Author's Note: A huge thank you goes out to my friend Chris for letting me bounce ideas off him all weekend and to Kiraboshi for beta-reading and... well, reality-checking. Couldn't have done it without you, guys! Thank you so much! Please enjoy and read and review!
When she entered the CVS a few blocks away and asked about over the counter relief for alcohol withdrawal, the pharmacist asked how severe the symptoms were. Pepper told her, and the woman in white stopped half-way to the isle and gave her a serious look.
"He should be in a hospital under watch," she said severely. "They'll write a prescription..."
"Believe me, I tried," Pepper interrupted. "My friend's stubborn and very proud. Anything you can give me here will help."
The woman did not look at all pleased with that, but she could do nothing but hand her a bottle of vitamins with concentrations of thiamine and folic acid and Tylenol PM in the smallest container available. She instructed Pepper on when to administer the vitamins and told her to only let him use the sleep-inducting pain killer in the smallest quantity possible.
"Your friend probably has trouble sleeping right now and will want to go through these like candy. Don't let him. For that matter, don't do it yourself."
Pepper thanked her and took the items to the front counter. As she waited in line, her eyes idly passed by the magazine stand, finally landing on a cover of Scientific American where a caption promised that page 38 told all about a new innovation in medical-related technology. She almost went for it when she noticed the recent picture of Obadiah Stane on the cover. Pepper did not know how Tony felt about the man currently running his company, but decided less than forty-eight hours into sobriety was not the time to find out.
She was pleased to see that her apartment building was, in fact, still standing when she returned to it and was not surrounded police cars or ambulances. The neighborhood was no more or less loud than it usually was on a typical Saturday late afternoon. Nothing was off inside either, and when she opened the front door, Pepper found the place just as she left it. Socrates did not even look too traumatized. She was almost reveled until she looked into the living room.
Tony stood in the middle of the room, his brow furrowed, left hand shoved deep into his pant pocket while the other barely held on to the remote. The television was on mute, but the caption at the bottom of the blurry images told of three people killed in a car accident just outside the Lincoln Tunnel. Sad, Pepper thought, but it was nothing uncommon. Accidents happened. Why was he so transfixed by this?
"Tony?" she touched his arm.
"Breaks failed," he said absently and cocked his head to the side as if thoughtful. His eyes never left the screen. "Shouldn't have, but they did."
"It was an accident." She did not ask how he knew that just from the minimal information from the captions and images.
"But..." He still sounded confused. "They shouldn't have failed. I could've fixed them."
It was her turn to frown. "You didn't know those people, and you never touched their car."
"I could've fixed them," he repeated. "Could've built it so the breaks never failed. It didn't have to happen. They'd still be alive."
Pepper had no idea what he was talking about, so she gently took the remote from his hand and turned off the television. It did the trick of snapping him out of wherever he was. When he finally looked at her, it was with some clarity, and he suddenly seemed surprised to see her.
"You're back."
"Yes. Come on. Let's have you eat something."
The attempt was partially successful. He kept the food down long enough to take the vitamins, but within an hour and a half he was in the bathroom again. When he finally emerged, Tony looked predictably angry. Even before she had guessed his identity, Pepper understood that he was an extremely proud man, and that was doing nothing for him now. He wiped his mouth, brushed past her, and plopped down on the couch to sulk. She decided it was best not to try to pacify him just then and settled in the armchair with her laptop.
He remained eerily quiet for the next few hours. It was already nine, and Pepper was starting to contemplate that Tylenol PM for both of them. Getting knocked out and sleeping in on Sunday sounded extremely good. She wondered if she could persuade him to try to eat again before he took the medicine and looked up to ask. He had slid down from the couch to sit on the floor so that he could use the coffee table without leaning over. Scraps of various papers with what she first thought were doodles but then quickly recognized as formulas all over them were scattered around. At the moment he was diligently working something out in the small spaces between the newspaper comics.
"I think we should both try to sleep," she announced. "I have some sleeping pills, but you need to have something in your stomach for that. Maybe some crackers and ginger ale would..."
"Do I look pregnant to you?" he glared.
"You look irritated," she said evenly. "I'm trying to help, but you've got to work with me. This is new territory for me, too. And no, don't tell me that 'one small drink' will help. You said it yourself that you made it five days before, so I know you can do it again."
They compromised on dry toast, and when Pepper was satisfied he had successfully consumed two slices she handed him one of the blue capsules and held out a cup of tea. Before she could protest, Tony took the container, dumped another pill into his palm, and washed down both with the tea. She looked severely pissed off, but he silenced her protests.
"You want to sleep tonight, remember? At least this way there's a good chance I'll stay knocked out till morning. Two's the recommended dosage, anyway. See here? It's on the label."
She still did not approve, but Pepper could not argue with the results. He was out within a half hour, resting somewhat awkwardly on his left side on the couch. She wished she had invested in a futon, but back then it had been a needless expense considering the size of the apartment and the fact that Pepper rarely had guests. She worked until the single tablet she had taken finally took effect, then trotted to her bedroom, leaving the door open just in case.
Sunday was more of the same. Both managed to sleep through the night which made the rest of the day bearable. Pepper had only a vague idea of what to expect but found that dealing with Tony and his withdrawal was much like dealing with an irritable toddler who sporadically shifted between a sugar high and crash. She found herself wondering what they were going to do the next day when she had to go back to work.
"My cell is on the fridge," she told him later in the afternoon. "Call me tomorrow if…" there were so many scenarios of what could happen while she was out, "if you need to."
"Humm," Tony hummed absently.
He was busy with the pencil and legal pad she had given him earlier – Pepper was tired of marks all over every scrap of paper in sight – only this time it really did look like doodles rather than formulas. He was more subdued now, apparently in a period of fatigue, and she did not want to agitate him too much but needed to make sure he was paying attention.
"Can I leave you alone tomorrow?" she repeated.
"I don't need a babysitter."
Have you seen yourself lately? Her look must have conveyed the message.
"Do you have a choice?" he amended. "It's not like you can work from home. I know what those sharks are like."
"Okay," she agreed reluctantly. "But I mean it: call me if you even think about leaving. Or drinking."
This time it was his wry smile that spoke volumes:
You're not exactly qualified to be my sponsor, Pepper.
