A/N:
Thanks for waiting patiently, I have the longest chapter yet to make up for my absence.
Feedback is love, help me get my first 50 comments please! : )
'No,' she replies flatly.
'No?'
'No,' she repeats. Tony is not sure if he should be unhappy with her answer, since he's known better than to expect her to say 'sure thing, why not.' Not that he didn't hope she would.
'… why?'
She sighs, then he can hear her taking her shoes off and letting them fall on the floor with soft thud. She shifts in her chair and sighs again, and Tony starts to feel fidgety.
'Do you want the real reason or the one that you'd prefer to hear?' she says in the end, and Tony exhales (he hasn't even realized that he's been holding his breath, damn.) He wants to give her the look, but that feels pathetic to himself even, and it hasn't been working, really. It can't work.
'Pepper,' he just says, knowing that she will read the answer in his tone (it's obvious anyway.)
'I would tell you that it's because I'm not qualified to do the job, I don't have a degree for that, I'm just a PA and have two majors in fields that are totally not related. But you'd say that I've been running your company for a long time, making you do everything you needed and taking care of all your affairs,' (Tony doesn't even have to nod to that, but it's kind of surprising that she says it all: he suddenly realizes that there is a Pepper from now and Pepper from before, too, alike himself: the old one would ask him if he was drinking, and say that he was being ridiculous, and protest, the new one – she knows he is serious, maybe more than ever; it kind of hurts more this way.) 'But the real answer is that I'm not going to do that because that would mean leaving you here alone, most of the time, and I don't think I can leave you alone. I don't think you are ready for that, Tony.'
He wants so fucking much to laugh in her face and be angry and snap with words like, 'I am ready', 'that's what you think of me', 'I am fucking ready, I am.'
Probably he really isn't. Or at least, he hasn't been acting as if he was – but he's made the decision, finally, and there is no backing off.
'You know that I am very serious about this, Pepper,' he tells her, standing up from the high kitchen stool and starting to pace around, one of his hands tracing the edge of the table and counters, just to be safe when he's not counting steps and calculating them into distances. The room feels eerily quiet and each of his steps and each of their breaths echo dully in the frozen space. 'I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't completely serious. And I understand you concerns, because they are perfectly legit, yes, hey, you know me better than anyone else, better then myself I think sometimes, and maybe only J knows more about me but that's because I made him –' he pauses to take a breath, because he realizes he's ranting pointlessly 'anyway. I… whatever you might think, I'm not being crazy about things right now. I have reasons to ask you that. I know it's much and I know that it'll be such a mess, as a result, but – but it needs to be done, shutting down the weapons manufacturing, and I can't do it myself, they would just lock me out saying that I have some mental problems and I can't have the right to decide, it's too easy, too predictable. Obie would never agree, you know that as good as I know it, it'd be bad for publicity and for our stocks and for the company in general, he'd never agree, and there is no one else I can ask, just you, and I know that you can do that perfectly – actually, I had JAVIS check the formalities, I'm able to appoint my own successors without any inference from the board or anyone else, I've checked that months ago, but I wasn't sure and now I'm because it's been just too much –'
He stops to breathe again, noticing his hands are trembling with tension, and realizing that he's said a bit more that he intended. Pepper will read through every lie I can come up with anyway, he thinks. No lies.
'If you thought about it for such a long time, why did you decide just now?' Pepper cuts in, her voice curious and strained at the same time.
'I told you that I sent JARVIS there because it was the same terrorist group that held me captive, but it wasn't the whole truth.'
(Of course the info about the SI weapons has not been released to the press/tv. It was to his eyes only, ahh, not that again: to his knowledge only.)
'Then what was it?' Pepper prompts, seeing Tony's reluctance. It's funny, he thinks, hesitating even though I know so well that it need to be done. It's not like you, he tells himself. It's not like you.
'The tv has only half of it right, they are all humanitarians and talk about fights and immigrants and all – not that they are wrong, they are right, yes, it's true and everything – but there is one thing that J told me about, that only confirmed what I knew and what made me think about asking you to take over in the first place…' he's so pathetically circling around the answer, and he's not even sure why.
'Tony.'
'Yes, Pepper, I'm getting there – can we move to the living room? I'm going to drive you mad pacing around here, hell, I'm going to drive myself mad.'
'I'm making the tea just now, sir,' JARVIS states easily, following the Tony-calming routine that has been established during his meetings with Grayson.
'Thanks, JARVIS,' Pepper say and sends Tony to go to the living room, or maybe the room with Tony's favorite sofa would be a better description, and wait for her. So he does, walking slowly, his cane left behind in the kitchen so the route is from memory. Counting steps is calming right now, so he allows himself to do so, it's not as much of obsessing as usually. Good.
When Pepper comes and settles down next to him, putting the mugs with green honey tea on the small table, Tony really wishes to run away. But –
'It's something I haven't told anyone before,' he starts, taking a sip of the warm drink and putting the mug away, slowly, carefully, since he's quite sure his hands will tremble too much to hold hot liquid. 'You know that the terrorists wanted me to build them weapons, the Jericho missile to be exact. I did tell this to the military, to Rhodey. Anyway, that was only half of the problem, they – do you know what guns, what bombs they used? They used the SI things, I've seen all the serial numbers, I've seen the logo everywhere where they took me around the camp, I've seen my own designs stashed there waiting to be used on American soldiers, or maybe some civilians like those in Gulmira' (Pepper might have gasped, but he's not sure, he can't make himself stop imagining those images and it consumes him) 'So when I heard that name – it was a place close by, yes, but you know that much already – I asked JARVIS to look into it and it didn't take him too long to get hold of some unpublished photos of the missiles, of the terrorists, with more of my weapons, hundreds and hundreds of SI logos on them, I still can't shove them out of my head, just imagine how cruel that is? When I can't see fucking anything, it's months now, and one of the things I see when I close my – hell, when I let my mind wander, is the image of the weapons I designed that killed people who were in the car with me, young American soldiers that I was just talking with. I…' Ton makes a short break to calm himself a bit, but Pepper doesn't say anything in the meantime, just stays so, so still. 'I was thinking to do that when I was in captivity still, when I was in the cave I swore to myself that if I make it back I will put a stop to it, whatever it takes, but then you know everything that has happened and how it ended and how I ended up here, like this. When I was there, I planned this speech in my head, I'd call a press conference and tell everyone that I'm shutting down weapons manufacturing at SI, effective immediately. Obie would hate me, and you probably too, but that's would be okay because I'd be doing the right thing, for the first time in my life I'd be doing the right thing… Pepper. I was – distracted. By this,' he makes a vague motions with his hand, like he's taken to doing, and she knows well what it means, 'this,' he repeats, gesturing at his face, at his eyes, 'all this made it impossible. But Gulmira – it was the last straw. I can't… I can't let it go on anymore. It has to stop. It's all, it's all my hands, my handiwork killing people, and I can't stand that! I just can't, Pepper. And it's the only way I can make this change, what I asked you for. There is no other way… Please. Okay?'
