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.

9. Chapter 8

Guest Review Responses

Iron kid: Thank god you update this I was waiting forever it pretty good chapter keep up the good work but plz update soon as you be really want to see the ending – Thank you SOOO much for continuing to read and review this crazy story! It means the world to me to see that people are still interested in it, no matter how long I take to update, and no matter how much it seems to drag on. Here's an update, posted within a month of the last one… this has gotta be a record, huh? :P

Anon: Omg what?! I'm so confused. Still interested tho.. How many chapters is this going to be? Can't wait for the next update! – I'm not sure how many chapters this is going to be, but I can tell you that I already wrote the last chapter, and that we're probably at the halfway point of it. I am trying to go as fast as I can with the story to not bore anyone, but I also don't want to rush it so that it feels poorly written or sloppily thought out. Like I said to Iron Kid, to the signed reviewers, and to anyone who has ever reviewed: this story is for you. I hope you enjoy this update too!

A/N: Sooo, this story is currently the highlight of my life. Like, seriously. Writing for IMAA is the only comfort I have for now (and my hubby, of course). Reason? Well, the company I have been working for the past three years shut down. Like, all of a sudden, without real notice, the company is closed. Got a letter saying how sorry they are, thanking me for the years of service, and buh-bye. So, I'm unemployed. Yet again. For the third time in my short professional life. WTF?!

Sigh.

I hope this chappie brings joy to my Faithful Readers, and please don't forget to drop me a line. Reviews are my drug, people, and they're in short supply :)

Oh, yeah! HAPPY V-DAY, EVERYONE!

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Chapter 8

For the past two weeks, she had been pretending the moment would never come. She had distracted herself with other tasks and chores; with being with her husband, family and friends – with not talking about the events that would take place tonight. She had tried, desperately so, to not think about what she knew was coming to fruition in a few hours. For the most part, she had been quite successful at fantasizing the truth was not the truth. Yet, all the pretending and ignoring in the world would never change the reality she would be forced to face today.

She was torn – her heart, mind and soul were all cut in half. There was no other way of describing how she felt at the moment. She was unreservedly uncertain; drowning in a sense of helplessness that enclosed her in a cloak of indecision she would never learn to befriend. Stopping time would be her only solace. But then, she would be stuck in this feeling of emptiness for the rest of her life.

On the one hand, if time were to stop today, her father would never leave the safety of Muir Island to go back to the States, and she would never have to go to Latveria to face Doctor Doom. On the same token, if time were to stop today, she would never get to go to Latveria to face Doctor Doom, Tony would never recover his ability to use Extremis, and they would never see their child again.

Damned if it does. Damned if it doesn't.

Time. It always came down to time.

Time had been what had allowed her to remember who she was after the submarine incident. It had allowed Tony to finally come to understand that pushing her away did not help either of them, and that together the two of them were not only better off, but that it made them stronger than anything else they could encounter along the way. Time had brought little James into their lives. Time had healed all injuries and pains.

Time had allowed them to come up with a fighting chance to save the world.

A week had passed by since Whitney had played punching bag with her in the VTR. And, in a week's time, she and her team would leave the island to begin their two-week trek to the borders of Doctor Doom's country. If it all went as planned, if nothing went wrong to the point that they could not work around it, in less than a month from today, Tony and she would be happily reunited with their son.

Oh, yeah: And the world would be free from Doom's wrath!

I'm so selfish!

The closer the time came to leave, the more this feeling of selfishness had creeped up on her. She knew that her son was not the center of anybody's universe but hers and Tony's. And she also knew that heading to Latveria was not only to rescue little James – Tony had not let her forget about that important fact. It went without saying, that the goal of confronting Doom was much more philanthropic in nature; making it out of there alive and with their son was icing on the cake. At the end of the day, saving the world from further decimation and lifelong dictatorship was truly was it was all about.

Begrudgingly so, she admitted that, in the grand scheme of things, this was not just about her son.

"Pepper?"

Oh, crap, the redhead flinched when she realized she was no longer alone in her super-secret hiding spot. She snuck up on me!

Gene Khan would have shaken his head at her in disappointment for letting down her guard.

Pepper turned around, rested her bent elbows and back against the top of the rail of the emergency staircase in the room she had been hiding in, and then gave Jean Grey a nervous smile. She had not seen the woman in three days – not since she had inadvertently hurt her – and the redhead was not sure how to handle the unexpected encounter she should have been preparing for all this time.

"Hi," Pepper shrugged. "You-you look so much better!"

"I'd imagine. I can walk, talk, and react to the world again," Jean deadpanned, stood next to her, and rested her arms on the rail, facing the opposite direction Pepper was.

"You know, I can't read your mind or see the future or whatever, but I can read your aura. And even though I can see that you're kinda joking just now, it's still not nice to say things like that. Especially when I didn't mean to hurt you. Or the Professor. And especially since I still feel so bad about it."

To her surprise, Jean laughed aloud.

"Scott was right. You do ramble on when you're nervous."

"I, uhm…" Pepper looked away from Jean's smirking face and cleared her throat. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Like you said, you didn't mean it. And I shouldn't have tried to pry."

"Yeah, well," Pepper one-side shrugged. "I shouldn't be reading people's auras all the time, or messing with them, but, well, you know…"

"It's hard to stop."

"Yeah."

"It's like a drug."

"Yes!"

"You can't help yourself," Jean smirked.

"YES!"

"And you're doing it right now."

Pepper's eyes widened. She was surprised that she had been caught trying to gauge Jean's true reasons for searching for her. A light blush tinted her cheeks when Jean's smile widened even more at seeing how embarrassed the redhead was.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," Jean shrugged. "I had it coming. I… I should've just asked you what I wanted to know."

"Well, why don't you ask me now?"

Jean's gulp was as noticeable to Pepper as her aura change was. The woman was very uncomfortable, nervous, and a tad upset. Pepper could not imagine what Jean could possibly want to know about her that would instill such commotion within the member of the X-Men. Luckily for her, she would very soon find out.

"Pepper," Jean began. "Are you… do you… do you hate me?"

Pepper's look of utter shock and confusion was slightly amusing to Jean, in spite of it all. She watched her as Pepper's dilated eyes traveled her body up and down, clearly scanning her aura and intentions, and when the ginger's face continued to be one of perplexity, Jean's anxiety increased tenfold.

"You're serious about the question," Pepper stated more than inquired when she became certain that there was no hidden meaning behind Jean's words. "You seriously think I hate you? Why?"

"Well, because," Jean sighed, "Because of Scott. And, because of the way he and I got together, and… I just… And, the two of us, we haven't really had the chance to, well… not-not even during your wedding… Which was beautiful, by the way… And–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa… WHOA!" Pepper shook her head, turned to her right side to partly face the woman, and then scoffed. "Jean, I… I never, NEVER, hated you, or blamed you… or whatever it is that you think I did. I… I didn't do right by Scott. I-I made him miserable, for a large part of our relationship. He-he tried so hard. But, well… my heart was never 100% in it. I tried, but… but there were some things I hadn't been told about myself back then. I… the last thing I ever wanted to do to him was break his heart."

"I know, and that's why I neither blame you nor hate you for it. But I have been remorseful that Scott and I got so close while you guys were still going out. I knew he had a fiancée. I knew he was trying to work things out with you. But… but, you know… he's just so… so…"

"Noble," Pepper stated with a small smile. "Loving, patient, caring and noble."

"Yes," Jean nodded. "And I… I took advantage of his crushed feelings. I… I practically stole him from you!"

"No, Jean. You didn't. I… I couldn't have ever given to him what he deserved. You-you actually saved him from a life of dissatisfaction. I'll never be able to apologize enough to him for what I did."

"He doesn't blame you, either," Jean was prompt to point out when she noticed Pepper's head now hung in shame. "He's happy that you're happy. And he's happy himself."

"I know," Pepper shrugged and pointed to the wedding ring on Jean's left hand. "I can read auras, you know?"

Jean chuckled, nodded slightly, and then mirrored the redhead's posture to face her as well.

"So, we're OK?"

"Yeah," Pepper gave Jean a smile. "We were never not OK."

Before Pepper could react, Jean threw her arms around her, hugged her quickly but fiercely, and then pulled back as swiftly and abruptly as the hug had begun. Pepper could see that Jean's anxiety was already melting away, and for that she felt relieved. She had started to notice that this Extremis-granted aura vision, and the energy manipulation that Gene had taught her, were finally showing signs of possible side-effects; one being that people's abundance of stress tended to spill over to her, even if she did not want it to do so.

