Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own them outside of wildly vivid fantasies...
--
"I'm sure they're looking for you, Stark," the stranger articulated. He paused, darting a quick glance at her before amending the statement, "Both of you. But they will never find you in these mountains."
Ever since their return to the cave, their mystery companion hadn't stopped talking, taking Tony's forlorn silence for defeat, defeat she prayed didn't actually exist. If she knew him as well as she thought she did, then Tony's focus centered on getting them out of here, on living past the week-long deadline he had until the battery ran out of power, sending shards of shrapnel-
No.
She refused to think about that now, refused to think about the way he'd gently told her why he'd been lugging around a car battery attached to his chest, the way bitterness tinged his voice and his eyes blackened before he'd closed them, tilting his head back and gritting his teeth, in pain or frustration she hadn't known.
Thinking about that meant loosing both her ability to breathe and her fragile hold on a shaking façade of calm.
Leaning her head forward to rest on the palms of her hands, she hissed when her fingers skimmed along the shallow welt cutting across her hairline.
The stranger – she really should be figuring out his name and who the hell he was – didn't stop rambling, but Tony's eyes stopped drilling into the room's dark corners long enough to pin her with the same unrecognizable look as when they'd reunited. Blankly, he stared at her for a few never-ending seconds before the spark of concern lighting in his eyes flared down at the next part in this eternal, one-sided conversation.
"What you just saw," the stranger continued, firm desperation tinting his voice with frustration, "That is your legacy, Stark. Your life's work in the hands of those murderers! Is that how you want to go out?"
Nausea rose in her throat the longer he spoke, fury building in her gut. This – this man spoke with the bitter coolness of digging deep for a reaction, hunting for a response. He didn't see Tony flinch imperceptibly at his words, the sting in his eyes and the weary clench of his fist. He didn't see the pain in his opaque gaze, just the drive to motivate however wrongly, and the slumped shoulders of an exhausted, battered man.
"Is this the last act of defiance," he exploded, disgust washing over his face, "Of the great Tony-"
"I believe," she exhaled, simmering anger lacing her words, "You've made your point."
He stopped then. Looked at her. Really looked at her, not the discreet glances he'd sent her way since the start and had first discreetly skimmed his dark eyes across her face. Had this been another man, another day, his searching gaze would've made her squirm uncomfortably, sent her subtly bringing closer the lapels of her blazer and calculating the most efficient way to get him out of her hair. His eyes hungrily searched her features, yes. But for one of the rare times in her career, Pepper was sure his gaze wasn't searching for improper reasons.
Up until now, she had barely been a factor in the equation, an insignificant fly compared to the hulking giant of Tony Stark. Up until now, he hadn't seen her as someone capable of impacting their situation, just the quickest way to obedience and his worst hope.
From the evaluating look in his eyes, Pepper thought that opinion had begun to change.
"I shouldn't even do anything," Tony interrupted, voice monotone, "They're going to kill me, you, Pepper, either way, and if they don't, I'm going to be dead in a week-"
A crack echoed through the cave, the sharp sting of her hand slapping his face.
Both men stared at her then, the stranger with something almost like admiration lurking in his gaze while Tony had been rendered speechless.
"Don't you ever, ever, ever, ever say something like that again," she seethed, hand shaking and eyes wide against her harried face, "Ever. You have never done what you've been told the entire time I have known you, and don't you dare start now, or so help me, I will never – I will –"
Her voice cut off then, sobs choking her words back. Everything, everything, was crashing into her now, ramming her strength into the ground and crushing her lungs in her chest. The cave lay silent; the echoes of her palm against Tony's cheek the last sounds before her vice had fled her chest.
"Stop – stop talking like that," she murmured, gripping the rock beneath her hard enough to bruise, scratching her hands on the jagged edges, "You – we – are not going to die here."
--
After the few eternal minutes of pained quiet, Tony broke the weight hanging over them all. Reaching out his hand, he entwined his fingers with Pepper's, pulses fluttering beneath bruised skin. Within his chest, his heart – or what was left of it – pounded painfully, throbbing and clenching at the way Pepper's frame shook, her hand quivering against his and droplets dripping down her face. Guilt slammed into him then, guilt and the sort of self-hatred he'd gotten used to burying away, ignoring like he ignored Rhodey's jabs about how screwy his life had become and sullen thoughts about living up to his parent's legacies.
