"So, do anything exciting today?"
"Um, no. Not really. Took a long horseback ride around the property."
"Annnnnd that's all?" he fishes pointedly.
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Hot out there in Kansas? I hear it gets to triple digits this time of year."
"It's pretty warm, yes. Grrrrr."
"What's wrong? That's a frustrated noise, Potts. Miss me that much?"
"I need about three more Cham fourteen Dees, and the box is empty."
"Wait, wait—fourteen Dees, those would be for, God, a tractor? You're changing spark plugs in a tractor, Pepper?"
"Yep. A nineteen eighty-two International Harvester, and it's NOT being cooperative at the moment. Hang on."
Tony hangs on, feeling a rush of something odd in his chest; something unrelated to the arc reactor. He can so clearly picture Pepper standing on one tire, leaning in under the propped hood, cell phone in one hand, sparkplug in the other.
"A new box will run you about fourteen bucks, with tax," he murmurs. "I'm sure your local Hayseed market has them."
"Un-huh," comes Pepper's preoccupied murmur.
Tony smirks. "Or, I could have a brand new John Deere delivered within the hour, Ms. Potts, right off the assembly line."
"No thank you, Mr. Stark. Big Red here still has plenty of life, if I can get the rest of the plugs. Aren't you supposed to be playing golf with the CEO of IBM this afternoon?"
"Eh, Sammy had an emergency root canal, so he cancelled."
There is a banging sound, followed by a few soft grunts of exertion that send a pang of arousal through him; Pepper and machinery are having an effect and he clears his throat. "What are you wearing?"
Pepper gives a startled laugh. "Overalls."
"Why am I finding that incredibly hot?"
"Beee-cause you're a libido-driven engineer with too much testosterone. Oh!"
"Was that a good oh or a bad oh? Talk to me, Potts—"
"Bleeding. I'll talk to you later," comes the brisk voice before the line cuts dead. Tony feels cold panic wash over him again, and he dials the house line, willing the old woman to pick up the line.
"Hell-"
"Pepper's with the tractor and she's bleeding," Tony urgently tells the aunt.
"How badly?" comes the calm but serious question.
"God, I don't know—she hung up on me!"
"All right. I'll go find her and dial for emergency if it's bad. You stay put and I'll call to let you know what the situation is. I owe you one, young man."
Tony paces, feeling his pulse in his ears. This is even worse than the first time Pepper got hurt, because at least then he was THERE and could DO something. But now he's stuck doing the one thing he hates more than anything else in the world: waiting. It crosses his mind that farms are too damned dangerous—bulls and nails and tractors and saws and isolation.
None of that makes any sense he realizes a moment later. He checks the cell phone, mentally *willing* it to ring, and in a moment of clarity he understands---
--this is what Pepper goes through every time he heads out on a mission.
Tony stops, stunned. This is why she's short and brusque at times; why she fights back sniffles and fluctuates between being a silent shadow and a clucking hen when he returns, battered, exhausted and grim.
He never really *thought* what it was like from her side before, and for a long moment the bitter tang of regret makes his mouth cottony.
Tony would save her this pain if he could.
But he can't.
The cell phone trills, cutting into his thoughts and he nearly drops it, fumbling frantically to get it to his ear. "Yeah, hello?"
"She's fine," comes the practical report. "Gashed her thumb."
In the background he can hear Pepper, protesting. "You don't have to tell him!"
"Yes I do, hon. The man was worried."
There's a rattle and fumble over the line and then Pepper's voice, breathless and embarrassed. "Mr. Stark, I'm perfectly all right."
"Well that's great. Glad to hear it considering you announced you were *bleeding* and proceeded to HANG UP on me, Potts. Jesus, just run me through a bandsaw in your spare time, why don't you?"
"Tony, it's *nothing*"
"I'll believe it when I see it. I'm coming out there."
"Right *now?*" she sounds scandalized, but he feels better having decided.