Another somewhat of a drawback was the fact that when people tried to read her mind, they tended to not be able to do so, no matter how strong their mind-reading abilities were – even if an enhancer was being used for the task, such as Cerebro. Moreover, it had been discovered, just a few days ago, that when a telepath tried forcing his or her powers on the redhead's mind, it tended to backfire on them: just as it had backfired on Jean Grey and Professor Xavier, both of which had ended up in a state similar to a coma for several days.

At the very least, something good had come out of that unintentional harm Pepper had caused to the two strongest telepaths she knew: it was proven, beyond a reasonable or scientific doubt, that Doctor Doom would have no chance whatsoever to take control of the ginger's mind, no matter what he tried to pull on her. Extremis appeared to have an abundant hold on the redhead, or – as Maya had put it – Pepper was Extremis, and Extremis did not take orders from anything or anyone else other than itself.

Virgil Potts had even joked around about this, stating that perhaps, this was the true reason why Pepper had never been able to take 'no' as an answer for anything she had wanted to do, no matter how young she had been.

Dad.

Thinking about her father made silence befall them for a while, as Pepper returned to her bitter thoughts. Even if she had distanced herself from everyone else to think and reflect on what today would bring, she did not have the heart to ask Jean to leave. Her presence did not bother her, anyway, or at least not enough to warrant asking for some space, but it did keep her from talking to herself – an activity that she had found was quite helpful when she was tense. Happy had told her it was the first sign of madness. Rhodey had asked her to see a doctor, and Tony had simply silenced her worries with a kiss.

No one wanted her to worry too much, or at all. Yet, no one seemed to understand that speaking her thoughts aloud helped her cope.

After a loud sigh, Pepper rested her arms on the rail again, stared straight down towards the bottom of the emergency staircase, and then felt a familiar prickle on her temples that she recognized as having felt once before.

"Still can't do it?" Pepper teased, a Tony-Stark-patented smirk on her lips.

"No," Jean groaned.

"Just testing it or do you want to know something specific?"

"Both," Jean shrugged.

"What do you want to know?"

"Tonight. How are you feeling about tonight?"

Pepper shut her eyes, swallowed hard, and clenched her hands. "I'll be alright."

Jean scoffed. "I don't have to read your mind to tell you're lying."

"You can't read my mind to tell if I'm lying."

"Touché," Jean snickered, no offense taken by the redhead's words. "But seriously, Pepper. I'm here for you. This is what I do. I… Well… between Bobby and I, the only two possible therapists on the team, who would you prefer to talk to about how you feel?"

Pepper opened her eyes, stared directly at Jean, and then narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Tony sent you here, didn't he?"

"Uhm…"

"It's alright," Pepper straightened out her back, turned on her heels to once again rest against the rail, and then shrugged. "That's just what he does, that weird, overprotecting nerd of mine."

"He loves you, Pepper."

"I know. I love him, too."

"But, you don't understand. I… I have never, ever, read so much passion and devotion for someone else in a person's mind before. It was… just…"

"Overwhelming," Pepper replied, having seen first-hand on her husband the visual manifestation of what Jean was talking about.

"Yeah. To say the least."

"I do. I do understand. I feel the same for him."

"I can tell. No powers needed to see that between you two."

"Then tell him I'll be OK. I told him I would be, but he's probably not convinced, since he sent his team's Voice of Reason to reason with me."

Jean laughed aloud and shook her head. "Yeah, he did. And you just proved to me that what I told him was spot on."

"Which was?"

"That the people to support you in dealing with this anxiety of yours should have been him, Rhodey and Happy. After all, you'll all face the same situation, very soon. Whatever it is that you're feeling right now, the other three are probably feeling it too."

Jean was not wrong. Pepper knew this to be true. Yet, knowing this was the case and knowing what to do about it to help her friends cope when she could not do it for herself, was a completely different story altogether.

"Maybe I should be doing what they're doing right now: spending time with our parents before they leave."

"Perhaps, you should."

"But I can't."

"And why is that?" Jean inquired with true curiosity.

"Because I'm needed elsewhere," the redhead replied when she felt a third person joining them. Pepper looked over her left shoulder towards Whitney Stane's standing form, stared up and down at the agent, and then looked back towards the flight of stairs.

"It's time," Whitney said even though she had been able to instantly tell, by the way Pepper had just gazed at her, that the news she brought with her was not news to the redhead. "Everyone's ready for the final calibration test."

xxxXXXxxx

After Tony's statement regarding who was to play the Voice of Reason for each team, the room went silent. The genius had showered them with so much information back-to-back, that it was difficult to take it all in at once, let alone agree with it. Particularly so, the portions of his strategic plan that emphasized how much of the world's fate was resting on their shoulders – how their active roles in this complex plan of his affected the outcome of the mission. Their success was non-optional. The small group of vigilantes/heroes had their work cut out for them. They had to come out on top, no matter what.

"Anyway," the inventor began, "Not everyone is going to Latveria, for obvious reasons. We still need to have our… Command Center, I guess, up and running throughout the entire undertaking. Living Laser will be navigating back and forth from here to our checkpoints, and to the locations of other smaller groups of vigilantes around the world that are also going to do what they can, from where they are, on our mark. AKA: when we make it to Castle Doom."

Tony swallowed hard in slight apprehension as he changed the screen to the next slide. He knew he was getting closer to the most difficult part of the presentation – the part that would surely enrage his wife and his closest friends. None of them had truly been privy to the details of (or to all of the deliberations) that had led him to the final tactical decisions he had made for all of the assignments. Most especially, not the ones related to the bombshell he was about to deliver on his redhead and his friends.

"Professor Xavier will be staying behind, in Muir Island, leading and monitoring the operation from here. Dr. Betty Ross will also stay behind, to support him. Dr. Ross," Tony smiled at the man who could now be considered their family doctor – the man that had helped care for his redhead and his son, "He will give all of us a full physical exam before we leave. We're going to be vaccinated, prepped for harsh environmental and questionable sanitary conditions, and he will also monitor our vitals from afar using the chips Maya will embed in our necks to delay Doom's Mainframe mind control. If, medically-speaking, something goes wrong that we can't patch up ourselves, he'll be deployed to our location, ASAP."

"That's… so risky," Pepper eyed the doctor that had helped deliver her son. "Dr. Ross, you-you don't have to do this. You… you could…"

"I know, Mrs. Stark," the doctor, who had been brought to the facility months ago after being shot by Nick Fury with a TASER in his office, kindly smiled at her. "Mr. Stark has let me know, in no uncertain terms, the dangers I would encounter if I were to be flown to help out in the field. I assure you: I'm willing to take the risk."

Pepper exhaled loudly, lowered her head, and then closed her eyes. The number of loved ones that were putting themselves in danger for this death mission was becoming too much for her to bear. She knew that going against Doctor Doom was everything but your run-of-the-mill mission. Going against the ruler of Latveria was suicidal, to say the least – and that was taking into consideration how highly skilled most of the individuals facing him were.

"That's the overall breakdown of our main mission. But, there's one more group that will help out in the field. They're not going to Latveria with us, but their contribution is as valuable as ours. They," Tony hesitated for a second as he stared at his wife, "They're actually returning to the States."

At the mention of the words "returning" and "the States," Pepper's hands turned into fists; her head lowered even more.

"At this point, I'll only need Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Lila, George, Roberta, David, Diane, Virgil, Trish, Bambi, Jarvis, and my dad to stay behind. Everyone else is free to go. You'll all get a detailed printout of the mission. Talk to me if you have any questions about it. Don't assume anything that's not already clearly stated on the printout. Study it. Memorize everyone's part. Know your part by heart. There'll be very little communication between us once we're out there. Everyone needs to know what everyone else is doing: where, when and how. This won't be like training in the VTR: there won't be any do-overs for this. Any questions?"

The room went silent again.

"Alright. Thank you for your time."

As the billionaire had requested of them, everyone but the thirteen people he had mentioned just now, left the meeting room. Throughout the few minutes that it took for the transition to take place, and for the now empty chairs to be filled with whoever had been standing, Tony's eyes were on Pepper. However, not once during the entire time did she lay eyes on him.

Seeing no point in waiting anymore, Tony sat down, sighed, and began explaining the mission to the younger crew present – a mission the older adults had already consented to perform.

"We don't know if we're going to win or lose this fight. We don't know how successful we'll be once we get to Latveria. We don't even know if winning will come with us not losing our lives. But none of that changes the fact that there are innocent people suffering right now. We all saw the reports. People died. People are still dying. They're homeless. Sick. Starving. Afraid."

Tony took a moment to let his words sink in, eyed Rhodey, Happy, and then Pepper – the last of whom was still not making any eye contact with him, and then spoke once more.

"David, Roberta, Virgil, Diane, Lila, George, Bambi, Trish and my dad, have all agreed to return to the U.S. to begin coordinating recovery efforts. They'll help as many people as possible, around the world, using whatever resources are still available. They'll leave on a stealth Quinjet, a week before Team A leaves. At night."

