Author's Note: Wow, this is really popular XD I didn't expect it to be this popular at all. This is as far as I've got written now, and I'm away at the weekend and got an exam Monday and Tuesday, should maybe get an update up on Tuesday, but if not, then there will definitely be one on Wednesday.
Chapter Three
Months bled into each other as Pepper continued her grieving. Thanks to Rhodey, she'd been better however. She'd been going to meetings again, eating properly again, and to those unknowing, she was fine.
But every night, she died inside.
She'd still not moved from Tony's home, and some nights, Rhodey stayed too. Every night, she'd enter Tony's room, cling to the sheets and cry herself to sleep while her body was torn apart from the inside. Rhodey always heard, but he never questioned her.
Some nights she'd have nightmares of finding him. Sometimes the dreams showed him being found in pieces, torn apart like the suit. Others, he was in the suit.
Sometimes he was alive.
Those nights were the worst. When she would wake and find him gone, she felt as if she was losing him all over again.
In the eighth month, she had to leave her haven of Malibu. Here, she felt she were with Tony, and had yet to leave for any external meetings. She'd argued at first with the arrangement of the meeting, but Rhodey had eventually convinced her that a couple of days away might be good for her and help her on. So, on the 18th November, she took Tony's jet to New York.
The homeless man decided that November was the worst time in New York City. He was sure it was snowing on and off, and the tattered blanked he owned offered no protection against the frost.
He decided that no knowing anything about oneself other than blurred faint images of a beach, freckles and red hair, wasn't very good for being found.
He also decided that the blue glow win his chest was dreadfully annoying to sleep with.
Pepper stepped off the plane and shivered at the cold wind and pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders. A car was waiting for her, and took her to the hotel she'd be staying at. It was one she and Tony had used when they'd come here before, and they'd reserved the same suite he used to.
Half way through the journey they hit traffic, and it started to rain heavily. She sighed and looked out the window. She noticed a few homeless people huddled together in an alley, and it tugged at her heart-strings. She wondered how they'd survive winter in New York. Her mind went to Tony, and she found herself pondering whether he was in an alley somewhere, fighting against the cold.
She brushed the thought away quickly, deciding that if that were the case, some fan would've found him by now, or he'd have gone and called someone.
Called me…
She sighed again and her Blackberry began to ring. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at the caller ID, suppressing a groan as she did so.
Mum.
She considered ignoring the call, but decided that after eight months of no contact, her mum would want to talk. Couple that with the media claiming she was clinically depressed and almost suicidal, Pepper answered.
"Virginia! Are you okay? Why haven't you answered my calls?"
This time, Pepper didn't bother suppressing the groan. This was why she was going to reject the call.
"Yes mum, I'm fine. I had a bit of a moment that's all."
"A moment? The press said you were suicidal!"
"Since when have you listened to the press?" Pepper's mum was silent. "Exactly," Pepper stated. "I had a moment where it really hit me that Tony was missing, is all."
"But you're okay now?"
"Yes mum, I'm fine," Pepper lied. "Look, I've gotta go, I'm nearly at a meeting." She quickly said her goodbye and hung up the phone. Truth be told, she as still in the same position she'd been in half an hour ago, but she couldn't bear to listen to her anymore. Thinking it was becoming a habit; Pepper sighed again and turned to look out her window.
He was grateful when the rain stopped, but his already soaked body was no defence against the bitter wind that continued. He wrapped his arms around him frail form, hands feeling bone beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.
Cold and hungry, the man fell into a fitful sleep. His dreams took their usual path into a familiar-feeling territory that was always just out of reach of his memory. They began with the red haired girl with freckles, but swiftly turned to torture and caves and sand. After that came a feeling of immense power and responsibility and sometimes brilliance. They always ended however with him feeling panicked over something. Flashes of the girl would appear, but she was always a hair-breadth away.
He woke with a start, restless and frustrated, and huddled into his blanket.
