"Damn it!" Tony barked loudly one morning several weeks later, throwing down a test tube he had in his hand, sending it crashing to the floor. Bruce looked at him with consternation, and Tony gave him a defiant eyebrow raise in return.

"You know, you really should think about manufacturing test tubes here. At least then we wouldn't have to keep reordering them by the truck load," Bruce remarked blandly. Tony rolled his eyes at him and looked away. "Just a thought," Bruce muttered, as he went to retrieve the broom and dustpan to clean up the results of Tony's ever-growing frustrations yet again.

The 90 day mark since they'd started their work was fast approaching, and in Tony's mind, they were no closer to reaching a solution for Pepper than they'd been before they'd started. They'd begun with trying to create an injectable serum filled with nanobots that could be programmed to reconstruct damaged tissues, but the failure had come when they'd struggled to find the correct organic base for the serum that would both preserve the nano bots at the temperature of the human body and regulate the temperature of the bots in the process. So far, all they'd been able to do was create bots that would overheat and expire within twenty four hours of injection (or simulated injection, meaning sitting in an incubator for a day that had been set at 98.6 degrees while being programmed to duplicate cells swabbed from the inside of Tony's cheek), and therefore, failing to complete their work.

But failure in their experiment wasn't the only headache they'd endured. Mysterious equipment failures, and oddly-timed power outages had made their path to success extra rocky. The incubator had begun to repeatedly shut off in the middle of the night early on, therefore nullifying the results they'd hoped they'd get the next day. So they were forced to reschedule their work so that it could be watched during businesses hours instead, which meant pushing their work for the daytime to night time, which caused them to have to pull frequent all-nighters to get it done. Shipments of their much-needed supplies had been rerouted to strange and erroneous locations on more than one occasion, taking double and sometimes triple the time to reach them. They also had experienced failures in security and access, when they'd been either locked out of the lab for extended periods of time, or locked in to storage rooms without explanation. Samples had mysteriously disappeared, or got broken overnight, but no trace of foul play was ever evident in the security footage. Each new set back tried Tony's patience, yes, but he wondered how Bruce had held it together for as long as he had, given all of the stressful mishaps they'd experienced. And each time something new happened, Tony wondered if this was going to be the time when Bruce would lose his cool. But Bruce just rolled with the punches, and tried to stay upbeat, reminding Tony that, despite all of the setbacks, they'd actually managed to eliminate some non-viable solutions in their experiment. So all was not lost.

But this morning, Tony had had enough. He slammed the incubator door closed roughly, and plunked down on a nearby lab stool in defeat.

"Tony," Bruce began.

"No, Banner. Not today. No 'Thomas Edison failed 10,000 times before he succeeded' bullshit, alright? We failed. Again. And the worst part is the clock just keeps ticking," he said, kicking a waste bin sitting next to him with a loud clang.

"These things take time, Tony," Bruce countered. "What did you think would happen? That bing, bang, boom, we'd whip this serum out in a week? Have you forgotten that this sort of thing has never been done before, in all of medical science? And that I'm, by trade, a nuclear physicist? And you're an engineer? Nothing about any of this makes sense, yet here we are. And we're going to continue to be here, and to keep trying."

Tony stayed silent, and frowned at his friend. Then he scrubbed his hands over his face, and took a deep breathe. "I gotta get outta here for a while," he said.

Bruce nodded affirmatively. "I agree," he said.

"I need to go see Pepper, anyway. It's Monday, you know," Tony said.

Bruce smiled knowingly. "Ah," he said, nodding in understanding, and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Tony smiled sheepishly as he stood up and turned to leave. "Thanks, man, for letting me vent," he said, looking at his friend with genuine appreciation. "I know we're making progress. It's just...," he said, sighing. "I get a little tense sometimes, when things don't do what I need them to, and stuff goes wrong, you know?"

"Yeah, I've noticed. Good thing I'm the one with the level head," Bruce said, smirking.

XxXxXxXxXx

An hour later, Tony pulled up to the hospital and went inside, a fresh bouquet of red roses in hand that he'd picked up on the way. When he stepped off the elevator onto the floor where Pepper's room was located, the nurses at the nurses' station waved hello. "Oh, look! It must be Monday!" one of them squealed joyfully when she noticed the roses. Tony smiled bashfully and nodded in acknowledgment as he passed them and walked down the corridor to Pepper's room.

He gently nudged the door open, and entered the quiet room. The ventilator and EKG machines were softly hissing, and Tony bent over his wife to plant a tender kiss on her forehead. "Hello, beautiful," he whispered to her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. He watched her adoringly for a few moments before kissing her forehead again, and then standing back up to replace last week's bouquet with the fresh one he'd brought. He'd made it a practice of bringing her new flowers every Monday since Valentine's Day as he'd decided he didn't like seeing them wilt and die. It was too much of a reminder of how easily her life could slip away, as well. And they brightened up the space, injecting a little vibrance into an otherwise dreary place. Plus, he knew that if Pepper were conscious, she would appreciate her husband's gesture immensely.