Silence appeared to be the word of the day, as it again described the current situation in the meeting room.

Each grown child took a moment to stare at their parents – birth, adopted or married into – their saddened eyes and broken postures doing the speaking for them. It was one thing to suit up yourself and go to war. It was another to send your family to war – without protection or a suit.

"When," Rhodey cleared his throat and grabbed his mother's hand. "When was this decided?"

"About a week ago," Tony replied. "It wasn't even entirely my idea, actually. It was mostly theirs," Tony gestured towards the parental units in the room with a sweep of his hands. "They brought it up first."

"Is that supposed to comfort us, Tony?" Pepper finally stared at her husband, a look of betrayal shining in her eyes. "Is that supposed to absolve you from approving this?"

"Pepper–"

"No!" she slammed her fists against the table before she pointed an accusing finger towards the blue-eyed inventor. "You don't get to do that, Tony! You don't get to 'Pepper' me into accepting this! You know I believe in you, and I trust you. You're in charge – in this mission and, for the most part, in our marriage, too – while I willingly follow your lead. I get that. And I support you in any way I can. But… but this is NOT right! This is NOT the way to do this!"

"Potts," Tony's voice reeked of what was immediately recognized by the ginger as his I-will-tolerate-no-backtalk-and-I-am-in-command-here tone. He hated being so stern with her. He hated having to play Boss-Man with her, especially when he did not like what he had to do, either. But, at this point in the game, he had to set some boundaries and ultimatums. For her sake. For his sake. For their son's sake… and for the sake of the world.

"There IS no right way of doing anything around here," he continued. "There is no manual to doing this. We do what we can with what we have. And what we have ain't much. The world is not just us, our friends, our family, or just our son, Pepper. The world is everyone who's still alive."

"And this is the best you can come up with, you genius?" Pepper stood up from her chair, a move that Tony instantly mimicked, and that made everyone else present stiffen up. They knew that Tony and Pepper, as any other couple in the world, argued from time to time. They knew they had had their fair share of differences in the past – even when they had been just friends. But not once – not once, had they been the first-row witnesses of a truly heated Stark-Potts argument until now.

The old adage of there always being a first time for everything, was about to become a stinging reality for them.

"Stand down, Pepper," Tony deadpanned. "This is not a discussion or a negotiation. This is what it is, and that's the end of it. I'm just giving you the courtesy of finding it out from me."

"Uhm, guys…" Rhodey began, but his words were completely ignored by the quarreling couple.

"No," Pepper began walking closer to him, her left index finger pointed in the general direction of where her seat in the meeting room had been during the briefing. "I… I just stood by you, Tony. Right there, supporting you through the most unstable planning I've ever heard in my life. But this… this is crossing a line, Anthony Edward Stark! I do not condone this!"

"Uh, Pepper…" this time, it was Happy who had tried intervening, but his attempt was as unsuccessful as Rhodey's.

"It's not your decision to make, Patricia," Tony retorted calmly, also taking steps towards her, the use of her real name an attempt to not bring his deep feelings for her into play. He was aware that she did not like to be called by her adopted name – and the memories that using said name brought to him still stung. Yet, he also knew that seeing her as his wife rather than one of the members of the resistance would endanger her and everyone else while out in the field. He had to make sure that she understood how serious he was about his decisions – about his thought process. He needed to refer to her, in this moment, as a person he was leading and who was recklessly questioning his authority and his ability to make sound decisions for the team, rather than as his much-loved wife.

"You're not in charge here," he continued, his voice still stern and firm despite his rapidly beating heart and shaking hands. "I am. Yours or anyone else's acceptance of my terms for this plan is not required, Potts. You're only required to comply."

The loud gasp in the room was clearly missed by the two standing members of the resistance group.

"What?" Pepper narrowed her eyes, her form now standing inches from his. "Who the HELL do you think you're speaking to, Stark? One of your damn inventions?"

Everyone's eye widened even more as their points of view hopped back and forth from Tony to Pepper, unsure of who had the worst temper at the moment. It was common knowledge that both young adults had always had strong personalities – and even stronger convictions. Nevertheless, watching them use them against another; hearing the passion in their beliefs being voiced so intensely – so candidly, was a sight that no one in the room would ever be able to replicate or to forget.

"I'm speaking to my wife!" he replied, resorting to exploiting the bond she had just stated they shared as a way to end the discussion when the endeavor of using his leader-to-follower relationship failed to do the job; the aggravation in his voice a tad too noticeable for his taste. He did not want to go off on her. He did not want to argue with her or hurt her even more. He did not want to demean her authority, her intelligence, her abilities, or her value as a person. But she had to understand. He had to quickly make her understand, if not agree with him: the world was still spinning. Innocent civilians were still suffering. He had – they had – to think past their personal investment in this mission, and start assisting those who could not help themselves.

"And as my wife," he practically pressed his chest against hers, "You need to listen to me and do as I say on this!"

If Pepper's stance had been any indication that she had been, up to this point, simply more than a little bit angry at Tony, her eyes now shone with the fury of a thousand exploding volcanos and the rage of all of the world's most tempested seas combined. This inflexible side of Tony, she had never seen used against her. She had definitely heard about it. She had even seen it used being against other people, mostly disgruntled employees or anyone who had deeply hurt him; but never against her. Not even during their most intense arguments, had he ever pulled rank or gender role on her in the way he was doing so at the moment. Even as part of Team Iron Man, he had never talked down to her as he was doing so right now. She felt powerless, desperate to be heard, and for her thoughts to be considered, but he was not yielding on his stance. Not even a millimeter. Not even for a fellow team member who had proven, on multiple occasions, that she was worthy of her opinion being considered and heard.

"Did you seriously just second-class citizen me, Tony Stark?" she growled, the shock and pain in her voice almost making his resolve crumble.

"Kids, please…" Howard's effort at soothing the twosome was to no avail.

"Call it whatever you want," Tony moved even closer to her, forcing her to tilt her head back to be able to hold his overpowering gaze. "We're all doing things we don't want to do."

The redhead glared at her husband for a few more seconds before she turned her head to the side, stared at everyone for a moment, and then spoke one command everyone was willing to fulfill.

"Give us the room."

As quickly as the last word left her lips, the ginger and the inventor became the only two people in the meeting center.

xxxXXXxxx

"Alright, Tony. This is the last time we run these tests on you. Just relax and let us make sure everything's fine."

He knew that Dr. Ross's words were meant to lessen his anxiety during his final medical exam; yet they did everything but ease his concerns. Tony's mind had not stopped working on overdrive since Fury had given him the charge of the mission. He doubted his brain would stop overstraining itself until everything was said and done. Or until he was deader than dead. Whichever came first.

Most likely, for him, the two events would take place at the same time.

"No luck with Extremis, Betty?" Tony spat out, trying his best not to think about what he could do very little about.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Betty Ross shook her head. "There's just no way we can reactivate Extremis in you without exposing a lot of what we're doing here to Doctor Doom, including our current location. We're turning it off completely right now, so you may feel a little bit off for a few days. The odd feelings will go away by the time your team is ready to leave, though. We're using a different procedure than Pepper used on you before to tame it. There will be no side-effects with this technique."

"Are you flushing some of it out?"

"No. We still don't know how to separate it from you without killing you. Maya said that not even Killian has figured that part out."

Tony held back a frustrated sigh he knew neither doctor deserved to get from him. If the creator of Extremis could not make heads or tails on how to safely remove the symbiotic relationship between infected host and the virus, there was no chance in hell anyone else would be able to give him the cure he needed in a week's time. Going into battle without Extremis was going to be challenging, despite how much he had been preparing for it, or how much he had done it in the past, failing heart and all. The connection between his suit and his brain were crucial in increasing their chances of success – yet it also was the main weapon Doctor Doom had against the leader of the vigilante group.

"Well, boy," Doctor Ross' words caught the attention of the young billionaire, "How is it that this hand's healing so fast? Whatever you're doing, it almost rivals the healing capabilities Extremis gives you!"

Tony stared at the limb in question and smirked at the doctor.

"Gene's witchcraft," Tony joked. "Some Chinese balm he gave to Pepper and made her put on me. I was skeptical about it, to say the least. But the damn thing's working."

Tony flexed his fingers and noted how the pain of pulling the bruised skin was no longer there. After he had scrapped his hand trying to save Gene from the Makluan disruptor in the electrical room of the underground facility, he had been fearful that his injury would get in the way of their plans. He was an inventor, after all – he needed full use of his hands. Especially his right hand, since it was his dominant one. Nonetheless, Gene's version of a thank you for saving my ass – the balm he had given the genius – was slowly but surely dissipating these fears.

