Update note: I might as well own the fact that I'm now on an every-other-week updating schedule. Recently that's been due to traveling, but very soon I'm going to need that time to write to (try to) keep ahead of what I'm posting. The original (unfinished) draft of this was right around 100,000 words and we're rapidly approaching the end of my revisions to that chunk of narrative. I have Ideas and have been doing research for upcoming sections and, while I'm not always the speediest writer out there, I'm excited by the way this story has developed and grown (thanks in no small part to reader comments and my test audience/slayer of extraneous commas/brainstorming buddy, Browarod) so I hope it ends up being worth the patience of those who are following this story.

He was back at Pepper's condo by three. A long shower and a change of clothes were first on the agenda, then he sat on the floor in front of the couch, his phone perched on the coffee table and projecting a screen up in front of him. He pulled up the questions from Doc T and ran a hand over his slightly damp hair as he began to read them, then was distracted by the length of his hair. God, he needed a haircut. How long had it even been since his last one?

While he was contemplating this, a message arrived from Pepper. Dinner at 7 at the seafood place work for you?

Sure. Shall I pick you up or meet you there? He replied quickly, then added, I need a haircut.

Meet us there. Happy's coming, too. Moments later, I wondered when you'd notice. You have no idea who to call, do you?

Sometimes she knew him a little too well. She didn't even wait for a response before she sent the name of the place that she'd called for him in the past. They were the kind who came to you rather than you going to them, which was ideal. Even better, they scheduled him for later that afternoon so he'd be done with it before dinner.

It took a while for him to return to the questions from the doc. They were all statements that he was supposed to mark as true or false . . . some were easy enough, but for others he had to sit and think about whether any of his vague feelings of unease fit what they seemed to mean.

The message accompanying the questions said it should take twenty to thirty minutes to complete. It took him nearly twice that long to wrestle through them, and not all of it was due to distraction. Some of it he just. didn't. know. True-false questions had no right being so difficult.

But at least he finished well before the stylist arrived, a discreet sort who did not try to talk at him after the initial attempts at small talk were answered brusquely. The young man was good at what he did, though, and Tony looked and felt more like himself in short order. He stepped out of the way while the stylist cleaned up, then offered a folded bill along with his handshake. "But you've already paid," the young man protested. He was almost a boy, had maybe ten years on Spidey.

"Then it's for you. Take your boyfriend-it is a boyfriend, isn't it?-somewhere fun."

The kid flushed ten different shades of red but accepted the tip. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

Tony waved him away and he hurried out. Tony stared at the door thoughtfully for a few moments, considering what might make the youngster blush so (he could think of at least half a dozen things, just off the top of his head), before going to the bedroom to change. He'd need to leave shortly if he wanted to arrive fashionably but not excessively late. Pepper hated it when he was very late.

Dinner was good, and it was nice to see Happy again. His injuries from that explosion were no longer visible, though every so often he'd be talking and lose his train of thought. The first time it happened, Pepper caught Tony's eye and shook her head slightly, signaling that he shouldn't say anything about it.

The doctors had said there might be lingering mental effects from Happy's injuries and subsequent time in a coma. Though there had definitely been some hiccups as Happy first began his recovery, Tony had hoped that, too, would heal along with his physical injuries. No such luck, and he felt like a terrible friend for not already knowing, for not having seen him in, what, over a year? Was he even Happy's friend? Had he ever been Happy's friend? Or was he just his employer?

Pepper gently reminded Happy what he had been saying, and he continued as if nothing had happened. The next time, Tony asked him something that got him going again, and the conversation continued comfortably.

Tony had a sneaking suspicion that Pepper had asked Happy along in order to get confirmation from someone else that he wasn't himself, but he tried not to dwell on the possibility. It seemed paranoid even as it seemed likely. Mostly he didn't want to second-guess Pepper's motives, because if he couldn't trust her, the list of people he could rely on would be disconcertingly brief.

