As she drives away down Highway One, Pepper is aware that the car behind her seems to be following and the thought sends a chill through her. To be sure, she changes her plan, and turns from the regular route home, heading instead towards the first place that comes to mind. Carefully she clips her Bluetooth on and dials, praying for an answer.
The phone rings and a familiar voice comes over the line. "Pepper?"
"Jim," she murmurs, feeling a rush of relief. "You're home."
"Yes . . . what's up? Why aren't you at work?"
"I'm . . . on an errand," Pepper babbles and adds, "Can I stop by?"
"Sure—"
"-Right now?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess. You don't sound good, woman."
"I'll explain it when I get there. Thanks, Jim."
She hangs up and slows down, making her way through the neighborhoods until forty minutes later, she reaches the little gated community just outside the base. Jim buzzes her in, and to her relief, the car behind her drives on down the road. Pepper pulls into the quiet streets of the housing development, and reaches Jim Rhodes' place within a few minutes; he's out front, collecting the mail and looking relaxed in jeans and an Air Force Academy sweatshirt.
"Hey," he tells her, giving her a quick hug as she climbs out and comes over to him. "Long time no see—what's up?"
Pepper gives a relieved smile. She likes Colonel Jim Rhodes. He was one of her body movement models for some of the prosthetic studies she'd done prior to joining SI, and one of the few she's kept up a friendship with since. Rhodey is a good pilot and good soldier; as interested in rehabilitation and care of veterans as she is.
He's also a good friend, a sympathetic ear, and Pepper needs both of those right now, so she points towards the house with her head. "Are you busy? Can we talk?"
"Yeah, sure," Jim nods, and follows her into the house. He brings her a bottle of water and takes a beer for himself, and they settle in the living room. Pepper rubs her eyes and wonders how best to approach the subject.
"Jim . . . what do you know about Tony Stark?" she asks, bluntly.
Pepper expects him to look blank, or maybe shake his head. What she doesn't expect is for Jim Rhodes to narrow his gaze and lean forward, looking serious.
And wary.
"I know what everybody knows," he begins. "He's SI's company figurehead and mascot, some sort of paranoid nutjob who's been hiding out in his mansion out in Malibu for the last twenty years or so. Why?"
"Because I'm about to breach a lot of doctor/patient confidentiality here, and I want to know if you can deal with that," Pepper responds glumly. "I need someone to know the truth if . . . if something happens to me."
She's said it: said what she's been thinking and fearing for the last week now. In the warm afternoon light in Jim's living room it seems completely melodramatic, and Pepper would laugh at herself if it wasn't so serious.
Jim doesn't laugh. Instead, he shoots her a patient look, one tempered with curiosity. "Sure you don't want a beer for this?"
"I might," she concedes, "but not right at the moment. Are we good?"
Jim holds up a finger. "Two questions first, Pep-"
"It can't be Phil," Pepper sighs in easy anticipation. "Phil would take what I say and run straight to his bosses in Washington. They've wanted info on Stane for years, and you know Phil is always looking for a promotion. He's a good man, but he's definitely on a career track, Jim. I won't give him this just to have it used for his advancement."
Rhodey shrugs a little in acknowledgement and takes a sip of beer before speaking. "That's one. The second question is: What makes you think I won't do the same thing? I've got a duty to my country, Pepper, and if we're talking about Tony Stark, then somewhere down the line it's going to mean talking about Stane and the military contracts with SI. I may not be in the loop for that particular part of things, but I know how it goes."
"You might," Pepper acknowledges, "eventually. Right now what I have is so . . . tenuous that nobody is going to take me seriously but you."
"You don't know that," he teases. "I might not take you seriously either."
She reaches over and lightly punches his shoulder, feeling relieved. "Maybe not, but at least you won't call me crazy."
He gives her a smile and a little nod, and Pepper starts talking.
An hour later, Jim isn't smiling anymore; instead, he's rubbing his chin and Pepper can tell that he's as conflicted as she is now. Part of what makes Jim Rhodes the right person to confide in is his ability to listen—truly listen—before saying anything.
She's laid everything out, from her first visit and the bizarre world inside the mansion to the subsequent visits and the test results. Pepper has been careful not to dwell too much on her interactions with Stane; most of that is innuendo, and in any case, she wants the focus on Tony, not herself.
"Damnnn," Jim finally whistles. "Yeah, I can see now why Phil needs to be out of the picture."