"So, Gene was attacked by a, what would you call it? A quantum dot energy disruptor?" Rhodey asked his childhood friend, his arms folded over his chest.

Tony's eyes widened at hearing Rhodey's accurate description of the device they had been speaking of.

"That sounds too nerdy," Happy said with a shrug. "I'd just call it a Makluan power interference thing-a-majig!"

Tony's left eye twitched at realizing that Happy's description of the device sounded too much like the one the inventor had used himself to describe Gene.

"I think Rhodey's version is more accurate, Hap."

"Whatever. Nerds."

As he stared at portions of his hand that were already healed, Tony recalled the aftermath of the incident that had led to this particular wound. Even if he and Gene had returned to the electrical room shortly after getting Pepper out of the VTR, they had never found the broken pieces of the disruptor, making it impossible for Tony to analyze it and determine where it had come from. The sources of such an ill-intended device could easily be attributed to S.H.I.E.L.D. trying to control the Mandarin after years of failed attempts at having the upper hand against the most powerful supernatural being on the planet. Tony had even considered Maya Hansen to be behind the whole thing as well, simply because he still failed to fully trust anyone that had once betrayed him in the past. Needless to say, there were a handful of people on this island that fit this description. In the end, it appeared as if this particular inquiry of his would forever remain unanswered.

"Done," Dr. Ross patted Tony's bare back, pulling him from his thoughts. "You're good to go!"

"And just in time, too, it seems," Betty added when she saw Jean Grey standing by the door.

"You read my mind, Betty," Jean joked.

Tony thanked the two doctors with a nod, jumped off the gurney, put his shirt back on, and then eyed Jean while he straightened his clothes.

"Ready for the test?"

"Yeah, we all are," Jean replied. "We're just waiting on you."

And your wife is fine, Jean added telepathically, earning her a thankful smile from the blue-eyed boy.

xxxXXXxxx

A monster.

A heartless, ruthless monster.

Maria Stark hardly ever resorted to using such a horrible term to describe people she was acquainted with. Nevertheless, there was no other adjective she could think of, at the moment, to voice what she thought of this man. Actually, truth be told, she could think of plenty other better suited yet stronger descriptors to attach to Aldrich Killian. However, since she was in the company of her four-year-old son, she had to watch her tongue.

Anthony, the woman stared at her unsuspecting son, his little legs allowing him to curiously dash around one of the main R&D labs of Stark International, blissfully unaware of the danger he was in. She had brought him with her so that he was not bothering her husband while he met with Obadiah Stane to argue, yet again, about permanently closing the weapons engineering division. However, as she had been walking around the building with her son, her mind had begun putting the pieces together of the terrible suspicions she had had of Aldrich, for months. The papers and pictures before her, all gruesome and inhuman in nature, were screaming at her that, perhaps, her son was better off being away from the lab right now.

"Anthony," Maria walked over to her son, "Anthony, look at me."

"Mama?" the little boy of striking blue-eyed stopped his tinkering with a shiny object that had caught his attention.

"You know you're a big boy now, don't you?"

The boy smiled widely, rested his fists against his hips and partly puffed out his chest. "Yes, Mama!"

"OK. Then I need you to do me a favor. It's something that only big boys can handle. Can you help me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Mommy needs to do something really important right now. Grown-up stuff."

Tony frowned. "That means I have to go play somewhere else?"

"Yes, baby. But only for a little while. Can you go find Trish and stay with her?"

"Trish?" the boy furrowed his brow, scratched his head, and then smiled when he remembered who his mother was talking about. "Oh, the nice, candy lady!"

Maria smiled. Trish, Stark International's latest business management intern, had been a godsend to her and Howard in these challenging times. Now that her husband had given up making weapons, the transition to becoming a leader in world-serving technology rather than weapons manufacturing had been difficult. Plenty of investors had left them. New tyrannical ones had come in. The media had bashed them. The internal reorganization of SI had been brutal… all while trying to raise their only son.

"Yes, that's Trish. I need you to find her, tell her I'm busy working on something, and that I'll come get you when I'm done. Do you understand, Anthony?"

"Yes, Mama," Tony replied.

"OK," she kissed his forehead and pinched his cheeks. "I love you, Anthony."

"I love you too, Mama."

Unbeknownst to her, these loving words were going to be the last ones that Maria Stark would ever say to her son; and the last time he would ever see her alive. Unbeknownst to her, and despite being inside the only lab in the entire building with no security cameras, she was currently being watched. Her movements were being observed with extreme caution, from afar – her fate already decided for her the moment she had accidentally tripped the secret alarms in this particular SI lab.

Aldrich Killian, the man she had once trusted, had been using her for experimentation, just as he had done so with many other women in the past (as verified by everything she was learning about his clandestine experimentation, at the moment). The only reason Maria Stark was still around was because Aldrich felt close to her – attracted to her, even – and she was still of use for his cause. However, as she continued to dig through the piles of incriminating evidence she could use against the creator of Extremis, Aldrich sighed from his location in the main entrance hall of SI. He had been taking a lunch break, going over the details of his still unstable serum, when he had received a notification of an intruder in his lab.

Somehow, perhaps due to his natural ability to incite trust in people, Aldrich Killian had convinced Howard Stark, many years back, not to install security feeds in his lab. Since the scientist had been hired under Maria's recommendation to further SI's new business vision, and after Aldrich had pointed out that having video recordings of an area that held much of the highly-advanced and proprietary elements of SI meant the government could one day seize their work, Howard had agreed wholeheartedly to keep the workings of Killian's lab under wraps. This decision had seemed reasonable at the time, but it would soon prove to be the only reason why no one would ever truly know what had actually happened to Maria Stark that had caused her untimely demise. And what was about to happen to Maria Stark would be the reason why Howard Stark would make sure, in the future, that every corner of his company had a working camera, at all times.

"I really liked you, Maria," Aldrich whispered, his fingers on his ahead-of-its time laptop, initiating a remote countdown to end Maria Stark's life. "Why did you have to go and do that?"

He set the sequence in motion, always glad for his efforts to covertly inject individuals with a killing virus he could trigger when the right time came around. Killing people without leaving a trace was becoming easier and easier for him: he was almost a master at that. Then again, this should have not really come as a surprise to him that practice truly made perfect. If he was careful enough about this, he would not have to again change his name, face, and occupation after he killed Maria Stark. If this murder went exactly as he wanted it to go, no one would ever suspect foul play when the woman's heart suddenly stopped.

He watched her leave the lab in a hurry, run down the hall that connected the lab with the unmonitored Level 10 R&D wing, and as soon as she was to approach a security officer, Aldrich Killian pulled the plug on her life.

Before everyone's surprised eyes, the wife of Howard Stark collapsed on the floor, busted her head open with the fall, and then lay motionless on the ground. It did not take long before the commotion spread through the building, or before the on-site medical team of SI began trying to revive the dead woman. Yet, Killian knew their efforts were pointless: she was as dead as she would ever be.

"What a pity," regret momentarily filled the hazel-eyed man when he saw Howard Stark fall on his knees, take Maria Stark in his arms, and sob over her limp body. It was such a shame, having to resort to this, when it had been years since he had been forced to take such drastic actions. At least, this kill had been more merciful than his last. This time, thankfully for all, he had not had to resort to manipulating someone into blowing her brains out, as he had done so with his dearly departed, underage redheaded girlfriend, Jill, a few years back.

xxxXXXxxx

Twenty of the twenty-one volunteers that would travel to Latveria in the next few weeks all sat in silence inside the VTR. A circular formation of chairs had been arranged in the middle of the virtual training room, everyone facing each other, and everyone's back of their neck (sans Pepper's) had been fitted with the latest version of the mind-control wave deflector chip Maya had created. This was the last time they would have the opportunity to test the strength of the chips. This was the last opportunity anyone had to figuring out why Pepper was not affected by such waves or by telepaths.

Unfortunately for Maya Hansen, the resistance against the mind control waves varied greatly from individual to individual. She was not certain why this was the case, as everyone sported the exact same copy of the chip. The only explanation she could have given, if asked, was that since the chip she designed had been based on the same schematic for the UI chip AIM had once used to control Tony Stark's friends (and which had also been used as a base for Doom's modified version of The Controller's Mainframe), that the unique biology of an individual played an important part on the chip's ability to deter or reduce the impact of the waves.

This mission did not need yet another hyperbolically inconsistent variable. There were already too many if's. And yet…

"Everyone ready?" her voice resounded on the speakers of the VTR. Curt nods and thumbs-up were the only responses she got from everyone inside the VR room. Professor Charles Xavier, Doctor Ross, and Doctor Betty Ross, all stood with Maya inside the command chamber of the training room – all nervously waiting for the new results.

