This is it, the Apocalypse

Chapter Eight: Iron Man Continued

His reflection was glaring at him from within the mirror. He glared back. It was being a judgmental prick. "You're an asshole." He told himself, and he was beyond angry, actually beyond it, because he didn't necessarily feel anger any more, knowing it was there but not feeling it, as though the mechanism which made him angry was actually broken from overuse. "It's been two days. You have less than twelve hours to get your shit together, and you're sitting here staring at yourself like your pretty face will have all the answers."

It was sneering at him, 'You don't need answers, you idiot. You need solutions. Answers are just meaningless words. What you need to do is react.'

"So tell me how!" He shouted, slamming his fist on the desk in front of him. Good lord, he was glad no one else was present in the room and that it was three AM, giving him confidence that the entire tower was dead to the world. Although it really wouldn't have mattered either way. His temporary home still happened to be the tower's infirmary which JARVIS had made inaccessible to anyone and everyone with the exception of Bruce and Clint. His two allies in this cold war. "Somebody, tell me how..." his voice faded out, his eyes closed slowly. He sighed.

Tony wasn't crazy... at least that's what he told himself. For nearly two straight days he'd been practicing how he was going to approach apologizing to Pepper, and the task was proving far more daunting than he'd first expected. He felt ridiculous, like a high school theater student reading his lines from some meaningless, long forgotten play. So far he had 'Hi, Pep'. He felt pathetic. And his own goddamn reflection was smacking him down like a tiny fly beneath a swatter.

Fuck Cap, his treason and his superiority complex. There were far more pressing matters to attend to.

"JARVIS, bring up Pepper's contact information." he mumbled. A translucent screen appeared before him, Pepper's smiling face among the numbers, letters and call records. Maybe if he stared at her for a little while, he'd have an epiphany. But nothing in his life was ever that easy.

What if he just improvised? He forced a mordent laugh at the thought. Seriously? Improvise? After all the botched press conferences, the subpoenas, his various failed testimonies? Of course, that reporter hadn't suggested he was a super hero. He'd put that out there all on his own. Bad things typically happened when Tony Stark was permitted to improvise. That's why he was no longer permitted to improvise and index cards, full of half-truths and flat out lies, dominated his life.

But the hands on the clock were ticking faster and faster, a disturbing auditory reminder of how swiftly he was running out of time before Pepper would be six miles above the earth, on to her next destination, on to pitch their products to the next interested customer. Dammit, Tony hated earnings season.

He had to think of something. Needed desperately to focus his thoughts, narrow them away from all the other fucking stresses in his life. The betrayal he felt. How troubling Thor's unexpected verdict was. How Rogers could go to Fury at any moment. He had basically proved Natasha's original evaluation of him undeniably correct... and he refused to be reduced to a mere consultant. Fury wouldn't be able to afford him, though. Tony's smile was almost painfully forced.

He gazed into haunting, accusatory green eyes. What a fool he was.

Staring at Pepper's picture was not fostering conducive insight in the slightest. He lifted a hand to crumple up the contact sheet, but hesitated when he noticed the absent signal symbol. She had turned her phone off.

His heart sunk. "She's still in Malibu, right?" he asked quietly unable to tear his wistful eyes away from her photo.

"Indeed, sir." JARVIS replied, and he felt a small amount of relief. "However, she is currently packing and if you wish to apologize, sir, I suggest you, as they say, 'nut up or shut up' very soon."

Tony scowled at the ceiling. "I'll shut you up, JARVIS." he grumbled. But he knew his AI was right. He was being avoidant, his subconscious forcing him to stall as long as possible, hoping he would be able to dodge the conversation altogether with a mock snap of his fingers and a phony 'damn, she's gone, oh well. Guess I'll catch her next time.'

"No balls, sir." Tony smacked his forehead, and the smile that broke through his persistent melancholy was not at all artificial. Hearing those particular words spoken in that particular accent was more than hysterical.

"What would I do without you, J?" His gaze at the ceiling was now full of affection. JARVIS was his best friend, reliable, consistent, genuine and helpful. And goddamn funny. Not to mention, machines typically lacked the ability to turn against their creators. Three laws of robotics, and all that jibber jabber. "And have you been surfing social networking sites to 'study modern pop culture' again? Because I don't like who you become when you do that."

