The Last Chronicle

by Miss Starfire

After years of struggling to build their lives together, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts have lost everything. But as all-out war looms, and the fate of the world hangs in the balance, Tony and Pepper are ready to take it all back. It has all come down to this. Story 8 of 8. The epic finale to The Last Chronicles Saga.

5. Chapter 4

Guest Review Responses

Iron kid: Great as always – Why, thank you! ^_^ Here's a long overdue chapter. It has a lot of information, but I think we're coming to the end of exposition on the next one.

Toni: Things look bad. Worse then bad :( The X-men! YYYEEEEESSSSS! Can we expect a reunion with baby James anytime soon? – The X-Men were my first exposure to Marvel, growing up, and I watched the animated series from beginning to end. I'm a huge Rogue/Gambit shipper, actually and I'm kinda upset that Tatum is playing him in the movie. Oh, well, I guess I have to wait and see how he does. Annnnd… without spoiling much, we won't see baby James for now :(

Guest: Did you know you are the only reason i watched the series? I loved the Ironman fanfictions and that one from the Avengers. So when you decided to part ways with those fandoms the only way i could read your incredible stories was through this (because not even a good or perfect fiction can fix DC. No offense). Honestley your plots are incredible. Thank you for your hard work. Please keep it up. PS:I won't put a bullet in my head. Not until this is finished. – OMG! WHAT AN HONOR! This means I so have to make these two years of IMAA stories worth it for you and everyone else. While this won't be my last IMAA story (I have ten waiting!), it's gonna be a while before I go to my other fandoms (I want to back to IM when my IMAA fever stops XD).Pepperony has me hooked for the next decade, at least XD I tried writing for DC (assuming that means DC comics), but it's a hard fandom over there. Probably won't ever do that again :P

Guest: :Is there anotherl –Here it be! Sorry for super long wait!

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Chapter 4

A week had gone by since he and Gene had recovered Pepper from the submarine and, despite the efforts of the doctors and everyone else that cared for her, she had given them no signs of a forthcoming awakening. She was still in a coma – or at least that was what the doctors were calling it, for lack of a better word. Her body was still somehow recuperating in the face of arbitrary fluctuations in vitals, body temperature and skin paleness, not to mention her off-the-charts and inexplicable brain activity. Other than not responding to external stimuli, no one had the slightest idea what was in store for her. Her future was as uncertain as was his ability to keep his sanity intact.

Please, don't leave me, Pep, Tony thought, eyes closed, heart tattered to pieces. He was holding his weight on his arms, leaning over the edge of the roof of the Stark International building – the last place he had wanted to be at the moment – wondering if his father would allow him back at the hospital in a few hours, just as he had promised he would. Tony had not left her bedside since Pepper had been admitted to the ICU, but when he himself began passing out in exhaustion and lack of sustenance, Howard had sent him home to eat, bathe and rest for at least half a day.

He had, without a hitch, completed the eating and showering tasks in less than half an hour, but slumbering was not an option for him. He had tried catching some shut-eye, but every time he had closed his eyes, his mind's eye had offensively graced him with an image of Pepper in the submarine. For the rest of his life, he was convinced of this, he would always vividly remember how frail she had felt in his arms and how he had feared her dead. He would never fail to recall the feeling of the world crumbling around him when Gene had read the list of injuries the doctors had to cure her of or patch her up from. How someone, anyone – no matter how tough they were built – could survive such a long period of merciless torture and abuse, he did not know.

How did we get here? How could I've let this happen to her?

He opened his eyes and his thoughts were followed by a loud snarl of ire and desperation, just before he turned around in place and saw that he was no longer alone on the roof.

"Sorry," the brunette before him said, eyes wide in shock at what she had just beheld. "Was that growl of anger at me being here? Did you come here to be alone? Because I know my way back. I can be out of your hair in no time."

It took Tony a lengthy moment to process her simple words, much longer than it should have taken anyone to do so – especially someone of his high-caliber intellect. Yet, once he did, he shook his head at her and began walking towards the roof access door, not even bothering to stare at her when he waltzed next to her.

"No, sorry. I… the roof is all yours."

"Wait!" the young lady called and ran up to stand behind him, his back going rigid the moment her next words left her mouth. "You're Tony Stark, right? I can't believe it's you!"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, there are about ten-thousand employees in the building and there's only one of me. But the odds of finding me in my own building are pretty high."

"I know, you live here," the woman said. "I… I'm not stupid, I promise. I just… I get nervous around the guys I like. Or the guy. You."

Tony could not help but to narrow his eyes and half-turn back to stare at her reddening face. Was this chick seriously hitting on him? Was that all she came up here to do? Did she not know he was in all kinds of pain because his would-be, maybe sort-of-was, not-sure-if-she-still-is girlfriend's life was hanging by a thread?

No, he reminded himself. No one knows what Pepper is going through.

"Look, uhm…"

"Maya… Maya Hansen…"

"Right, uhm… Maya, I… I'm sorry, but… I…" he sighed. "I'm not interested."

"Right now?" she ventured, and took a step toward him. "Because I can come back later."

"No!" Tony spat and she flinched. "I mean… I… I don't mean to be rude, but… this is not a good time. For me. At all."

"Oh," Maya pursed her lips briefly before she shrugged lightly and then pulled a card from her purse. She walked up to Tony, stood in front of him and then slid the card inside his left, front jeans' pocket. Tony simply followed her hand movements with his eyes, not once showing any indication that he appreciated what she was doing to him, invading his space as she was.

"Are you a salesperson or a reporter?" Tony finally asked with a frown.

"Neither," she replied and winked at him. "Give me a call when it's the right time. My dad… he works here, so, I'll be around."

She purposely slid the left side of her body against his on her way past him, and after Tony heard the door close behind her, he looked up to the sky and shook his head.

Seriously? Did a stranger just try to pick me up?

"Crazy girl," Tony mumbled in slight anger at the nerve of the young woman. "As if I'll ever ask her out."

After another shake of his head and enough minutes had gone by to guarantee she was gone and that he would not encounter her on the stairs, Tony returned to the penthouse to suit up and return to the only woman that he believed deserved his heart.

xxxXXXxxx

An exact replica of their now destroyed Makluan Temple lab, it surely was; down to the smallest of specs of their equipment, to their surprise. Just as Maya Hansen had promised them, though, the lab was nothing but a diamond-in-the-rough shell. Or at least it had been, until moments ago, when the SOS – the Stark Operating System – had been installed on the machines via the USB drive that Pepper had brought back with her just before the actual lab had been annihilated.

It was ironic, if one thought about it, that the same USB drive that the redhead had once used to host Private Eye had been repurposed to hold a security backup of the already secured backup of what made the Iron Man lab what it was: a hub of innovation and a technological marvel. It had not taken them too long to get everything up and running to their liking, even if Tony's Extremis was too weak to help with the loading and unpacking of the system. In the end, however, they were just glad to have a practical working place they could call their own, albeit located in the vast foreign environment in which they had been forced to hide.

"Final diagnostics are almost complete," the ginger said with a tilt of the head and two thumbs-up from her location by the main screen of the lab. "We won't have the latest version of the SOS installed here, but this legacy version should do just fine. Besides, as long as when you're rebuilding the suits, you remember to make them backwards-compatible, it should be OK."

Pepper's announcement was followed by Tony's arms tightly wrapping around her waist from behind, and his chin resting on her right shoulder to whisper in her ear.

"Have I ever told you that it turns me on when you talk like that?"

"Like, what?" Pepper frowned in thought. "You mean, like a nerd?"

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you can call it that. Does it, you know, do the same for you?"

"Oh, Tony," she began as she turned in place, making it so that they faced each other, and she held his face in her hands. "Let's just say that you're lucky that it doesn't turn me off when you do."

Tony was taken aback, but he did not release her.

"What? What do you mean? Are you trying to say that you don't like it when I talk nerdy to you?"

Pepper smiled, hands still on his face, and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. "Just be glad I love you in spite of that."

"Ouch," Tony replied with a minor physical flinch. "You make it sound like nerd talk is all I do."

"Baby," the ginger stood on her tiptoes to better reach his face. "It's the only language you speak."

Pepper followed her response with what she intended to be a quick, innocent peck on his lips; however, it swiftly became everything but that.

Despite the frown on his face, he immediately kissed her back. Despite the current situation, she deepened the kiss and tightened her embrace, if just to forget about all else for a moment. Despite the woes of his world, he felt loved and wanted, and that in her arms he belonged.

It was abnormal to feel like this, to behave like this, in the midst of everything shifting upside down around them. Two days ago, they had opened their eyes to discover a truckload of unwanted alterations in their lives, along with a myriad of important questions that had been answered in a trickle in the past couple of days. Their son was no closer to being brought back to their lives, but he was relatively safe for now. Doom was no closer to being caught, but a plan of action was, in theory, set for him. Everyone on the planet was no closer to being saved from the maniac's wrath, but the senseless attacks on innocent people had ceased for the time being. The young heroes were aware that, at the moment, there was absolutely nothing that could be done that had not already been done or tried, and what could be done or tried in the near future was not ready to be implemented just yet.