"He's a good man," Pepper defends him, but mildly. "I just don't want to see Tony—Mr. Stark—unduly harassed or confronted until I actually know if there's something to pursue. From the reaction I got, I'm sure he's a victim here, but-"
Jim looks up. "When his parents died, Stark was a minor, right?"
Pepper nods, thinking back to the newspaper articles. "Yes."
"I'd bet that Stane was made guardian—probably a clause either in their will, or put forth by the company after the accident. The question is—was it just until Stark reached the age of twenty-one, or was it one of those 'until capacity' deals?"
Pepper hesitates. "If that's the case then it's going to very hard to change things—agoraphobia and drug addiction do not make for capacity in the eyes of the law."
"Nope," Jim agrees, "but getting proof that Stane is the one holding back treatment and supplying the drugs would tip the scale a bit. Impaired capacity is one thing, but deliberate intent to cause harm is another."
"I'll look into it," Pepper agrees, feeling a rush of purpose. "That's definitely a start. Maybe I get access to the details of the will, or see what paperwork there is on the matter because I'm sure his AI must have it all on file."
"If it doesn't report you to Stane along the way," Jim points out. "I have a few connections with some people who have access to public records—let me see what I can dig up that route first, okay? It's better that way."
Pepper nods. "Okay. In the meantime, I have to figure out just how much luminal Tony's being dosed with, and how often. And how he's getting it."
Jim shrugs. "Has to be something he's habitual about—sports drinks, after-dinner aperitif—"
"—Vitamins," Pepper blurts, awareness dawning. "He takes vitamins regularly; those blister packs laid out for a dose a day."
Jim winces. "That makes sense in a devious bastard sort of way. Can you check?"
Pepper nods and checks her cell phone, noting the time with despair. "Yep. I have to get going, damn it. Jim-" she rises to her feet and shoots him a grateful look, "you don't think I'm crazy?"
He cocks his head and stares at her a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "No. Your story, however . . . let's just say I'm not totally convinced, but it's just freaky enough to look into."
Jim walks her to her car and sees her off, waving as Pepper pulls away and she feels better, having shared her concerns. It's nearly sunset, and she speeds along, trying to think of what to say when she gets home.
The porch light is on, and Lou is not there to greet her; clear signs that Phil is home. Pepper takes a breath and steps in, bracing herself for the questions.
He's in the living room, idly watching some reality show, but clicks it to 'mute' when Pepper comes in, and his smile is gracious as she bends to kiss him. "Hey. Long day?"
"Yeah. I had to run errands again. I hate it when Peter makes me do that."
Phil gives a non-committal murmur and makes room for her on the sofa. Pepper pulls his arm around her and he doesn't resist, but he doesn't hug her either. For a moment they say nothing, both of them looking at the commercials on the screen.
"I called the lab," Phil murmurs softly, not turning his head.
Pepper flinches. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. They said you were on some outreach project. What's that all about?"
A thousand different answers flash through Pepper's mind, but she settles for a half-truth, letting it tumble reluctantly from her lips. "Mental patient. He won't come in to the lab."
"Ah." Phil gives a sigh. Lou waddles over, eyes Pepper with distain, and condescends to leap up with no grace whatsoever and plop himself heavily on her lap. She pets him, and his deep rumbling purr rolls out, filling up the silence.
Finally Phil stirs, turning his head, his calm expression never changing. "I got the promotion."
"That's great," Pepper replies instantly, although her first reaction is panic. She nudges his shoulder. "Congratulations."
"Thanks," Phil gives a gentle smile. "It's good to hear you say that."
"Phil . . ." Pepper begins, dread washing over her as the old rift starts to rise up again between them. "It really is good-"
"It means a lot for both of us," he continues, "and I'm not putting any pressure on you, because I know you're still the new girl at Stark, but . . ."
" . . . news, but I just got the job, and we agreed to give me time to build up my CV," Pepper murmurs defensively. "I thought that was the plan."
"There are lots of laboratories and hospitals in the DC area," Phil points out patiently. "And the VA offices are there, so you wouldn't be short of patients and prosthetics either. It's not as if you can't find work in Washington."
Pepper stares at him, hearing a faint but stubborn edge in his voice, and a surge of anger jolts through her. "My career is just as important to me as yours and Stark Labs is one of the most prestigious places in physiatrics, Phil. This isn't fair."
Phil blinks, and Pepper bites her lips when she sees the pain in his eyes. He's a good man—he is—but she knows his next words are going to hurt. And they do.