(Tony never says please, and Pepper knows that, so he doesn't have to actually say that he never pleads, but it's hanging in the air, thick like honey.)
'You're asking me to make an impossible decision, Tony,' Pepper states, moving closer to him until he can feel the heat of her body on his skin; she actually takes his hand; it's more reassuring, more welcoming than he'd have ever expected; he can't stop wondering if it's because he's been concentrating so much on the 'alternative' senses that makes his body respond to touch and sound so strongly. 'I understand how all that time in Afghanistan could influence you, but –'
'I don't think you do,' Tony cuts in, closing his eyes and breathing out. Hands not trembling, he thinks. Much more than I hoped for – why am I suddenly able to be so calm? How? 'Have you ever really thought about how the arc reactor was built into my chest?' he starts and her hair brushes past his shoulder as she shakes her head for no, forgetting that he can't see it. That means she is very distressed and Tony hates to make it worse –
– but she deserves to know.
So he tells her about picture with the young soldier and the shrapnel in more detail that she could have ever wanted, about Yinsen and how the man built the socket into his body, how he was attached to the car battery; he tells her about the tortures and the ultimatum and Raza and all the languages they spoke; he tells Pepper about plans for Mark I one, how he believed that Yinsen had family and how he was cold all the time, frozen to his bones, how he got all the scars and burns and callouses. In the end he tells her how he got out, how Yinsen died, how he wandered in the desert for what felt like weeks and weeks, getting sunburned and dehydrated and aching so much that he couldn't walk anymore, how he remembers he still could see in those last conscious memories he has, then there is a blank hole – when he finishes Pepper's arms are wrapped securely around his body and he's shaking and crying, for fuck's sake it's pathetic, he realizes, but he can't make himself stop, it to say all those words, it makes it all real and so, so close (back then the feelings were more distant, crazy, too fast: being terrified and angry and suicidal, never getting better –)
'It's not enough, it's never going to be enough to pay back for what I did, and this is least I can do, stop being responsible for making more destruction…'
'That's not right, Tony,' Pepper protests, speaking up for the first time.
How long have I been talking, my throat fucking hurts, I thought we were over with that.
He snickers. Pepper only hugs him tighter.
'That's not right, and I can't let you keep thinking that, god, you've been telling that to yourself all those months, that you'll never make up for those imagined faults?'
'They are not imagined, Pepper –'
'It's the world that is – bad, Tony, not you. Not you, do you understand?' she states forcefully, even though her voice is just above a whisper.
'I made the weapons willingly, hell, I enjoyed that, I was perfectly happy knowing what they were for, I reaped the benefits if destruction –'
'Tony.'
He tries to keep his face blank –
'I need to make it right. I – I shouldn't be alive, unless it as for a reason, Pepper. I shouldn't.'
(In all the speeches he's made in his head before, in all those situations imagined in the dead of the night, he's never planned to say that.)
– but he can't, he's torn between being angry and wailing in despair at being so helpless.
'Okay,' Pepper says after a few moments of silence that feel like ages, eons, too long. Tony is not quite sure she said that for real, maybe it's just my brain mocking me, maybe it's just wishful thinking brought to a whole new level.
'Really?' he asks for confirmation. Her body is relaxed next to him, and he thinks that it's probably a good sign.
'Yes, okay, I couldn't… I couldn't leave you with this alone. But I have conditions and they are not negotiable.'
'Tell me.'
Pepper pulls away from him and shifts, sitting cross-legged across the sofa, one of her knees gently prodding his side. She takes his hands in hers (again); Tony understands that it's Pepper body-speak for reassuring him that she's here, that she's not going anywhere.
'First of all, I'm not doing this today.' (Tony wants to protest, but she doesn't let him speak) 'You must tell Rhodey, because it's going to affect him a lot – you know they are going to blame him. So, he comes next week? Tell him everything. Make him understand.'
'Okay,' Tony manages, cringing inwardly at the colonel's probable reaction. But it's not enough to make him change his mind; nothing can be enough right now.
'Second, when if we do this and I have to spend some days away, I don't want you staying up all nights. And I want someone always with you in the house. JARVIS in one of the suits doesn't count, maybe unless it'd a very unique situation. And when I'm not here, you are not to do any silly things like before, no – no testing your limits, Tony. If you want to do that, do it when I'm here. It's not safe, I don't want to find you in such state like when I went out for that press conference –'
'Okay,' Tony says once again. He doesn't that to repeat, either; a cold chill runs down his spine at the sole thought of the water flowing down his head and – stop.
'And third, I want you to tell that to doctor Grayson – no, I'm not hearing your protests right now. He's your doctor, and it that changes your situation drastically and I want him to know. He doesn't have to approve, just let him know in case some adjustments need to be done to your medication, or anything. Right?'
'Right.' (He can try.) '… are we going to make this work?' he adds; asking for reassurance is not what he does, but this one time.
'We are going to make this work,' Pepper agrees and squeezes his hand. Tony gives her a radiant smile and gets up from the sofa. 'I'm going to workshop –'
'You are not.'
He stops in the mid-turn.
'You are not, Tony, do you think I'd let you go now? You've just told me all those things, everything that happened and it obviously is difficult – I can see you're hurt. Stay with me. We'll have pizza and watch Star Trek, or whatever you want. I'm not leaving you alone to your thoughts.'
'Lord of the Rings,' Tony corrects her with a lopsided smile, knowing that there is no changing her mind. 'I need to brush up on my sindarin.'
Pepper laughs lightly and goes to order the pizza. They do sit down and eat, watching two and a half movies before they are both too sleepy to follow it.
(Later at night, he is so glad that she didn't let him go, when he's puking his guts out in the bathroom after a particularly vicious and vivid nightmare, the sounds of explosions still in his ears and the burning sand all over his skin, save where her cold hands touch his body –
'I'm with you, Tony, it's okay, calm down, it's okay,' she repeats over and over and he tries to believe.)