Tony systematically slowed down their kissing session to a complete stop, but he kept his face on hers, the skin there randomly caressing the other with almost feather-like touches. Their eyes were still closed, and at some point her arms had ended up circling his waist while his surprisingly rugged hands now surrounded her neck, his thumbs sliding up and down her cheeks. He took slow breaths to fill his lungs with the oxygen he had so willingly deprived them of to avidly kiss the woman before him, and with every inhale and with every little moan of bliss she uttered due to his soft strokes, he became even more entranced by the familiar scent of her breath.

"Know what day it is, Pep?" he whispered to her before he placed a quick kiss to her top lip and carefully nibbled on her bottom one.

"Sunday?" she offered before she felt his lips kiss her again, this time on the side of her mouth, and she felt his nose rub against her cheek as he shook his head to her.

"No. Not what I meant."

She focused on thinking of a serious answer to his question, all the while she enjoyed the closeness of his body to hers: the way his hands were both massaging the back of her neck and giving her goosebumps with the way his thumbs were barely sliding up and down her cheeks, and how his lips continued their incessantly demanding yet gentle assault on her mouth and cheekbones. Even after all these years of knowing each other, of learning and memorizing every square inch of the other's form in every imaginable way, the blue-eyed genius still made her legs turn to jelly, her heart beat faster than she thought it could, and her mind lose the ability to conceive a coherent thought.

After all these years, after all that had happened between them and had at some point separated them, he could still make her feel as nervous, excited and attracted to him as the day they had met for the first time.

The day we met, she thought with a grin, finally coming to the same realization as he. Today is the day we met!

"Six years," she uttered between his kisses and she then felt him nod.

"Six incredible years," he hummed and kissed her again as if he just could not get enough of her. "Six years since I was lucky enough to meet you."

"Or unlucky enough, depending on who you ask."

"Fuck'em!" Tony replied and Pepper giggled against his lips; his use of expletives still amused her. "All that matters is how I see it. How we see it. And I see it as the most fortunate day of my life!"

No, you don't, her thoughts almost made it out of her lips, even if they were just a quick reflex on her part and not what she knew to be true anymore. A quick reminder of the inventor's innermost experiences that Gene had shared with her, swiftly jogged her memory that Tony stood by every word he had just said, so she held back those hurtful and unfounded words.

"I'm happy that it was," she said instead, knowing that this was real for her. "I'm happy you don't regret meeting me."

"Are you crazy?" he finally pulled away from her face enough to pierce her hazel eyes with his should-be-illegal bright, blue ones; bathed her sight with his most it's-almost-not-fair-it-exists charming smile; and all of it wrapped around his I'm so-happy-I'm-gonna-burst tone of voice. "Why would I regret meeting the love of my life?"

The smile that formed on her face did so slowly, methodically; almost imperceptibly so. But it was fully there in the end.

The love of his life.

That was what he considered her.

The sentiment was shared.

"Because I'm weird and crazy?" she replied, the smile never leaving her face. "Then again, isn't that why you fell for me?"

"Yeah," he nodded and tilted his head towards hers one more time, prompting her to close her eyes and shiver under his provocative ministrations. "That's just why. Among other traits and talents you seem to have."

He held her face in his hands while he kissed her again. This time, however, he did so in a leisurely fashion and not just on the mouth, but all over her face and neck as well. His lips brushed against her skin for a few inches before they stopped to press butterfly kisses where they rested. He continued this seemingly random pattern until his mission had been deemed accomplished: until her entire face and neck had been either kissed or gently caressed by his soft lips.

Tony's hands then slid down her shoulders and arms until they stopped at her waist. He pressed her body firmly against his, dug his face into her neck and began nibbling on the skin there.

"Tony," she threw her head back and tightened her hold on the sides of his waist. Her eyes snapped closed and she bit her bottom lip to muffle the moan that threatened to escape her. "Someone could come in… they could be watching…"

"No, they aren't. Not anymore," Tony replied with confidence before he switched sides to attack the left side of her neck, this time biting a tad harder than usual. "They aren't keeping tabs on us any longer. They know we won't act on our own anymore. Not now that we know what we're up against."

"But —" this time, she could not hold back her moaning that was sadly mixed in with a tiny whimper of discomfort at her husband's roughness. "Tony…"

Even with the almost crippling, rapidly mounting need to reclaim his wife as his, right on the worktable she was pressed against, Tony halted the physical signs that told her what was currently crossing his mind; her small cry of just now snapping him back to reality. He knew this was neither the time nor the place to do what was excruciatingly obvious he was aiming for, but he could sense his pores itching to feel more of her. He wanted her, desperately – almost primally so, and he blamed the recent evolution of her and his Extremis for his growing call to engage in such activities more often than they already did. From one day to the next, having her close was no longer enough for him. In the blink of an eye – literally overnight – he had lost almost all the restraints the human brain placed on one's most basic urges to satisfy the expectations of modesty from society.

Or perhaps, it was simply nothing more than just an instinctive need to rid her of Iceman's advances of earlier in the day. Tony was still surprised he had let the man live after what he had done to the redhead, but it could have not been helped. Hitting on his wife did not equate to a punishment of making a hole in the man's chest. Or head. Or other, lower body parts. Nevertheless, Tony found himself wanting, craving, to encase her in his scent and his scent alone; as if he was forever obliged to constantly mark his territory on her.

Dammit it all! And damn that little shithead!

He knew he had to stop, though. He knew he had to control himself, for both their sakes. Yet, he felt as if keeping it all at bay at the moment would only make it worse in the long run. He could somehow foresee himself haphazardly releasing this escalating desire for her in ways he feared would put her in danger by just being near him. He feared for her safety. He feared he would hurt her out of passion-driven thirst.

"Don't be afraid. I feel it too," she suddenly muttered and he froze. He then pulled away from her and took a couple of steps back, a look of total shock coated on his face, feeling embarrassed that she was a clear witness to his inner turmoil. Was she able to read his thoughts, too? Was Extremis now connecting their brains? What else did she know about his musings?

"I can see it," she continued, seeing a shedload of questions run over his face, "it's all around you."

Her eyes expanded for a second to ratify her suspicions that she was becoming exceptionally in tune with Tony's aura changes – more so than anyone else's and without having to be under duress. She was not entirely sure if this was a positive or a negative side effect of Extremis, but there was nothing to prevent it from evolving, at this rate.

"I can feel it, Tony," she assured him. "As much as you do. And it's OK."

Tony closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and then took in a long and deep breath he exhaled through his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'll get a lid on it. I promise."

"Just for now," she took a step towards him and shrugged with only her right shoulder. "I kinda like it."

Tony chuckled nervously, shook his head and then rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. She was not making it easier on him, if that was what she was aiming to do. The expression on her face and the purring tone in which she had uttered those tempting words to him were hurting more than they were soothing his current urges towards her. He thought he had hurt her, and maybe he had, but sometimes hurting was actually not terribly bad.

He had some first-hand, memorable experiences in that.

"That's not all I think about, Pepper. You know that, right? There's more to what I feel for you than just… that."

"I know," she took another step in his direction and she felt his desire instantly increase yet again. He then opened his eyes, realized her proximity was affecting him, placed an even greater distance between them and then stared at the ceiling.

"Just, give me a sec, Pep," he raised his left palm towards her. "I need to chill. And focus. We have work to do."

He silently counted to ten as he forced less-than-pleasant images to the forefront of his consciousness, but with Pepper standing so close and her natural aroma still permeating his clothes, Tony found it difficult to think straight. On her end, the redhead tilted her head left and right, watched his blatant struggle with half curiosity and half amusement until an idea came to her mind. It was a long shot and it could end up backfiring, but if this aura reading ability that her Extremis had activated since she had woken up was going to be with her for the rest of her life, she might as well try to put it to good use. Besides, she also had Gene's training to rely on, if it came to it.

"Don't move," she ordered him and he stiffened when he noticed her determined look. She raised her palms towards him, narrowed her now dilated eyes and she then began searching and breaking apart what only she – and to a greater extent, their son – could see on him and everyone else.

The sensation of emotional, mental and physical relief was almost immediate in him. He felt his entire body unwind. His mind opened. His soul relaxed. It was almost inspiring, in fact; so he closed his eyes, hung his head and exhaled profoundly through his nose.

She continued her task for another minute or so, taking calculated steps toward him as she did, unsure herself of how she was even accomplishing this at all. Once her own stress reduced along with his, she smiled in triumph and dropped her arms to her sides.

"There you go," she uttered and he opened his eyes once more. "Ready to work now?"

"Yeah, I actually am," he said with a bright smile and a shake of his now loose arms and shoulders. He then placed a quick kiss on her lips, walked around her and towards the main computer screen and began running a search. "And I know just where to start."