The guilt wasn't quite as bad, though, as the ache in his chest or the numbing twinge of his face.
"Listen, Pep," he murmured, "I'm – I'm going to get us out of here, all right? I promise."
Quiet, inexplicable fury had firmly replaced the self-pitying crap filling his gut only moments ago, motivating him to start hunting for an actual fucking answer. Thumb sweeping across her wrist, the part of his mind that lay with machines and logarithms more naturally than with human beings began the systematic search that would save them.
A few moments later, a plan had begun to spark in his mind.
Jumping up, Tony strode towards the steel doors barricading them inside the cave. Pepper gasped behind him, but he ignored it in favor of his new goal. For the first time since this whole twisted farce had began, the manic seed of hope and a new idea had actually begun to grow, and god damn it, he was going to take advantage of it.
"Hey!" he shouted, slamming his fist down to the metal, "Hey, you want your fucking missile? I'm gonn'a need a helluva better workshop than this shithole you've got!"
Nothing.
"Hey, you listening to me?" he roared, ramming his palm against the door, "Hey, you fucking bastards, I know you've got that video camera and you've been watching us, so if you want your damn missile, get your ass in here so I can actually have a place to fucking work!"
He knew this probably wasn't the best way to start out his plan, but it felt so good to just go on impulse and honestly, since this whole shenanigan had begun, the weight in his hands and in his chest had been filling him to the brim with the sort of despair and hopelessness he hadn't known since he'd been eighteen, teetering on the brink between boy and man and watching as his entire life crumbled beneath his feet. The fact that last time's result had ended with him drunk, stumbling around some backseat alley before making that night a weekly habit, except now it ended with his limo and some girl trailing kisses down his neck before trying to jack him off, didn't really matter to him.
The stranger's hand clamped down on his shoulder, fingers digging into sore skin with a wiry strength he couldn't have guessed lay beneath the man's wry exterior. Lingering behind, Pepper hovered on the edge, hands gripping the sorry excuse for a skirt hanging around her legs.
"They should arrive with foodin a few hours, based on the sun's position when we were outside," the man muttered, shock and sly amusement fighting to dominate his expression. He didn't miss the slight emphasis on the word food, nor the disgusted twist of his lips, "If you can wait that long, of course, for your workspace."
To the side, Pepper snorted and he flashed her a familiar, upturned quirk of his mouth. Their eyes linked, and for a moment, Tony felt his stomach drop in a way that had become obnoxiously familiar whenever she gave him that tentative, amused smile, face lighting up with poorly hidden affection. Why, he'd ignored - so far, he'd been content with the warm glow it gave him and the knowledge that at least there were some people left in the world who cared about him. He didn't want to - didn't dare to - think any farther than that. Especially now.
"So, you have any blueprint sheets I can use?" he asked their companion, tearing his gaze away.
Inside, that warm glow fed the fire sparked.
--
"If this is going to be my work station, I want it well lit," Tony demanded, voice echoing above the din encompassing the cave. By his side, the stranger translated while she kept to the background, keeping a careful watch on the assembly of a rougher, harsher version of his workshop at home – his home, "I need welding gear; I don't care if it's settling or molding. Sottering station, I'm going to need helmets, I'm going to need goggles. I would like a smelting cup. I need two sets of precision tools."
Around the cave, their captors scurried, carrying out Tony's demands with fearful obedience. From her corner, Pepper's gaze scanned over their faces, committing to memory bent backs and shifting eyes, slowly tracing the hardened lines of their mouth and sunburnt skin. If she closed her eyes – and ignored the steady stream of foreign languages flowing around her – Pepper could almost pretend they were back in Malibu, back to just quietly enjoying the way her boss so easily played people, leaving no room for protest during those rare, entrancing moments he choose to take charge.
Trailing her fingers over the kiln beside her, Pepper froze when a hand skimmed by her back, too low and too close for comfort. A toothy grin and leering eyes met her gaze before vanishing back into the cave's dark corners and for a moment, she remembered a chair, harsh ropes digging her wrists raw and the same leering gaze before the tang of copper filled her mouth and a furious shriek echoed in her ears.
Shifting backwards, Pepper fisted her hand and gave her iciest glare. She was safe here; she was safe here because they needed her damn it, she was safe and she would not let that monster touch her again, trail slimy fingers down her cheek and whisper promises in her ear. God help her, she was safe here and –
"It is amazing," the awestruck voice of their new companion rang out beside her, "Is it not?"