He tossed the old bouquet in the waste bin beside the bed, and grabbed the vase, taking it into the bathroom to rinse it out and refill it. "So, we're still working on the nano serum I told you about, Pep," he told her from the bathroom. He finished filling the vase, and then brought it back out to the night stand, and set it down gingerly. He carefully put the new bouquet in the vase and then stood back to admire his work. Satisfied, he then sat down slowly in the chair beside her bed. He took her left hand in his, and kissed the back of it. "I was hoping to be able to come here with good news today, but I'm sorry to say it's not quite up to snuff yet, baby. And I'm getting frustrated," he said. He frowned and shook his head sadly. "I thought for sure we'd had it this time, you know? I thought this one would be different." He glanced away for a moment in thought, and then back to her again.

"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you!" he said, his expression brightening. "Mama Potts is heading back out here on Friday. She called me this morning to tell me. She's been anxious to get back here. I told her it hasn't been that exciting in the two weeks she's been gone, but we've missed her just the same, right?" he said. "She likes being here to take care of you, Pep. I think she thinks it gives you more hope for the future, to know that she and I are here. And I don't know, maybe she's right. Maybe it does. I'd like to think you know when we're here, anyway," he said softly.

He rested his chin in the palm of the other hand that wasn't holding Pepper's, and watched her chest rise and fall with each mechanical breath. Then he flicked his eyes down to Pepper's wedding rings, and smiled. He'd made sure they'd stayed polished and gleaming, as he knew she would want them, and he admired how the diamonds sparkled in the light.

Suddenly, Pepper's fingers flinched, and squeezed his for a fleeting moment. Tony jolted upright, his eyes wide as he glanced, in disbelief, between his wife's hand, and her face. "Pepper? Can you hear me?" he whispered hopefully, his eyes searching her face for any sign of a response. After a few moments, Pepper's fingers flinched again, squeezing his once more. Tony gasped with amazement. He stood stone still, his heart begging for more. Several more moments passed, but nothing else happened. However, Tony wasn't willing to dismiss it. This was the first voluntary sign of life from Pepper he'd had since the accident.

He let go of Pepper's hand and ran out of the room to the nurses' station. "She heard me! She squeezed my hand! She understood!" he exclaimed to them.

"What?! When?" one of the nurses asked.

"Just now! I was just telling her that I hoped she knew I was here, and then she squeezed my hand! Twice!" he repeated.

"Mr. Stark..." one of them started to say skeptically.

"No," Tony retorted, frowning and shaking his head. "Don't tell me it wasn't real. She did it because she heard what I said. I'm telling you, she responded!" he insisted.

"Coma patients frequently have muscle spasms," the same nurse tried to explain. "I'm sure it was exciting, but it is probably just..."

"No," Tony said again. "I know my wife. And she's trying to communicate! Please! You have to believe me!" he begged.

"Alright, Mr. Stark, let's calm down and...," the other nurse encouraged.

Just then, Pepper's attending physician came through the elevator doors, and Tony left the nurses' station to run over to him. The doctor looked a little startled at his abrupt approach.

"It's Pepper," Tony started to explain. "She squeezed my hand! Twice! I was talking to her, about how I hoped she knew I was there, and..."

"A spasm, mostly likely, Mr. Stark," the doctor said, reiterating the nurse's statement. "It's quite common among coma patients."

Tony just stared at the doctor, his brow furrowed in confusion. He shook his head slowly. "No," he said. "This was more than just a random spasm. She was trying to tell me she could hear me, doc!" he insisted.

The doctor clapped his hand on Tony's shoulder, and gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know this is hard," he explained. "We want so much for our loved ones to not have to go through difficulties like this, but..."

Tony shrugged off the doctor's hand and shook his head frowning. "I know what I saw," he said sternly. "My wife knew I was there. She understood what I was saying. I know it. And you can't tell me otherwise." Tony pivoted around and stormed back into Pepper's room defiantly.

He walked to Pepper's bed and sat down on the edge. He grasped her hand in his once more, kissing it and holding it to his chest as he gazed at her face intently. "Thank you, baby," he said, not able to help smiling at this wonderful development. "I needed that. I know I said we've failed so far. But you know what? We'll get it. I promise. We'll figure this out. Until then, just more time for you to spend in dreamland, huh?" he said. He gazed at his bride with a broken smile. He stood up and kissed her forehead again, feeling encouraged by the renewed hope she had suddenly given him in their efforts, and thinking about how he couldn't wait to tell Bruce what had happened. He just knew Pepper was trying to communicate with him, despite the doctor's and nurse's doubts. "If only there was a way to bridge the gap, Pep," Tony murmured to her. "If only I could somehow find a way to get inside your mind."

Suddenly, Tony realized that maybe they'd been looking at this all wrong. Maybe the way to help Pepper wasn't from the outside in, but from the inside out.