"Oh?" her left eyebrow lifted in wonder as she stood next to him. She waited patiently for the query he had just input to be completed and she then scrutinized the schematic he had just pulled up.

"The Earth Movers?" she frowned.

"Yup," he grinned.

"Why the Earth Movers?"

"Because that's how we're sneaking in to Latveria, Pep," he double-tapped the screen to pull up the list of materials they needed to bring life to this project. "Underground."

"Under… ground…" Pepper's voice lowered as she finished the word and her hand ended on her lips, his idea becoming clear to her.

The Earth Movers and their latest upgrades; the ones Tony had completed earlier this year to increase the traveling capability of said devices, were the answer to closing in to Castle Doom, nearly undetected until the last possible moment. The modified Earth Movers, the ones that were smaller, more precise and powered by an altered ARC reactor that allowed them to excavate deep belowground for years, nonstop, even in the harshest of conditions.

The Earth Movers: the least expected technological equipment that anyone would have thought to use to carry out their plans.

The Earth Movers: their sure ticket to Latveria and the living proof that Tony Stark's – that Iron Man's persona – was finally coming back and was getting ready to fight.

"You're a freakin' genius, Tony," Pepper said with a proud smile, for the first time seeing the possibilities that Tony had already mapped out in his mind.

"I already knew that," he deadpanned with his typical yet not-seen-in-a-while arrogance, his attention now fully invested in the task at hand.

Pepper smirked while she witnessed with welcomed nostalgia a glimpse of her blue-eyed boy's antics from the past, the same ones she never thought she would ever miss until now.

Yup, she closed her eyes. He's definitely back.

xxxXXXxxx

Even as he neared a century of age – and even if he did not look older than his twenties and he had seen the rapid technological progress of mankind – he still found society to be as pathetic as the day he had been born. It did not matter that mankind had visited the moon, traveled by hybrid vehicles, had small, portable high-tech computers that they stupidly called 'smartphones,' or that they spoke of ending war, ignorance and hunger as if the eradication of these social issues were the answer to all of their prayers. Humans, as a whole, were pitiful, selfish, materialistic creatures, always seeking to have the most of everything, for the sake of saying that they did even if they just piled these material things in their overly expensive homes.

He was beyond that, however; he was certain of it. He had no desire for owning state-of-the-art big screen televisions or computerized wristbands; for engaging in the execution of social justice movements or trying out the latest diet fad. He could not care less about the environment, the equality of the sexes, or even if there was life on Mars. All Ronnie Hartford wanted out of life was life itself.

Ronnie Hartford, he scoffed. He could not remember the last time he had gone by that name.

Ronnie Hartford, AKA Aldrich Killian's eyes returned to the work before him. Thanks to an increase in funding from S.H.I.E.L.D., he was closer than ever to finding the next step in evolution for mankind – only for those he deemed worthy, of course. It had been years since his last attempt at procreating a new specifies of Homo sapiens, one that was immune to the perils of natural death and ravaging illnesses, and it was not until recently that the light at the end of the tunnel shone its brightest. Aldrich Killian could foresee the future, and in this future, he was the new giver of life to mankind.

One of the latest devices he had designed was a portable and slightly powerful radar for people like him: people with Extremis within them. He knew, if he were honest with himself, that he was the only species of his kind in the world – not counting the failed experiment that had been Agent Mallen – so the device seemed rather pointless. In the long run, however, he knew that said device would be the only thing that would allow him to determine who needed to be exterminated for not being worthy of carrying Extremis, and who was blessed with being in the strong ranks.

Besides, if he was soon to start experimenting on humans once more, he needed to make sure that he could easily and quickly identify those who were successful specimens from those who deserved to die. As such, when said device suddenly sent a signal to his cell phone and said item began to chime, Aldrich could not help the look of shock on his face.

"What the hell?" he whispered so as not to catch the attention of his colleagues working nearby. His eyes blinked several times in astonishment while he read the clear and to the point message on his phone's screen.

SPECIMEN WITHIN RANGE. TYPE OF EXTREMIS: UNCLASSIFIED.

"Unclassified?" he again whispered and tapped on the message to show the present location of the Extremis carrier. His device could pinpoint the particular and almost untraceable heatwaves that Extremis-hosting individuals gave off, within a 25-mile radius of Aldrich's current location, and unless the damned thing was malfunctioning and it was simply identifying himself or the new sample of the virus he had under the microscope in front of him, then someone, somehow, had been contaminated or injected with the virus without his authorization.

Is Agent Mallen around? Aldrich mused before the map showed that the Extremis carrier was within 15 feet of him and was quickly approaching his lab.

Killian raised his eyes and reservedly looked through the one-way view glass wall that separated the lab from the hall. His eyes narrowed in curiosity as he held his phone in his hand and walked closer to the young couple standing on the other side of the glass wall, completely oblivious to his being there. On his way to his destination, he picked up the small Extremis radar that had sent the signal to his mobile device and, once he reached the edge of the wall and he stood almost face-to-face with the individual that appeared to carry Extremis, Aldrich's mouth turned into a wide smile.

Well, I'll be!

Standing before him, unaware of his presence due to the polarized window, was none other than Tony Stark. He was speaking animatedly with a young, redheaded woman in crutches, and she seemed to be as into the conversation as the young genius seemed to be. For good measure, Aldrich used the radar to discreetly scan Tony's body, and when the device confirmed once again that the billionaire was an Extremis specimen, the scientist almost laughed.

How ironic, Killian thought. The child of the woman that leaped my research forward ends up becoming a sample after all. Oh, Maria would be so devastated by this!

Aldrich could not believe his luck! The previously unknown carrier was standing right before him, unaware that his creator was just a few feet from where he stood; unaware of the possibilities he had just unveiled for his research. Maybe Maya's attraction to this boy was not as farfetched as he had thought it was. Maybe his stepdaughter's stupid and silly crush on the young genius would be his ticket to finally curing his ailment and all of those that paid the high price.

Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to take the offer of the madman from Latveria – the one that had furnished the plans for the Extremis-detecting device.

xxxXXXxxx

In all the years he had expended training at the Air Force Academy, concurrently completing his undergraduate degree, and then throughout the exceptionally demanding S.H.I.E.L.D. New Agent Boot Camp, James Rhodes had never felt as much emotionally draining and physically exhausting ache as the one he felt at the moment. It was as if years upon years of repressed emotions had just sat within him, marinated for half a decade, and had suddenly decided that it was time to kill him from the inside out.

Yes. That was the finest depiction for it: a bursting mass of pent-up frustration willing itself to come to the surface; great enough that no amount of constantly punching a sand-filled bag, that Happy Hogan had been holding for him for two hours, made any difference whatsoever.

The more his fists dug into the unyielding piece of workout equipment, the more exasperated he became. He felt liable for his friends' current state of affairs, even if he had had nothing to do with it in the least – even if there had been nothing he could have done to prevent it despite his best efforts in the event that he had somehow found out about its workings.

Still, guilt was eating him alive.

Rhodey recalled seeing the strange papers in Pepper's new home when he had gone to visit her; the same papers that blamed Tony for his son's death – an act that Rhodey always found difficult to believe even if for a moment he had been utterly pissed at him for it. While it was true that he had found some irregularities in the reporting of his namesake's clinical analysis by S.H.I.E.L.D., it never occurred to him that those non-protocol steps Maria Hill had undertaken when baby James had last been on the Helicarrier in company of his parents' request would have led to this.

He recalled how he had forced sleep on an exhausted Pepper by the worst of ways: secretly drugging her, and while she had slept he had read Tony's letters to her and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s death report on his nephew. He had meddled by reviewing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database, and he had questioned Tony nonstop about his and Pepper's actions. He had been honest and brutal and somewhat cruel about it with both of his friends. But even now, he did not regret any of it. He had done what needed to be done – what Pepper had needed to get back on her feet, and what Tony had required to let go of his guilt. And just as then and every time the opportunity presented itself, he would again do whatever was needed of him to help and protect his friends at all costs.

But I let their kid be taken! His mind was quick to remind him of that fact. I let S.H.I.E.L.D. injure him! Even if didn't know it then, I let it all happen!

Then again, by that reasoning, everyone had a small amount of fault in the matter: Tony had not suspected anything of James' visit to the Helicarrier either, until Pepper had pointed it out; Pepper had not suspected anything right away, until it was too late to undo the damage. No one had actually seen any ill intent on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cooperation in scanning James H. Stark for uncommon biological behaviors. No one. Absolutely no one but the perpetrators themselves knew of the ulterior motives they were to carry out.

If so, if nobody could have seen it coming, then why did he feel as if he should have known better? Was it simply because he worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.? Was it because he was part of the association that had strategized to send off his friends to a world war against their consent? Was it because he was supposed to work for a spy organization that was, in theory, always aware of everything in the world?

Or was it simply because, even after all of this, Tony and Pepper did not blame him for any of it?

