Day 11-Tony's POV
It had been over a week since I had been captured. Over a week since that damn missile had exploded right next to me, changing my life forever. I need to get out of here. I need to. The weapons these murderers have stockpiled to kill innocent people made me realize that I need to find a way to get control of the company before everything falls into chaos.
The first few days after I woke up to find a piece of metal embedded into my chest had been a blur. There was that bearded guy, the leader, I suspect, who wants me to build my most powerful missile to date- The Jericho.
When I refused, the bastard went and tortured me. It was excruciating. The only thing I could concentrate on was memories. And the only memory that kept me from going insane was Pepper.
Pepper. Her smile, her voice, the way her strawberry red hair shines in the sunlight, and those damned eyes… haunted me, and gave me something to live for. When Yinsen told me that I was a man who had everything, yet nothing, it really hit home for me. All I had back in Malibu was partying, any pretty woman who appealed, my projects, and my liquor cabinet.
I realized that the only person who was a constant presence in my life was Pepper. The one who grounded me, kept me from going too far, kicking all the women out of the house in the morning-"taking out the trash" she called it- I smirked slightly at the memory.
Yes, Pepper was all I had. All I had to live for. When I closed my eyes at night in this god-forsaken place, her face filled my dreams, her voice caressed my mind. Her voice saying my name…Tony, Tony, Tony… I would give anything to get out of here, to get back to her, my home. My Pepper.
Pepper's POV
I moved slowly back down stairs to my haven. Since last night, I've had phone calls from people, including one Obadiah Stane, wanting to know where I was, if I knew anything about Tony, about where he was.
Tony.
No, I would email them back. I don't know where he is, and I don't know when he will be coming back. The thought haunted me. I crept around the empty mansion like a ghost. It just seemed so empty without him. I moved from Tony's wing to the wing adjacent to it. I looked in each room, glancing around at the neat beds and decorations, set up for guests. One of the rooms I came to was obviously once a formal living room. I walked in further, fascinated by the ornate furniture that adorned the room, so different from the modern pieces downstairs. As I moved deeper in the room, I noticed that all of the furniture was worn, but were obviously well loved. I wondered where all of this came from, but as I glanced at the far wall above the marble fireplace I got my answer.
I gasped as the old family portrait came into view. The Stark family, posed in formal wear. Howard, Tony's father, was quite young in this photo, obviously in his early 30s. Maria, Tony's mother, was breathtaking, her dark hair long and flowing over the shoulders of her pressed red suit. As I gazed at her, I realized where Tony's dark eyes came from. They were staring at me out of Maria Stark's face. I couldn't bring myself to look at the last occupant of the picture, so I looked more closely at Tony's parents. There were his cheekbones and wavy dark hair, on Maria. There was his chin and strong shoulders, on Howard. And surprisingly, there were his hands on Maria. His long elegant fingers, though smaller in Maria, were apparent. He must not have gotten all his talent with his hands from his father then. I gazed at these two people who had made my Tony. Their features were combined in such a way that they produced him. He, who was the best of both of them. I wonder what they would think of me, a working class girl, in love with their son.
I finally glanced at the last person in the picture. As I gazed at him, a few tears escaped from the dark place I tried to keep my agony bottled up in. He was so young, maybe ten, in the picture. His smile, so innocent, so full of joy, his eyes that were sparkling with intelligence and mischief, they bored into me out of the old portrait. I cried silently, this boy was my Tony. A younger Tony maybe, but the Tony I fell in love with. This boy who grew up to be a caring man who knew how to have fun, how to laugh, who enjoyed his work with a passion that almost frightened me, a man who, when he allowed himself, to forget about everything, and just live in the moment. I loved Tony through everything, through his downturns and disasters, his happiness and joy, his triumphs, his failures. I was always there for him, a quiet presence at his shoulder, someone to lean on when he needed someone.
But now I need him back.
(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)
Day 12-Pepper's POV
I didn't know what to do with myself, so I went back to the workshop. I curled up on the couch, turning the flat screen mounted on the wall on to the news. I leaned back, disinterested, until something the reporter said reached my ears...
"Tony Stark..."
I sat up, listening.
"It has been reported that the military has found no new leads on Tony Stark's abduction. Meanwhile, Tony Stark's PA, Virginia "Pepper" Pots has not been seen for a week in public since Mr. Stark's kidnapping. Is their relationship more than it seems? More at 6."
I shut the TV off, furious. I hated the press. They always made up stories when they couldn't get the truth, to get more viewers or more copies sold. It was ridiculous. That they should assume things...even if they were true. To myself, anyway. I didn't know how he felt. And I wouldn't, unless he came home, safe and alive.
I fell asleep, slumping against the couch cushions. My dreams were not pleasant.
Tony was in a dark cave, covered in bruises. I looked at him closely. He looked up. I thought he couldn't see me, since he looked right through me. He got up slowly, and walked toward the front of the cave. He paused then said, in the coldest voice imaginable,
"Yeah, I think I am crazy."
He looked at me. His eyes were bright, bright with madness.
"Why else would Pepper suddenly appear in the middle of the deepest pit of hell?"
As I looked at him, his eyes seemed to swell until all I could see were the glimmers of madness sparking in his dark chocolate irises.
"But," his voice echoed around me.
"Maybe I just finally cracked."
His maniacal laughter surrounded me as his eyes erupted into insane fire.
I woke up screaming. His voice echoed inside my brain,
"Where are you, Pepper? I need you to keep away the madness."
I sobbed into the couch, the familiar agony taking over my body.
I think I may be crazier than you, Tony.
(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)
Day 13 - Tony's Workshop
I was a husk of my former self. I was barely taking care of myself. My hair was a mess, I wore the same sweats and a t-shirt all the time, I barely had anything to eat, I was basically a recluse, a woman in mourning until her love came home.
I was hiding out in the workshop, not moving off the couch.
I glanced toward the liquor cabinet. The fragrance of wine drifted its way toward me. It would numb everything... I moved mechanically, moving toward the glass door. It opened at my touch.
I took the mostly full bottle of red wine from its cradle. Clutching it to me, I moved toward the couch. Pulling the stopper out with my teeth, I sank into the cushions, drinking deeply. The effect was immediate. I felt numb, and weightless. I sighed, the weight of my grief lessened by the alcohol.
Tear still slid down my face, because though I could not feel it, the pain still wracked my body, leaving it trembling.
A/N- Writer's block is sent by Satan. I hate it. Well, hope you liked this chappie. More soon. Vote in my new poll, so I can decide what story to update more. Luv you guys! Oh, and no reviews, no chapter. They are my inspiration to keep writing.-K