They spend rest of the night/morning finishing to watch the trilogy and devouring microwaved pizza, and Pepper even lets him skip one of the shakes to make him eat more. When they finish it's half past ten, and JARVIS tells Tony to suit up. The A.I. always knows how to make him happier.
Rhodey is less than pleased when Tony calls him, and promises that he'll be in Malibu in the evening, instead of waiting for the (next) weekend. But there is no shouting, what a lovely surprise.
Tony spends the day bumping around the workshop without doing any actual work. He knows Pepper is up double-checking all the legal issues concerning the situation and talking on the phone with one lawyer or another, he can imagine her heels clicking on the marble floor; she wears her favorite shoes when she is stressed and claims that it makes her feel better.
When Rhodey comes, he makes Tony sit on the sofa, takes a spot next to him and stays silent. Tony gives in after two minutes and forty eight seconds.
'Just tell me already how mad at me you are,' he orders the colonel in a voice far too soft for his own liking.
'I am mad, Tony, I am really mad, but I'm going to listen to what you want to say anyway. Or what Pepper made you tell me.'
'She didn't,' Tony protests pointlessly, keeping emotions out of his voice, but Rhodey will see what he is doing anyway. 'But – I didn't tell you everything, back in Germany…'
He goes on for long enough to make his throat dry again, but doesn't bother to stop for a drink of water or anything, knowing that if he stops talking, it will only be more difficult to start again. The words roll off his tongue like a practiced speech, even though he says them slightly differently that he did with Pepper, even though they are rawer and more technical.
But in the end, Rhodey says he understands.
'But even if I know why, on personal level – this is going to create such a fucking mess in the military, Tony, you don't realize. It'll all be on me.'
'I still remember all out contracts up until 2020, and I'm sure Obie has some more now,' Tony reminds the colonel, running a hand through his hair.
'You must give me some time to think this over – you're not changing you mind?' Rhodey adds hopefully. Tony just shakes his head firmly. (The thought about letting it be makes the anger boil dangerously in his veins, and being helpless and unable to do anything worthy in his fucking life again makes him think about suicide more than he feels comfortable with.) 'I will try to handle this somehow. You'll owe me a big one, man.'
Tony nods again. Simple. Too easy.
'I need to get going, now. Work tomorrow at 600. Thanks for putting all this stuff in my head that will keep me from falling asleep even for a minute…'
Tony snickers, making a 'don't mention it' gesture and walking Rhodey to the door.
'Take care,' the colonels says, giving him a strong hug, and leaves abruptly, letting a wave of the cool night-scented air swirl around Tony's body.
That's it, Tony thinks, breathing in the fresh air deeply, until his chest starts to hurt a bit, and he smiles to himself. Suddenly – I know exactly what I need to do. Then h s.
Tomorrow.
Technically, Pepper is in the house, so he is not breaking the rules, and they aren't even in power yet since she's not CEO yet. She probably wouldn't agree with Tony, but he's not thinking about technicalities right now.
So after the morning routine: waking up – changing – smoothie – news – breakfast – Pepper going up to do business, Tony gets his earpiece and the cane and goes to the other living room where he hasn't been spending so much time, the one that has a big door going straight out onto a terrace.
'J, weather?' he murmurs, for the first time in months, and the A.I.'s voice slowly recites him the familiar lines of temperature, humidity, cloud types, high tide, everything that has been programmed. It's a rather warm autumn day, with strong wind, clear sky and no predictions for rain later in the afternoon (though that sounds like a distant future.) Standing in front of the huge window panel, one hand wrapped around the cane and the other resting on an armchair's back, he switches on the earpiece.
'J, you there?'
'As always, sir,' the A.I.'s smooth voice replies. It feels good to know that he always, always has a backup. 'J, the doors?'
'I still don't think that's the best idea, sir, and Miss Potts will not be happy – to your left, sir, twelve steps.' JARVIS recites obediently when Tony gives the nearest camera a look.
He walks up to the doors, his free hand finding the handle soon enough, and he shivers as his palm touches its smooth cold surface.
'I'm pathetic, aren't I, J? How long have I been cooped up in this house, how long have I been too afraid to simply go outside, save when in the suit, which is like being inside a tiny protected home-space anyway?'
'It's been almost six months, sir, without a week, and according to scientific data this does not qualify as being pathetic, it's a rather common reaction in cases of sudden blindness, being afraid of unknown open spaces –'
'Always so technical, J,' Tony murmurs, but it makes him feel better to hear the A.I. saying that he's not being a pathetic whiny baby, that's it's – a reaction, a perfectly logical reaction. Logic is good. He can do logic. 'Ready?'
'Whenever you are.'
'Just don't tell Pepper as soon as we do this,' he reminds the A.I. and turns the knob, opening the door, and steps out. He leaves the door open (it's a basic psychological trick, yes) and moves a step to left, to have the house's wall against his back.
Technically, he knows exactly what everything is like: he is in the shade, on south-western side of the house, and the sun is still on south-east, given the early time. There is a ten by twenty meters (roughly) terrace in front of him, 25% of the dimensions to left, 75% to right; there is a huge barbecue three meters to his left and a set of chairs and a table somewhere in front of him, near the edge of the marbled floor that turns into a garden. Some of the basement rooms are a few meters under his feet, the thought is strangely reassuring.
Further to right, down the high cliff, there is the ocean, it's high waves crashing against the stone with a force that Tony has almost forgotten.
He can remember all the parties that took place there, all the girls in swimming suits and the man mixing drinks; but he can remember epic barbecues he's had with Rhodey and Happy – the chauffeur surely knows how to grill the meanest homemade burgers, that was a pleasant surprise – he can even remember one time he made a pretty big explosion down in the lab, and while he wasn't harmed, it made some of the windows break (he's exchanged them for a double-strength, anti-theft one with a special foil reinforcement only to prevent them from breaking again, since he's had too many tiny shards in his feet to count later and it was very, very annoying, and Pepper's been mad at him for smearing blood all over the house.)
But –
when he steps out, with all of that info in his head, what he feels and what he knows doesn't merge into one – when he steps out, everything else disappears because all that there is is darkness, is blackness that surrounds him viciously, without compromises, that makes him want to retch; he swallows the thick saliva and makes himself stay.
