After a few technical difficulties…

Here is the 9th installment. Kind of a fun one…if you like angst! Ha ha. I had fun writing it anyway. :)

Feedback is much appreciated and encouraged! I may need it because I am struggling with the end.

Toni - not sure I will address what actually happened. I am thinking of keep it in the past.

IronJen92 - glad you are enjoying this one. This is the only Iron Man piece I have written and the characters for once seem to be coming easily to me.

InWaiting13 - I hear you! I am sucked for some good angst. But...I love ahappy ending too. :)

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He woke from the nightmare with a fierce start, sweat pouring down him in cascades. Blurred images of death, destruction, babies, blood and chaos swam through his consciousness. In his mind's eye, even as he tried to force out the images, he saw Max, pink-cheeked and healthy, wide blue eyes staring up at him, and Tony thought he was smiling; he felt his son's baby fine hair slip between his fingers, wispy and soft, and then the hair turned brittle, and Max's pink cheeks turned gray, and he wasn't in his crib, but on the slab in the morgue. Tony's heart raced, and he was seized with panic, sweat dripping down his forehead, stealing into his eyes, until he closed his eyes to ward off the sting.

Reaching across to his nightstand, he picked up the phone. She answered on the second ring, "Hello?"

"Hey, Pepper," Tony said, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"Tony?"

"Yeah," he answered, twirling the phone cord around his thumb.

"Is everything okay?"

He remained silent, not knowing what to say. In the past, she'd always grounded him, but he didn't want to share these particular terrors with her. "Tony?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"Is something wrong?"

"Why do you ask?" he questioned, glancing at the picture on his nightstand.

"Because it's two o'clock in the morning."

He had not thought about the time, he just wanted to hear her voice. "I'm sorry," he offered. "I didn't wake Max, did I?"

"No," she said. "He's still asleep."

Tony noticed how clear her voice was, it did not sound as if he'd woken her, either. "Were you awake?"

After a pause, she answered, "Yes."

"What are you doing up so late Potts?" he asked, a teasing quality in his tone.

Another pause, this one longer than the first, "I'm, uh, Mike is here, we were talking."

He wanted to slam down the phone; he wanted to say a lot of things he knew he'd regret tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't regret them, but he knew he shouldn't say them. He settled on, "How nice. Well, I'll talk to you later."

"Tony, wait," but he'd already hung up the phone. Pepper walked out of the kitchen, phone in hand and told Mike she needed to speak with Tony. Looking at his watch, Mike told Pepper he was going to hit the road, and walked toward the door.

After he left, Pepper sat on the couch and tried to see it from Tony's point of view. Everything was too confusing, so she dialed his number and waited. Four rings later, she got his voicemail. Her anger kicked up a notch. She dialed again, and on the third ring he answered, "Tony."

A part of her was livid that he felt he had any claim on her, but if she called his home and another woman answered, she wouldn't be happy. She doubted she would hang up on him, but she had to admit it would hurt her. "It's not like that –" she said quickly, hoping he wouldn't hang up again when he realized who was on the phone.

"Tell me what it's like then, Pepper," he said, his voice full of contempt.

"I don't even know why I called you back, Tony. I don't owe you an explanation, not about this." She pushed off the couch and paced the room, stalked into the kitchen and circled the table.

"You're right, you don't owe me an explanation," he stated flatly.

The other voice, the you've hurt me voice, she hated that one almost as much as the condescension voice. Sighing, she replied, "We were talking, that's all, Tony. Mike needed to talk to me about some things, and to be honest, I needed a friend."

"You could have called me," he said.

"Tony," she said.

"Is he still there?" he questioned.

"No, he went home."

"What's wrong? Why did you need to talk to someone in the first place?"

"Why did you call me?"

He considered her question, and answered truthfully, "Dreams. Bad dreams. I wanted to check on Max, make sure everything was okay. I wanted to hear your voice."

"Tony-"

"Now it's your turn, what's on your mind?"

"It's nothing," she sighed.

"What is it?"

"I – I can't talk to you about this. Not now."

"Why not?"

"Because, Tony. It's complicated."

"Are you and Mike together?"

"No."

His relief irritated him, but was calming nonetheless. "I'll be your friend, Pepper," he said softly.

"Tony –" Pepper drew in a deep breath, "we're not friends."

Tony glanced toward his office door that he saw was not fully closed, and lowered his voice, "What do you mean?"

Pepper sat down on her kitchen chair, "You know what I mean," she said, picking up an apple from the bowl in the center of the table. "I'm not sure we've ever been just friends, Tony."

"Did you read the letters?" he asked, the distance between them making the question roll easily off his tongue.

She paused, twisted the stem of the apple until it snapped off, a tiny broken thing in her hand. "Not right away, but I finished reading them a few days ago," she answered.

