AN: Backgammon, backgammon, backgammon. I particularly like the review that simply read: 'backgammon.' Thanks for that, haha.

Seriously? 87 followers and over 6,000 views? You guys are giving me heart palpitations. I love you!

A little disclaimer here: I'm pushing a lot of envelopes here, and I don't mean any disrespect to anyone should you be offended by this chapter. *sighs, hands shaking*. Here goes nothing.

-O-O-O-

Empty House – Priscilla Ahn

-O-O-O-

It took thirty days for her hope to give out. Being the logical person she was, she had expected it to give out much sooner. But there was still something in her that said otherwise. He was still out there somewhere, she knew it. But the flame was dimming.

Obie had tried to convince her to attend the therapy sessions he'd arranged for the other employees, but she refused.

She woke up on day thirty-one feeling completely dumb. Dead. She didn't hurt, she didn't feel sad. She just felt nothing. It was oddly soothing.

And what made things worse was the fact that he was absolutely everywhere. The side of her bed where he sometimes slept smelled like him, and she'd woken up halfway through the night thinking he might actually be there when she caught the scent of his cologne.

She made an attempt to catch up on laundry, just to keep her hands busy. But she found one of his t-shirts, and abandoned the pile of clothes at the center of her bedroom floor, unable to continue the job.

His sunglasses were in a drawer in her bathroom, and for a moment she wondered how they'd even gotten there.

Around noon, Obadiah called her asking about some files he needed but couldn't locate. Pepper remembered that she'd never transferred them to the SI server, and it was still on her computer at the mansion. She promised to get it to him before the afternoon, but was absolutely dreading what she would have to do to get ahold of it.

She'd been avoiding the mansion at all costs.

Her heels made an eerie echo against the marble flooring and glass walls. It felt completely empty. Lifeless. Haunted.

"JARVIS?" she tried, with a slight wince. Surely he would still be online.

"Miss Potts, I'm delighted that you're here."

She gave a relieved sigh. "I'm just here to get some files."

"Of course, Miss Potts."

The AI went silent and she went to her work. After sending off the attachments, she sat back in her office chair in the eerie emptiness.

She'd never really noticed how quiet this place got. How much he filled this place up, and without him it was just a cold, empty structure. Not even JARVIS's warm yet simulated presence could fill the gap.

She had to leave. She couldn't stand another minute here without completely crumbling. Quickly, she snatched up her purse and keys.

The empty bar caught her eye as she passed the kitchen. Every single bottle was gone.

He'd had that stash for ages, building it from just a few bottles until it was close to being a full-on pub. But every shelf was empty, each and every bottle gone. Even the discontinued wine they'd searched all over Italy for had been disposed of.

"JARVIS?" she asked, confused.

"Yes, Miss Potts?"

"What happened here?"

"Mr. Stark has disposed of every bottle containing alcohol in the house, except for the few he keeps in the workshop, and the bar by the swimming pool."

She backed up, turning to face the wide lounge room, listening at the muffled drip of the water feature.

She knew she would be unable to leave when she walked in the door, but she'd told herself that she wouldn't let herself. But now it seemed inevitable. Without further hesitation, she pushed forward and her heels clicked regularly against the marble flooring.

For a moment she thought of staying in a guest room, but right now she needed to be close to him. She knew it would be painful later, but that had never stopped her before.

She found a set of her own pajamas in his closet and curled onto her side of his mattress. But it was all wrong.

Not even five minutes passed, and she rose again. She shed her pajamas and replaced them neatly in the closet. She found one of his t-shirts and slipped into it instead.

She nuzzled her nose into his pillow, taking in the scent, instantly soothed. Her thumb ran against the smooth Egyptian cotton, remembering every Saturday morning they spent with breakfast in bed, or just tangled in these sheets, having a simple conversation.

Emotion overtook again and she shook with silent tears.

Another sleepless night.