What it is, is mostly a strong, strong salty wind.
It's unpredictably calming. He doesn't even panic at the realization that instead of all those things that he knows there are, all he can tell is the rough surface of the wall against his back and the soft surface of the floor against his feet; it's slightly cold since he's only wearing socks, but that's a good feeling. Wearing shoes and cutting himself off from the full experience would be cheating.
Maybe it's the wall behind his back, maybe it's JARVIS-always-present around, or maybe it's the fact that he's so close to the safe space inside and to Pepper who would help him if anything was wrong, but it – the world, the outside, the life – doesn't seem as scary as he thought it would be. It's making it hard to breathe, realizing that there is a whole wide space, filled with air and sunlight in front of him, and father there are houses and people and cities and countries and somewhere far, far away is the cave, too – s t o p.
The wind is so different from the one that he can remember from the desert, it's not dry and not burning and it doesn't bring grains of sand, shoving them into his eyes; it's just strong but feels soft, smothering all his bare skin.
He breathes hard, breathes deep, the oxygen filling his lungs until it's painful, like the previous evening, until his chest hurts and his arc reactor feels on fire (so cold, so cold that on fire).
'JARVIS?' he says, calming his breathing, remembering to count between each breath, as if he was using the chewing sweet method (put a chewy candy in your mouth, chews three times, breathe, chew – breathe – chew, he's learned that all those years ago, when he was nineteen – but it's probably not a good idea to reminisce on that, please.)
'Sir?'
'Talk to me.'
JARVIS starts to recite the most recent weather readings, waiting until Tony is ready. When Tony pulls his back away from the wall, feeling the sudden cool wind on his shoulders and shivering, JARVIS pauses for a second, before starting to navigate. Tony takes a slow steps, tiny baby steps but it's walking ahead, stepping away from the open door and away from the still safe atmosphere of the house. He tries to make a projection in his head, of what JARVIS is telling him, discarding his memories since apparently some of the pieces of furniture were moved around in the meantime.
His head is blank, empty, and it's good. It's easy. It's perfect.
He's not panicking.
'Two point two meters to the barrier, sir. In front of you.'
'Mhm,' Tony murmurs and moves ahead, using the cane to be assured that he doesn't walk into the something. When the tip hits the metal, Tony stretches his hand to catch the railing. It's refreshingly cold, again, and feels a bit moist from the ocean and maybe from a morning mist. He puts the cane on his left and rests both of his hands on the metal.
It feels – scary, to know that all the space around him is unknown, is likely to change, is beyond his control (that is probably the most difficult thing: the world beyond his control.) But for once, he is in control, as much as possible, but he is in control.
Some time passes, Tony breathes, the sun moves and starts to peek from behind the house, rays slowly climbing from Tony's feet up to his calves and thighs. It is as soft as the wind, so delicate and whimsical compared to what he remembers from the cave – the desert – the two things that have devoured his life.
At some point, he hears the familiar footsteps coming from far behind, diffused by the sounds of the ocean and the wind and the birds' songs. No echo, what make him blink (blink) in wonder why for a few moments. It's been a constant during those last few months.
'Tony? Are you okay?'
It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. The scents and the sunrays and the wind's swirls are distracting.
'Mhm,' he says instead of proper words.
She comes up to him, standing on his right.
'This is big,' she says. Tony nods, even though he's not so sure. 'Why?'
Now, this is a question that Tony has an answer to.
'I'm trying,' he replies. He feels like a person who is speaking a new language, with limited knowledge of words, his responses so short. 'This – to show you. That I'm trying.'
'You didn't have to.'
'… wanted,' he tells her, tightening his grip on the railing. She wraps her arms around him from behind and they stay like that, sun climbing up to his face but it's okay, it's faint and pleasant, I didn't expect this, he thinks. They stay in place until his legs and back and neck are stiff, until Pepper's hand grow cold from the strange position they are in.
'I can't put this – what I see now, how I perceive things – together with what I remember. It's…'
But he can't finish the sentence, and it's one of the few things that Pepper can't do for him, either, so they stay silent, until she sighs and untangles her arms.
'You know that time for your smoothie has passed some time ago? You need to get it now, I'm sorry. But you've missed it the other day.'
'Okay,' Tony agrees, not feeling up to discussions, this time. He's not sure he can stomach anything else than blended food right now, anyway and even blended food sounds risky. So, a double smoothie, at least Dummy will be happy.
(He actually manages to hold down two smoothies and it feels much more like a victory than it should.)
He calls Chiara.
They have spoken a few times since that one time she came, trading overexcited words in Italian – or maybe it only sounded like that to Tony, who hasn't been around Italian people too much recently, and most things seem exaggerated there days anyway – he told her about his progress and his work, listening in exchange to her colorful stories about her work and life and the trip she made to Italy recently. But Tony never wanted it to be specific, not until now.
After they say the usual pleasantries, Tony decides to be straightforward. He's discovered that being straightforward is the best way to deal with himself when he need to be serious.
'I've been feeling like I'm being split in two,' he tells her. 'Or more, like my world is being split in two: the pieces don't match.'
She cuts in before he can say anything more.
'This is not something to talk over a phone. Do you want me to come? I can come whenever you need me, I told you as much.'
'I'm not –'
'How does Sunday sound to you? It's the easiest day for me, since I don't have any fixed plans,' she tells him joyfully; he can hear page's rustling in the background. A calendar.
'I don't want to –'
'It's not a problem, bambino. Hold your thoughts until then, and have some coffee for me, please? Okay?'
'Okay.'
'Take care, I need to disappear now,' she says and hangs up.
Tony is not sure what to think; the only thing that comes to his mind is that he's been saying 'okay' way too much recently. Maybe more than in all his life, huh.
Saturday is Tony's scheduled meeting with Grayson, so he only asks JARVIS to text the man with confirmation, like he always does, and place an order for some tea and the best Italian coffee beans. And cantucci with pistachios from Bronte.
In the afternoon, when Tony is down in the workshop finishing the JARVIS-run security for SI, another thought comes to his mind and he acts on a whim, deciding not to let himself back away from progress like usually, being scared. (He remembers exactly what he thought after the meeting with Chiara: why haven't I decided to do this earlier? Am I going to ask myself that every time I take a step ahead? So this time, he is going to reach out.)
'J?'
'Yes, sir?' the A.I. answers promptly; Dummy's joins make a small noise as the robot looks up from where he is tidying up a workbench according to Tony's orders and JARVIS visual-verbal translations.