Pepper jumped, shifting to watch the casual way he placed his body between her and the wandering terrorists. Softly, his lips curled upwards, the barest hint of a smile grazing his face. His dark, indiscernible eyes lingered on her for a moment, studying her features before pinning Tony with that haunted gaze instead. Studiously observing him together, they stood in silence as seconds ticked by.
"Ton – Mr. Stark does have a way with people," she murmured, cutting herself off. His gaze flickered back to her, one eyebrow rising slightly behind muddied frames in tune with the steady twinkle in his eyes. Encouraged, she continued, "Pepper."
"I mean my name's Pepper," she babbled, cheeks flushing beneath their bruises, "Pepper Potts. It's actually Virginia, really, but nobody's called me that since I started working for Ton – Mr. Stark."
To be honest, she didn't really know why she kept insisting on formalities when they were trapped in a dark, dank cave, prisoners to terrorists and their every whim, but trying to find an answer would mean going into territory she couldn't – wouldn't – explore now, not with so much at stake.
"My name is Yinsen," he replied gently, a hint of a smile ghosting over his face before vanishing. His eyes traced over her features once again, curiosity masked by the stronger, unidentifiable emotions that burned in his eyes. Staring back, her eyes widened imperceptibly. Was that pity lurking on his face? "He asked for you, you know. When he first woke up from the – the surgery. You were the first thing he asked about."
His gaze flickered away once again. Following his line of sight, the unmistakable crimson light of a video camera shone on, quietly recording all that happened in the room.
Suddenly, the cave felt icy instead of unbearably warm, a chill trickling quietly down her spine. Opening her mouth, questions of why and what and how trapped in her throat, Pepper watched as Yinsen gave her a steady, sad curl of lips before pivoting towards Tony, who looked to be arguing with someone about a set of tools.
She watched them a moment more before snapping her eyes shut, her hands bracing against the kiln's walls as her ragged breaths reverberated through her ears.
--
The days, he was shocked to finally realize, were beginning to fly by and melt together into one incomprehensible mess. Picking out the last .15 grams of palladium from the remains of one of his missiles, Tony threw back its container with a satisfying clang as it crashed onto the scattered remains of its brothers in arms. On the floorside pallet, Pepper jolted awake with a strangled gasp, eyes darting back and forth with reckless abandon.
"Tony?" she yawned, voice small and muffled against the roar of the fire, "What – what time is it?"
Fumbling to put down the palladium with the other pieces, Tony glanced at the makeshift clock he'd molded together after the first few days of judging time by the weight of their eyelids and the growls of their stomachs.
"Near breakfast," he announced, quietly watching the way she nodded blearily as her eyelids fluttered shut once more, "Go back to bed."
The normally vibrant strands of copper had begun to take on a dull sheen, tendrils curling into greasy wisps along the curve of her neck and the hollows of her cheeks. Beneath her eyes, shadows blossomed beyond their normal capacity, meshing with the dark splatter of indigo bruises and shallow cuts kissing her cheekbones so that cobalt stood out fiercely against the pale, freckled skin of her face. In the oversized t-shirt and baggy, ragged pants they'd given her in place of her tattered suit, Pepper Potts looked startlingly fragile, a breakable figurine whose limbs folded into her body with careless ease and whose body slumped against the floor without wire strings to hold her up.
Pepper, in typical fashion, had refused his insistence on keeping her away from the work and had spent the better part of the night – at least, what they thought was night – putting together the mold he would need to form the palladium circlet before sagging against the table, nearly dropping her hard work. Hand on the small of her back, the heat of her skin searing through his hands with crystalline clarity, he'd carefully led her to the cot, silently enjoying the gentle whiff of pure Pepper wafting up from her hair. Her slender fingers had curled around his hand as she'd drifted off, and he'd spent some time watching her before Yinsen's quiet cough interrupted the moment. He'd shoved the peaceful, content glow she gave him away then, away to the back of his mind where he couldn't think about the meaning behind the feeling.
Tearing his gaze away from her once more, Tony began placing the palladium in the furnace cup to be melted. A few minutes later, and the first step in his master plan to getting them out of there had been successfully completed. Silence reigned supreme while he wiped his hands off on his pants; running fingers through scraggly hair, he made his way over to Yinsen, the car weight an omnipresent companion by his side. Three plates lay on the bench in precise settings, complete with tin cans of muddied, drab coffee and a thick slice of dark, grainy bread on each platter. In the center lay a pot of beans, the closest they came to a feast these days when their food supply was replenished.