-O-O-O-

Pepper had schedule which she kept to like clockwork every morning. At 5:30, she rose and enjoyed an hour of yoga, usually on the deck by the pool when at the mansion. At 6:30, she took a shower and got ready for the day. From 7:30 to 7:45, she drank her coffee and watched the news. At 7:45 sharp, she left for work, arriving on the Stark Industries lot by 7:59. This had been the timetable for the last ten years. Monotony had never been an issue. She enjoyed it. It was the only part of her day which was predictable and timed. Everything else with Tony was left to chance.

But this morning, at 5:30, yoga was the farthest thing from her mind. She hadn't slept at all, or at least it felt that way. She was sure there were a few restless moments, but nothing more.

Now she sat, propped against the headboard of the bed, her hand over her stomach.

Day thirty-one and counting.

She didn't bother calling Obie to tell him she wouldn't show up for work. She hadn't been to work in three days. There was no point anymore. The press had died down, and news of Tony was rarely discussed anymore. It was like the rest of the world had forgotten he existed.

"Good morning, Miss Potts," JARVIS spoke at seven on the dot. His voice had a disheartened tone that gave Pepper a shiver. "The time is 7:00am. There is a high chance of rain today, and expected thunderstorms by late morning…" He rattled off his usual morning protocol, but Pepper stopped listening.

When she didn't hear his voice any longer, she spoke. "JARVIS, will you start a pot of coffee please?"

"Certainly, Miss."

"I bet you're hungry, Peanut." She patted her tummy and finally rose, feeling like a zombie. She wasn't in the mood to eat anything, but she knew the baby needed sustenance. Her muscles were weak, and her mind on autopilot, and as soon as she rose she felt the usual symptoms of nausea.

The shower steam brightened her up a bit, but not in spirits. Her fingers were rinsing the soap out of her hair when an alert popped onto the glass door of the shower, indicating a news article had been posted in the LA Times about Tony. She wasn't sure she liked JARVIS being able to interrupt her shower, but tossed the irrelevant thought aside and tapped the glowing announcement to open it.

She read the headline: 'Tony Stark Assumed Dead.'

There weren't any more tears. No more raw sobs. Just a dull twitch in her heart.

She slid to the floor of the shower and curled up there. The water eventually ran cold, as did her coffee, but she took no notice.

-O-O-O-

She was officially ten weeks pregnant on day forty-two of his disappearance. She didn't want to believe that either had been that long.

Still spending her nights at the mansion, she had barely gone to headquarters at all, but when she did she avoided all contact. People were increasingly hard to deal with, and really just exhausting. Nobody but Rhodey believed that he was still alive, and Obie had all but signed the company over to himself already.

On the days she did go to work, Happy came by in the Rolls to pick her up. She sat in the front seat with him, a rare occasion. They had a few good conversations about the Dodgers' recent winning streak, and the new restaurant being built downtown, but their conversation never went to Tony. She was thankful. Being with Happy was an escape, and she got the feeling he wasn't only avoiding the subject for her sake. He didn't want to talk about it either. He invited her over for dinner, and she agreed.

That sickly feeling had stopped looming over her a few days ago, but that morning she woke up with a twisting pain in her abdomen. Instantly, she was worried. But when she rose out of bed, the pain had stopped and she thought nothing else of it after she trotted off to the bathroom to empty her bladder for the seventh time since she laid down that night.

She parked in Happy's driveway at precisely seven that evening.

He welcomed her inside, and she suddenly realized that she'd never seen Happy wearing anything other than a suit, and she'd only been inside his house twice, both for very short periods of time. He wore a faded WBA t-shirt and well-worn jeans, but didn't look shabby at all. In fact, he looked quite comfortable and at ease. She still wore her black pencil skirt and suit jacket, but when they entered the kitchen, she let herself slide out of the thing, leaving her in a crisp white button down. He urged her to discard her shoes as well, out of hospitality. She did.