"UGH!" Rhodey's cry of anger would have been followed by another strong punch had Happy not moved away the punching bag from arm's reach, leaving the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent hitting nothing but air.

"What the hell, Happy?" Rhodey spat and wiped the sweat of his brow with the back of his bandaged left hand. "I'm not done yet!"

"I think you are," Happy replied in his classic nonchalant, no nonsense tone of voice. "If you don't fucking chill and take a break, you better hope we don't gotta go fight the Doc tomorrow. You won't even be able to put on the suit with your arms sore like they're already gonna be."

"The suit is automated, Happy," Rhodey rubbed his nose with thumb, grateful that he always preferred to box without gloves. "'Sides, I've had worse."

"Worse? Than Doom?" Happy shook his head, scoffed in mocking incredulity and continued to tightly hold onto the bag that Rhodey kept trying to jerk from him. "I don't think so."

"Happy, I'm not doing this with you. Let. The bag. Go."

"No. Fucking. Way."

"Happy!" Rhodey growled. "I don't have time for these games, alright? Either hold the bag for me or fuck off!"

"I think he means it, Happy," a third, female voice said. "I can see the big vein on his forehead popping, from way over here."

Both men snapped their heads towards the entrance of the gym and, as if previously choreographed, they both narrowed their eyes at the newcomer. The mounting tension in the room had already been thick enough to cut with an old, rusty dull knife, but the new load of latent hostility that was now hurriedly satiating the room left both youngsters wishing their argument over a punching bag was all they had to be concerned about at the moment.

"Whitney," her name in Rhodey's voice sounded almost acidic – as if the mere uttering of her name invited a sour taste to fill his taste buds. It did not matter to him that he had once had an unrequited crush on the blonde while in high school. It did not make any difference to him that Pepper had forgiven her for her actions while under the influence of Madame Masque, or that Tony had decided to act as if she was dead to him despite the history of their old childhood friendship. The moment she had turned on them; the decision she had made to attack them while almost killing Tony's father, had been the last chance he had given the woman to redeem herself.

James Rhodes had never thought that Whitney would go to such great lengths to exert revenge on Tony for something he had not had any control over, but she had done the deed and had almost succeeded in ending Howard Stark's life, along with his and Pepper's. Moreover, in spite of her previous actions and before it had all occurred, no one had even considered that the blonde would be capable of doing what she had later done to Pepper, either.

But she had.

Whitney Stane, deranged rich girl, had nearly killed Rhodey's sister-from-another-mister, who was also his brother-from-another-mother's beloved wife, in the most foulest and painful of ways.

Rhodey would never forget that.

"Happy," Whitney eyed the former jock. "Do you mind giving us a minute?"

Hogan's eyes shifted from glaring at hers to silently conversing with Rhodey. It only took a few seconds, but after a silent pact was reached amongst the two friends, Happy agreed to give them some space, but not before he gave the woman a quiet warning with a long look up and down her body, as if daring her to give him one good reason to break her little neck, right on the spot.

Happy Hogan was not a vengeful man or even a murderer – he had not killed a soul while filling in as Iron Man or while acting as Pepper's bodyguard, no matter how much damage the enemies had caused or in how much actual danger anybody had been. Nevertheless, if there was one thing that Harold had learned from his collaboration with Team Iron Man and now with S.H.I.E.L.D., was that soiling his hands with someone's blood was a viable option when it came down to protecting the people he loved. And Happy loved his friends; and the woman before him was no longer one of them.

Hell! He considered Scott Summers to be a closer friend to him than Whitney Stane could ever amount to become once more! At this rate, actually, he would probably choose to hang out with Bobby Drake before having any type of amicable conversation with the Stane girl.

In fact, now that he thought about it even further, he would much rather befriend the overflowing trash container he was walking by on his way out of the gym than making friends with Whitney ever again. Happy could not fathom what Whitney could want to talk to Rhodey about in private, but he would make sure not to be too far away from them in the event that a case of the crazies decided to take over the blonde.

Knowing that Happy was now away from hearing range, Whitney ran her left palm down the punching bag the jock had been holding for Rhodes, for a second feeling her own arms burn in ghostlike fatigue while recalling the long and tough training sessions Black Widow had put her through. She had cracked one too many fingers and knuckles while attempting to learn how to properly punch something or someone swiftly, without protection, and with frightening precision, but she had seen with her own eyes that all that agony of the drills had been worth it in the end. She was closer than ever to aiding Tony and Pepper in the rescue of their son and saving the world. And even if that act alone would never make their friendship be what it had once been, she would only then be comfortable enough to state with almost full confidence that she had made amends with herself for what she had done to the both of them.

Yet, when it came to options for patching things up with Rhodey, she had drawn a blank. There was absolutely nothing she could think of doing that would restore the connection they had once had; save from going back in time and never doing anything evil at all. And she, many times, craved the chance to do just that: to undo the consequences of her past actions and magically improve her previous life. She achingly desired, so fucking much, to bring back the old times, especially now that she realized what she had missed out on by being a spoiled brat who only thought about her own wellbeing.

After several years under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tutelage, she at last saw the error of her ways; the distorted view of life she had once harbored within her as a result of her pitiable upbringing – the same biased view that had made her an easy prey to the mask's effect. She had learned, painfully and ashamedly, that the world owed her nothing, cared nothing for her, and that it did not revolve around her and her needs. She had finally understood that not everything was about her, and that if Tony had never truly cared for her in the way she had always cared for him, it was no one's fault – especially not Pepper's. The heart listened to no one but itself and, in her case, Tony's heart had never belonged to her. Before the genius had even known it himself, Whitney had rapidly and sadly recognized that Tony's heart had chosen Pepper to care for. Whitney had always known that the redhead was very special to the blue-eyed boy, and once she had seen how special she truly was to him, her own world had shattered.

Tony Stark had not only just liked Pepper Potts, but he had become deeply and madly in love with her.

Even now, years after making her peace with it, it still hurt. It would always hurt, she knew, for she had been honestly in love with him as well, all of her life.

Yet, the past was in the past. And she had moved on.

"I can hold the bag for you," she finally said after a long silence as she grabbed the bag in her hands, a small yet hopeful smile on her face.

"What do you want, Stane?" Rhodey crossed his arms over his chest as a response to her offer, leaving no doubt in her that this conversation was going to be more difficult than she had already anticipated it would be.

"Rhodey –"

"Rhodes," he corrected her. "Name's Rhodes, and that'll be Agent Rhodes to you, Agent Stane."

Whitney opened her mouth with the intention of referring to him by his nickname once more, blatantly disregarding his request, but a glance towards his unyielding face told her to do as she was told, even if he had no authority over her. While it was true that she had been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent a lot longer than he had – and by that fact alone she outranked him in seniority – they were still technically at the same level as far as pay grade was concerned. Their assignments were poles apart: she was a spy and he was a soldier, but their equal classification remained intact.

Besides, Rhodey had been her friend too at one time, and if she wanted to try to reestablish some kind of peaceful cooperation with the one person who was level-headed enough to not let his hatred of her past actions cloud his judgement in the field, it would be best to start by doing as he instructed.

"Agent Rhodes," the blonde began and shifted her relaxed position to stand at an attention posture: her legs slightly parted, her shoulders squared, her hands behind her straight back. "I figured that since you and I will be working closely together from now on, that we should perhaps find a way to do so without our… mutual personal affairs getting in the way. Don't you think?"

Rhodey raised a single eyebrow and chuckled in mockery. "Mutual personal affairs?" he shook his head. "Agent Stane: are you under the incorrect impression that there's anything personal between us? Because, as far as I'm concerned, you're just another breathing soul here. Your presence, or lack thereof, means nothing to me."

Even though she felt something break inside of her at his harsh words, her face remained unchanged, nearly neutral. This was what she had been trained to do, after all: engage in false appearances and deceit. But this did not mean that her emotions were gone. She could still be hurt. She could still cry in sadness. And she did so quite often, if she were honest with herself.

Her quizzical orbs continued staring at his enraged ones for as long as the silence between them lasted. In the end and to her surprise, after several minutes of quiet stillness, Rhodey was the first one to break eye contact with her. He gave his back to her and began removing the bandages from his hands, clearly seeing no point in continuing his training business. Whitney watched his actions with interest, and as he kneeled down onto the floor to put away his belongings into his gym bag, the blonde grinned.

"You still trust me," she stated and noticed Rhodey's entire form turn rigid. She waited a few seconds for him to make any retort, but when he simply continued to store his boxing equipment in the bag, Whitney expanded on her thoughts.

"You're giving your back to me," she took a step towards him. "You know better than to do that to someone you don't trust. It's basic training for us, Agent Rhodes."