When he and Pepper were back at her place, getting ready for bed, he voiced something he'd decided at dinner while watching Pepper and Happy interact and feeling like he was out of place. "I think I'll go back east tomorrow."

"Already? You've only been here two days," Pepper replied as she went from closet to bathroom.

He sat on the end of the bed to wait his turn. "I need to do a few things, and I don't want to be in the way of any weekend plans you might have."

"Just because Friday is girls' night doesn't mean you'd be in the way. I'd leave you here," she said, throwing a smile his direction before she started brushing her teeth.

"Being out of the way is even easier if I'm not here," he said. "Besides, the U.N. meeting starts Monday and I think Dr. Mann would prefer it if I put a day or two between that and traveling." The doctor's opinion was his trump card, and he was going to play it for all it was worth.

Pepper frowned around her toothbrush but didn't try to answer until she was finished. "I suppose you're right. You know I wouldn't mind if you were here longer, right?"

"I know," he said, but wasn't convinced. If he stayed any longer, she'd realize she didn't mean that.

"When will you leave?"

He shrugged. "By noon." He hadn't actually thought about it.

"Do you want to give me a ride in the morning? I can go in a little later so you have more time to throw everything together, and then I can make sure you get a decent breakfast before you head out." While she was speaking she'd come over to stand in front of him and she brushed her fingers over his cheek. "I worry about you. Are you sure you'll be all right traveling tomorrow?"

Tony took her hand and kissed her fingers briefly before pulling away and heading for the bathroom. "I'll be fine. All I have to do is tell Friday where to go and she does the rest. And yeah, I can give you a ride. I don't have a whole lot that needs throwing together."

.

His sleep was full of nightmares and his night was full of wakings as his heart pounded, his chest heaved, and sweat beaded on every inch of available skin.

"Now are you happy I'm leaving?" he asked after waking both himself and Pepper for the third time before two a.m. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her, trying to decide if moving to the couch would help anything or if he should give up on sleep for the rest of the night. It wouldn't be the first time.

"No, it makes me wonder if the thought of leaving brought this on."

He hadn't thought of that, but he immediately dismissed it. "I don't think so. I talked to the doc again and told her some things that I've been trying not to think about."

"And now you're having nightmares." She sounded sad.

"Now I'm having nightmares."

She touched his shoulder. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He patted her hand but didn't look at her. "No, I don't think so."

She gently tugged on his shoulder. "Come here."

He sighed but shifted back onto the bed alongside her. Pepper curled up around him and talked to him about lighthearted things, from some of the stupidity she'd had to deal with recently at SI to what she'd thought of him when they first met. He'd heard it before, probably, but at least it was safe to dwell on.

"Didn't think much of me, huh?" Tony mumbled, his eyes closed.

"Under the circumstances, can you blame me?"

He shrugged. "I don't remember doing that. I was very drunk, as you recall."

"Yes, I was quite aware. And yet you remembered me."

He opened his eyes to glance at her briefly. "How could I not? Red hair and a fiery personality to match."

"Only when you upset me," she said with a smile, then kissed him lightly. "Go to sleep. I'm right here."

"I'm not sure I want to," he said with a sigh, but closed his eyes obediently, breathing in the smell of her hair products and perfume. When sleep began to tug at him he debated whether to resist or give in.

With his thoughts firmly fixed on Pepper, he gave in.

The next nightmare was about Pepper and the situation with Killian and what if, what if, what if . . . She fell to her death, burned beyond recognition, and he was alone.

His heart clenched in his chest and he sat up with a gasp. Pepper, lovely Pepper, slept on, her breathing deep and even. He watched her in the dim half-light, put a hand against her ribcage to feel its movement, and slowly, slowly felt his own breathing slow.

When he was certain he could stand without passing out or his knees buckling, he left the bed and bedroom and went to pace in the living room. He was giving up for the night.

The hours dragged by slowly and if it were only up to him, he would have gone ahead and started the trip east. But, Pepper.