"Right now. ETA seventeen minutes. Hey, is that enough time for your aunt to bake cookies?" he adds, and because he's still slightly angry, Tony hangs up, making the phone snap in his hand.
He hasn't been this pettishly impulsive in ages, and while he knows he should be a bit ashamed of crowding into Pepper's privacy, a stronger need to assure himself she's all right is predominant. Tony suits up and rockets away, preparing himself for the stern looks sure to come once he lands.
000ooo000ooo000
Seventeen minutes is just long enough for Pepper to finish bandaging her thumb, shoo her aunt back into the house, and mentally prepare a quick lecture for a Certain Person Who Shouldn't Be Wasting His Time or Resources Investigating a Minor Boo-Boo.
She still feels an exasperated thrill though, at his concern. Having spent quite a bit of time bandaging up said Certain Person's injuries has given her some perspective on it all, and it's making her heart beat a little faster to know Tony is on his way.
Which is silly. She slipped, caught her thumb along the edge of the battery and it's no big deal. A couple of band aids and she's fine.
The low sound of a rocket makes her turn her face upward, and she watches with a lump in her throat as the red and gold streaks through the sky and begins a descent towards her. Alarmed, Clarence lows in his pasture, and Pepper can hear the horses in the barn stalls stamping around a bit.
She moves away from the tractor, shading her eyes as Tony lands; a little ungracefully, but given the suit, understandable. As the dust starts to settle, Pepper watches the mask unlocks and rise to reveal a familiar and amazingly dear face.
Impish eyes.
"You really *are* wearing overalls," comes his first observation. "And I was right. You look hot."
"It's a farm," Pepper offers by way of explanation, her smile gentle.
"Yeah, I sort of caught on to that, actually. The fields, the barn, the two thousand pound pot roast out in the meadow—"
"Hey, my aunt Ruby's Clarence is a registered Angus bull and a prime semen donator," Pepper replies and blushes scarlet as she finishes. Tony's mouth twists in a knowing smirk and he lets his gaze move off towards the fields.
"I'd say something about having a common hobby but I get the feeling I'll get the evil eyeroll if I do, and in any case I'm here to see your thumb, Potts. Let's have it."
Glad for a change of subject, Pepper holds out her hand. The gash is on her unbroken limb, and covered neatly in band aids that Tony examines with some exasperation. "Okay, I haven't quite got the x-ray vision yet, and my manual dexterity in these gauntlets isn't dainty enough to peel off the gauze—"
Pepper sighs. She carefully lifts a corner of one band-aid and shows the wound . . . all inch and a half of it, a pink-edged cut along the side of her thumb. Tony scrutinizes it, and for a moment Pepper watches him standing there as the unreality of it dawns on her.
Yeah. A man in a self-contained mechanized suit, armed to the teeth taking his time looking over a tiny cut. A puff of breeze from the oat fields blows by, ruffling Tony's bangs for a moment.
"Are you sure it even *bled*?" he murmurs skeptically. "Because this looks pretty small, and believe me, I know bleeding."
"I *told* you it wasn't worth the trip!" Pepper begins, exasperated and rising to the bait. Tony grins and lifts her hand, lightly, gently kisses her thumb, lingering over it. Pepper stares, a little jolt darting through her at the warmth of his lips.
"Ohhh . . . . stop that," she tells him weakly, trying to tug her hand away.
"Motor oil—my favorite perfume," he murmurs back, "Let me guess; summerweight number five?"
"Stop," Pepper repeats, a little breathlessly. "I'm perfectly all right, so thank you for your concern and I have three days left of my leave, so . . ."
"Yeah I get it," Tony mumbles, still holding her hand. "Actually, I should probably take off, since you've got a mobile news van headed this way."
Pepper gives a sigh and doesn't *quite* roll her eyes. Tony smirks for a moment, watching her.
"Oh give it up, Potts. You really do need to just let it out and yell at me once in a while. You're on vacation; cut loose!"
"Don't tempt me," she snaps, but smiles, cocking her head. "Three days, Mr. Stark, and don't be late. I'll have cookies."
