CHAPTER TEN: Shattered Realities

The next night, Pepper was getting worried. Phil had been gone to work whenever she woke up and he had barely communicated all day. Her efforts to text him had been met with only the briefest of responses. She got the impression that he didn't want to speak with her for some reason.

Pepper wracked her brain, trying to discover what she had done to upset him. Perhaps he was mad at her for distracting from his work last night? But that seemed petty, particularly for him. Maybe he was just having a bad day and was stressed. It was possible that the agent was just tired and was responding curtly because of that. Maybe it wasn't her at all. But...maybe it was. Might she have overstepped some boundaries last night?

Hmm... she thought, replaying a few of the previous night's events in her head. That one might actually be likely. Perhaps she was outstaying her welcome, or in the very least, becoming too friendly with her host.

She was already in her pajamas and about to send him one more text (this one containing some sort of apology for making him uncomfortable) when she heard the front door open. She looked to the clock on the nightstand. It was almost ten o'clock, nearly a full five hours past Phil's normal arrival time. She came out of the bedroom and watched him lock the door and tiredly drop his keys onto the table in the entryway.

"Hey," she greeted from the doorway. She was surprised by how relieved she felt seeing him. It wasn't like him to stay at work so late, and his last text had been at two o'clock. She was nervous something had happened to him. But there he was, safe and sound.

He barely glanced at her as he headed into the kitchen. "Evening," he said.

Pepper's brow furrowed and she followed him. "Hard day at work?" she asked, watching him get a glass out of the cabinet and fill it with water from the sink.

He downed the glass in almost one swig. Leaning a hand onto the counter top, he shrugged at her, finally looking her in the eye. "No harder than usual."

"Oh," Pepper said, a little surprised. The commonplace, pleasant flash in his eye was gone and his lips folded into a soft frown at her, like he was challenging her about something. "Well, I just thought, since I didn't hear from you most of the day-"

"I was in meetings most of the day, trying to find your Mr. Stark, so I'm sorry if I was unable to communicate to your satisfaction."

Your Mr. Stark, Pepper repeated inwardly. What was that about? "No, it's fine," she said, "I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."

"Everything is fine, Miss Potts."

The air between them was punched with his words. A silence drew out in the room after his use of that name. This one wasn't a tired slip of the tongue like it had been last night. It was a decided, deliberate use of the title, a whiplash into the formality they used to harbor with one another. They both felt it.

Lowering his head slightly, Coulson put the glass in the sink and started moving past her, "Now if you'll excuse me," he carefully stepped around her so as not to brush shoulders. "I will change quickly and then you can go to bed."

Coulson entered the bedroom and closed the door behind him. There was a part of him that felt guilty about the way he was treating her. But, there was another part that vividly remembered her whispered call the night before, and the pang it had sent to his chest. Coulson couldn't afford to get familiar with a woman who was involved with someone else, especially if that someone was Tony Stark. There was no way he could compete with that. It was better if he just remained Agent Coulson and she remained Miss Potts. That's all.

After changing into a t-shirt and shorts, Coulson quickly brushed his teeth and then exited the bedroom. "All yours," he said, not maintaining eye contact past a short glance.

Pepper lingered in the doorway for a while, wondering if there was anything else she could say. She wasn't sure what she had done to merit this sterile treatment, but whatever it was, it clearly had upset Phil...deeply.

But he was already settling into the couch and pulling the blanket up over his legs. Perhaps tonight wasn't the best night to discuss it.

"Well, goodnight," she said, promising herself that they would talk in the morning. Maybe he would have cooled down by then.

"Goodnight," he responded. His tone wasn't quite as curt as it had been in the kitchen, but he still didn't look at her when he spoke.

Pepper left the door open between them and then climbed into bed. She cast another glance through the doorway and watched as he turned towards the back of the couch, and then she flipped off the lamp.