"I regret nothing, sir."

Tony took a moment to enjoy the banter, but his mind centralized itself back on the important circumstance at hand soon enough. He couldn't avoid this for much longer, unless he wished for his stomach to ravenously consume itself from the inside out. It felt like he had a hedgehog living inside him. A blue one, with big red shoes.

He sighed deeply. Far too many of those seemed to escape him nowadays. He wondered offhandedly how he wasn't yet sick with hyperoxia. "What do you think, J?" Not like he had come up with anything better.

There was a pause. "Sir, this seems to be just another one of those things you simply cannot plan for. You have no idea what Miss Potts will say to you and, although I can't believe I am promoting this, I think you should cease attempting to formulate your words into an algorithm and just call her." A robot was more attuned to the complexities of human emotions than he was - clearly.

He frowned. Nodded. Raised his hand to initiate a sequence that would force her phone to boot up but... faltered. Tony took a deep, steeling breath. "J, give me two way audio and visual communications." Pepper's contact information disappeared and was replaced by a blank screen. "Put me somewhere right beside her. And..." Another deep inhale. He held it. "Launch."

The screen burst to life. There was their bed, the one they shared... so many sleepless nights in which his only solace was holding her as she slept, occasionally brushing a lock of strawberry hair behind her ear, watching the rise and fall of her chest and allowing the movement to comfort him.

And she was there, back turned to him, hair pulled tight into a simple pony tail, wearing a luxurious gold and black house robe he'd gotten her for her birthday. The first one she hadn't spent alone in quite some time. Yeah, those 'plans' she always made for her birthdays? She later confessed to him that they were a lie. They'd been lonely together for years.

She had an array of casual business attire strewn out across the bed, and she was placing the clothes neatly on hangers and into a protective folding suitcase. And she looked absolutely stunning in her graceful dishevelment.

He truly loved her.

"Hey, Pep." He said, and it was almost a whisper, but the reaction it elicited from her made it seem like he'd yelled the words. She whirled around and screamed, nearly tumbling backwards into the pile of hangers and garments, but thankfully catching herself. Tony would have felt like a complete ass had she fallen over. He grinned sheepishly at her.

She just stared at him in shock for a few moments, before her expression lightened into reticent exasperation, masked by false neutrality. She righted herself and crossed her arms over her chest in that dainty way of which only she was capable. "Did your digital self really think it necessary to scare the crap out of me? I was having a relaxing evening, you know."

Tony ran a hand through his hair, noting how greasy it was, and leaned forward in his seat. Maybe he should have cleaned himself up a little before calling. "I'm sorry, Pepper." He said and she narrowed her eyes and cocked her head slightly to the side in curiosity. "I'm sorry, I mean, I am sorry, for- for everything. For being an idiot and a fucking prick, and... Pep, I uh... I have a problem, like a big problem, you know, all those times you suggested I should just stop drinking completely, and I always made up a bunch of elaborate excuses for myself? Yeah, they were just that, excuses, words I could hide behind to- to justify it. And back then I didn't..."

He stopped, considered his words, clenched his eyes shut and rubbed his temple with a grimace. "I didn't have anything to lose back then. Nothing. I didn't care about anything or anybody. I didn't even care about myself." He glanced back up at her glowing screen, and was relieved to find a tiny trace of compassion in her eyes. Bolstered by it, he smiled at her. "But now I do have something- someone to give a shit about. To give all the shits about. And it's not the Avengers, and it's not the Iron Man, or the press or Stark Industries. It's you, Pep. It's you, it's always been you. And I just..." His voice wavered. He swallowed to clear the familiar sting in his throat. "I wish I'd realized it sooner. Before I hurt you."

She didn't say anything at first, just stood there, watching him, and his eyes darted around the room, around the screen, resting anywhere but on her. He didn't want her to see the tears brimming them, unbidden. He was a man, dammit.