"Vitals are at base figures," Doctor Ross said.

"Minds are clear," Professor Xavier added.

"Sensors and safety features are ready," Betty provided.

"Then let's get this done," Maya pressed the button to start the test, which turned on the small device sitting in the middle of the circle of chairs in the VTR. "Simulating a one-mile radius source-to-subject distance in 3, 2, 1."

As expected, there was no noticeable change in anyone's ability to be in full control of their bodies and minds. The chips were not even working at a 3% capacity, which was a major improvement from the first chip prototype. It had been established, early on during these trials, that the chips did not need to be activated before being one mile away from the device – as long as Doom used said device only for them, of course. If the ruler of Latveria suddenly decided to activate the Mainframe's powers to the world, even if he could not do anything with it at large-scale without taking over Tony's Extremis' ability, then the chips would become unusable at the drop of a hat.

"That's good," the brunette looked over her shoulder to confirm with everyone else in the control room that everything was running smoothly thus far. When she received confident nods from the other three scientists in the room, Maya returned to her task.

"Begin simulating a three-quarters-of-a-mile radius source-to-subject distance in 3, 2, 1."

The working capacity of the chips increased to 12%. Everyone and everything else remained unaffected and unchanged.

"Alright," Maya swallowed hard, knowing the difficult phase of the evaluation was upon them. "Simulating a half-a-mile radius source-to-subject distance in 3, 2, 1."

As expected, based on previous trials, the chips' capacities began rapidly fluctuating from person to person. Some reached 25% capacity in the blink of an eye, while others skyrocketed to 60%. Vital signs began shifting as well; changes ranging from increases in heart rate, higher temperatures and surging brain activity, all lit up on Dr. Ross' screens. Professor Xavier also began sensing the formation of mental fog in a few of the heroes, part of which was starting to cause confusion, disorientation, and the general jumbling of personal memories and forgotten dreams in their brains.

"Brace yourselves," Maya warned the test subjects before she reduced the source-to-subject distance to a quarter of a mile.

"Rogue's down," Betty said while she recorded the event on the log. "Her chip reached 100% capacity and fried."

"Scott's awake, but he's not focusing anymore," Professor Xavier admitted. "Count him out."

"Mr. Rhodes's blood pressure is dangerously high," Dr. Ross stated. "Kick him out now."

Without hesitation, Betty slammed with her fist the button on her screen that opened a floor compartment beneath any chair to remove a subject from the room during trials – one of the safety features that had been created for this very situation. The moment Rhodey was no longer in the VTR, his vitals returned to normal, but the atmosphere in the control room became as tense as the situation in the training room.

"Reducing the source-to-subject distance to 1000 feet."

"Agent Stane has passed out. Director Fury is in shock."

"Source-to-subject distance is now 500 feet."

"We're losing them."

One by one, almost every remaining member of the resistance was out for the count within ten seconds of Maya's last distance shift. After one minute of it, only Pepper, Tony, Nightcrawler, Maria Hill, Iceman, Bruce Banner, and Living Laser remained.

"Decreasing distance to 250 feet."

Full of concern yet unable to intervene, the redhead watched as Maria, Bruce, Tony, and Nightcrawler all passed out and were taken out of the room almost immediately after losing consciousness. She knew the feeling of having one's mind invaded, having been turned into a puppet by The Controller once before, along with her friends. But now that Extremis had awoken within her, this same technology did not even leave a tingle sensation in her brain.

"100 feet."

"Living Laser teleported himself out of the VTR," Professor Xavier said.

"50 feet."

Pepper felt Bobby's hand reach out to squeeze hers. She squeezed back.

"25 feet."

With a loud grunt, Bobby Drake fell onto the floor, eyes shut in obvious pain.

"10 feet. 5 feet. 1 foot," Maya allowed the machine to continue running for another minute, if just to make sure that Pepper continued to be immune to its effects. When it became evident to everyone that the ginger was as relaxed and unaffected as someone taking a walk in the park, Maya closed her eyes and sighed.

"Simulation over," the brunette finally said.

"Zero," Dr. Ross said. "Zero change for Mrs. Stark."

Seeing the machine turn off, the redhead dejectedly stood up from her chair, realized she was the only person left in the room, just as every other time this had taken place, and hoped against hope that this was not just a preview of what was to come.

If it all came down to this in the field; to just her being the only one protecting her son against Doctor Doom, the world simply did not stand a chance.

xxxXXXxxx

The existence and complexity of the human genome had always fascinated and intrigued Dr. Aldrich Killian. This organic blueprint of what it meant to be human influenced a person's life, even before birth. The moment the two life-creating cells merged inside a woman's womb, the type of life and inevitable death of an individual was decided then and there. One's DNA permutation determined physical and psychological attributes, mental aptitudes, whole-body-and-mind enhancements and limitations, and the inescapable path to one's grave.

The intricacy of the human DNA code had driven his decisions since he had realized his particular path to the grave was destined to arrive before he was legally allowed to drink. He had refused to accept this decision, made without his consent, when he had still been just a clump of unrecognizable cells in his mother's womb. It was illogical, at least to him, for nature to grace him with an astounding mind and the possibility of a brilliant future career, only for it to fade before it really got to shine.

What was it exactly that decided one's destiny prior to birth? Why did some useless people get to live forever, while some worthwhile individuals died before their prime?

Why had Tony Stark been given an easy route to a successful life of power? Why did the youngster waste his resources in looking for ways to better the world for every living soul in it, worthy or not?

It was probably his naiveté, Aldrich had once considered. Tony Stark, as bright as he was, was still young and impressionable. He was still a victim to the downside of a developing body and mind, teenage hormones, and a lack of focus in what he wanted to do with his life. Tony was still trying to figure out how life really worked – how to maneuver through the ever-changing rules it seemed to have. Aldrich Killian, however, after years of existence and experience, knew exactly how human existence functioned.

Unfair, Killian mused. Life is unfair.

Aldrich was yet to come to terms with the fact that Tony had made good use of Extremis in ways the creator of the virus was yet to achieve. All without trying. All without wanting or truly planning. All because of luck.

Aldrich grimaced at the thought that had just crossed his mind. He knew better than that: there was no such thing as luck. Then again, he was certainly temped to believe in the fable of luck as he yet again analyzed the old test results before him: the results that told him Tony Stark was going to be a father, even if he had no clue at the time the test was run that he would be.

Once Maya Hansen had brought a hair sample of Tony's, and using the blood the mutated crows had gnawed out of the redhead while attacking her in her home, completing the paternity test had been a breeze. There had been no doubt, whatsoever, that the child was Tony's. No doubt at all. Yet, proving that the unborn child the pesky redhead was carrying belonged to Tony Stark had only been the beginning of Aldrich Killian's 'luck.'

The likelihood of the child to carry Extremis was high, so an Extremis test had been run using the remainder of the redhead's blood sample. Not surprisingly, Extremis was present in her blood. But, at the same time, and unexpectedly so, there had been two other things that had stood out to him from those results: 1) the male half of the redhead's DNA sequence seemed awfully familiar to him; and 2) two different types of the virus existed within her.

Two.

Two unique strains of Extremis, both fighting for control inside.

One belonged to Tony Stark, undoubtedly passed on to the redhead as part of the conception of the child. The other… the other he almost did not instantly recognize.

He had kept his suspicions to himself, as he always did when something caught him off-guard. He had never been one to admit faults or uncertainty; and he was not about to start now. With Victor von Doom as his volatile employer, and with Maya Hansen as his reluctant assistant, doubt coming from him was a sure way to either be killed or be given a very hard time.

Gathering a hair sample from the redhead and her son after birth had been a task that was proving fruitful right now. Maya Hansen thought he had needed the sample to see the effects of a temporary Extremis invasion on the redhead's body due to pregnancy and birth. She believed that he had been searching for a way to harvest whatever ability the ginger had possessed to bring to term a difficult-to-nearly-impossible pregnancy, and to use this information to create a perfect Extremis serum that could be passed along from mother to child. And while these two scenarios were rather intriguing in their own right, the main reason why Aldrich had become particularly interested in the spunky redhead was because, as proven by the results of the latest tests lying before him, Pepper Potts was related to him. Patricia 'Pepper' Potts was his daughter. She made Aldrich Killian as much of a father as James Howard Stark made one of the genius billionaire.

"She made it," Killian smiled. "Even after all these years and all the odds, she made it."

A fighter, Killian thought. Just like her father.

However, just as it was the case with her father, Pepper's Extremis was not yet fully developed. It had been accidentally awoken by her near-death experience at the hands of Obadiah's daughter, but it was yet to completely mature. Continuous exposure to dangerous situations had assisted the once-dormant virus to take hold of her – to come to life within her entire being – to make her stronger and even more resilient, every time. To do what it had been designed to do: exist as one with the body, the mind, and the soul.