'Patch me through to that man who's been nagging Pepper all this time.'
'Are you sure this is wise? You've made one step today already –'
'Sometimes you need to run before you walk, baby,' Tony tells the A.I. and makes an expectant face. 'Now could be good?'
'Of course,' JARVIS replies and directs the connection to Tony's earpiece. The phone is picked up after three dial signals.
'Agent Phil Coulson speaking,' the man states. His voice is so calm and reassuring that it's almost offensive.
'You've been trying pretty hard to get hold of me, agent,' Tony states flatly.
'Mister Stark.' The voice replies. 'It was really impossible to get through the assistant of yours.'
'That's Pepper,' Tony says lightly, with a teasing note (because he can, because the day is good.) 'She is a very good assistant.'
'I don't doubt it,' the agent responds in the same flat voice. Tony is not sure if he should like or hate the man, it doesn't feel like he can do anything in between. 'What exactly prompted this call?'
'What do you want from me?' Tony asks in response, hey, it's kind of a vital knowledge.
'… we'd like to debrief you. Regarding your escape from Afghanistan.' (Tony notes that it's escape, and not capture or stay. Ah.)
'We?'
'Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. S.H.I.E.L.D. in short. We are a government agency, specific focus. There are some questions we need answered, Mister Stark.'
'Maybe I could do that. It depend on the questions,' Tony muses aloud. Jarvis tells him a few short words about the whole S.H.I.E.L.D. Seems like they take care of everything an average citizen wouldn't believe was real, Tony concedes. Doesn't sound too bad. 'Can you come over? My Malibu house?'
'Does Friday sound good to you?' the agent asks and Tony laughs, because really, it's too surreal to keep a straight face.
'Sure. Should I send a car?'
'I know where to find you, Mister Stark.'
'Be here at noon. I will have someone start the tea,' Tony teases, because it's easier than wondering what the questions will be about, not that it's not obvious.
'I'm a coffee-only man.' (Tony laughs again, hell, he's going to seem either happy or crazy.)
'Good that I'm having best Brazilian bean shipped tomorrow, then. Goodbye, agent,' Tony replies and hangs up. 'Not a word to Pepper on me, J. I've got this.'
'As you wish, sir,' the A.I. states into Tony's ear in a resigned voice.
(This night is better: Tony wakes up a few times, with cold sweat all over his body, feeing like falling into dark cold space, it's so different form the usual. He can take that. Plus, Pepper is asleep, so at least he wasn't – loud. The nightmare is more annoying than scary. Progress, Tony Stark way.)
Thursday is a day like any other, the only two things that happen are the shipment of the coffee beans arriving, and Tony going outside again. It's on a different side of the house, with a direct view of the ocean; the sounds are louder, more angry, and Tony loves it. The waves' crashing, and the scent, don't make him feel like puking. Don't remind the muddy lukewarm water. It's – cleansing.
Also, Rhodey calls and apologizes for not supporting Tony fully and doubting him, what makes Tony confused as hell. Rhodey says that he doesn't know why, but he thinks that Tony will make it worthwhile. Tony can't stop smiling for the rest of the day; he is still not sure if he deserves that amazing people around.
At night Tony sleeps brilliantly, without waking up at all. Full eight hours. (That is progress also in the Pepper Potts way.)
During breakfast Tony informs Pepper that 'the agent' is coming over. She doesn't want to believe him at the beginning, but he is serious. She says it's great and she thinks the conversation will be good for both sides and hopes she'll be left alone now.
The agent comes two minutes before time and Tony already has the coffee boiling since he's expected nothing less.
'Let the man in, J, direct him to the kit – no, the living room.'
'I'll bring the coffee,' Pepper murmurs from the corner where she's been talking in the phone with another lawyer. Tony takes the cane in his hand and walks to the living room, stepping inside a second before the other man. There is a moment of silence, that Tony might have imagined as well, before the man speaks in exactly the same emotionless voice.
'Mister Stark. Good to see you up, despite what they say on tv.'
'Don't tell me you watch that crap, Agent Coulson. Also, there is no reliable source of information about me not controlled by Pepper.'
Tony walks up to the middle of the room and the man does the same. When he stops, he puts the cane in his left hand and outstretches his right – I didn't expect such a strong handshake, white collar. That S.H.I.E.L.D. thing must be something else. It feels strange, knowing the man's voice, feeling his warm hand with more callouses than Tony has expected, but the rest being a – black hole. Or an all-white silhouette.
'I bet you are the emblem image of a boring middle aged government man, Agent,' Tony says, taking two steps back and moving to sit on the sofa. (It's easy to be the usual snarky, bastard self.) 'Tell me what he looks like, Pepper,' Tony sing-songs when he hears her shoes closer and closer. When she puts down the tray with coffee on the table, Tony is seated, the agent next to him on the sofa; Tony has expected him to sit opposite. But well.
'That's rude, Tony,' she replies, sighing. Of course, it's Pepper-speak for I know this in not comfortable for you, and being ridiculous makes it easier, but please have at least some dignity. She is tough. 'Nice to see you, Agent Coulson. Without having to hide from you.'
'I'm glad I don't need to nag you anymore,' the man replies. Pepper smiles, of course Tony knows that she does, and walks away, leaving them with the sweetly bitter scent of coffee. 'You can as well see me without your assistant's input,' the agent adds easily and Tony freezes.
'I thought you came here to boss around in your perfect suit that I'm sure you are wearing, ask me questions and scribble answers down one of your agency-issues notebooks,' he replies, because hell, he doesn't know what to do.
'I'm not a bureaucratic robot, Mister Stark, even though many people would fiercely protest against that declaration. I've had one of my agents temporarily blinded. I've learned a lot.'
Tony snorts (because it's an easy, expected reaction, almost like a Pavlovian response), but he still doesn't move a muscle; his brain keep screaming that it's not, it's not safe. It's not.
The man pours himself coffee and takes a few sips, totally not behaving like an 'I'm a busy man' kind of person Tony anticipated. It just gets more confusing. The silence is not exactly tense, thought, not really hostile. A bit awkward, but it's more… expectant. That's a good word.
'That's some good coffee,' the agent states and somehow, it sounds so ridiculous to Tony, even though it isn't really, that he laughs, his voice echoing familiarly in the vast space (it is probably the best coffee money can buy, so there.)