James pursed his lips, finished shoving his personal effects into the bag, zipped it closed and then stood up. He swung the single strap over his shoulder and across his chest, gave the area around him a quick look to make sure he did not forget anything, and then headed towards the door. As he walked by Whitney's standing form, he took no more than two steps away from her before he quickly spun around, surrounded her neck with his left arm and bent her right arm with his own, putting her in a chokehold that sent waves of pain down her back and that threatened to break her neck if she were to try to make the wrong move.

"I guess you forgot some of the lessons they teach you in training. There's another type of person we can give our backs to, Agent Stane: the ones that we know we can take."

Whitney tried to speak but Rhodey tightened his grip on her, telling her with this gesture that her words were neither needed nor required at the moment.

"I don't trust you. I don't like you. I don't care for you. And if you ever speak to me again without a good reason, you bet your sorry ass I won't be as generous as I'm being right now."

The blonde agent tried to pathetically scratch herself free of his hold, somewhat still in shock that Rhodey had pulled an old trick on her she should have been able to avoid, but her efforts were in vain. She had both speed and the element of surprise working in her favor, and her mask could give her strength enough to trade blows with Iron Man in hand-to-hand combat. But she was not wearing her mask, and when all was said and done, Rhodey was much stronger than she could ever hope to be.

"Stay away from me and my family," he growled in her ear. "You've been warned."

She instantly fell to her knees like a bag of bricks when he released her. Her hands flew to her neck and she took deep breaths amidst her painful coughs. Tears of relief and sorrow filled her eyes, and as she looked over her shoulder to watch Rhodey leave the gym room, all she could think about and feel was the emptiness of knowing she had been right; the raw acknowledgment that she still was and would always be all alone.

All alone – just as her father had been when he had been alive.

All alone – just as she would probably die one day, just like he did.

Alone: the one thing she did not want to be.

xxxXXXxxx

"The X-Men?" Happy frowned. "You mean, like, you used to be men and now you're not?"

A collective sigh emanated from those who knew of the jock's random moments of stupidity, and from those who did not know him that well, a confused stare appeared on their faces. To give him some credit, though, Happy was not as clueless as he used to be when he was in high school. Yet, sometimes, a glimpse of the 'too much muscle, but not so much brain' side of him shone brightly through the darkest of days. It was inevitable, one could say, as Harold 'Happy' Hogan's view on life was much simpler than anyone else he knew. That simplicity in fact, had saved his skin a few times.

"No, Happy," Whitney tried patting his arm but he instantly recoiled from her touch. The blonde was not deterred by his action, however, and she continued her explanation as if nothing awkward had just occurred between them. "It's a nickname. The X stands for Xavier, Professor Charles Xavier. Him."

All eyes were now on said man, the one in the floating wheelchair. He was the same gentleman that the trio of heroes had once gotten a hold of to connect with Annie – now Jean Grey. They had had no direct interaction with Charles at all, and the only time they had glanced at him had been when he had fleetingly visited the Tomorrow Academy to invite Jean to his School of Gifted Youngsters. Even when the electronic wheelchair had been commissioned to be made, Tony had not once actually spoken to or met with the man.

"That chair…" Tony's voice trailed.

"Is marvelous," Charles replied in his British accent. "So much better than the one I used to have."

Rhodey eyed the contraption with curiosity, and when his eyes landed on the traditional Stark Solutions emblem on the bottom right side of the chair, he hummed.

"You made that, Tony? Didn't you?"

"I sure did," he replied distractedly, his mind still partially trying to process S.H.I.E.L.D.'s plan against Doom while it also tried to focus on the significance of this moment. The inventor lightly shook his head to clear his thoughts and he then walked closer to Xavier, his eyes admiring his own handiwork as he did so. "The Pep Ride."

"The Pep Ride?" Gene asked with a roll of his eyes. "Gee! I wonder who that chair was named after?"

"Gene," Pepper gave Gene a lopsided smile and a shake of her head. The Mandarin alter ego simply shrugged in response.

"How…" Tony cleared his throat and exhaled lightly through his mouth. "How's it working out for you?"

"Perfectly," Xavier answered. "Better than I had ever imagined it would. But, as wonderful as this device is, and as much as I want to thoroughly thank you for making it, that's not what we're here for, I'm afraid."

"Yeah," Tony assented with his head and then sent a nod in Scott's direction to acknowledge the man. The genius' eyes then moved towards Jean Grey, who was standing next to Scott Summers, and he traded a small smile with her. "What are you here for, then?"

"Professor Xavier and his team will assist us in getting all of you to Latveria," Fury supplied. "He's brought his best to escort you to Doom's Castle. The rest of his team has been tasked with either sending reports of the current situation around the world to us or assisting the survivors of the recent attacks."

"Based on the situation at hand," Professor Xavier interjected, "I had to leave some of my other best members behind. Their help will be required elsewhere, if it turns out that the mission is not completed as expected."

"You mean if I fail," Pepper said in a tone of gallant albeit resigned acceptance of responsibility that surprised everyone, even Tony himself. "If I screw up the one chance we have to make this work."

"Pepper," Tony turned around in place and stared at his wife. "It's… It's not like that. It's not all on you, and you know it."

"Most of it is," she said with a shrug, her eyes on his saddened ones. "I'm not opposed to it. I'm not. I'm not afraid it, either. I'm just… let's just say that it's a huge obligation to make peace with right away."

"I must agree with you," Xavier began. "Yet, it's my understanding that Mr. Fury would've not charged you with it had there been any doubts that you could follow through. I don't know you myself, Ms. Potts – Mrs. Stark – but Scott and Jean have shared with me details about your talents that leave me with no uncertainties regarding your ability to execute this important task."

Pepper exhaled through her nostrils and briefly looked away. "Well, we'll see how right anyone is about me when it actually happens, right?"

The Professor gave her a small nod. He then followed the sympathetic gesture with a message only the redhead could hear in her head and which prompted a smile to appear on her face. The quick moment of silence was then interrupted by Scott Summers to introduce the members of the crew – his crew, as the man who sometimes went by the name of Cyclops, was the second-in-command of the X-Men.

"Most of you already know me," Scott stole a brief glance at Pepper and Tony. "But just in case you don't: I'm Scott Summers, AKA Cyclops," he said this while pointing toward his eyes, which were no longer concealed by his usual sunglasses, but a visor with a red strip of glass in the center that stretched across and concealed both eyes, making it look as if he lived up to his codename.

Scott's palm then pointed to the woman on his left as he spoke. "And some of you may also know my wife, Jean Grey."

A few jaws dropped at hearing the news but they quickly recovered when Jean smiled and nodded at everyone.

"Here we have Hank McCoy, also known as: Beast," Scott pointed to the half-man, half-ape with blue complexion standing to his right. "He's our medical doctor."

"And a brilliant biochemist and geneticist," Maya said in almost a fangirl voice from behind the inventor and the redhead, both of which were now standing in the middle of the room, separating the X-Men from the rest of the team.

"Not to mention delighted poetry writer in tandem, when the right muse arrives, Ms. Hansen," Beast jested and Maya felt her face flush.

"This is Remy LeBeau –"

"But I prefer: Gambit," the man said in a rather pronounced Cajun accent before he turned to the woman to his right and smiled to her. "Don't I, cherie?"

"Whatever you say, Remy," the woman said and folded her arms over her chest, prompting Cyclops to roll his eyes at the would-be couple, knowing that no one would know that he did.

"That's Marie, or Rogue," Scott continued and pointed to the woman with a white patch of hair on her otherwise brunette head, who had just spoken about her male peer. Scott then leaned forward a tad to aim towards one of the two men left and spoke again.

"That over there is Kurt Wagner, who also goes by: Nightcrawler."

"Pleasure to meet you, friends," Kurt stated with a bow. Like Beast, he was covered in blue fur, and had a passing resemblance to a demon.

"And –"

Scott was unable to complete his last introduction as the final member of his team decided to take matters into his own hands and interrupted his speech.

"Hey, there! Name's Bobby Drake, how do you do?"

In what could only be counted as half a nanosecond, Bobby walked around Professor Xavier, headed directly towards Pepper to hold her hand in his and kissed the back of it, all the while completely ignoring the fact that to do so, he had to slightly push Tony Stark out of the way.

"I go by Iceman, because, you know…" Bobby paused for less than a second to use his free hand, back facing down, to create a rather phallus-shaped ice sculpture from the middle of his palm and aimed it towards the redhead, "I'm just as hard."

Pepper's eyebrows rose to her forehead at the man's inappropriate words and actions. Tony's hands turned to fists, he growled in anger and then narrowed his eyes. Yet, before the inventor could do or say anything else, the ice sculpture on Iceman's hand suddenly burst into several smaller pieces, most of them hitting Bobby right in the face, all of it courtesy of Gene Khan. Knowing exactly what had just transpired before them, Pepper's head snapped in the direction where Gene was standing, the move inciting everyone to face the Mandarin as well.

It was then that every person present noticed the glow in Gene's index and middle fingers on his right hand, said arm partly folded over his left arm, both over his chest.

"Name's Gene Khan," the Mandarin deadpanned when the glow in his hand stopped. "And you're not that hard."