He waited for more of an explanation, for a reaction, and when none was forthcoming, he asked, "What did you think?"

She laughed, "It was strange, and a little scary, that you could feel something so intense and keep it so well hidden."

"Hmm," he said, not receiving the answer he'd wanted.

She knew he was, but asked anyway, not wanting to discuss their relationship or lack thereof at the moment, "You still coming up at the end of the month?" she questioned.

"Of course," he said, looking at a new picture of Max that sat framed beside him.

"Max has a doctor's appointment on Friday, just a routine check-up, but I'll let you know how it goes," she told him.

"Okay." Leaning back in his chair, Tony closed his eyes. He wanted to reach through the phone, pull her onto his lap, feel the slight weight of her body against his, the inevitable warmth and life she made unique because of who she was. He wanted to kiss her, and he wanted the kiss to be returned, he wanted to hear her say it would be all right. He wanted his job to hold as much meaning as it once had, so he would not miss Pepper and Max as much as he did. Just once, he wanted to get off work and walk into his home without feeling like something, someone was missing.

"Tony?"

"Yeah," he answered, clearing his mind and his throat, the images of what he wanted faded into what he had, which was almost but not quite enough.

"I think I'm going to go to bed now, work starts early in the morning," she said.

"Yeah, okay," he sighed. "Goodnight, Pepper."

"Bye, Tony."

Pepper ended the call, but held the phone in her hand. Eventually, she went to bed, drifted in and out of sleep, Tony never far from her thoughts.

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Tony was bent over the body, careful to avoid the blood and brain matter, not knowing where to start as they dealt with the carnage of this latest encounter. The Ten Rings had reared its ugly head, this time in a small village outside of New Delhi.

"Sir, there is an incoming message from Miss Potts of critical importance."

"Hit me J, what's going on?" he answered.

There was no reply, only a cacophony of sound mixing together as the line was connected. "Jarvis what's going on," he said again.

And then Pepper's voice, hysterical and too high-pitched to be her own, pierced his ear, her words jumbled together, Tony unable to make sense of them.

"Pepper?" he questioned. "Slow down, I don't-"

In his peripheral vision, he saw Steve move toward him, his eyebrows rising in question. Tony waved him off and rose from his kneeling position.

He held his breath, the story beginning to take form, Pepper's voice a stranger's voice, because he had never heard her sound this lost or this upset. He could tell she was crying, and her recitation became jumbled again, and he wanted to tell her to stop, to regain a sense of control, but everything was spinning and it was all he could do to stand up. His heart was beating so hard he felt as if it was going to tear through his chest, and then he would die and it would be fine, because Max was in the hospital, and Pepper had said he was cyanotic, and that the doctor's were with him now, but wouldn't let her see him. She said he was not breathing well on his own, and from what he could gather, she'd picked up his tiny, unresponsive body from his crib, thinking he was asleep, and then she'd realized he was barely breathing, and that his skin was too hot, and his pulse was too slow.

"He was fine yesterday," she said so many times Tony lost count. "He was fine yesterday," she cried again and again.

But today was not yesterday, and so he said, "I'm on my way," and then hung up.

Steve's hand was on his shoulder, and he was turning around, but his vision was cloudy and his eyes could not focus.

The words came out, hoarse and uneven, "There is something wrong with Max, I need to leave now."

"What's wrong with him?" Steve asked, his hand tightening on Tony's shoulder.

"I don't know, Pepper's at the hospital, ," he said. "She wasn't making sense, she said he was not breathing well and they were at the hospital."

He knew he should move, he could visualize walking out and zipping off into the sky, but he couldn't move. He saw Max under his racecar covers, his tiny fists curled and drawn at his face, the way his back rose with every breath. Tony could not move, though, because if anything happened to his son, he was content to stay where he was, fall to his knees, and die right there.

"Tony?"

"I need to go, I have to go," he said, the fear evident in his voice.

He'd feared Pepper, he'd feared loving her and losing her, and so he'd stalled and avoided, and eventually he had lost her. Everything else, and everyone else, were passing moments, and he'd always faced life head on. He was terrified of losing Max, his insides rearranged themselves at the thought of what it would do to Pepper; he did not even know how he was still standing, because the fear was so overwhelming, it burned and twisted inside his mind. He was not a man afraid of many things, but those things he had been afraid of usually left him paralyzed, unable to go right or left, forward or backward, he simply went through the motions.

But, this time was different, because Max was his son, and he loved Pepper, and his fear was pushed down by how much he knew they needed him.

He would go to the hospital, he would be there for Pepper, he would be there for Max, and if anything God forbid happened to his son, there would be plenty of time later for dying.