So he stayed and paced and sat and started re-reading parts of the Accords since he'd not bothered to look at it for a while and then paced again. At some point in the long slog of the predawn hours, he realized that he was at the four-week mark of his recovery; if his restrictions hadn't been extended, he would have been free and clear in another day. He may be abiding by them (for the most part), but he chafed at some of the boundaries, and he was so very tired of feeling useless and paranoid about his health. He needed a good, stiff drink.

As soon as Pepper was awake he took a shower, then made himself some very strong coffee while she showered and dressed. His stuff was ready as soon as he had finished getting dressed, all he was waiting on was Pepper. Well, and breakfast, technically, but he wasn't feeling breakfast.

When Pepper strode out of the bedroom, he stood from his perch on the couch and they awkwardly stood there for a moment, staring at one another. "Let's go somewhere for breakfast," Pepper suggested, seeming reluctant for him to leave.

Then she frowned and stepped forward to touch his face. He only just managed not to flinch at the sudden motion.

"Unless you don't want to be seen in public like this," she said softly, her fingertips smoothing over the bags beneath his eyes. "I don't have makeup for you anymore."

He sidestepped her hands and pulled a pair of sunglasses out of the suit jacket draped over the arm of the couch. "It will be fine," he said, slipping them on. "Let's go."

They took his stuff to the car, and Pepper directed him to a little local place, a pancake house where the waitress and cook greeted her like an old friend. They also knew her order; Tony didn't know what to get so Pepper suggested he share hers because she never finished it herself anyway. They talked in fits and starts while waiting for the food, neither sure what to say with his departure looming and other people nearby to overhear.

He didn't really taste the food that he ate mechanically, but he ate it anyway to keep Pepper happy. She was already looking unhappy and also tired and that meant her fuse was shorter than usual. It wouldn't do to make her mad right before he left.

He paid the bill, tipping the waitress generously, and escorted Pepper to the car, his hand on her lower back. He could almost feel people watching and taking pictures, but he ignored them to focus on Pepper. Let them take pictures; he didn't care.

Nothing was said in the car until they'd passed the gate and entered the Stark Industries complex. "Are you sure going back today is a good idea?" Pepper asked.

"Flying is easier than driving and I'm doing fine so far," Tony said flippantly.

"Let me know when you arrive."

"Yes, dear," he said semi-sarcastically as he pulled the car up in front of the main doors and parked it. "Stay there, I'll get the door."

He rounded the car and opened her door with a gallant bow. "My lady," he said, offering his hand.

She laughed and took his hand but didn't let go right away. "Come here, you," she said fondly, and kissed him, her hands on his shoulders. "Behave," she said fiercely, still gripping his shoulders. "I don't ever want another of those phone calls from Rhodey that something happened to you."

His hands settled on her hips and tightened briefly. "I'll do my best," he said frankly.

"That's all I ask." She glanced toward the building and lowered her voice. "We have an audience."

"Of course we do. It's us. Shall we give them a show?"

Pepper smirked and let him kiss her thoroughly. As he did, he turned her slightly toward the nearest security camera; if they were going to be recorded, they might as well have a good angle. His body still wasn't reacting the way it should-damn medication-but he had a lot of practice at this and knew what Pepper liked. He also knew when to start pulling back lest he seem a tease, and as they parted he raised a middle finger to the security camera. It would give Happy a laugh.

Both of their phones began ringing simultaneously. Both were ignored. "You'll hear from me before the end of the day," Tony promised while Pepper stepped back and straightened her clothing.

"If I don't, you'll pay for it in some way later."

He nodded. She pulled out her phone as she went inside the building, where everyone who had been crowding the windows had mysteriously vanished.

He drove around to the hangar, his phone periodically ringing. "Friday, who is it?" he asked irritably when it didn't stop despite his lack of response.

"Four new messages have been left by Mel."

