red, tearstained cheeks were still inflamed from constant crying. Her eyes were still puffy and red, too, despite her attempts to wipe them clean. "That just goes to show how much you know about me. There's lots you don't know about me. You're too busy looking at yourself in the mirror to realize there's another person there."

"Hey, I know lots about you."

"Oh, yeah? What's my favorite color?"

"Orange," Tony said resolutely. It was the first color that'd popped into his head.

Pepper rolled her eyes. "It's blue."

"Well," Tony hesitated, "are you sure? 'Cause, I thought since your hair's orange—"

Her eyes filled with tears again and she let out a strained laugh. "I can't believe you. You are the definition of narcissism!"

Tony shuttered. "There's that word."

Pepper was about to open her mouth to return the jab, when the whitewashed door creaked open. Tony let out a dramatic sigh of relief. He was out of the dungeon. Or, at least, for a while. As if on cue, a disheveled young man slipped through the door sporting a white coat with rolled sleeves. His face was rather babyish, save for unkempt stubble across the lower half of his face. He looked fresh out of college, probably no more than twenty-one. He pulled a chair up to the bedside next to Pepper's and extended a scrawny hand towards Tony.

"Hello, Mr. Stark. I'm Doctor Stevens. It's a real pleasure to meet you. I'm a big fan. I've got a lot of Iron Man posters and action figures…"

Tony raised an eyebrow, glancing at the doctor's outstretched hand like it was a dirty sock. "Are you sure you're old enough to be a doctor?" This was the usual drill at fundraisers and state fairs—with children, at that. Not educated professionals. What, was he going to ask for an autograph too? He added, "And, what's with the handshake? It's like Bring-Your-Eccentric Man-Child-to-Work Day." Was he hoping Tony's DNA would rub off on him, and he'd be able to sell a swab on Ebay? Well, being a doctor, he certainly had access to blood… Although, Tony was still rather flattered. But, severely creeped out.

"I was wondering, do you think you could maybe sign some of my trading cards?"

Tony fake coughed. He had spoken too soon. The guy did want an autograph. "I'm not sure what's weirder: your chinchilla face, or the fact that you own Iron Man trading cards."

Stevens withdrew his hand with reddened cheeks. Jeez, he looked like the Gerber baby. "Oh, sorry, was that inappropriate?"

Tony cleared his throat. "Very inappropriate. And, really creepy. Don't do that again." He cleared his throat again, mostly to let the awkward moment pass. "So, you're a doctor…Says your name tag. Do you have any doctor-ish things you can tell me? Because, maybe you can help me forget how weirded out I am right now and tell me why I passed out randomly in my bathroom? 'Cuz I have I feeling it wasn't just booze."

"Oh, right," Stevens said, suddenly flustered. "Well, we took several blood samples and found, yes, a high alcohol content. But, then, we also found traces of warfarin, which is an anticoagulant found in—"

"Poison," Tony interrupted distantly. He felt his heartbeat quicken. He'd been poisoned.

"Yes, rat poison," Stevens continued. "So, that would definitely account for part of the fainting and the heart retardation. But, there was also the issue of the arc. The miniaturized arc reactor keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart was, uh—"

"Gone," Tony said uneasily. He felt his heartbeat quicken. He'd completely forgotten. But, wait- Poison. Alcohol. Arc. It was all coming back to him. It was all beginning to make sense. It could only have been one person. And, it was going to take every resource he had to track them down.

"Right, so—"

"I looked everywhere," Pepper interrupted, rather irritated. "But, I couldn't find it, so I got one of your old ones, the one that runs on the little packs. I don't k—"

"Palladium," Tony corrected. He looked down at the exhausted makeshift device in his chest. Then, he added urgently, "Pepper, the arc—"

Pepper continued, further annoyed by his interjection. "I don't know what you did with it, Tony, but I was worried because I know how that one"—she glanced at the old model in Tony's chest—"almost killed you last time—but, great prank, Tony. Great. This is why I…So, now you can tell me—"

He was just going to say it. "It's gone," he blurted. "That's the thing—"

"I got that part, thank you," Pepper snapped. However, there was a hint of caution in her words. Tony could tell she sensed it, what had really happened to the arc. "That's why I was hoping you could tell me…"

"Pepper, someone stole the arc," Tony replied frankly.

"Like stole stole?"

Stevens was watching the entire exchange with wide eyes, like a child waiting for a handful of candy to be dropped in his trick-or-treat bag. "Ooh, this is exiting!" he exclaimed finally. It had been rather obnoxious, really.

Tony paused to give him a rather concerned sideways glance.

"It's gone. We've gotta get it back," he said firmly. He tried standing, then realized, almost annoyed, that there were too many restraints keeping him from doing so. Quickly, he removed a clip from his finger. "In the wrong hands, there's no telling what stupid things might happen…"

Pepper replied, "Like, Obadiah? Or that creepy Russian? Or Justin Hammer? Because, if I remember correctly, all of them came slightly close to taking over the world."

"Like I said, stupid. Probably harmless," Tony admitted, pulling a tube out of his arm, "'Cause , let's face it, Hammer's not the shiniest piece of gold in the treasure chest…But, still not worth the chance."

"What are you doing?" Stevens interrupted, momentarily snapping out of his incredulous trance. He watched, wide-eyed, as Tony plucked a needle out of his arm and yelped. "Mr. Stark, I have to recommend—uh, you can't just—you're not fully—"

"Just give up," Pepper said icily. "His head is like one big narcissistic bomb. If he actually listens to another human being, it explodes."

Tony's head snapped up. He met Pepper's glare with narrowed eyed. "Hey, again with the n-word!" he cried. Defiantly, he returned to his work, plucking a final tube from his nose and spluttering as he took in a breath. "Why do you still use these things? No one wants to sit here in bed with some mysterious tube sticking out of their nose. Honestly. I feel like a scuba diver." He threw back the sheets and clumsily stood up on shaky legs. A wave of nausea swept over him. He held onto the bed for a moment of support. Hangover? Forget it. This was ten times more miserable.

"Good God," Pepper muttered, watching the spectacle. She quietly drew her left hand to her face, halfway covering her face in embarrassment. Then she added aloud, "Tony, do you always have to start something?"

"Of course. It's my job. You, of all people, would know."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I would," Pepper spat.

"Mr. Stark," Stevens said firmly. He took a cautious step towards Tony. "Take it easy, sit back down on —"

"Tony," Pepper called swiftly, interrupting Stevens' warning. "where do you think you're going?"

Tony snatched his cell phone from the bedside table and moved toward the door. He had to do what he had to do, and there was no one who could get in his way. "To get my arc back. There's no time to discuss this." He gripped the door handle with a shaky hand.

Stevens interjected, "Mr. Stark, you know I'm your biggest fan, but I can't just let you go—"

"I'll sign those trading cards."

"Okay!" Stevens chirped happily.

Pepper shot him a glare. "Really?"

"Fine," Stevens let out a disappointed sigh. "Mr. Stark—"

He turned back to address Tony, but found the door half ajar. And no Tony.

Pepper was already there, rushing out and down the whitewashed hallways. Then, reluctantly, she retraced her steps and hung in the doorframe for a moment, studying Stevens. He was calmly standing by the bedside, occupying the same space as several minutes ago. His features were frozen, as if pondering over something. "Well," she said icily, "what are you waiting for? Aren't you going to help me catch the fugitive?"

"I wonder if he knows," Stevens muttered to himself. A childish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"About all of the reporters waiting outside?"

"No. That he's not wearing pants."