'You don't have to do this.' The agent's voice feels a tone warmer.
'I've only done it – once,' Tony finds himself replying; he's not sure why he tells that the man he's just met a few minutes before. He doesn't do things like that – but well, then he does. His hands really move by themselves, it's just a twitch, but of course it doesn't go unnoticed. Hell, he feels so strange, it's all more and more surreal.
'Let me,' Coulson says and takes his hands, bringing them to his face like Chiara did. 'Remember, my agent? He had his hands over everything and everyone once he got past being silly.'
It's almost ticklish, when the face muscles move under Tony's fingertips. It takes him maybe a minute to make a mental image of the man's complexion, more or less as indistinguishable as Tony has expected, with short receding hair, all other features perfectly normal, almost too typical. Undercover work perfection, Tony thinks, and also trying to blend into the crowd, A+, Agent Coulson. He only hopes his assessment is somehow accurate (as accurate as he can get, he remembers.)
'… thank you,' Tony says when his hands are back on his lap, before moving to get him a cup of coffee. The agent's tiny smile is audible. 'Do you want to call me Tony? Because you can totally call me Tony,' he adds, flashing a wide smile, and drinking half of the coffee at once. It's like ambrosia. He hasn't had it in his mouth for ages, and it feels like a real prize for his new accomplishments more than Pepper forgetting that he's supposed not to drink it, because Pepper never forgets things. 'Do I get to call you your name? Or should I call you The Agent?'
'Agent Coulson or Coulson is good, Phil if you really want.'
'Phil. Doesn't suit your voice, but okay, Phil.' (Tony grins as he says that. He figures being on the first name basis is only fitting if they are letting each other into respective personal spaces far more than it's normally courteous.) 'I understand your agency will keep all of this top secret. No leaks.'
'We wouldn't dream of that, Tony.'
'Okay then,' he replies, taking a deep breath. 'Shoot.'
They talk until four, with one interruption of when Pepper brings warm coffee, some snacks and a smoothie for Tony. The questions are more specific and insightful than he has expected, but he manages to answer at all of them apparently satisfactorily. He even manages to keep his voice from trembling, though it breaks a bit a few times. But he's said most of those things out loud recently, and this time is not much worse.
Tony invites Phil to stay for dinner, but the man declines, claiming that it's been a long talk and he still has a lot of work to do. Tony is inclined to believe him. When the agent leaves, he walks him to the door and pushes a bag of the coffee bean into the man's hands.
'What car?' he asks before Phil can comment, taking a step out of the house and stopping there.
'Black Acura. S.H.I.E.L.D. issued. Perfect drive.'
'Classy,' Tony agrees before turning around to go into the house.
'We'll be in contact,' Phil says, his voice quieter as he walks away, and Tony nods. He is not at all surprised when he almost bumps into Pepper. She says that wasn't so bad. He agrees. When they go to the kitchen, Tony discovers that Happy is there too, they call it a celebration again, yes, again, and order favorites, including a blueberry cake; Tony feels a little silly, but accepts it all gratefully. Cake is always welcome.
Tony talks with Obie on the phone, like every week, and his voice is as confident and strong, his words as quick as always, and he is sure there is nothing that can be considered out of ordinary. He doesn't want the man to know yet – it will end with a quarrel, and a lot of anger on Obie's side, but he'd never agree to Tony's idea.
On Saturday Grayson comes, exactly on time always, and Tony (or rather JARVIS) has the tea ready in the living room. Tony is sitting on the sofa when the man comes, playing with the hem of his shirt, and this makes the man ask him what's wrong without greetings.
'Nothing,' Tony says, although it's kind of silly since he knows he'll have to say what's troubling him anyway, especially since it kind of involves the doctor directly. 'Okay, but this cannot be repeated to anyone, and I'm kind of serious now, and since I'm hardly ever this serious, please?'
'This is patient-doctor confidentiality, Tony.'
'Okay. I suppose this means I can spill everything to you'
'You're playing to get more time.'
'I am,' Tony agrees, because the man knows his tricks too well, even if they do not do all the talking, the therapy-talking, not really. But Grayson is apparently that good at reading people. 'I'm making Pepper CEO and shutting down weapons manufacturing. As soon as we get the legal things right.'
The man is silent for a few moments, but he takes his cup and sips the hot tea, so that means he is thinking what question to ask (see, Tony can read the man too, a bit, and he is damn proud of that.)
'What triggered this?'
'Gulmira,' Tony replies, having kind of expected a similar question. He didn't tell the doctor all about what happened back there, so the exact name doesn't mean what it really means. 'They have SI weapons.'
'Ah,' Grayson sighs and drinks some more of his tea. 'I understand.'
'I am telling you this because it's one of Pepper's conditions,' Tony adds, feeling like it needs to be clarified, because it does.
'Of course,' Grayson agrees and Tony can swear he can hear a grin in the man's voice. They both know that Tony would probably say it anyway. But there'd be an excuse. It seemed to Tony lately that the doctor likes excuses, as if they were a sign of getting better, as opposed to plain dry facts and information.
'I think there might be a legal issue,' Tony says when he's done with his tea. 'I mean, I've been kind of out of work – out of the world, really – and the board might try to vote against my decisions.'
'You want me to declare you compos mentis.'
'I might need it, yes.' (Well, if I qualify, that'd be nice, that'd be very nice to know I'm in control of my own mind, since it's kinds official. He's not going to act anxious like he is, no way.)
'Okay,' Grayson states easily. Tony grins, not that he means to, but he grins.
Tony tells the doctor of the two new achievements; he seems surprised. Tony can almost imagine his eyebrows shooting up because yes, they've been more of the carpe diem moments, act on a whim moments. He tells the doctor briefly about Coulson and how it was not creepy and strange to let someone else into his little world, not like he's expected. How it was amazing, amazing and breathtaking, to expand the little world into an uncontrollable space. It gets a small praise.
'This shouldn't make in impact on the medicine you're taking, unless you think the situation might trigger nightmares. It's been better, right?'
Tony nods and waits for elaboration (and yes, it's been better with the nightmares, at least when he has them, he's not waking up shouting like he did at the beginning. It's quiet, and most of the time Pepper doesn't even know; Tony stays in bed breathing, imagining staring out of the windows, or puts the earpiece in and asks J to play some soft music that pours sweetly calmingly straight into his brain.)