Bobby eyed Gene up and down, as if he were sizing him up and calculating his strength by looks alone. His daring look, however, was halted by Tony regaining his former spot to pull Pepper's hand from Iceman's. Bobby, nevertheless, seemed unfazed by the actions of the blue-eyed boy, and he simply shrugged them off before giving Pepper a more than just indecorous final look from head to toe.

"I like redheads, too," Bobby said to Tony, eyes still on the ginger as he slowly walked away from the duo. "Like them a lot."

Pepper's right hand grabbed onto Tony's to keep his rising anger in check and to assure Tony did not jump the ignorant volunteer. Once Bobby returned to the X-Men group and both Scott and Professor Xavier gave him a look that said there would be words of reprimand exchanged later, some of the calm at last returned to them.

"Well," Howard cleared his throat, "What's next?"

xxxXXXxxx

"He's sick, you know?"

His wife's random comment pulled his attention from his current task: reviewing the map of the underground island facility they were living in. After their preparations in the lab had come to a conclusion for the day, the couple had decided to bring the rest of their work home, in a matter of speaking. In a few days, the billionaire was expected to share the inventory and specs of the available weapons and gadgets to the rest of the team. As such, the redhead was presently analyzing her half of the inventory on a laptop while Tony perused possible routes that could get them from their current location to Latveria.

The agents and allies that were still above ground were gradually sending updated statuses of the world's current roads and available travel means to S.H.I.E.L.D. in the hopes of aiding them in determining the best way to get from Muir Island to Eastern Europe. Although the North Sea and numerous mountain ranges separated them from the main European continent, it was the harsh conditions in Latveria that worried Tony the most. If traveled by regular highway, the distance between Muir Island and Latveria was nearly 1700 miles. The entire trip, using conventional means and roads and without stops, would take them little over a day. Nonetheless, traditional, conventional and regular were words that could not be used to describe this trip.

He knew that once they left the UK, landed in Europe and arrived in Latveria, the Earth Movers would perform their job underground with little to no issue, but mobilizing an entire army and said small devices without being noticed before arriving to their destination was going to be his greatest challenge thus far. They were yet to tally the actual size of the resistance army against Doom's plan for world domination. The final count would undoubtedly dictate when they would leave, how much and which weapons they would bring with them, how they would get them there, how they would cross the ocean, get to Latveria, team up, and how exactly would the Earth Movers help them get the job done. It would have been much easier for them if they had chosen a covert structure somewhere already on the mainland, but he could see that the options for remaining out of sight from Doom were quite limited.

Moreover, where else would they have been able to store such advanced technology without being suspicious about it to anyone than in the believed-abandoned yet well-known Mutant Research Center in northern Scotland? Dr. Moira MacTaggert, the owner of the facility, had been kind enough to lend it to them – thanks to Professor Charles Xavier's influence, it appeared – and as such, the beggars can't be choosers phrase seemed to apply. There was no other possible way that S.H.I.E.L.D. would have been able to provide him with the raw materials he needed to rebuild their armors and other essential tools. Muir Island was the perfect location for inconspicuous technological development and storage while staying off of Doctor Doom's radar for the most amount of time, of that Tony was now sure.

"Who's sick?" the inventor tilted his head to the right from his position on the bed as he stared at Pepper's sitting form on the floor of their quarters.

"Fury," she replied with a shrug, her eyes still on the laptop's screen. "Not sure what it is, but I saw it on him. In him. Something like that."

"With the aura thing?"

"Yup," she nodded and spared him a quick glance. "I guess it beats an MRI, huh?"

"Guess so," Tony chuckled, but he then turned serious and snapped his fingers when an idea came to him. "Hey! Maybe we can replicate your ability and create a medical device even more advanced than MRI and CAT scan machines combined! Like, an all-in-one!"

Pepper gave him a soft, yet disbelieving look. "Really? Breakthrough innovation thinking, right now?"

"Oh," he began, his head recoiled. "Yeah, sorry. Just habit, you know?"

"I know, Tony. It's a good idea… but…"

"Now is not the time."

"Right."

The redhead returned her attention to the laptop, and the genius to the map. Any other day, he would have chosen a GPS device over a large, bulky paper map, but with most satellites down worldwide, they had to resort to old school tools for now. Tony knew that his Stark 1 satellite, if it was still active despite the Makluan Temple exploding, could have made the travel plans so much easier for them. However, by now it was nearly idiotic to use anything that carried his name and brought attention to their current whereabouts. He had the slight suspicion that Doom knew that he and Pepper were alive and, knowing Doctor Doom, it was also rather plausible that he knew about their little brigade as well; the fact that the island had been attacked as well was a major indication that this was the case. However, only a couple of days had passed since his unconcealed attack to the world's major cities and landmarks, and if he had not bothered to do more than lightly bomb Muir Island, perhaps only believing it to be another S.H.I.E.L.D. outpost, it was possible that the almighty Doctor had no idea where to start searching for them.

Even if he did know where we are, Tony mused, there isn't shit we can do about it right now. If he uses the Mainframe… if he controls my Extremis… it's game over before it began.

With such a defeating and rather crushing deliberation in mind, his soul searched for some sort of temporary respite by leading his eyes to shift from tending to the overly complex map of Europe on the bed to watching Pepper at work; said redhead too enveloped in her own task to notice his contemplating gaze on her. He watched her movements carefully; her quickly-changing face gestures telling a current, play-by-play story of her mind. In a matter of seconds, her eyes, brows and lips displayed how she went from confused to surprised to intrigued and then to satisfied, only to then start the cycle all over again. Tony knew that she was supposed to be just reviewing the available inventory and determining which decommissioned weapons would serve them best against Doom, but knowing her and how she operated – very similar to how he worked himself – Tony was confident that she was also plotting and pre-planning the final attack.

I love you.

His single thought, while it always brought a smile to his face, did not fully encompass how he felt about her – how he would always feel about her, even when he inevitably forgot everything about himself in the hands of Doctor Doom.

Don't think about that now, he chastised himself. Don't worry about what hasn't even happened yet! Don't worry about what you can't change!

Or could he?

He shook his head and returned his attention to the map. He continued modifying its original paths to reflect the aftermath of Doom's attack. Major roads were either impassable, temporarily blocked or simply not there anymore. Sadly, most everyone involved in this operation was not very familiar with the European roads and means of transportation, and save for Maya Hansen, who had in fact lived in Latveria for a few years; and for Nightcrawler, who had been born and had lived in Germany, there was no telling how quickly they could act in the face of changing infrastructure.

The last time Tony Stark had been on the European mainland, he had been very young, barely more than an infant, too young for that one visit to have any impact on this mission. Maria and Howard had brought him to Tony's grandparents' (on Maria's side of the family) gravesite in Italy, to have them meet the little guy. It was a few years later that Maria Stark passed – or, to be exact, was murdered by Aldrich Killian. Several years after that, the plane crash in which Howard Stark had apparently died and due to which Tony had earned his chest arc reactor, had taken place.

Tony sighed inwardly at the realization that his entire life resembled one giant soap opera. He was not blind to the fact that everyone had problems despite one's background, origin, financial standing, nationality, gender, or any other set of beliefs or identifiers. Yet, he doubted that anyone else had to deal with the same obstacles his family had come in contact with. His family's misfortune had been extended to anyone he got close to, friends and enemies alike, and for that he felt immense guilt. It was the same feeling that had almost completely overcome him this morning, when he had heard what S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ultimate plan for stopping Doom was: sending Pepper and Howie to his enemy's version of The Temple of Doom.

Even with everything and everyone that was slowly coming together to help them out, Tony knew that the outcome of a war against Doom was as uncertain as Mother Nature seemed to be at times. There was no telling what else Doom had planned or had hidden under his sleeve, and Tony was yet to be entirely convinced that Maya was really on their side. What if sending Maya here to lead this undertaking against Doom was only a ruse and part of Doom's plan? What if everyone turned against them at the last possible second? What if this was just for show?

And all of these overbearing insecurities and worries were not counting a fact which the blue-eyed inventor had become aware of this morning, right as he had been left to ponder everything they had learned about Doom's status and plan. It had hit him, right in the face, like a sudden splash of iced water. Sooner rather later, he would be forced to confront Nick Fury about it, even if just to make sure the head of the spy organization knew he was not without sin – and without responsibility for what he had in mind.

Nonetheless, and for now, there was no stopping it – it was already under effect, he was sure, and Tony did not even have the will to try to circumvent it. For now, his focus was on strategizing the massive operation, organizing the army that had been gathered, and enjoy the company of his wife. His wife, who was rubbing her face with her hands at the present moment.

"My eyes are crossing," the ginger said as she blinked several times. "I think it's time to look away from this screen for now."

"Want to trade?" Tony offered and pointed to the map. "This is so pointless right now that I'm wishing I could just remove the Alps with an eraser."