"Consider me there already," Tony assures her. "No more slicing yourself up on farm equipment, okay? I'm a busy man, I can't keep dashing out here to kiss your boo-boos."
He closes his faceplate to the sight of her outraged splutters and grins. Pepper moves back and watches him rocket off, heading west just as the Channel 60 news mobile turns off of Crane Road.
000ooo000ooo000
Pepper and her aunt wash the dinner dishes in silence. Ruby managed to talk the reporters into staying for supper, and given that it was her nearly legendary chicken pot pie, it wasn't difficult.
Kiowa is still a small place, Pepper acknowledges to herself with a grin, and word of good food gets around.
She wipes the last plate and stacks it in the cupboard as her aunt clears her throat.
"So, Ginnie," the older woman begins.
Pepper braces herself. "Yes?"
"About your Mr. Stark," Ruby begins, deliberately not looking at her niece.
"What about him? Other than he's impulsive, undisciplined and addicted to your cookies."
"Has he ever been married?"
"What? Um, no," Pepper replies, startled. "Not even close."
"I figured," her aunt murmurs. "Not for lack of gals out there angling for him, I suppose."
"Well yes," Pepper agrees, wiping down some of the silverware. She's wondering exactly where this conversation is going. "He does have a reputation as a ladies man."
"Tom cat more like," Ruby snorts, pulling out the stopper for the sink. "I've seen him in all those rag papers at the supermarket—that is, I *used* to. Not that I pick them things up you know. Mostly I just scan 'em while I'm waiting in line."
"Um hum," Pepper smiles to herself and wipes down the salad bowl. Outside the sky is getting dark, and she knows a storm is rolling in.
The news van reporters mentioned it would be a big one.
"He isn't in the rags much anymore," Ruby continues quietly. "At least not in the photos with gals hanging off of each arm."
"Nope," Pepper agrees shortly. "But with Tony, that could simply be a phase."
Aunt Ruby turns and shoots Pepper a look so skeptically dry it could qualify as Death Valley all on its own. "Oh yes, and Clarence out there *could* be one of those little yappy purse dogs, but I seriously doubt it, Ginnie. It seems your Mr. Stark truly *has* changed."
"He's not *my* Mr. Stark," Pepper murmurs in annoyance, but her aunt laughs without humor.
"Good golly, try telling *him* that. The man just flew twenty six hundred miles round trip to look at your *thumb,* honey. He's smitten with you, he is and you can't tell me anything different."
Pepper is quiet for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say. She's never let herself really hope that Tony would give up his womanizing, but her aunt is right; the man has changed.
She takes her time shelving the salad bowl on top of the old refrigerator. "Okay, yes, he's different. But that doesn't mean our situation—his and mine—really has. Oh he counts on me a little bit more, and I put in extra time, but he's still my boss, Aunt Ruby, and I'm well-aware of that. We're not . . . you know."
"Shacking up?" This earns the older woman a slightly scandalized glance, and her thin shoulders shake at the sight of Pepper's blush. "Isn't that what your generation calls it? Or what's that other term I heard the other day—calling a booty?"
"That's making a booty call, and NO, that's NOT our situation at ALL," Pepper splutters, only a giggle away from laughing out loud. "I can't believe you *said* that!"
"I watch television," Aunt Ruby sniffs, "I'm old, not *dead,* Ginnie girl."
"I know," her niece replies, "But in any case, it's just not . . . smart . . . to get involved with a person you work for."
There is a long silence after this; Aunt Ruby wrings out a sponge and carefully wipes down the dining room table, sweeping the crumbs off the flowered vinyl tablecloth into one arthritic hand. She gives a little sigh and finally speaks. "Welllll, that's a matter of common sense, and nine times out of ten I'd back you to the hilt, honey. Falling for the boss is a dangerous situation, I agree. But I'm not so sure that Mr. Stark is your boss anymore."