Pepper Potts was not just Specimen 0 to him anymore. Pepper Potts was talking, breathing, and living Extremis Perfection in-the-making, all in one convenient package.

And, as if that had not been enough, she had just given him an updated variant of this nearly perfected version of hers, via her son: James Howard Stark; the little boy that would finally give his biological grandfather the solutions to his every need, the answers to his every thought.

The answers Doctor Doom demanded. The cures both the ruler of Latveria and Aldrich Killian needed to live.

Little James just needed to live a little while longer. And Pepper Potts just needed to 'die.'

xxxXXXxxx

"Pepper! Think about this logically for a second, please! If something happens to us in Latveria, but Howie makes it through, who's gonna take care of our son?"

The reasoning Tony had given her, weeks ago, when she had first learned that her father was returning to the States, was exceptionally haunting for her at the moment. The argument that had ensued once everyone else had left the meeting room following Tony's mission briefing had been, for all intents and purposes, the worst fight she and Tony had ever had.

She had truly believed, for a brief moment, that Tony had been trying to put down her ability to make decisions simply because he could – or because being the leader of the counterattack had gotten to his big, arrogant head. When, in fact, he had simply been trying to spare her bearing the responsibility that came with authorizing and assisting with the departure of their parents and family friends. He had just been trying to protect her, just as he always did. He had just been trying to ensure their son was not left completely alone, if they were to not make it back from facing their Latverian fate.

She should have known better before she had gone off on him like she had that day. He should have known better than to play the military leader act with her – and poorly, at that. In the end, it all worked out, anyway. Or as much as it could work out, given the circumstances they had been forced to face.

"Pep, they're here."

Pepper pulled away from resting her face against Tony's left shoulder and looked up to see the U.S.-bound party approaching them. They were all carrying what they could of their little amount of belongings – mostly just a gym bag or a large handbag – as the means they would take to voyage home required that they traveled lightly. The Quinjet they would be boarding was the smallest they had in stock; it would barely fit all nine of them and the flight crew. However, it was essential to their survival during their trip to the U.S. that they were as inconspicuous and untraceable as possible, even if that meant being packed like sardines for the length of the flight.

The older adults finally reached their grown offspring, all of which were already standing up and facing each other, just before said youngsters reverted to being kids and simply threw themselves at their parents.

Trish took a step back and allowed Tony to hug his father with all his might. The poor young genius had already suffered the permanent loss of his mother, and the temporary loss of his father, too. Then, when Madame Masque had poisoned the elder Stark, shortly after his miraculous return, Tony had once more experienced the fear of possibly becoming an orphan again. Third time tended to be the charm, but Tony prayed that this did not turn out to be the case for them.

"I love you, Dad," Tony whispered to his father, and Howard had to bite back a sob.

Growing up, the relationship between he and his son had been rather unique, mostly due to the unusual composition of their family unit in the societal standing they were a part of. His son had been his only family after Maria Stark had died, so he had made a point of having Tony be with him at all times to somehow nurture the bond they had. He saw so much of himself in his son; not just physically or mentally, but emotionally too, and he had wanted to make sure Tony was given all the love, care and attention that two parents should have given him while growing up. He had always known that his son was more than just special; frequently misunderstood by, and not in tune with, peers of his own age. But the doting father had done his best to support his child. Even though the road had not been as straightforward as he had wanted it to be, in the end, Tony had turned out alright. In fact, more than just alright.

Unfortunately so, now his grandson was running the risk of growing up not knowing his father and mother, in a worse way than Tony himself had ever experienced in his entire life. This was the main reason why Howard was returning to the States: to make sure his grandson's legacy was intact. And also to help his son win this fight in the only way he could: by helping others stay safe, out of Tony's worrying mind, and doing whatever he could from afar.

"I love you too, Son. We'll be waiting for you."

Tony pulled back from the embrace, not caring that his glistening eyes could easily be discerned by somebody nearby. This was not the time to act tough or macho, or whatever anybody else wanted to call a grown man holding back his tears. This was a difficult situation within an already difficult situation on its own. This could very well be the last time he ever saw and spoke to his father, or with anyone else who was leaving tonight.

As Tony took a moment to embrace Trish, and Rhodey and Happy swapped parents to hug as well, Pepper continued to hold tightly onto her father, her sobs making Virgil's heart break in two. She knew that Loretta existed. She was aware that Diane Tincher was now also part of her and her father's life, and was standing near them. And she was also conscious that, in a lonely cemetery in New Jersey, laid the remains of her birth mother, Jill Hayes. But standing before her, at this very instant, was the man that truly deserved all the credit for who she was today – for what she had accomplished with her life and more.

She was her own person today, and among family and friends, because of the decisions Virgil Potts had made for them while she had been growing up: the man that had intentionally chosen her to be his daughter. The man who had raised her, all by himself, working hard to provide for her, as if she were in fact his own flesh and blood. She knew Virgil could have, at any point, returned her to the orphanage she had been sheltered in when she was just a baby. She knew he could have easily rid himself of the responsibility of parenting her when Loretta Potts had walked out on them. Nonetheless, it had been his choice to keep her. It had been his choice to not further dissolve the only family she had ever known in her short life.

It had been his prerogative for her to continue being his daughter, and for him to continue being her dad.

This was why she had been adamantly against letting them leave the island: because she was selfish, unrealistic and childish, and she wanted her father to live forever; to never die.

"Daddy," Pepper sniffled.

"Yes, honey?"

"Aldrich," she nearly hiccupped. "Aldrich Killian may have… he may have contributed the male half of-of my DNA, but… but that's all he is to me."

"I-I know, sweetie," Virgil was shocked by her seemingly random confession. "You don't have to–"

"No, I do. I do," she pulled back slightly to look at his face, staring him in the eye as she poured out the thoughts that she could hold back no longer while she still had the chance. "You are my father. You are my real father. Not that son of a bitch. Not him," she said fiercely before she hugged her father strongly again, and for possibly the last time.

"I love you, Patricia."

"And I love you, Dad."

After another moment of the bone-crushing embrace, the redhead finally pulled back completely from her father, and then hugged Diane as well. While she did so, Tony walked up to Virgil, extended his arm towards him, but was then surprised when Virgil pulled him into a tight hug.

"Take care, Son," Virgil told the inventor.

"I will, Virgil," Tony pulled away slightly. "And I'll do anything I can to send Pepper and Howie back home. I promise you that."

"What about you? Don't think you can get off the hook so easily, Tony. You already paid for the merchandise," Virgil jokingly said while he side-eyed Pepper, who was now bear-hugging Howard. "You can't return it now."

Despite the situation, and after a short second of confusion, Virgil managed to pull a laugh out of the blue-eyed man.

"You mean there's no warranty or insurance?" Tony continued the joke, trying to sound as appalled by the information as possible.

"None whatsoever," Virgil smiled widely before he and Tony hugged one more time. "And I still have my gun."

Tony chuckled, nodded along, and then finally pulled away from Virgil.

"I'll keep that in mind," the genius replied, his eyes on Pepper's form while she almost choked Trish with her hug.

After exchanging hugs, whispering kind words, and uttering teary goodbyes, the time for the parents to set out finally arrived. Unwillingly, the young adults took a step back and waved their parents and friends farewell as they exited the safety of the structure via an underground path that would eventually lead them to the surface, albeit in the middle of the woods, in the dead of night.

Whitney Stane and Living Laser were going to escort the party, on foot, to the location of the hidden Quinjet, about half a mile north of the underground lab. The Quinjet was going to be piloted by a group of highly-trained agents; its successful landing only traceable when they arrived to a satellite SI facility. It would take about eight to ten hours to reach New York, depending on the weather and evasive maneuvers needed to avoid being spotted by Doctor Doom. Meaning that, no one, not even the great Tony Stark, would know if the group made it safely home until the very next day, with no possibility of status updates throughout the night.

As the door that led to the underground path was shut, Pepper threw herself at Tony, and dug her face in his neck.

"Can we trust her, Tony?" Pepper mumbled against his skin. "Can we trust Whitney with this?"

"I think we can," Tony replied and circled her waist with his arms. "Besides, Arthur's there, too. He can fry her mask, if he needs to."

"Is… is that why you sent him with her?" the redhead looked up to her husband, rubbed her cheeks with her hands to dry some of her tears, and then sniffled loudly while her eyes returned to the closed door.

"Yeah. Although, at this point, as much as I still don't know how much to trust her… I-I think she'd at least think twice before harming them."

"Why?"

"Because she knows what it feels likes to lose a parent – or both. She knows what it's like to be alone."