"We'll wait for it to melt together completely, then I'll need you to pour the palladium into the mold Pepper made," he clarified through a chunk of the stale, hard bread. Swallowing, his Adam's apple bobbing in response, Tony washed down the bland taste of his breakfast with the crappy excuse for coffee, worse even then the shit they kept for boardroom meetings. One more thing, on the growing list of many, he was beginning to miss more and more as the days passed by.
"And this is making what exactly?" Yinsen questioned voice light and eyes twinkling. As usual, Tony was sure the man lived to frustrate him, with his all-knowing eyes and habit of sticking his nose in where Tony didn't want it and piercing, casual remarks. It wasn't that the stranger hadn't helped, hadn't given his aide wordlessly, but trust had never come easily to Tony, especially in this hellhole. He wanted – needed – to keep guard for Pepper, to keep her in his sight and his hold because the last time he'd let her go, those bruises had formed and she'd gone from her normal hyperactive self to annoyingly aware of every shadow, every looming corner, to barely being able to sleep because she jumped at every noise, hands up in defense before he'd even gotten a chance to calm her down and reassure her.
He needed to get them out of here, alive, and if that meant keeping their only help two feet away for the time being, then so be it.
"You'll see," he responded blandly, eyes drifting back to Pepper's prone form. He wondered over whether he should wake her up, or let her sleep some more. It wasn't like they could do much now, anyways – well, she couldn't do much , at least – but the beans would be cold within an hour and he knew she hated cold beans a smidgeon more than she loathed them hot, "Hey, can you put the beans back on the stove for Pepper? So they're warm when she gets up?"
Yinsen's gaze, if possible, became more analytical than usual, and for a moment, Tony swore he saw pity swell beneath those wire-frame glasses. Choking down an annoyed retort, Tony's face turned defensive when the man simply shook his head softly, eyes unbearably grim.
"Of course," he murmured, lifting the pot back towards its place on the fire.
For a long while, only the soft huffs of Pepper's breath and the hissing crackle of the fire filled the cave.
--
Their days began to ascertain a certain pattern as they passed, and Pepper embraced the routine as she also began to hesitantly embrace the strange comradeship with Yinsen, their fellow prisoner-in-arms, and the steady fall of barriers between the three of them. Once, she had heard that traumatic, or life-changing experiences, could create close human ties that normally take years to develop, and while she didn't doubt the truth of that statement, experience was always different than the textbook reading, she has come to find.
Each day began with her and Yinsen lightly debating over how to spice up their bland selection of bitter coffee dregs, stale bread, and a variety of canned beans that looked quite a lot like the soldier supplies she had seen once, when Rhodey had taken her on a tour of the local base at Tony's insistence. She was positive that if – when (she would not let herself talk of defeat, even within the comfort of her own mind, because it sent shivers sneaking down her spine and fear clenching at her heart) – they escaped from here, she would never be able to look at beans in the same way ever again, and that all coffee passing through her lips would be of the finest quality available because this sludge had already begun the steady process of dulling her tastebuds.
Most days proceeded similarly, Tony working diligently at his creation – which she had begun to notice looked quite a lot like the arc reactor powering the factory back home, except hadn't that technology already been proven to be little more than an unusable, press show-off (He proves her right the day before, announcing his replacement for the car battery and requesting Yinsen perform the operation, while she scrutinizes silently, taking careful notes of how the miniaturized arc reactor fits into his chest cavity. She purposely ignores his subtle hint of 'running something big for fifteen minutes,' and the way her heart starts galloping in response)? Yinsen stands loyal by his side, always ready to lend a steady hand and a calming word, while she handled the smaller jobs, ones that don't require an expensive knowledge of technobabble because while she had progressed considerably farther than the Excel expertise-only accountant, even she began to get cross-eyed when words such as nuclear fission entered the conversation with casual ease. Most days, she prepares lunch and dinner alone, though Yinsen occasionally helps her depending on what part of Tony's mystery project they've been working on. Once night reigns, the work generally stops at her insistence, coupled with prodding reminders of overworking on their meager food supply and guilt-ridden hints of how much worse things could get if one of them were to get ill. Sometimes, they'll share stories, smile and laugh in the quiet over this sorry excuse of a meal, others they'll play games or enjoy the flitting silence, each pretending that the peace of the moment truly exists and the threat hanging overhead has faded away.