"Pepper . . . I love you."
"I . . ."
"I love you, but this isn't working. I think we both know that," Phil sighs. "What I want and what you want in life are completely different, and much as I'd like to make you happy, I can't give up on kids and a family. The whole cliché white picket fence and a dog dream."
Lou looks up resentfully at this last part, but purrs again when Phil reaches over and strokes him.
"I . . . I want those too," Pepper whispers, her voice near tears.
Phil gives her another one of his gentle smiles, this one tinged with sorrow. "Maybe you do, Pepper, but not now. And not with me."
This is when she should speak up and deny his observation, but Pepper holds her tongue, painfully aware that he's right. She likes Phil, and respects him and enjoys him, but that's as far as her feelings go. Back in the early days of their relationship she'd told herself she could—would—grow to love him.
She blinks as hot tears well up, and Phil squeezes her shoulders, saying nothing and letting her cry against his collar.
Later, in bed, Pepper stares at the ceiling, trying to fight the traitorous sense of relief that rises in her. She's grateful that Phil is taking the guestroom downstairs instead of lying in the dark here with here. She'll miss the comfort of his body; at the same time, giving up the hypocrisy of this relationship is the right thing to do.
He's a good man, Pepper thinks quietly, just not the right man.
She spends some time remembering their courtship, replaying it through her mind's eye, recalling when they first met, and the quiet way Phil Coulson had flirted with her, his blue-eyed, easy charm comfortable and sweet. It hadn't taken long to be swept up into a relationship. They'd spoken of marriage, and of kids; Phil has always been interested in being a father, which is flattering.
But through it all, Pepper knows that her reluctance has been there since the beginning, and now that the truth is out, she cannot deny it anymore; namely, she and Phil have very different agendas in life, and while some of the goals are the same, the pacing of their timelines are terminally out of synch.
She wishes he was angry. Pepper wishes for a little more passion from Phil, but emotional reserve is one of his more infuriating traits, and while it makes for a good FBI agent, it doesn't help matters of the heart. Here in the dark, Pepper mourns alone and finally drops off to sleep, her face still slightly wet when she does so.
"So tell me how things are going," Stane orders lightly, helping himself to a demitasse of espresso, his smile bland. Pepper fights against the fidgets. They are on the terrace outside Stane's office, overlooking the beautifully manicured little Zen garden down below. At any other time it would be a restful setting, but between the events of the night before and Stane's sharp glance, Pepper feels slightly trapped.
"Oh they're very good," she chirps, blinking. "Mr. Stark is certainly eating better, and his fever is gone, so that's a major improvement."
"That's terrific," Stane murmurs, his eyes never leaving hers. "Glad to hear it."
Pepper nods, wondering what else to say, but Stane speaks up again, smoothly. "You two getting along all right?" It's supposed to be an innocuous question, but this is Stane, and he gives it a tint of lechery.
"Um, yes," Pepper stammers, feeling her face go red. She damns herself for deliberately choosing her next words. "He's . . . very attractive."
It's an unprofessional observation and in any other situation Pepper knows she would be reprimanded or at least re-directed, but Stane's grin broadens, and he looks upward, his soft chuckle bubbling out.
"Yeah well. Tony takes after his mother. She was always the beauty of the family. Course, with that damned hair of his he practically looks like her now, minus the beard. Can you give him a cut next time you're out to see him?"
It's a casual, almost playful request, but Pepper hears the order couched under all the good old boy tones Stane is using. She starts to protest but thinks better of it; Stane smiles. "Atta girl."
Pepper manages a bright, artificial smile as his gaze strays over her chest like a small, quick spider. "I'll try."
"Good." Stane dismisses the topic easily, shifting his attention to her legs. "So what did you two talk about?"
She's ready for this, and launches into the list of small topics that will match Jarvis' surveillance: the food, the house tour, the panic attack. Stane seems especially interested in the attack, and wants more of the details, but Pepper sticks to the basic facts, and keeps his attention directed to her own suggestions for treatment, which include meditation and breathing exercises.
Stane nods, not as interested in prevention as she is, but Pepper is grateful, since it keeps him from asking about testing or any peculiar gaps in the video feed. Just as she's mentally congratulating herself on making it through the conversation without any serious missteps, Stane shoots her a lazy smile and leans forward, his knees practically touching hers.
"So what drugs do you think we ought to prescribe Tony to get him back on his feet?"
