Salvage
By: InitialA
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Marvel universe.
She was choking.
Her eyes flew open, and she looked around, wildly, her as something was pulled from her nose and throat. There was a woman talking to her, her voice low and soothing, as a mask was placed over her mouth and nose. "Breathe, darlin', just take deep breaths. It's all fine."
Her body felt like cast iron. Everything was too bright. Too loud. She tried to say something, ask anything, but the rusty, alien squeak that emerged from her throat formed nothing that sounded like words. The woman shushed her, and poured a cup of water. She put a straw in it, and moved Pepper's mask so she could drink. "You've been gone a while, Miz Potts, I wouldn't try doing much but rest for now."
She was too confused, too tired to think properly about that. Maybe if she closed her eyes again, it would be better. "Tony…"
When she woke again, it was dark. The only lights came from the monitors by the bed, and orange slits of light slipping through the window shades from the streetlights. The heart monitor was loud. The oxygen tank hissed softly, feeding air through the cannula.
There was a snort, and a masculine cough. Pepper tried to talk. Her tongue felt clumsy in her mouth, like it needed to get used to being used again. "Hello?"
"You are awake."
"Tony?"
She couldn't get a read on him just by his voice. He still sounded tired, but there was some anger in his voice. Bitterness. Regret. She heard wooden chair legs scrape against the tiles, and his footsteps as he crossed the room to her. The arc reactor glowed dull blue under his shirt as he bent down and kissed her thoroughly.
She tasted the bourbon on his breath. A red warning flag went up in her mind. Tony and bourbon never mixed well, because the only reason Tony ever drank bourbon was when Tony was a very unhappy man.
He rested his forehead against hers. His breathing was ragged. "Tony, are…"
"Fine."
His voice broke. She tried to lift her arms to hold him, but she couldn't. He buried his head in the crook of her neck instead, and worked his arms around her. She would lie if he ever asked her if she'd known he cried, just a little.
After several minutes, she tried speaking again. "What… why?"
He cleared his throat, and perched on the edge of the bed. "The jet. Anti-aircraft missiles hit it, and I barely got you out in time before what was left crashed to the ground."
"But… who?"
"Apparently that's what we get for taking a route from New Delhi to St. Petersburg that involves flying over parts of the Hindu Kush, the very mountain range that I got to call home for three months. I took care of them after I got you somewhere safe."
Her chest hurt. She took a deep breath to fix it; instead, the pain got worse. Her skin felt like it was on fire. She swore. "Tony, please… Explain."
He was silent. She waited.
"You've been in a coma for two months. Medically induced. Your injuries… it was going to be painful, and hard, and they… I wanted to spare you that. But…"
Her chest was really hurting. She wanted to scream, to yell at him to tell her, anything, but her mouth wasn't responding. She wanted to shake him, but her arms were used to immobility and had atrophied. She settled for an impatient sigh, then winced as pain flared up through her chest. He stood, and paced, talking rapidly and agitatedly. "The accident. The attack, whatever. You were left with some serious damage. Real damage. They weren't sure how much they could do. It was bad, Pep… and I just…"
He stopped pacing, and she felt his hands on her shoulders. He lowered her hospital gown, and tore at the bandages binding her chest.
Their faces were lit by the yellow glow.
"Shrapnel."
Their eyes me, for just a fraction of a second, before he looked away as if he didn't think she wanted to see him. The glow from her arc reactor made the circles under his eyes deeper, revealed wrinkles she didn't remember. "It was the only thing I could think to do."
She felt numb. He moved away, opening the door. He stared down at the floor, before saying quietly, "You're like me now… I'm sorry. I'm so… so sorry, Pepper."
((BLITHER-BLATHER! Okay. You can take this as a semi-follow up to "Trigger". You don't have to, but you can. I like the original ending, and also this way of ending it, because I'm a sadist and watching characters angst is probably the best thing ever. This scene's been playing in my head as a possible second chapter since I published that, but I really preferred ending it on that note and my own mental melodrama of how Tony handled it. (also, I like one-shots) BUT, you don't have to see it that way (especially if you haven't read "Trigger"), and that's fine as well, because neither story's events line up at all. Thanks for reading!))