"The Alps?" Pepper stood up from the floor, closed the lid of the laptop to set it to sleep, and placed it on a small table by the corner of the crammed room. "Do we have to go through them?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Tony replied and scooted over so that the redhead sat next to him on the bed. "It all depends on which routes are left and which ones we can take without calling much attention to ourselves."

"Too bad we can't just fly there," Pepper sighed, her eyes quickly scanning the map and seeing what Tony had been challenged with thus far. "Damn! It's like playing Chutes and Ladders with no chutes… and no ladders!"

Tony chuckled at her inadvertent sense of humor that seemed to be enhanced by perilous situations. He gazed at her comical-looking, scrunched up face and silently thanked whoever had made their chance meeting possible. He then placed a hand on her left cheek to redirect her head to his and held it there while he leaned over and kissed her lips briefly. When she opened her eyes again and Tony had pulled away from her, he was still holding onto her face, but he was now also staring at her intently.

"What do you think about all this?"

"Which part?" she asked.

"You. Howie. The power source room."

"Mmhhh," her eyes shifted left and right as she thought of an answer. "I think that if we make it out of this, I should have a freaking city named after me."

"Pepper," he lowered his voice and leaned closer to her face once more. "I'm serious. Are you OK with this?"

"Are you?" she asked in return and he shook his face.

"Of course not, Pep. I could end up losing you. I could end up losing everyone I love. Or worse yet: we could leave Howie an orphan. I don't want that for our son."

Pepper furrowed her brow, slowly pulled his upper body to hers, and hugged him tightly, the side of her face resting on his right shoulder.

"It's not losing if we give it up first," she said to him. "It's not losing if we take the bastard with us. And Jimmy won't be alone, even if we're gone. But you have to trust me, Tony. Trust me that I can do this. Trust that it's going to turn out alright."

Tony returned the embrace by surrounding her waist with his arms. He too rested his face on her shoulder, and then closed his eyes. "I trust you, Pepper. I know you can do this. That's what scares me."

Pepper frowned at his response, but before she could ask what he had meant by it, he offered an explanation himself.

"In all the years I've known you, you've never given up, ever. Even when it seemed senseless to keep going, you always did, and that's what terrifies me. I know you'll either succeed… or die trying."

"I can say the same about you," she replied. "We are the same when it comes to that. But it's hard to kill me, Tony. Plenty of people have tried. I'm still here."

Tony pulled his head back, arms still around each other, and then licked his lips before he spoke again with a barely audible voice.

"And what if it's me? What if… what if it's me who tries to kill you then?"

Pepper closed her eyes, shook her head and then fixed her eyes on his once more. "Tony… that's not gonna happen. The chips… the chips Maya made for us…"

"Won't last long," he reminded her. "You know that the closer we get to the powered up Mainframe, the less resistant they are."

"But-but… he can't control you, Tony. You… he—"

"Basil Sandhurst controlled me once, the day we met the Hulk, remember? And I wasn't that strong yet. I didn't have Extremis, then."

"So?" she shrugged. "Maybe Maya's wrong. Maybe Doom can't really control you via whatever program thingy he's been cooking up for you. Your will is strong, Tony, and you match Doom in hacking skills," she held his face between her hands. "You-you've been to the Mainframe. You know how vast it is. You broke through it once. You can do it again. And even if Doom tries to make you do horrible things, I know you wouldn't fall for it. Not for long, at least."

"That's… not the point, Pep."

"Then what is?"

"I… I couldn't activate the world's supply of nuclear weapons in the literal blink of an eye back then, when Basil controlled me. But now I can. I can destroy the world in a second, without anything to stop me from doing so."

"Tony, you won't… you…"

"Pepper," he grabbed onto her hands on his face. "I turned myself into the one thing I hate the most: a weapon. You know how I feel about weapons. You know what I'd like you to do to my weapons. Any weapon."

"Tony," she tried to smile but her lips trembled instead. "I'm not… decommissioning you, if that's what you're asking. Your Extremis may be… weaponized… but you're still you. You're still Tony. I'm not… you can't expect me to… to…"

"We talked about this, remember?"

"Tony –"

"We did. I know you remember."

"I think you would be able to," he replied. "Even if just to defend yourself, I'm sure you'd hurt me to save your life."

"Not even then, I don't think," she sighed and opened her eyes. "Nick Fury was right on that. If it came to you going rogue, I'd be the first one you'd kill because I'd be the only one that wouldn't fight back like I should in that situation."

"He told you that?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "When he arrested you for the Rhona issue and I went looking for you at the Helicarrier. He said… he said that he had to keep you there because he couldn't guarantee my safety otherwise. He said you were so unstable you would kill me on the spot if you wanted to."

"He's full of shit."

"That's what I thought."

"Like I'd ever hurt you."

"I know. That's what I said."

"And even if I did… with the exception of this time… except when the time comes…"

"Yeah?"

"I mean," he exhaled. "It doesn't matter now, but if it had happened, Pepper. If I had lost my mind enough to hurt you… I… I trust you'd kill me first."

"Didn't you hear what I just said? I wouldn't be able to bring myself to do it. I know I talk a lot and I say that I'd put on the armor and kick anyone's ass, but to you – to my family. I… there's no chance – no way in hell, I can ever do that. No matter how mad I am. No matter if my life is in danger."

"What about someone else's? How about Howie's?" he asked and she froze. "What if Howie was still alive and I wanted to hurt him? Would you attack me then?"

"I-I… I don't know."

"I would expect you to. I wouldn't want to survive that. I'd rather be dead than to be the one who brings him harm. Even if, well… even if I kinda already did by not realizing what was happening in front of me. Even then, I, well… I… I'd rather die knowing that you killed me to save yourself, Pepper, than to live knowing I was the one to end yours."

"But Tony," she closed her eyes once more. "You are going to end my life, very soon."

"Because you asked me to, and because I don't have to live with it for long. If you weren't giving me permission and I did it, I'd hate myself forever."

"Which is why I wouldn't be able to do it to you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, either."

"Unless I gave you permission, which I have. Again, not that it matters anymore, but you could have always repulsor blasted me to hell if I'd laid a finger on you with the intention to end your life. It was always an option, Pep."

Pepper closed her eyes and looked down.

"Things were different then, Tony. We thought I was dying. We thought we were up against S.H.I.E.L.D. only. We didn't know about Doom yet."

"Pepper…"

"No, Tony!" she snapped her eyes open. "Don't ask me to do this! I can't!"

"I know you can," he whispered to her and she closed her eyes again. She could not face him, not like this. He was breaking her resolve. She was going to give in to his request. She could feel it. She knew he was right. She knew what he was saying made sense. That did not mean she had to accept it.

He shut his eyes when the silence extended, rested his forehead against hers and then spoke softly to her.

"Don't let me hurt you. If Doom takes over me, don't let me hurt you."

"Tony –"

"Promise me."

"But, Tony…"

"Promise me, Pepper."

"I…" she hesitated. "I promise."

"On our son," he insisted. "Promise me on our son."

The redhead opened her eyes slowly, pulled away from his face and locked eyes with him. They remained quiet for an instant, and when her eyes dilated for a short nanosecond, Tony recognized she was reading him.

What she saw there, she did not like.

There was desperation – a crippling need for reassurance. He expected her to make good on her promise. He expected her to follow through with her mission, no matter what. He expected her to make the call, if it came to that.

What else could she have done, but to agree to it? How else would she have been able to calm his fears?

"I promise," she finally said with a nod. "I promise, on Jimmy."

Tony gave her a small smile before he hugged her again, both lingering in that position for several minutes. There were sweet words spoken, soft caresses exchanged, and by the time Pepper pulled away from him for the nth time, Tony's aura was visibly soother.

"I'm…" she subtly dried a lone tear on her face, a sudden need to get out of the stuffy room invaded her. "I'm gonna go check on my dad. I haven't really spent time with him since we got here and I really need to talk to him. Wanna come?"

"Nah, s'okay, Pep," he shrugged, realizing that in her absence, his next move would be ready for implementation. "I want to keep working, if you don't mind."

"I don't. It's OK," she said with a nod. "I'll be back in a few hours, then."

"I'll be here when you get back."

His left palm rested on the curve of her lower back while she kissed his lips, patted his chest twice with her right palm, and then gave him a small smile before she stood up and headed to the door. Tony watched her with a smile until the door closed. Then, as soon as he had waited enough time so that he knew that she was more than likely far away from their current floor, the genius decided it was now time to confront his inevitable future, once and for all.

xxxXXXxxx

The centipede-like creature he had recently summoned to exchange personal interests with was not happy at all with the fallout of the deal, and Doctor Doom could have not cared at all about Yogthulu's anger had he – had Iron Man – not sent him into the creature's dimension before he had realized what had taken place. The jump had been instantaneous, literally unforeseen, and by the time Victor von Doom understood what Iron Man had done to him, there was very little he could do to return to the real world.

He was stuck. In this dimension. With it.