Sleep did not come easily that night, though. Pepper woke up half past midnight and was unable to fall back asleep. She lay motionless in the bed, hoping that she would be able to trick the sandman into targeting her again. But as the minutes added up, it became more and more obvious that she wasn't going to fall asleep any time soon. She stared at the ceiling and a million thoughts ran through her head. She was worried about Phil. She was stressed with work. She was scared for Tony. Pretty much any thought or concern that could be plaguing her at that moment was. Giving a frustrated sigh, she rolled over and grabbed her phone. Maybe it would help if she read a little before bed. Maybe then she would get sleepy again.

The hour was heading toward two o'clock when she started to notice some intense breathing coming from the couch. Pepper's brow lowered in concern. She turned off the screen of her phone so that she was not blinded by its light, and as her eyes adjusted, she could just barely make out the disturbed movements of Coulson's form. He jerked his head to the left and right in a tumultuous rhythm and his chest rose and fell with labored breaths.

That was strange. Pepper had now spent enough nights with the agent to know that he slept like a statue. And she still remembered the conversation she had had with him about his special S.H.I.E.L.D. sleep training. Whatever was upsetting his sleep, it must be something truly horrible.

Overcome with concern, Pepper turned on the lamp and sat up. She had to go wake him up. She had to stop whatever horrible nightmare was attacking him. But, the light did the job.

Coulson bolted upright and his chest continued to pant his breaths in and out. He blinked a few times before turning to look at the source of the light. When his eyes met Pepper's, all color blanched from her skin. For several terrible seconds, she saw something in Agent Phil Coulson's eyes that she had never seen there before: pure, unadulterated terror.

This wasn't about whatever upset him yesterday. This was different. This was severe.

Coulson frantically ripped the blanket to the side and stood from the couch, practically running into the kitchen. Pepper quickly got out of bed, getting tangled for a moment in her own blanket, and followed him.

Even before she rounded the corner, she could hear the faucet water running. "Phil, what's wrong?" she asked, worriedly. Coulson stood at the kitchen sink and desperately scrubbed his hands beneath its stream. Pepper looked closely at his hands, looking for whatever it was he was trying to wash off, but she saw nothing. His hands appeared perfectly clean.

At that moment, Pepper noticed for the first time that the water was steaming as it poured onto his hands. Diving towards the sink, she turned the handle to a cooler setting. "God, Phil! Are you trying to burn your skin off?" she sharply rebuked, slipping a finger into the stream of water to make sure it was no longer scalding him.

But he took little notice of her, still scrubbing his hands urgently. She looked up into his face and saw how his complexion was beet red and his face was contorted to hold back tears. Immediately, the harshness of her previous tone dissipated. Reaching out a timid hand, she touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Phil?" she asked, searching him for a reaction.

This time, he seemed to hear her. He turned off the water and held his hands out to stare at them. They were shaking. Clutching onto the front of the sink, Coulson gave a desperate sigh and bowed his head down until it was resting on his hands.

Pepper started to rub soothing circles into his back, noticing for the first time that his light gray shirt was now a dark one, drenched in sweat from his fitful slumber.

"He was so young." Phil's voice sounded tiny, like an ant crawling out from the wreckage of a battlefield.

Pepper's heart broke at the sound of that voice. Never before had the man sounded so wounded, so vulnerable. "Who?" she asked quietly, continuing to rub his back.

"He was married too. With a daughter."

"Who was?"

Coulson lifted his head and turned to look at Pepper. She saw the face of a haunted man, and she had trouble distinguishing what was sweat and what were tears.

He had a sudden look of clarity flash in his eye when he saw her, like he discovered for the first time that he was speaking, and noticed for the first time who was listening to him. His expression fell into a hopeless sigh as he dipped his head again to his hands.

"It's classified," was his only response, and Pepper was left to just watch his shoulders shake in quiet sobs.

The soft circles persisted into Coulson's back and Pepper was at a loss as to how she could possibly help him. She wondered what sort of memory could have elicited such a response from the unflappable agent. She shivered at the thought of her own question. It must have been horrific. That was the only explanation. Pepper found herself wishing that she could somehow lift those memories from the poor man's mind and throw them away forever. She wanted to do something, anything, that would make his pain stop.