Pepper returned her attention to her husband, breathed heavily, rested her forehead against his chin, and then closed her eyes.

"I hope so, Tony. I hope you're right."

"Me too," the inventor admitted, his eyes looking past the metal walls of the room. "Me too, Pep."

This was going to be, indisputably, everyone's longest night of their lives.

xxxXXXxxx

Cold water beads slid down his hung face and neck, causing a slightly just bearable prickly feeling to crawl on his skin. Their quarters were currently so quiet, and him so still, that the sound of the tiny drops of water hitting the porcelain surface of the sink and the metal countertop of the bathroom vanity was virtually deafening to him. He held onto the edges of the counter to support his weight, clenched his eyes shut, and took yet another deep breath that he slowly exhaled.

It was finally happening – the start of it all; the beginning of what he had planned for weeks. She was leaving the island tomorrow morning, at the break of dawn.

And he could not stop thinking about what this meant for him – for their son.

Hey, Howie, the inventor bitterly mused. I sent your mom as the forefront to a small army to face Doctor Doom. Sorry she didn't make it! Ooops!

His knuckles popped when he tightly clenched his hands.

He grabbed a hand towel to remove the remnants of the water he had splashed on his face, missing one too many spots on himself to even count as drying, but he did not care enough to fix the problem. The water on his clothes did not matter. They were gonna come off when he showered, anyway. The mess in the bathroom did not matter either; housekeeping would take care of it once noon of tomorrow came around.

Noon of tomorrow – when Pepper would no longer be by his side.

He jumped in his skin when he heard the door to their quarters open. He had once again lost track of time. He had been supposed to be using this time, a time when she had met with her team for last-minute preparations, to relax; to find a way to seem supportive and ready for what was to come. He had purposefully not attended said meeting to gather his thoughts, to prepare for the inevitable, and to try his best not to add worries to her already busy schedule and loaded plate.

She was not supposed to come find him tearing at the seams, wishing he could stop time. She was not supposed to notice how much this imminent departure was ripping him to pieces. She was supposed to just return to their room to wrap-up her own personal preparations and to rest.

But when your wife could read auras and had known you and your antics for years, there was very little you could hide from her. At least regarding whatever related to how you felt about her leaving your ass to go to war.

He looked away from her when she walked towards him inside the bathroom, but she forced him to stare at her by leading his chin with her right hand. It took Tony a moment to raise his gaze from their feet to her face. Once he did so, his mouth hung in surprise.

And he then smiled.

He tenderly ran his fingers through her now short hair, recently cut to what it had looked like on her in high school, courtesy of a surprisingly talented stylist named Rogue, just a few minutes ago. He tilted his head to the side, silently questioning her on the change of look, and she simply shrugged. He placed his other hand on her head, combed her soft tresses and massaged her scalp to show her that he liked the haircut, but soon the innocent move took on a different route.

Without needing to utter a word since her arrival, the couple's lips inevitably found each other, and they began slowly kissing. His left hand rested on the back of her neck, his right hand on the small of her back, and he pulled her body flush against his own. The ginger circled his neck and shoulders with her arms, tiptoed to better reach his lips and, a second after feeling this, her feet left the floor.

Next thing she knew, she was sitting on the vanity, with Tony standing between her slightly parted legs. His hands abandoned their current locations on her body to explore the rest of it, despite how many times he had previously mapped her curves with his pores. Just as with anything that merit learning, he would always discover something new that would set her off – something new that he enjoyed doing with her, or to her; no matter how many times before they had been together like this.

She bit on his lower lip, ran her tongue on his upper lip, and then took her mouth to his left earlobe. She nibbled on it both carefully and hungrily, all the while her hands began removing some of the fabric barriers between them. He did what he could for her clothes as well, although he always found it difficult to concentrate on anything productive when she paid special attention to his ears. It was one of the highly sensitive spots on him – one that would probably make him agree to whatever she asked of him while nipping on it.

He felt her lips trailing down from his ear to his neck, and he took the opportunity for his hands to slide under her blouse, up and down her chest a few times, and then unclasped her bra. He was not sure which type of location he preferred for the fastener to be on. The front type was easier to maneuver, but the back type gave him yet another reason to slide his chest against hers. Once he heard the popping sound of the garment opening, he wasted no time in removing both it, and her blouse, from her.

While she would not believe it if he were to confess it to her right now, he had no idea where this session was heading. He was not sure if he wanted to bring it all the way, or just spend the time tenderly and slowly reimaging his mental maps of the topography of her body until they just had to call it quits for the night. This uncertainty came from not wanting to feel as if this was her way of saying goodbye to him; from not wanting to associate the best lovemaking session of his life with the last time he was with his wife.

He did not want to be grim about it. He truly did not. But with all the odds against them, and their track record of things never actually going the way they planned, it was almost criminal not to seriously consider the possibility that this could very well be the final occasion they would have to be like this with each other. What would someone else do in his situation? What was the better answer to this impossible riddle of his?

Do what feels right, his mind replied. Just do whatever feels right.

What felt right led them to the shower, her back resting against the wall, his mouth muffling her moans, her nails drawing blood from his skin. It then found them on the bed, making sure every square inch of the uncomfortable pair of joined twin-sized beds was marked with both of their body prints. It found them trying different techniques they had never tried before – some of which had not even crossed their minds once – yet everything fell into the category his brain had just told him to keep in mind: it all felt right.

It felt right when he held her a little tighter, pressed his body against hers a little closer, and when they both breathed a little bit harder than before. It felt right when sensations of coldness and warmth were practically indiscernible, when shivers turned into signs and sighs of anticipation, and when tears fallen were of thriving desire and delight. It was alright that neither of them knew where one's body ended and the other began. It was more than just OK that the entire world was reduced in size to just the two of them. It was perfectly acceptable that the only type of air their lungs currently demanded came from the other's mouth.

He relaxed his muscles when he was shifted onto his back, closed his eyes in bliss, and lost himself in her caresses. He was torn between opening his eyes to marvel in her presence on his, or simply keeping his eyes shut to focus on what he felt and not what he saw. He then opted to performing a healthy balance of both options, using her ragged breathing and her seemingly insatiable roaming hands on him as his guide to decide when to do what. He just wanted to live the moment, enjoy the moment, and definitely not to think about what this moment would lead into tomorrow.

As if detecting that his mind was trekking towards dangerous territory, he was quickly refocused onto the task at hand when she drew blood from his bottom lip. He whimpered ever so slightly, mostly out of reflex and surprise, but he was then promptly silenced by her tongue in his mouth.

Are these the actions of a hero? Part of his very much unhappy yet realistic subconscious asked him. Are these the actions of a true leader? Should you be relinquishing control of the current situation to her? Should you really be romping around with her instead of double-checking your plans? Is she the boss of you right now?

This woman can be the boss of me, whenever she goddamned fucking feels like it, he mentally replied to himself, much to his subconscious' dismay. The statement had been true when he had relayed it to Maya Hansen, in not such eloquent terms, and it was still very much true right now.

She pulled his upper body up to hers so that he faced her chest, not once during the process diminishing the melodic rocking of her hips. He helped her stay in place by pressing his hands against her back, synching his movements with hers, and then awed at how the tone of her skin seemed to match her hair. She was glowing, glistening, her cheeks rosy; and her head thrown back was a guaranteed indicator that she was as much into this as he was.

He truly did not want to distract her or break her rhythm, but he could not help kissing her lower belly, briefly resting the side of his face against her chest as he measured how close to the final lap she was getting, and then flipping them over before she reached it so that he was on top of her again. He ignored her groan of frustration, and instead concentrated on paying special attention to her stomach and anything south of it. This had been the home of his son for nine months. This had been the safe haven of his offspring while he had developed and had become the amazing little creature he was. This was the part of her body that would, unfortunately, never again carry another baby for him. Despite how well thought out and mutual the decision had been to take permanent measures to keep the redhead from getting pregnant again, he knew it would always kill her that she could not give him a second child.

Or a third or a fourth, his delirious and hormone-laden mind mused and, for a brief instant, the inventor did not recognize who he was. He had never pegged himself as the kind of man that wanted his significant other to become nothing more than a baby-making machine to increase the chances of spreading and expanding his legacy on this Earth. He knew that, on a conscious level, he truly did not see Pepper's role in his life as being simply of the stereotypical child-bearing one, but he could not deny that there was something powerfully primal that pulled at him in knowing that your other half, your woman, was willing and able to go through the woes of pregnancy for you.

As he took the lead of their actions by grabbing her wrists to press her hands above her head and against the mattress, he locked eyes with her. His gaze was fixed on her hazel orbs, but his mind's eye was traveling back in time. It was allowing him to see her in high tops and white socks, admire her tanned skin peeking out of her black leggings and her pink and white long dress shirt, and then focused on her freckled face framed by the same hairstyle she currently sported.