She never noticed how much they differed in height, but he was at least a head taller than her which meant he was even a few inches taller than Tony himself. He was a sturdy bulk of a man, still sporting well-toned muscles from his boxing days. Happy had always been the perfect gentleman to her. Always so polite and warm-hearted, even when he wasn't on duty. He was just a giant teddy bear in her eyes, and any woman that gave him up was silly for doing so.

She helped him to boil noodles and season the spaghetti sauce. "What ever happened to Sasha?" she asked while stirring.

"Oh. Yeah. She's been out of the picture for a while. Beer?" he said from behind the fridge door.

"Um, no…water, please," she answered without explanation. "What happened?"

Happy shrugged. "It's just hard to keep a relationship when you get calls at such odd hours. She got tired of our dates getting interrupted. She wanted a nine-to-five man and kids, but working for Tony…"

He stopped himself, figuring that was the wrong word to say. He didn't miss her change in expression, watching her turn away from him and stare down into the sink.

Pepper's lips pursed. "I'm sorry, Happy."

She wasn't apologizing about his botched relationship. She was apologizing for being fragile. If Happy could list all the adjectives that described Pepper Potts, fragile would not be one of them.

"Ah…No, don't apologize. I've got garlic bread." He ducked back into the fridge, as if the store-bought loaf would appease anything. Happy had never been good at dealing with extreme emotion, especially from women.

She went back to draining the noodles and sifting them back into the pot.

That stabbing pain in her stomach came back suddenly, harder this time. Like someone had punched her in the gut. She bent against the sink. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip.

"Pepper? You ok?" his voice asked behind her.

"Yeah." She let out a pained breath. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah, it's down the hall on the right. You sure you ok?"

She nodded quickly and hurried away. The pain was growing in intensity, cutting through her abdomen in rippling waves. She leaned over the toilet seat, just in case this was another bout of morning sickness. But this felt completely different, and immediately her mind assumed the absolute worst. The pain knocked her to the floor, searching for some position she could get into that would make it stop. When she couldn't find one, she finally resolved to go get Happy. She couldn't do this alone. But she didn't have time to pick herself up from the floor when another pain hit.

She must've been in the bathroom longer than she thought, because Happy knocked quietly on the door. "Hey, Pepper. You ok in there?"

"Happy," she called back to him, not sure if he could even hear her. Another wave of pain hit her and as she curled in on herself. "I need you to take me to the hospital," she croaked.

He wasted no time in opening the door and scooping her into his arms like she weighed nothing.

"What's the matter?" he asked, weaving his way through the house to the garage.

But she didn't answer, and silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she pressed her face into his shirt.

-O-O-O-

Pepper hated needles. She could face spiders, mice, all the other things that make women squeamish. But needles were a no-go. They'd poked and prodded at her for the last hour, and finally left her alone in a private room, an IV stuck in one wrist. She couldn't even look at it without feeling physically sick. If the blood they'd drawn for testing hadn't been enough, they insisted on hooking her up to this thing. Now she understood why Tony hated hospitals so much.

She just wanted to go home.

A knock sounded, and she turned away from the door. No more doctors, no more nurses.

Happy peeked in and slowly entered. "Hey, Pepper," he said softly.

She didn't respond, but felt a huge knot twist itself over in her chest, threatening to explode at any second if he so much as dared to comfort her right now.

But she knew he wouldn't. Happy was very good at understanding boundaries. She supposed it came with the job. After all he'd seen, he had to be very good at keeping his mouth shut. Confidentiality was key when driving one Tony Stark.

He eased himself into a chair in the corner of the room, and didn't move any closer to her. He was nervous, and he didn't know what to say, she could tell.

Thankfully, minutes later, the silence was broken by a doctor entering the room.

"Miss Potts," he addressed her, and then glanced to Happy before continuing. "Is he the father of the baby?"

Pepper turned slowly to face the man, staring him down. What an idiot. Did he read the newspapers? Of course he wasn't the father. "No," she bit out.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir. I can't…"

Pepper interrupted. "Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to him."