After several minutes, Coulson's tears subsided and his breathing returned to normal. He stood upright and wiped at his eyes and cheeks with his hands. "I'm sorry," he said after awhile, too ashamed to look up at her just yet. "No one else is usually here when this sort of thing happens."

Pepper frowned at his quiet confession. "Does it happen a lot?"

He looked up at her with an almost childlike expression (and it nearly broke her heart), giving a small nod. "Sometimes," he conceded softly.

She narrowed her eyes at him sympathetically and squeezed his shoulder slightly. "What brought it on?" Pepper asked.

Coulson sighed and shook his head. "Memories. Too many memories. Happened a lifetime ago, but...every once in a while..." he shook his head again and looked away.

Pepper offered him a sad smile. She had never considered the toll a job like his could have on someone's psyche, but it was obviously a heavy burden to bear. "Come on," she said, gently urging him out of the kitchen. "Let's get you a fresh shirt."

He followed her willingly and sat on the bed as she retrieved a clean t-shirt from his drawer. Completely drained of his usual sense of modesty, Coulson peeled the soaked shirt over his head and tossed it into the corner of the room. He reveled in the feel of the cool air on his overheated skin.

When Pepper turned around with the new shirt, her breath caught in surprise. Her eyes were immediately locked on his chest and broad shoulders. His damp skin shimmered in the light with every breath and movement he made.

When he reached for the fresh shirt, Pepper moved away from him slightly. "Wait," she said, dropping the shirt to the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. When she returned, she held a damp washcloth in her hands. "Here," she said, sitting next to him on the bed. Without further explanation, she started to wipe the cool cloth over his back.

Coulson inhaled deeply at the pleasant sensation and bowed his head in relaxation.

Pepper gave careful attention to her work, mindful to tend to every inch of his back. Her eyes were locked on the numerous scars that had been etched into his skin through the years. A couple of them were obviously bullet wounds. A number of them were large gashes, like from a blade or shard of some kind. He had a pretty big patch of scarred skin on his shoulder, stretching down his side. It looked like he had been dragged across some rough surface or something. But the one that bothered her the most was a series of thin scars, almost surgical in appearance. These ones were tight in their pattern and methodical in their spacing. They started on his shoulder blades and stretched down his side and around to his abdomen. These scars looked intentional, like someone was trying to put him through pain...and probably succeeded. That thought sent shivers down her spine and simultaneously made her sick to her stomach.

She nudged Coulson and caused him to turn to face her so that she could have access to his chest. She liked his chest better because there were fewer scars. (Well, there might also be a couple other reasons why she liked it.) She wiped over his shoulders and collarbone. Keeping her movements slow and relaxing, she drew the cloth down over each of his pectoral muscles, watching as they twitched underneath her movements. She followed the trail of his hair down the center of his chest to his abdomen, and she smiled softly when he involuntarily flexed there too. He was an incredibly handsome man, and she had never before appreciated his well-toned physique, but she was certainly appreciating it now.

Feeling his gaze upon her, Pepper looked up and locked eyes with him. His expression had sobered and there was a deep intensity in his eyes. He took the rag from her and left it laying on the bed beside him. He replaced it with his own hand, slipping his fingers around hers and squeezing gently.

Pepper's eyes dropped to watch their two hands dance. His skin was slightly darker than hers and rough against her smoothness. The hair of her arm stood on end while he gently moved his long fingers over and around her own before finally diving them in to intertwine. When Pepper looked up again, Phil was steadily leaning towards her.

She didn't move. She only watched him, caught by the intensity in his gaze as he closed in on her. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut just as his lips were almost on hers. She felt his free hand gently land on the small of her back as he nuzzled the tip of his nose lightly against her cheek before claiming her lips with his own. Pepper closed her eyes.

It was a slow kiss, a gentle kiss, but she could taste the hunger in it. His mouth was attentive, but patient, always giving her opportunities to enter him, but never initiating that himself.

Up until this point, Pepper had managed to remain still, quietly responding to his mouth, but not moving otherwise. But the kiss was intoxicating, and Phil's lips were so persuasive. She lost the control.