Today's been one of the slower days, Tony wrapped up in his mystery blueprints, pages and pages of schematics he refuses to reveal and simply promises that they'll see when he's done. Yinsen's trying to teach her backgammon again, except board games had never particularly been her interest, and even now she's hard pressed to keep track of what to do and how.
"So, Miss Potts," Yinsen began, rolling the dice (He'd insisted on calling her Miss Potts, claiming it befitted her status as a lady, though he occasionally slipped to Pepper at her or Tony's insistence), "You never mentioned why exactly you were here for the missile demonstration. Is that a requirement for most personal assistants?"
Drawing her eyes away from Tony – she had been trying to see the plans, not staring at him, she tried to convince herself – Pepper's brow furrowed. Tapping her fingers lightly on the table, a soft metal ping echoing in the air, she nibbled on her lip gently as she thought it over.
"Sometimes, I go with Mr. Sta – Tony on trips," she slowly explained, changing her words at the last minute (Tony had an annoying habit of knowing exactly when she was calling him Mr. Stark and nagging her until she changed back to Tony. "We're in the middle of nowhere, Potts," he'd exclaimed, face a bit too vulnerable for her comfort underneath his exasperation, "We're friends, all right? If we can't call each other by our first names after all these years, I don't know what we can do anymore." After that, she'd made an effort to call him 'Tony,' ignoring the tug on her heartstrings at the frustrated, quiet look on his face when she slipped back into old formalities out of habit.), "For damage control, mostly. So it's really not that odd. But for this one, Obadiah – the company's CFO – asked me if I would go just in case. The Jericho was a pretty big milestone. With the repulsor technology, it would be the most devastating and far reaching we could get with bombs without entering radiation in as a factor."
Across from her, he nodded, moving his pieces in accordance with the roll. Silence dominated the conversation for a few moments after that before he started up again, just in time for his turn to start. Pepper had become comfortable with this way of communication, Yinsen's measured quips and astute observations an opposing balm to the energy and banter of Tony. It was nice, every once in a while, to plan out an answer and weigh your words before they left your mouth, instead of spitfire responses and the chance of slipping up and revealing too much.
"I believe you're getting better," he remarked, smiling at her. She wasn't sure why, but when they played these games and had their quiet, reminiscing conversations, Pepper remembered lazy Sunday afternoons, full of sunshine flapping through open windows and half-played checkers boards, just enjoying the silence and the company and the lack of need to move and fix and go. She hasn't spent her Sundays like that, however, in a long, long time, and something clenched inside before she dully reminded herself that she had moved past that when she choose the life of her employer over her own.
"Tha –" she began, only to be cut off by Tony shoving aside the game, effectively ruining the set up of the pieces, so he could set down a stack of thin, see-through blueprints, all detailed in different places with different mechanics.
"This is our ticket out of here," he announced, and suddenly the calm atmosphere vanished, gone into the abyss of forced relief and ignorance of the dangers outside the steel door. Shifting, they both stood to surround him, eyes drawn to the golden ticket Tony proposed, his Messiah to their need.
"What is it?" Yinsen questioned, brows furrowed as his gaze trails along the ink lines and schematics.
"Flatten 'em out and look."
His hand pressed down across the papers, meshing them together so that one picture came through, one picture she's sure she's not looking at right because that couldn't possibly be what she thinks it is, couldn't possibly be his solution. Her eyes pinpointed on the circle in the chest's center, and the sickening drop of her stomach sent her heart to her throat because this is only one blueprint, with one power source and they've already used up the palladium to make the arc reactor, and there's really only one answer, but her eyes won't accept it, her mind won't comprehend it, so she changes gears, switching her gaze to his.
His eyes are dark and full of conviction she has so, so rarely seen during the past nine years as his assistant, and she knows that she's not wrong, that she saw right and that this really is his genius plan for getting them out alive. Some small, detached part of her even acknowledges that this is a good plan, a great plan even, and that it solves all the dilemmas like getting shot at and retaliating. He's planning a one-man army strike, one hit to knock them all down, but all she can think of is the haggard lines of his face and the impossibility of this working flawlessly.
His eyes are dark, boring into hers without conviction, and all Pepper knows is that this is the plan, this is the plan and this is how they will work to survive.