'If anything happens, you call me, if you are feeling much worse or better; this is going to be a messy time, people-wise and life-wise, and emotional-wise too. So give yourself space and time and don't push anything, please, because medicine can't do everything for you.'
'Okay,' Tony agrees and they talk for a few more minutes before the doctor leaves.
JARVIS makes him drink two of the shakes since he's kind of missed one, and he goes to sleep with a taste of green on his tongue, and the thought that he'll need some good food delivered tomorrow for dinner.
Chiara comes on time, too, and Tony laughs when she does, because he could fall into the middle-aged housewife routine, having someone come by for tea or dinner every day; the only thing he's got wrong is that there should be some noisy neighbors who'd always want to borrow something from him. There are no neighbors within few kilometers around the house, unless he can count Happy, but he's the one Tony borrows things from, well, in a way.
'Buongiorno, bambino,' she greets him and Tony laughs.
'I've got some good coffee,' he replies instead of saying hello and lets her hug him. It's more of a physical contact that he'd let anyone but Pepper, Rhodey and Happy, but he knows there is no saying no to her. 'And don't call me that.'
She laughs, too, and Tony can just imagine her disbelieving look, because they both know she'll do what she wants. He wonders if she has changed, somehow, since the last time they saw each other (Tony still remembers his half-surprise when he expected Chiara to have long hair like Pepper told him, even though it was a joke from the very
beginning.)
'Is Pepper home?'
'She's up, she'll come for dinner, she said.'
'Just you, me, and coffee,' Chiara declares, sighing, and walks past Tony into the living room; he follows her there and father into the kitchen. 'I hope I can operate this monstrosity of yours,' she adds, lightly pushing Tony to sit down.
'I can't really drink coffee,' Tony tells her in a theatrically disappointed voice. 'Pepper would have my head. It doesn't work well with meds. And I have never used this coffee maker by myself, either – you work it out? J?'
'I can operate the machine if I'm provided with specifications, and Mrs. Malley puts the coffee beans inside,' the A.I. replies, making Chiara flinch when she was standing, still with her hand on Tony's shoulder. She's taken to the idea of a talking computer quickly enough, but it's always surprising unless you have JARVIS around all the time, Tony knows.
Chiara does as she is told and gives Tony blueberry soda that he wasn't aware was even in the house, and when they are seated by the counter, hands resting on the cold marble, silence falls between them for a few minutes.
'You called,' she states in the end, giving up waiting for Tony to speak.
'You said it's not something to talk over the phone.'
'It's not.'
'It'd be easier,' Tony counters, because that is so very true. It would be easier. It's always easier – though not being able to see somebody's face, their reactions is kind of nice, because Tony still kind of hates (real, honest) emotions.
'Tony,' Chiara says heavily, in a tone that makes him hang his head down and slump his shoulders. 'Maybe I can help you with what you've been experiencing.'
'I told you, it's been like – being separated in two, you know? Between what I knew before, and what I'm getting to know now… Did I tell you I went out this week? For the first time since – since I took ride home from the airport? It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, not as scary, but later, I've been trying to sort it in my mind, like that time I asked you how accurate my hands-seeing can be…'
(Now, in his imagination, everything is black, all the objects, all the details, like a complete darkness in a movie, when a spectator can still see everything, it's just dark and colorless. Tony imagines how everything looked like before and how he knows the world now: then he tries to merge the two images. Everything seems to fit, but only when he looks closer he can see that the edges are blurred, the details are lost, and he can't tell if anything really fits.)
'It's not uncommon,' Chiara tells him in the end, when he's out of words and they both have finished their drinks. 'What are you afraid of?'
(It takes Tony a few long minutes to reply, and he reminds himself, when he's just about to speak, that no, Chiara is not a therapist, she's a – friend, probably. Easy, there, boy. Easy.)
'Forgetting,' he says in the end, because it's as close to the truth as words can get, not perfect, but close enough.
'I don't think so,' Chiara counters and takes his hand; he follows her lead to the living room and sits next to her of the sofa, their bodies touching and he's surprised he doesn't mind. 'I think it's more like this: you are afraid that the world as you get to know now will replace what you remember from before. It's not really forgetting, it's just – letting the before go. What you have to do, but it doesn't have to be bad. You shouldn't be scared. Believe me, you won't forget. You won't forget colors and shapes, textures and sunlight and shadows, you won't. Young children do, sometimes, but even they usually have some memories as adults, even when they are not fully aware what was that.'
'You work with children,' Tony cuts in flatly, because he hasn't known that. He never ordered J to look her up like that, trusting Pepper, and it never turned up in conversation. But of course, it's not that surprising, given her personality.
'I do. With kids who were sighted but lost the ability to see. They are the sweetest things, and they are so different from adults – you know what they do? They keep the memories of the colorful world like their most precious treasures, because it gives life a dimension that now they are deprived of. They are not bitter about learning the world the new way, because it's the only way… You'll never forget. You must be at peace with how the world is now, for you, but you don't have to worry.'
'It's been six months –'
'– and it seems like a long time to you, but it's not. It's still transition, you're still getting used to it. This isn't any kind of competition, counting how much time does it take you to get back to your life, as much as that's possible. It really isn't.'
'It feels like a long time. It's been a long time. You know,' he starts bitterly, flinching away from Chiara, turning away from her even though he can't see her (surely disappointed) face 'that I've been – depressed, like the doctors like to label, I've been on the meds for a long time and yeah, they are working, but it's stupid to depend on chemical substances to be able to live a quasi-normal life… It's kind of better, because of the medicine, I don't get nightmares as much and I'm able to get myself off bed which wasn't so obvious' (just stop now, why the fuck are you saying this? Do you really want all this attention?) 'and – I feel pathetic because it's taking so much time. It's been full six months and I'm – the same, really. Other people –'
'Don't give me that,' Chiara replies angrily, putting hands on his shoulders and turning him to face her – what for, honestly? – and he is surprised at how sudden, how bold the gesture is; he kind of wants to get away from her touch, but knows that she'd probably win, since she has this one little advantage. 'Tony, this is the worst thing you can do, compare, make it a race – was all you did because of that? Meeting me, the agent, all your plans, going outside? Was it? I thought it wasn't. I thought you decided that it's the right time.'
'It is the right time, it is the high time. I… I needed it all. It wasn't because of trying to compete, hell, I don't even have anyone –'
'Then why mention it now? It must be a thing, in your head,' she adds and ruffles his hair easily, what is strange and awkward and nice.