Pepper blinks and slips into one of the kitchen chairs, her mouth slightly pursed. Aunt Ruby shrugs and continues. "Sure you help the man run his business and keep things moving smoothly for him, but you stood by him when he was gone, Ginnie. Employees don't do that. You waited for him to come back. You know who does that? A wife does."
"No, that's—" Pepper protests, her face flushing, but her aunt cuts her off with a look so calm and wry that Pepper's words die away as the old woman speaks again.
"Oh I suppose the right term is 'significant other' or whatever else you all want to call it, but it's as much a commitment as anything churchified. That man," Aunt Ruby gives a grim little grin, "realized what he had in you when he was held by those terrorists, and by God he's working hard not to lose you, honey. Mr. Stark loves you and he just hasn't got the balls to admit it yet. Now why do you think that is?"
Before Pepper can draw a breath and answer, the white-hot flash of lightning flares through the kitchen window over the sink, followed a few seconds later by a boom of thunder that rattles the cupboards. Both women look up, and begin to move.
"I'll secure the barn," Pepper announces, moving to the back door and reaching for the rain slicker hanging on the hook. Her aunt nods, and is already fishing for the kerosene lantern from the storm closet. As Pepper opens the door, a gust of cold air sweeps into the kitchen, and Aunt Ruby shivers.
000ooo000ooo000
They sit huddled in the storm cellar under the kitchen, sipping tea and listening to the Storm Prediction Center on the battery radio along with the hard rush of water. Pepper hunches a bit, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders; she's never liked thunder much.
Finally her aunt puts down her knitting and cocks an ear. "Pffft, not much left to it. We'll have some clean-up in the morning, but this one's just a hard spring rain. Mark my words, we're safe."
Pepper nods. Her aunt has always had the ability to call storms well, and the susurration is softening overhead. "It did come on pretty fast, though."
"Isn't the season for twisters, and we had a mild winter," Aunt Ruby replies confidently. "Nope, This 'un was just a good spring drenching."
When the winds begin to die down, Pepper and her aunt climb the wooden stairs up to the kitchen. The power is still out, but when Pepper checks on the livestock out in the barn by heavy-duty flashlight they're all well, including Clarence, who playfully licks her fingers with his hot, rough tongue through the bars of his stall.
The night sky is clearing, with a few stars beginning to show through the clouds, and the big storm cell is drifting to the northeast now, a heavy dark smudge on the horizon.
Pepper smiles. The air smells clean, and although she notes some damage around the place, it's nothing that can't be picked up or mended in the next few days. She looks out over the oat field and knows how good the rain will be for the crop.
As she detours to the kitchen garden out back and inspects the battered tomato plants, it dawns on Pepper that *this* is what she's going to miss when she returns to Malibu and the high-tech profession waiting for her there.
This connection to the land. To the growing things. To the very basics that nurtured her youth and are still rooted, truthfully, in her. Pepper gives a sigh, and begins to pick up a few of the fallen tomatoes, collecting them absently.
000ooo000ooo000
Jarvis mentions the storm to Tony in the morning update; Tony is not pleased. "I consider that to be significant! You should have told me sooner!"
"To what end, sir? You cannot change the weather, nor can you fly safely through it. The damage reports are minor, and Mrs. Clozlinski's farm is relatively unscathed except for some flattening of the fencing surrounding her property."
Tony scowls at himself as he shaves. Normally he would be finished by now and out the door if Pepper was here to ride his ass, but he's let his dawdling get the better of him these last two weeks. Since Happy is more than happy to catch up on his Sudoku while waiting out in the limo, it works for both of them.
"Maybe not, but I could have gotten them OUT of there before it hit," Tony counters, "*that* might have been a good plan."
"Including the livestock?" Jarvis queries, sounding every so slightly chiding.
Tony scowls. "Nobody likes a smartass AI, Jarvis."
"On the contrary, as I recall, Ms Potts has often expressed her fondness and gratitude towards myself—"
Tony ignores this and finishes shaving. By the time he's done and dressed, Happy has made his way through four puzzles. Tony gives his orders in monosyllabic grunts that his driver easily deciphers.