"Tony." He sniffed, nodding acknowledgement but continuing to stare at the floor. "Tony, look at me." Wincing, but having never been able to deny Pepper anything, he complied, and the simple movement drove a single tear from where it had been welling in his eye, and he couldn't hide it before she noticed and fuck, she'd seen it and she was worried because he never, ever cried. His face burned with embarrassment as he wiped the rest away. Might as well, right? No hiding it any more. "Tony, did something else happen?" Her voice was soft. Elegant.

Tony watched her sit on his bed, their bed, and she looked at him expectantly, concerned and questioning, but he hesitated, chewing his lip and drawing blood. Clint had told him to be truthful, to tell her that he'd fucked up royally and almost perished because of it, but now that the moment was here, he wasn't so sure any more. "It's... things have been better, I guess."

She glowered at him impatiently. "Don't dodge the question. You don't exactly have the standing to do so right now." Then, the annoyance melted from her features almost as quickly as it had appeared and she was worried again. Upset and troubled. "Tony, for God's sake, I love you, and I care about you and- and I care about what you're going through. And I want to help you through it, I really do..." Now her voice was cracking, a fracture which split his very heart in two painfully. Tears appeared and rolled down her cheeks, and it was like a switch was hit, like pure instinct kicked in at the sight of them, because Tony's own immediately dried up. Somebody had to be strong for the both of them. "But I can't do anything for you if you don't talk to me, Tony."

Wiping her eyes with the hem of her house robe, she collected herself remarkably fast. That was his Pepper. The embodiment of strength and sophistication, things he lacked dismally. They evened each other out pretty well, her with her perfection and him with his... issues. "Pepper, you gotta promise me you won't freak out." he said, fingers interlaced in his lap, head lowered, but eyes remaining on her. Her head shot up from where it had been resting in her hand and, oh my god, she looked horrified. Now though, he was stuck. He couldn't take it back.

"Why?" She asked quickly, sternly.

"Well..." Just get it out, Tony. Stalling will only make it worse. Her expression seemed to suggest the same. "Pep, you remember when we went to Amsterdam?"

She nodded slowly. "And there were at least a hundred nasty prostitutes hanging off you like monkeys?" She said, with only the slightest bit of animosity.

"Call girls," Tony grumbled and he couldn't help but grimace. It was a touchy subject, not only because of the prostitutes, but because of the way he had left her alone, standing in the middle of the red light district like a true dick, as two girls on either arm led him away to commit obscene acts. "But that's not what I'm getting at. Remember, that thing, the one thing that happened that we don't talk about at all?"

"Yeah..." The word was forced out slowly and her brow wrinkled in thought, and then it seemed to hit her. And it hit her hard. Her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Oh, Tony, you didn't." Disappointment was going to drown him one day, because he felt like he was swimming in it constantly.

He nodded dejectedly, "I did." He confirmed. Shame settled on him, its weight hunching him over. "Honey, my blood alcohol content was .39 when you left. In Amsterdam, it was .37. Just to give you an idea... you know." When she just stared at something on the floor, one hand covering her mouth, he shifted uncomfortably. "It was bad, but Bruce managed to bring me around, so... I'm ok now. And Barton, too. He helped. I'm ok, Pepper, I promise you."

Was he trying to convince Pepper of this, or himself? Uncertainty claimed him, and when she looked back up, composure set stubbornly in place (how the hell does she do that?) he averted his gaze, swallowing roughly. "I'm canceling this trip and you're coming here. We need to deal with this. Now." Her tone was firm and decided. He didn't stand a chance so he just nodded.

"I know, I know... but, give me a couple days." She looked at him like mushrooms had just sprouted up all over his face, and he was quick to provide an alibi. "Please. There's some things I need to take care of here." Such as a traitorous Captain America. His nose wrinkled at the thought. "Please, just trust me on this."

Skepticism glinted in her eye, and she frowned. Tony's heart was racing. There was nothing in this world he would rather not do than tell Pepper that Steve Rogers was being mean to him, like some kid tattling to his mother. And he knew she would jump on it like a lioness. So when she finally nodded her approval after much deliberation, Tony let out a long breath of relief. "But just so you're aware, I'm calling Bruce and I'm leaving him strict instructions. He is not to let you near a single drop of alcohol. And you're not to touch it, Tony. Please." Now she was pleading with him and really, how could he do anything but agree?