'I– I just realized how much I could have done, if…' he stops there, because it's a dangerous path. Very good, silence, boy, very good.
'Tony, please,' Chiara begs and then she calls him tesoro, slips into Italian and he gives in to the almost too fast to follow words, melodic and sweet and compelling.
'Pepper is right, you know,' she says in the end in English, snapping Tony out of the trance-like calmness, confirming his suspicions that the two woman indeed keep in touch. 'She's right when she says you shouldn't be alone, and that's not because she thinks any less of you, I am sure you knows that. But because she's worried, she's been worrying for such a long time.'
'I'm not –' (but she doesn't let him finish again, the mind-reading sweet creature.)
'Can you honestly, one hundred percent honesty here, can you tell me that you are sure you will be all right if you spend all days alone, because that's what the job will require at the beginning? Sorting out the mess? Can you give Pepper one hundred percent?'
'I can't, but even if she was here I couldn't.'
'But then she'd be here – understand, Tony. We are all worried about you, all your friends and me too,' Chiara states easily, and it makes Tony's stomach clench just a little, because no, he doesn't let himself think about that. Not really. 'Couldn't Happy stay with you while she's away?'
'I guess –' How does she ever know his name, have they met? I wasn't aware they met.
'Anyone else?'
'Rhodey, when he has a day off from the army…' Tony breaks off, because well, as many lovers and friends he has, there is really no one else he'd trust and who'd have time.
'Not enough, not enough…' Chiara sing-songs, standing up and starting to pace around the room; Tony listens to the echo of her steps to know where she is, it's been kind of a game. 'I could come sometimes, if you can bear me. That'd be lessons, though, no slacking off. But I have lots on my schedule – or I could introduce you to someone.'
'Huh?' Tony asks unsurely, since he's not sure he can follow.
'If you don't have anyone who could stay with you, I could introduce you to some people I know, who could come and stay with you. At some point, at least, maybe – I understand trust issues. It's an option – but we'll talk later,' she cuts off Tony's eventual response as Pepper's shoes start clicking down the stairs.
'Pepper, sweetheart, you look beautiful,' Chiara says, walking up to Pepper and giving her a hug (Tony guesses.) He wishes he could simply, easily say the same. (Ow how it fucking hurts.)
'Good to see you, Chiara. Food will be here in ten, we should probably set the table,' Pepper replies happily and they all move to the kitchen. Tony walks without the white cane and doesn't feel anyone's eyes on him too much, thought he is sure Chiara will insist on seeing his progress later.
Happy comes with the food and they eat slowly, taking their time and talking in between, all four of them with JARVIS speaking up now and then and by the third time, Chiara doesn't even drop her fork. Everything goes smoothly.
After dinner Tony takes the cane and leads Chiara outside, to the balcony he likes most. It's encompassed by soft glow of sunset, but Tony can only imagine how it must look – splendid, amazing, sunrays reflecting in all the glass and metal – but he doesn't let himself dwell too much on it.
'I see you're getting more comfortable with the cane,' Chiara states as they sit on one of the benches and lean against the warm wall; the evening is surprisingly pleasant for the time of the year, it's the end of astronomical autumn, not that it makes such a big difference in Malibu. But this year (the week) has been exceptionally nice.
'I am,' Tony admits, although it still burns a little. 'Figured there'll be the world to face at some point, so I'd better be prepared.'
'You'll leave them stunned,' Chiara replies affectively and Tony can't help but grin. Good. 'I never thought you'd be so human, Mister Stark, after having heard so much about you on TV. And in the magazines.'
'I'm not sure I was – or I'm sure I wasn't,' Tony admits. 'It's strange how it doesn't feel like it was all real now. And at the same time I don't feel like I've changed so much.' (That is, again, not something he was planned to share.)
'I think you've always been – this. Yourself. The same person. You were just let loose, misguided, unguided.'
'Blind,' Tony says and laughs bitterly at that, yeah, the fun. 'I was messed up, but it's now that I have it in papers, being messed up, and I still can't tell Pep–' he cuts off there, and he knows that Chiara raises her eyebrows.
'You can't tell what?'
He doesn't clarify, but somehow he's sure Chiara knows.
'I will be going,' she tells him at some point, when he's almost shivering because the night is refreshing, and the salty breeze from the ocean makes his skin itch a bit, in a good way, assuring him the water is safe, safe, so distant and different from that one. 'I'll talk to my kids and call you when I have someone you'd like.'
They walk across the house to the main entrance in silence.
'Grazie mille, sweetheart,' Tony replies in the end in his best seducing voice, what earns him an amused chuckle. 'No, really –'
'Oh, just call me anytime,' she reminds him before giving him a hug and disappearing into the darkness. Tony grins a bit sadly at the darkness until her car leaves, and tries to go straight to bedroom. Playing hide and seek with JARVIS is never fair though, so he is forced by the A.I. to drink his shake, what makes him rather nauseous again. It doesn't help that he knows it's not a permanent solution, he knows that it'll be more and more and more and then – but he doesn't let himself think ahead that much. Not at all.
He is so fucking tense when he lays down in the bed, Pepper on the other end with her tablet in hand, reading an ebook probably.
'Thank you,' she says and he blinks in confusion. 'I think you earned yourself a meeting with lawyers, big boy,' she adds, crawls across the bed (he can hear the fabric rusting, can feel the mattress trembling on his left) and gives him a kiss on the forehead.
Tony opens his mouth to say something, but he has no idea what, he's not sure what he has in mind would be right, no it wouldn't, so he lets the tension go in a burst of rather hysterical laughter that makes his chest ache strangely, all the tender tissues around the reactor, but he rolls to his side and it's easier. Pepper joins in.
Tony thinks it's one of the strangest and most amazing moments of his life.
'When?' he manages to rasp out in the end, when he's calmed down enough to breathe normally.
'Wednesday. Okay with you?'
'Not like I have my schedule booked,' he replies easily (though he kind of has, there is one thing that needs to be installed. But he is ready. JARVIS is ready, too, and they will ensure Pepper's safety.)
'Sweet dreams,' she tells him, turning off her tablet when she's back in her spot, and then the hum of electricity in light bulbs dies.
(For the first time in months) Tony dreams, dreams about himself in vivid flashy red and gold, because he is Tony Stark, and dreams about the sun reflected in the suit's shiny surface and in Pepper's eyes.