They go through the Burger King drive-through—not an easy maneuver for a stretch limousine—and by the time they reach Stark Industries, Tony chooses to throw himself fully into work. His justification is that not only will it help pass the time until Pepper returns, but also that it will please her that he's kept up on the most important things.
Besides, he tells himself, if he gets a jump on the workload, he can justify taking a day or two off, right around the time he plans to pick Pepper up.
This is a good plan, and Tony slogs his way through what needs to be done, ignoring the emptiness at not having his personal assistant flanking him through the day.
By evening he's not so much tired as he is frustrated. The board is being obstinate without Pepper to smooth things over, and the remote for the suit isn't living up to the specs just yet. Tony wishes Rhodey had the night off, but there's some sort of event going on at the base and the man's presence is needed there . . .
The urge to snoop is coming over him, and Tony sighs, settling down in his living room. He speaks softly. "Jarvis, order me a full takeout from WonTon William, heavy on the Kung Pao. And tell me what you know about the current Cozlinkis of Kiowa Kansas."
"Very well . . ." comes the cultured voice. A few moments later, Jarvis begins reciting the facts. "Janos Cozlinski was a second generation American born in Barber County, Kansas in nineteen thirty three. His family has owned the farmstead there for the last one hundred and thirty years, approximately. He graduated Medicine Lodge High School in nineteen fifty-six and married fifteen year old Ruby Eleanor Potts a year later. While enrolled at Texas A and M, Janos Cozlinski was drafted by the army and served two tours of duty in Vietnam."
"Vietnam?" Tony murmurs gently, moved.
"From nineteen sixty-three through nineteen sixty-eight. He was wounded twice, and honorably discharged November fourteenth, nineteen sixty-eight. Shall I continue?"
"Please."
"He and his wife Ruby have two children, Paul, a lawyer in Saint Louis Missouri, and Jacob, deceased. Miss Potts is the niece of Ruby Cozlinski Nee Potts."
"Hmmm," Tony mumbles, thinking hard. "And the Potts—are they from Kiowa too?"
"Just a moment while I access genealogical records . . ." Jarvis replies. A few seconds later he speaks again. "Originally from the south of England, the Potts immigrated to the United States shortly after the War of 1812 and moved west. The last three generations have settled in Barber County exclusively, and Ms Potts' relatives owned land adjacent to that of the Cozlinskis up until the last twenty years."
"Ah." Tony isn't sure he wants to hear much more; in all the years he's worked with Pepper, he only knows the bare facts: both parents deceased, no brothers or sisters.
Something they have in common, sadly.
Jarvis, however continues to speak. "Virginia Caroline Potts is the only child of Andrew and Pearl Potts, deceased. Ms. Potts attended Franklin High School and is a graduate of the University of Kansas."
"How did . . ."
"Andrew Potts died of a heart attack; his wife died several years later of breast cancer," Jarvis replies. "Both of them were cremated, as per their wishes."
Tony is silent again, feeling old pain merging with new pain. Since Afghanistan he has been thinking more and more of his own parents; certain memories coming back with sweet clarity. He has Yensin to thank for that, and Tony appreciates the man's wisdom yet again.
"Current financial records indicate that the Cozlinski farm is moderately in debt to the Farmer's Credit Union of Kiowa," Jarvis continues. "Mrs. Cozlinski has been attempting to renegotiate her debt recently."
Tony blinks. "Is Pepper aware of this?"
"That information is not available," Jarvis responds, in a slightly apologetic tone.
The living room is silent for a long time; Tony begins to pace, moving towards the front door at just the right speed to reach it when the doorbell rings. The security monitor shows the deliveryman from WonTon William standing there, and Tony grins.
Timing is everything.
He pays the man, takes the food and comes back to the living room.
He unpacks the kung pao, and looks out over the sunset over the Pacific ocean. "Tell me, Jarvis—what is the status for Stark Industry's meteorological research program?"