Freeing her fingers from his tender grasp, she placed both hands low on his chest, reveling in the firmness she felt there. Mindful that he should not confuse her caress for a rejection, she quickly drew her hands upward, a sensual, languid movement up his entire chest. She felt the muscles tighten beneath her touch and a low moan rumbled in his throat. Pepper moved her hands over the crest of his shoulders, up either side of his neck, and then finally behind to cradle the back of his head. From that position, she pulled Phil into her more and deepened the kiss.

Another moan escaped his lips as their tongues finally collided. His arms wrapped around her and he spread his fingers wide over her back, pulling her against him. He wanted to explore her, touch her everywhere, but he kept his hands on her back and focused instead on her mouth. There was a fire beneath her kiss, and Phil was burning in it.

When she dropped one of her hands down to feel his arm, Phil took the vacancy by slipping his own hand up to grasp the back of her neck, deepening the kiss by an impossible degree. His other hand left her back to let itself get lost in the tangles of her hair. God, he loved her hair so much. He released her neck and let his hand fall down the front of her, stopping once to indulgently cup her breast.

Now it was Pepper's turn to moan in response. She pushed herself further into the kiss until Phil was forced to slowly fall backwards onto the bed. She crossed over him with one leg, comfortably straddling him. The contact of their lips was never broken and her hair fluttered down to surround that kiss in a fiery red canopy. She took control over the kiss. Reaching a hand up to softly grab his chin, she pulled his jaw gently down to open his mouth fully beneath her. She held it that way as she kissed him, and he was able to do nothing but accept her into him and respond to her talented tongue.

It was the most mind-numbingly electric kiss Phil had ever had, and his hands moved over her whole body hungrily in response. He let out a low moan in praise of her skill.

That moan was unlike any sound she had ever heard from him. It was deep. It was guttural. It vibrated in the kiss. And it sounded like Tony.

Stunned by that thought, Pepper pulled sharply away from the kiss. She held herself away from him with a single hand placed over his heart.

He opened his eyes in shock at the sudden break of contact. Almost completely out of breath, Phil's chest heaved heavily up and down beneath her hand. As soon as he saw the mortified look in her eye, he knew he had overstayed his welcome.

"I'm sorry," he gasped.

Pepper too struggled to regain control of her breathing. She scowled at him in confusion, bringing a hand up to brush her wild hair out of her face. "What?" she asked, breathless.

Coulson was already shaking his head beneath her. "I'm sorry," he said again, "I shouldn't have-"

"Don't be ridiculous," she huffed. "I'm the one who's on top of you, Phil."

His cheeks were still flushed from the kiss and his lips were swelling slightly, but he moved himself out from underneath her and dropped his eyes away from her gaze. "But I know I shouldn't have kissed you. It was wrong and now I've made you uncomfortable."

"Phil," she said, trying to get him to look at her. "Phil! It wasn't wrong, I just..." Pepper tried to think of an explanation. She didn't want Phil blaming himself for the kiss. She was just as responsible for it as he was.

Coulson stood from the bed and grabbed the long-forgotten t-shirt, slipping his arms through the sleeves. "You just thought of Tony," he finished quietly, pulling the shirt down into place.

Pepper was silent as he finally looked her in the eye again. Now it was her turn to fall away from his gaze shamefully.

He tried to ignore the pang that hit his heart at her silent confession. But he couldn't begrudge her. He knew about her relationship with Tony. Hell, the whole world knew about it, which was exactly why he shouldn't have kissed her in the first place. Now, all he really wanted was to get out of that room.

He started to move towards the door, but she caught him by the arm. "Wait, Phil," she said, standing and slipping both of her hands down to hold one of his. "I'm so sorry. If...if only things were different."

Coulson gulped once as he pulled his hand out from her grasp. "But they aren't, are they," it was a question, but there was no ounce of hope in his tone. He knew the answer to that just as well as she did.

Once again, Pepper couldn't look him in the eye. She simply bowed her head, and shook it ever so subtly. When she looked up again, the door was closing between them, and it stayed that way the rest of the night.

Alright friends, this was a biggie! I am SO curious to hear your thoughts on this chapter! Please let me know what you thought in the reviews!