My name's Tony, and I'm an alcoholic.

"I promise- no, I swear to you Pepper, I won't touch it." It was a sincere. He met her eyes and held the gaze, never faltering. And she smiled. She believed him.

Dear god, somebody on this planet still had faith in Tony Stark.

"I know." she said with absolute conviction. "It always takes a crisis, doesn't it? For you to pull yourself back up from the brink."

Tony smiled back at her. "I do my best work under the worst type of pressure. If I'm about to fall over the cliff, I'll just build wings and fly."

She laughed, and the sound warmed him, a true, saturating warmth. It was the best he'd felt in weeks. Suddenly, his problems seemed distant, a ghost that didn't necessarily haunt him, but stood back and lingered in the shadows. There, but no longer so frightening. His outlook was positive, and he felt powerful, and he would overcome this goliath with the strength of David plus an army. "I love you, Tony Stark." She said and It was all he needed to hear. "We're gonna beat this, and we're gonna do it together. You won't be alone this time."

He nodded and tried to project his gratitude out to her silently, because he was pretty sure if he tried to express it verbally he would just have a damn meltdown right there. Why would anyone even need to be strong when they had Pepper Potts to do it for them? "You're my fucking rock, Pep. You have no idea how much I need you."

Pepper rolled her eyes, "Oh, no trust me, I have every idea of how much you need me. Have you started memorizing the other eight numbers yet?"

He lifted his eyes in faux concentration. "I've got, uh... three and seven."

"Fantastic," She gave him a mocking round of applause and grinned at him. "Now only six more to go. And then you'll have to put them all in order. I expect another year of processing for that alone."

"Don't you have some, ah, unpacking to do?"

"I do." She said, glancing back to her suitcase. "And don't you have some sleeping to do?"

"Pepper, sleep is for the dead, we've been over this." he said, feigning annoyance. "And I am very much alive." He really had no desire to sleep whatsoever, having been trapped in that blasted infirmary room for days, not to mention the plans that were swiftly forming. If he had only a couple days to make amends with the Avengers, then he required every precious second of them. A red dawn was approaching and he needed to position his pieces on his metaphorical chess board.

She sighed and shrugged, as though Tony was an incurable impossibility. And Tony had to admit, he was. Just another thing on his to do list; stop being so resistant. The 'rebel with too many causes to count' thing was becoming tiring. "Just take care of yourself. For me."

"You got it." He said, and he hoped it was the truth but who knew? "I'll see you in a couple days."

"You'd better. I'm not afraid to whoop the asses of six super heroes." She said, raising an eyebrow pointedly, and cut the line with a smooth swipe of her fingers.

Tony collapsed back into his seat with a groan, laying an arm dramatically across his eyes. "Jesus, that was exhausting." He told no one in particular.

"You did a fine job, sir." JARVIS, his ever present confidant. "And you managed it without innuendo."

"Right?" He smiled, but he had zero energy to come up with something any more substantial than that one word. The conversation with Pepper had gone well, but despite the lack of strenuous physical exertion, it had been draining...

There was a knock at his door and he jumped, having stumbled into that initial state of limbo preceding sleep. "Tony?" It was Bruce. He sounded worried.

"Yeah, yeah." Tony called, stretching in his chair and yawning loudly. "I'm up. Unlock the door, J."

There was a click, and Bruce entered looking frazzled. "JARVIS wouldn't let me onto the ward. What were you doing in here?" He was glancing around the room, probably looking for empty bottles. It saddened him to see his friend's lack of confidence, but he understood to some degree.

Tony pushed aside the thought and shot him a proud smile. "Oh nothing, just completing the first step required to seize my life back." He said simply.

"...You talked to Pepper."

"Yeah."

He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "And?"

"And she finds me even hotter than before. And right as I was starting to think I couldn't get any more attractive." He said and smirked when Bruce rolled his eyes. "Did you do the thing?"

He removed his glasses and ran a tired hand down his face. "Most of it's gone, but we've still got a few hidden stashes to go through."