"Release me, vile creature! Or you shall receive no mercy from Doom!"

Doctor Doom was not aware that interdimensional creatures could chuckle – or that at least this one did.

"Nothing but words, human! Nothing but empty threats! This is my world. My home. You have no say in this."

"You know not with whom you meddle! I will not be trifled with by the likes of you! I will not –"

Doom's initial words were thunderous and confident, more than someone in his position should have been if they wanted to escape with their lives, but it was just who Doom was: arrogant, over-confident and unafraid. Yet, the moment his mind became enraptured in memories of his past – when he saw his beloved Valeria stand before him, smiling and with her arms wide open to him, Victor von Doom had a moment of overbearing hesitation.

And hesitation of the heart and soul was all Yogthulu needed to start his revenge on the insolent man.

xxxXXXxx

Maria Hill saw the genius strutting down the hall to approach her desk area. His eyes showed his goal of bursting inside her General's office uninvited, and his fists at his sides left no doubt that he would not take no for an answer to the question of whether the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. was available for a talk. One of her most petty tasks in the force was to be the gatekeeper to Nick Fury's office hours, and any other day she would have jumped in between an unwanted guest and the door. Yet, this was Tony Stark they were talking about. Tony did not accept or tolerate obstacles, enemies or 'no's.'

Their eyes crossed paths for a second as he rounded her tall counter and headed to the main door. When he realized the woman did not so much as flinch at his actions, Tony extended his left arm and reached the doorknob with even more confidence than before. He did not even bother to knock or look behind him as he slammed shut and locked the door.

"Let yourself in, Stark," Fury said in his most sarcastic tone, and had he not been tied to his sitting position by Maya's action of injecting his right arm with some black-colored substance, he would had stood before the inventor to try to stare him down. "Why don't you take a seat, while you're at it?"

The brief moment of surprise that shone through Tony's eyes was lost to both the leader of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the brunette, both of whom were more concerned about wrapping up the administration of the day's dose than to provide explanations of their current activities to the inventor. Maya was yet to say anything at all to either of them, and she had no intention of doing so. In the end, she simply put away her tools, walked away from Nick Fury and then silently sped out of the office, all the while ignoring Tony's obvious look of curiosity as he followed her path around the small room with his eyes.

When the woman's only response to his quiet inquiry was to lock the door behind her, Tony decided to look back at Fury with an even more probing look.

"Pepper said you were sick," Tony sat in the only guest chair in the room. "She didn't say you were that sick."

The young man's tone of voice was relaxed, almost uninterested, and his current pose only reinforced what an individual untrained in bluffing would have assumed to be nonchalant: his forearms were pressed against the armrests of the chair, his left foot was pressed firmly on the floor and his bent right leg had the outer part of its ankle resting against his left knee. All in all, Tony Stark was the spitting image of a man without care, but Nick Fury did not make it to be this old by being naïve.

"I take it that you finally figured it out, didn't you?" Fury asked as he took his own faking-the-calm pose: he pressed his back against the chair, locked his fingers together and rested them on his stomach, and extended his legs under the desk separating the two men.

"Was there any doubt that I would?" Tony calmly replied, knowing that Fury was not talking about his realization of the General's current health.

"Didn't think you'd do it this fast," Fury admitted.

"If you ask me, I should've done it sooner," Tony's eyes briefly gazed to his right, recalling the instant Fury's backup plan should have become clear to him.

"Way sooner, actually," Tony continued after a self-deprecating scoff. "As in, the moment we were told that Doom wouldn't kill me. That he needs me to carry out his fucking plan of taking over the world."

"We, plural? When you were told?" Fury's eyebrows rose. "You mean you and the Missus figured it out at the same time?"

"No, only I did," Tony returned his gaze to Fury. "She doesn't know."

"Yet."

"Ever," Tony's tone was firm, but then it immediately faltered. "Or at least, she will not know until… until after whichever one of your lackeys takes the assigned shot at me. If she knows, if she finds out before then, she… she won't let it happen."

Nick observed Tony with quizzical eyes, waiting for what he thought was the actual truth to come out any second now from the blue-eyed young man. Nick Fury waited and waited for the moment when Tony would state that not even S.H.I.E.L.D. could get away with killing the great Anthony Edward Stark, savior of the world, but it never took place. In reality, when Tony continued to stare at him with an unchanged look, and when neither his eyes nor his pose wavered, Fury knew for certain that Tony had accepted his fate as a fact of life.

"I'd be lying if I said I'm not surprised you aren't fighting it," Fury commented. "Not that you'd have a choice in the matter, anyway. You're gonna be so far gone from reality that you won't even know who kills you."

Tony chuckled bitterly and tapped his left fingers on the armrest. "I guess you aren't even gonna tell me who's the lucky person that gets to put a bullet in my head?"

"I can't even guarantee that it will be a bullet," Fury shrugged. "It's bad enough you already know what we'll need to do in case the power core plan fails. In case, you know, your wife and your son fail their part of the mission."

"You insult my intelligence, Nick," Tony sighed cynically. "I know keeping me alive just to kill me when the right time comes has always been your plan. You don't even believe that shutting down Doom's power core will work."

"Ms. Hansen seems to think that it will. I have a few reservations."

"A few? Bullshit!"

"I'm serious. And if you knew what I know, you'd agree with my main reservation that –"

"Forget it," Tony lifted his right hand to stop the man from talking. "I couldn't care less about your reservations, Fury. In fact, you probably shouldn't even tell them to me. That'll just piss me off more. And you don't want to do that because you know that I could bring your entire plan down right now, if I wanted to. If I told Pepper, or Rhodey… hell… maybe even Gene…" Tony inhaled deeply and shook his head. "You'd be better off letting whatever illness you have just kill you right now, if my wife finds out what you plan to do to me."

"But you won't," Fury began after a brief pause. "You won't tell them. Because you want something in return for letting us kill you."

"Didn't think you were that smart," Tony gave him a condescending lopsided smirk.

"Don't need to be," Fury hunched over his desk. "When it comes to your family, Tony, you only have two settings: protect or die trying."

The irony that similar words to his own were being spat right back at him – on the same day and on the same topic, at that – was not at all lost to the young billionaire.

Tony rolled his eyes in what could have been considered a playful manner if his face had not suddenly gone somber and his eyes had not turned to slits. The genius slowly stood up from the chair, leaned over the edge of the desk by resting his weight on his palms on the wooden surface to tower over Nick Fury's sitting form, and then spoke in a slow yet calculating tone.

"In that case, Nick, I guess you know what I want. What you're gonna have to do for me for this to work."

Fury shook his head at the nerve of the already dead man, pushed himself up from his chair and mirrored the inventor's current threatening pose, dirty look included. Silence was all that could be heard in the room for what felt like forever and a day, and after a long contest of unblinking glaring stares and inaudible name-calling, Nick Fury finally gave up and stood straight.

"Just make sure Potts doesn't find out about it until it's too late, Stark."

"It's Mrs. Stark, to you, Nick," Tony corrected the man before he stood straight as well. "And I'll make fucking sure of it."

---

A/N: Sooo… what do you think? Enough to hold you up until I can update again? SAY THAT IT IS, PLEASE! This story will be the end of me! It's so exciting to be writing it, at last, but I'm not gonna lie that other IMAA fics I have been writing along with this one have me even more hooked.

In fact, to get you interested in these future stories (and to shamelessly advertise them, in no particular order), here's a small sample of one of the ten stories waiting to be completed and posted for IMAA by yours truly. DISCLAIMER: The final draft of the snippets presented to you from now until the end of this story may be different from the officially posted story (whenever I get to that) after all the crazy revisions I put my stories through. These stories are independent from The Last Chronicles Saga, but will be as good as them (I hope!).

Well, here it is!

"I was waiting for you," she uttered from her position by the door, unsure of whether it was still appropriate to invade his space, especially at the moment since he was sitting by the edge of his bed and was yet to look her way.

"I didn't want to bother you," his voice carried over the loud sounds of the storm outside, yet his face still fixated on visualizing through the window the landscape said natural phenomena painted. It was simultaneously both beautiful and frightening, very much so as his life became after that odd night, many years ago.

"You don't bother me," her reply was almost instantaneous, mostly due to the fact that her words were absolute truth.

"It's different now," Tony pointed out and she shook her head even though they were not facing each other.

"No, it's not," she took a couple of steps inside his room towards his current location on the bed. "It's the same. We're still the same."

Tony chuckled bitterly. "Maybe, but I'm 17 years-old. I shouldn't be afraid of thunderstorms anymore."

"I don't think it's that," she took a few more hesitant steps. "I don't think… I…"

His hung head slightly aimed her way, showing her that he was raptly listening to anything that came out of her mouth. She licked her lips and gulped, hoping that her reasoning resonated with him enough to make him see the real issue at hand.

"You're not afraid of thunderstorms, Tony," she began and she finally sat next to him. "You're afraid of what they represent. What they remind you of."