The doctor threw an uncertain look to Happy over the rim of his glasses, but went on. "I've got bad news, Miss Potts. It seems that you have suffered a spontaneous abortion due to extreme amounts of stress and a poor diet. Tell me, how many times a day were you eating? Were you getting enough sleep?"

Pepper didn't answer and turned away again. A hand came to her mouth, but she didn't cry yet. She stared at a spot on the wall, face expressionless. A spontaneous abortion. Why did he have to use those words? It just pushed the knife deeper. Her peanut was gone, and these people were acting like it was an everyday occurrence.

After a moment Happy spoke. "Sir, I think Miss Potts needs a moment alone. Uh…if there are any prescriptions or anything, I will take them and have them filled."

The rest of their conversation was blurred in her mind. She had stopped listening.

All she heard was the doctor's words replaying again and again in her mind.

A dry sob escaped her throat, and another, slicing through her chest like rock against bone.

Happy hurried the doctor out, and set the papers he'd been given on the bedside table before taking her in his arms. "Shh…You're ok, sweetheart. You're ok," he tried to soothe her, but the words didn't register in her mind.

She leaned limply against his chest, tears soaking into his t-shirt. His hand rubbed circles on her back, but she didn't reciprocate the hug.

Only one thought came to mind, simple and sincere. Only one thought that she could pick out of the rubble. Regardless of the needle in her wrist, or wishing she could just leave this place. All of that faded away in one instant. She just wanted one thing right now. The only thing she couldn't have.

She just wanted Tony.

-O-O-O-

The hospital kept her overnight, to monitor her condition and to give time for her to recover. She was written a prescription for a drug that would continue to flush out her system, and sent home with a piece of paper declaring her pregnancy as failed.

Happy brought her some clothes from the mansion, and while she waited for him to return, she prayed it wasn't any of Tony's clothes. But he returned with a pair of black yoga pants and a soft t-shirt and waited outside while she readied herself to leave.

She fell asleep in the backseat of his car, exhausted. Her mind was a blur. She couldn't pick out any thought from another, and she didn't like the feeling. It felt like she was in a whirlpool. Like all of her emotions had been thrown into a cyclone and she couldn't grasp hold of any one of them. She wasn't entirely sure what she felt. Sadness, greif, loss. Anger. Guilt. All of it at once.

She wasn't aware that the car had come to a halt, but felt a gentle hand on her arm, attempting to rouse her.

"Tony…?" she breathed, dazed.

"No, hon. It's Happy," she heard his voice say, and instantly remembered where she was. "You're home. Let me help you inside."

"Home. My house?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

Her entire body felt sore when she sat up, and she leaned against him while he walked her to the door. He had her keys, but she didn't remembering giving them to him. Her BMW was parked in the driveway, and she figured she must've given them to him earlier when he left to get her clothes, and somewhere along the way he retrieved her car from his house.

He helped her inside and to bed, and insisted that she call if she needed anything.

She didn't even hear the front door clicking into place before she fell asleep.

-O-O-O-

Her own house felt empty and cold now. Every bit of life had been sucked form the earth, leaving her alone and empty. It felt like every piece of her body had been flushed away except for the outer shell. Hollow and lifeless.

She wandered down to the couch and laid there awhile. She stared outside, but through the sheer curtains. Watching through a veil.

At noon, Happy came to bring her medicine and lunch. He didn't overstay his welcome, and promptly left, knowing she wanted to be alone. The Chinese food went cold on the counter.

Searching for comfort, her hand went to her belly, but she remembered there was no longer anything there. It had been ripped right out of her because of her own negligence. She blamed herself. It had been her fault, and she refused to believe otherwise.

It was her fault for not calling the doctor to help her get on the right diet when her nausea left her unable to eat. It had been her fault she hardly got four hours of sleep every night. She had known all the right things to do, but she didn't do them. She was the only one to blame.

Something in her mind told her it was her also fault that Tony was gone, but she couldn't work out a reason why that would be true. She couldn't work out a reason why it would be false either, and so she accepted it as fact.