This was the same girl that he had met in school, years ago, sans the currently missing clothes, staring back at him with an obvious overabundance of physical attraction for his body, an excess of uncapped desire for his continued presence in her life, and a boatload of never-ending, unconditional love for him.

He hoped. He wished. He prayed that she was able to see in his deep electric blue eyes these same feelings, and more, also existing in him for her. At this point in time, there were no words in the entire world that he could utter to express perfect reciprocation of what he currently saw in her about him. There was no other way, at least not one that he had not already tried, to show to this wonderful woman of his how much of his overtly unpredictable lifeline was tied to the warm, vivid, and slowly burning one of her own.

And she would leave him. Tomorrow. And it was not certain if he would ever see her again.

He closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss her; all the while images of her face staring at his crossed his mind. He recalled the way her nose scrunched when she was angry, and the way her bottom lip curved up when she was sad or disappointed. He envisioned the twinkle in her eyes when something interested her or piqued her innate curiosity, and he pictured how her cheeks could match her hair when shame overpowered her. Recalling the sound of her soft voice when he needed comfort made him breathe raggedly, and the reminiscence of her little giggles made him smile against her lips.

He moved her hands from their current position above her head to force them to become trapped between the mattress and her back, keeping them there with his own. The extra mass underneath her, near the small of her back, caused her spine to arch and her chest to lift, inviting him to practically merge his torso with hers. His tempo rapidly increased, leading to realize that simultaneously kissing and breathing through their nose was becoming unmanageable, so he opted to ride the wave with her by resting his forehead against hers.

He spoke three languages, could recall entire books he had read years ago, just as if he had read them the day before; and he could write, interpret and memorize thousands of lines of computer code. Yet no real words came to mind as he joined her in the final lap of the race. Not one coherent word formed on his lips as she essentially growled his name, dug her nails onto the skin of his hands, and practically broke his hipbone with her thighs.

He was not sure how long the feeling lasted, or how long their minds were disconnected from their bodies. He was not really keeping track of any of it, anyway, but it did feel to him as if an eternity had passed; the good kind of eternity, though. The one that makes you forget anything and everything bad in your life.

They remained still for another instant, neither able to do anything else other than shiver, gasp, and partly moan. Staying in place was uncomfortable, but so was trying to move, as the slightest of shifts in their current positions sent aftershocks through both of them – pleasurable aftershocks that their spent bodies simply were not able to cope with after all of it. Despite it all, he opened his eyes, pulled his forehead from hers, and then shakily pressed a kiss to her lips. He swallowed hard and licked his lips, actions that she completed herself as well. She then filled her lungs to the max, exhaled in short breaths, finally released her iron grip on his hands and hips, and he then released her hands from beneath her back.

Their bodies did not travel far when he recovered the full use of his limbs. He surrounded her waist with his arms, tangled his legs with hers, and then slowly shifted their bodies so that she partly rested on him. She used his upper body as a pillow, circled his waist with her still weak arms, and then placed butterfly kisses on his chest. She matched his breathing pattern, closed her eyes yet again, and then sighed in contentment in tandem with him.

After a few minutes of recovery time, Tony looked to his left to read the time on the alarm clock near him. If Pepper were to get a good night's sleep, which she needed to start the travels in high spirits, they needed to clean up the mess they had made, quickly shower (preferably together), and then head straight to bed, in no more than thirty minutes time. The redhead had done most of the required packing already, anyway; all her backpack, presently resting in a corner chair, was pending to be filled with were her toiletries, all of which she had to wait until the morning to pack.

Sensing that he was getting antsy now that the reality of their situation was starting to hit him again, Pepper slowly, and with a slight wobble, peeled herself from him, stepped off the bed, and then extended her left arm towards him. He smiled broadly, accepted her help, and then followed her to the shower stall. Once there, they again took their time cleansing the other, exchanging a kiss here and there, and then quickly cleaned after themselves.

After everything was said and done, and once they went to bed, Tony hugged Pepper, placed a kiss on the top of her head, and then verbally reminded her of what she meant to him.

As expected, and as they both needed it, she was more than happy to say it back before closing her eyes for the night.

xxxXXXxxx

His eyes opened slowly, but only to see something was obstructing his view. Due to how close the object was to him, it was difficult to make any shape or form of it. He cleared his throat, pulled his body up ever so slightly so that his chest was no longer completely pressed against the bed, and then realized that it was just his own pillow that was preventing his eyes from doing their job.

As if by instinct, his eyes landed on the alarm clock almost instantly. It took him a second for reality to set in and for his mind to recall where he was and what today would bring. Nevertheless, he was somewhat relieved to see that they still had about ten minutes before they had to get up. Today was an important day for him, for his wife, for their son, and for everyone. Today marked the first day of their efforts to fight back against Victor von Doom.

Tony grabbed the clock in his right hand, turned off the alarm so that it would not rudely disturb his redhead's slumber, and then turned around to look towards her side of the bed – a side that was currently empty and, as evidenced by his right palm now sliding over the sheets, was also very, very, very cold.

He lifted his gaze and aimed it towards the open bathroom door. From his vantage point, the room appeared to be exactly as they had left it the night before. Mind you, he could only see part of the vanity, the toilet, and a peak of the hanging towels from the stall's door, but nothing seemed to really be out of place. His eyes then shifted to stare at the night table by Pepper's side of the bed, and he was surprised to see that her pinwheel necklace was laying there.

More specifically, he was confused that only her pinwheel necklace was there.

Last night, amidst the throes of passion, Pepper had taken off his dog tags and had left them atop her necklace, on her nightstand. He typically did not take them off, and when he did, he usually put them in his pants pocket or on top of the bathroom's vanity countertop. The reason why her necklace was there but not his dog tags was not immediately obvious to him, until his orbs then landed on the corner chair where Pepper's travel bag was… or had been.

It was now empty.

Of her bag and other belongings, there was no trace.

He slowly sat up in bed, trying his best not to panic when the pieces of the puzzle began giving him the big picture – a picture he refused to accept or see. It was perfectly possible that Pepper was right now in the dining area, having breakfast with her crew, while waiting for her husband to wake up and get ready for the day ahead. It was extremely plausible that she had decided not to take her precious possession with her, and that she had simply moved his dog tags to another location in the room in her rush to get ready for the day.

There was also another, simpler, and more Pepper-like explanation than the two he had just forced his mind to concoct and consider. Yet, said reason for the current state of affairs in the living quarters he shared with her was not one that agreeably resonated within him.

He threw the covers off him, got up from the bed, and walked towards his laptop. He booted up the system, waited silently for the three seconds it took for the computer to load, and then put in his password to unlock the damn thing. He had done all of this with the intention of clearing his mind of doubts and fears by checking the departure logs. He had done so with the intention of loading up the application they were going to use to: track the steps of the mission, the location of the teams when they reached the checkpoints, and for communicating with the SI satellite office in the U.S. to share information with the team that had left the island a week ago, and which had safely made it to their homeland as and when expected.

He had turned on the laptop to check on the mission status provided by the app, but once the screen finished loading up and his eyes skimmed through the only visible window, he knew he did not have to search any further for the answers he sought.

The short and simple apologetic message on the plain text editor screen of his laptop said it all to him.

Pepper was gone.

---

A/N: Ah, uhm, errrrr… Would you NOT throw rotten tomatoes at me if I gave you another sneak peek to a future IMAA story? How about a taste of the one I intend to post once this story is finished? Here it is:

Tonight, Anthony Edward Stark and friends, had all gathered to kiss the young man's single ass goodbye, as tomorrow, Tony Stark would be wed to the love of his life. Finally, after nearly a decade of dating, two years of which belonged to the engagement period to plan this massive wedding, and a lifetime of pair bonding, Tony Stark was once and for all going to tie the knot.

And he could not be more ready for it.

For years, he had waited for this moment. Ever since he had realized he was head over heels in love with his best friend. Years of courting her had led them both here, to this moment, and in a few hours, he would finally be able to call her his wife. There was nothing else than mattered to Tony right now. Not the expensive beer bottles before him. Not the handful of girls stripping and dancing before them, randomly sliding their glistening bodies against every single man attending his bachelor party. Not the illegal drugs some of his guests were inhaling from the strippers' perky and exposed breasts.

No.

Nothing else mattered to him.

All that mattered was her.

Tony's eyes wandered around him, making a mental note of where everyone's attention was at the moment. He then looked down to his lap to discretely take out his phone, and before he risked getting caught, he sent out a text message.

"Miss you, babe. Can't wait for tomorrow."

The reply was almost instantaneous, and it made him smile wide.

"Me neither. Have fun ;) Love you."