"Good." It was bittersweet, and he mourned for a moment. But only a moment. "Thank you."

Replacing his glasses, and taking a seat opposite Tony, Bruce smiled at him. "There's no need to thank me. Clint and I were more than happy to do it after everything you've done for us. For all of us."

All he could do was shrug dismissively because really, that's just how he was. He didn't do these things to get attention or to win the approval of others or even to boost his admittedly waning ego. No, he did it because he genuinely enjoyed helping others. A rewarding trait he'd picked up after a little tussle in the Middle East.

It was funny how people changed.

"How's the good captain?" Tony asked derisively. "Still out for my head?"

Bruce sighed heavily like he'd been carrying the weight of a thousand good captains. "Let's just say I'm glad your recovery's over. It's getting harder and harder to lie to him. He's starting to get suspicious about where you are, Tony, so my advice for you is to not actively avoid him after this."

Tony scoffed. "Steve Rogers and his tights don't scare me." He hesitated, almost afraid to ask his next question but gave into his curiosity all the same. It was going to kill him one day, Tony being the proverbial cat. "What about Thor?"

Bruce considered his question for a moment, his gaze resting somewhere behind Tony in thought. "Thor's reasons are more... personal. I guess he sees a lot of his younger self in you. You know about how he got here, right? How his father banished him here, took his powers from him, all that?"

Working the inside of his cheek, which was becoming painfully raw from all the bites it'd suffered recently, Tony nodded. "Yeah. Murdering Frost Giants, his questionable ruling abilities, his spat with dad over whose glorious ass would occupy the throne of Asgard. All that fantasy crap." He groaned and rubbed his forehead with his palms vigorously. "I'm glad I have wise old fucks to judge me at my low points."

"He just cares, thinks you should take a break and do some soul searching. How did he word it? Oh, and 'find your inner warrior, and your immortal grace'." Bruce chuckled, but the glare Tony shot him over the tips of his fingers silenced him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "And in a way, Steve cares too, but his solution is far reaching and quite permanent. His focus is more on the welfare of the team, not yours as an individual."

Tony sat back and crossed his arms. "Well, it would seem things are pretty much unchanged. Thor wants an honorable warrior of the seventh realm and Steve wants to dwell in ultimate douchbaggery. Sounds about right."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him in warning. "Tony, you need to be careful, okay? Don't go right off and antagonize Steve. He wants to talk to you and I suggest you not be a jackass to him regardless of what he's done. You must be the bigger man in this and show him that you're above all this petulance."

"Oh, don't you worry, ye of little faith." Tony said with another lopsided smirk and Bruce frowned. He was frowning a lot lately. And mostly at him. "I'll talk to him. I'll talk to all you guys. Again. And since when have I been above petulance?"

That cautionary look was still there. Bruce had zero trust in Tony's plan and Tony simply exacerbated it by being vague. "What exactly are you going to say?" He said this slowly, enunciating each word as though he thought Tony missing a single bit of it would leave him lost.

This time, when he smiled at Bruce, it was with sad acceptance. "You'll find out. Wouldn't want to spoil the newest episode of Days of Our Lives for you."

Bruce shook his head. "Now you're just making jokes."

And Tony just kept that same sad smile. "It's either that or start crying."

Sometimes the drama in his life made him feel like he was staggering through a wasteland of cheesy soap operas.

A/N: Oh my god, please don't kill me! Such anger from all of you, I'm afraid for my life right now. Got me looking over my shoulder for knife wielding assassins and shit. It's ok though, I still love you. Anger seems to generate a lot of reviews and I'm thankful for them all! Even the flame, although I hope I satisfied you, deadpoolhulk. That required a ton of water to put out. Of course, there will be more explaining to come.

Hmm, so I changed the title. Shamelessly stolen from Imagine Dragons' 'Radioactive'. They mentioned the song is about overcoming depression, but it can be applied to almost any type of personal obstacle. I own nothing, so don't sue me. I am not afraid to wield a JAG attorney with pride!

Anyway, the last chapter is next. And I swear to you it will be the last chapter! It was fun while it lasted but all good things must come to their inevitable end. Please review this one for me, because reasons. Ta, ta.