Vital Communication Chapter 21
Disclaimer: We're able to take a break now, as I pull away from the main focus to deal with some subplots.
The team got Bruce back to the Tower with minimal fuss after the encounter with Fury. He retired to his room for privacy and some undisturbed rest, leaving the others to discuss their next move. JARVIS promised to monitor him.
"So the plan remains the same?" Clint wondered aloud, flopping on the plush, beige couch in the living room. Natasha curled up neatly next to him, feet tucked under a nearby throw.
"No reason to change anything," she said in response, leaning into his side. He curled one arm around her torso, hugging her, shielding her. This whole mess had troubled the pair of them. They still felt adrift with the loss of their lover.
"No, the mission to DC is still good. We put everything back to normal for him, unless he wants the change," Tony said, standing by the bank of floor to ceiling windows. He stared down into the bowels of Manhattan, as if it would give him the answers he sought.
The group sat or stood in silence, Steve having found a seat in one of the bracketing arm chairs, each alone with their thoughts. Pepper found them an hour later.
"You're back!" she exclaimed, caught by surprise at the sight of the four solemn heroes in the main living room. "Bruce?" she asked of no one in particular. Tony turned to look at her, and she nearly flinched at the distant look in his eyes. "What happened?" her voice now turned demanding as she fell back into her armor as CEO.
"He's fine. Currently in his room, sleeping, I hope," Tasha said from her spot beside Clint. Her face was turned into his chest. They appeared nearly asleep.
"We may have an issue with SHIELD though. Might need to hire ourselves a doctor sooner than I'd planned," Tony said, slowing coming back to himself, "But in the mean time, Pep, let's go talk." He moved forward, approaching her with slow, deliberate strides as though she'd flee if he startled her.
"O, okay Tony. If you think we need to?" she was confused by his actions rather than his words.
"You three will be heading out when?" Tony asked the others as he crossed the room.
Steve looked at the two agents, who had a brief, silent conference then Clint answered, "In two days." Tony nodded and took Pepper by the arm to guide her back out to the elevator and up to their penthouse.
"Tony? What's wrong? You're scaring me," Pepper quietly asked once the doors to the elevator had closed behind them. He'd let her go once inside the car, moving to put the distance of the small space between them. His arms wrapped around his chest, almost a hug, or providing protection for his heart.
"Not here Pepper. Let's wait til we're upstairs, okay?" he whispered, clearly uncomfortable now. She nodded jerkily and subsided into her own uncomfortable silence for the rest of the ride. This whole thing reminded her of the palladium days, Tony throwing himself into whatever adrenaline fueled thing he could attempt, just to feel alive, and she not knowing what to make of anything he did.
They arrived at the penthouse, and Tony came close to her again to escort her into the main room. He got her comfortable in the overstuffed, black leather couch, and went to the bar.
"Drink?", he asked, retreating into the familiar, reaching for a truly dusty bottle of whiskey from a dark corner of the bar.
"Um, sure. Whiskey sour?" Pepper requested, trying to find a bit of equilibrium. He smiled and made her drink, and poured himself a decent tumbler's worth of the whiskey, neat*. Tony brought the drinks back to the couch and offered Pepper hers. She accepted it, trying to hide the shaking in her hand. He walked away from the couch, desperately needing the distance as he prepared for the coming storm.
"Tony?", Pepper whispered, after a single gulp of the drink she'd been given. It didn't give her courage, or settle her nerves.
"This whiskey was one of my dad's. Kept a supply to toast 'great successes' according to Obie. And drowned a few sorrows as well, from the letters of my mother," he intoned, staring deep into his glass, as though the amber liquid held the secrets of the universe.
"Pepper," he sighed, "you mean the world to me."
"We need to break up, don't we?", she caught on quick, did Ms Virginia Potts. That's what he loved about her, among other reasons.
"I can't say it's for the best, because it's not. But I think, no," here he turned to look at her, expression hard in its earnestness, "I know, there's feelings for Bruce," he placed his empty hand over his heart, "And it's so very not fair to any of us if I keep you beside me in that confusion." He hated himself right then. Wanted nothing more than to have the ground open up and swallow him than cause Pepper pain.
"Tony," Pepper began, leaning forward to put her drink on the nearby glass topped coffee table before standing, "I had a feeling this was coming." Tony visibly flinched, hard enough that he had to take a half step back. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but a raised hand from her forestalled the verbal attack.
"Listen to me, please?", she asked, moving towards him, and coincidentally backing him up against the windows. The expression on her face was soft, caring. She wasn't completely heartbroken, but Tony just thought she was 'being brave' while he killed her heart. She took his hand in hers, grasping it gently.
"You've gotten closer to Bruce in less time than I've seen you create new technology," she began, "I felt you slipping away while we were on that press junket. Even before, really. Only the suit, or one of the robots gets so much more of your attention, and I think even they could end up in second place." Her free hand came up to caress his cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch, tears he'd been trying to hold back, slipping free. The clear saline dropping unnoticed down his cheeks, unheeded into his goatee.
"I never wanted to hurt you again, Pep," he whispered, voice cracking as he fought to keep from a complete break down.
"I won't be leaving you, Tony. Just, I won't be so close anymore," she said, softly. He wrapped his arms around her, tightening into a strong hug. The tumbler of whiskey knocked against her elbow, droplets spilling onto her skirt, but she didn't care. She just leaned her head against his shoulder, and listened to the faint hum of the arc reactor and the strong beat of his heart.
"He completes you like no one else I've seen, dear one," she quietly says, voice only loud enough that he didn't have to strain to understand.
"Please don't hate me, Pepper," he cried.
"Never."
And the hug he initiated became hers as he finally let go, and grieved for himself, her and for Bruce. Probably for him, most of all.
* - A "neat" whiskey is straight up, no ice, or other garnish. Older style of ordering this type of alcohol. What can I say, both Tony and I are old-fashioned (and just plain old). Also, I hope I did the break up justice. *hands out tissues to whomever wants them*