"I'll deal with her after we're in the air." The ringing mercifully stopped, though whether it was because Mel ceased calling or because Friday stopped letting the calls through he didn't know (and didn't care).

A young valet was waiting by the quinjet. Tony flipped him the keys as he rounded the car to retrieve his baggage from the trunk. "Make sure she gets a good workout more often, yeah? A run up and down the highway ought to do it."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Stark," the valet said eagerly.

Tony waved and strode into the quinjet, the hatch obediently closing behind him. There were no signs of anything amiss, but he had to be sure. He tapped his watch and didn't move until Friday's voice announced, "No unusual activity detected. No suspicious substances detected. No computer interference detected. No forbidden persons detected. Security scan results: all clear."

"Fire up the engines and let's get out of here," he said, dropping his bags onto a seat, then slipped off the suit jacket he'd put on for appearances and tossed it over them. The jet came to life around him as he made his way to the pilot's seat. "How's our flight plan look?"

Friday displayed an arcing line from Los Angeles to New York City overlaid with weather radar and commercial airline routes. He made a few adjustments then swept the map away.

Once the jet was in the air, he activated the stealth mode and the autopilot. "All right, let's see what Mel wants."

He'd been ignoring her calls for days. Specifically, she'd been trying to reach him since the night he arrived in California. He'd deleted her first several messages without listening to them, and now there were half a dozen more. He only listened to the last one. "Mr. Stark, Tony, please, I need to talk to you. I can't do my job properly if you don't talk to me and if you don't want me to do my job then I have to wonder why the hell you hired me in the first place."

She was frustrated with him, angry even, it was obvious in her tone and the clipped way she ended the call. She didn't know him very well if she thought that would work on him. Then again, she'd been on the job since, what, Monday? And it was Friday now. She must have had one hell of a week.

He took pity on her and called her back.

"Oh, thank god you're not dead" was her greeting.

"I love you too," he joked. "Why would I be dead?"

"I've only called you like half a million times and gotten absolutely nothing in response. I need the skinny on these photos floating around."

"Which photos?"

She sighed. "The ones all over the internet and the tabloids, Mr. Stark. Where have you been, under a rock?"

"I've been visiting my girl," he said defensively. "I'm an adult. It's allowed."

"So these photos of people that look like you and Ms. Potts are actually of you and Ms. Potts?"

"Who else would they be?"

"There are guys who make a lot of money off the fact that they look like you. Nobody bothered to tell me what you were doing, just that you'd gone to California, so how am I to know this guy is really, actually you? I've met you a grand total of once."

"I think I like you when you're angry," he said. "Very blunt. To the point. They're good qualities."

She ignored him. He could hear her flipping a page in her notebook. "Tell me exactly where you've been over the past few days."

He recounted his activities, including the names of the places they ate, while she no doubt took notes in that peculiar style she had.

"There are new photos from this morning. Will there be any more that I should know about?"

"I don't think so, but there is footage from the cameras at SI this morning as well. If you'd like the video, just ask the head of security."

"Name and information?" she asked immediately.

He provided it.

"You do realize that you, as the owner of the company, making out with the CEO of your company in front of the company headquarters is highly inappropriate, right?"

"Since when have I ever been appropriate?"

She sighed more heavily this time. "It's a good thing people like you. Behavior like that can bring all sorts of investigations into inappropriate conduct for us normal folks."

"It's good to be rich," he said breezily. "Being a superhero doesn't hurt."

Mel snorted. "I don't know if I'd go that far. The superhero part can be as big a negative as it is a positive. More scrutiny, for starters."

He knew that better than almost anyone, but didn't feel like admitting it. "That's your problem, not mine."

"Believe me, I have become well aware of that. All right, I'm going to release a statement confirming that you were in Santa Monica to spend some time with Ms. Potts, but I need a reason for your departure that doesn't sound like you broke up. You didn't break up, right?"

"No," he said truthfully. "Say that I've returned to New York to prepare for the next round of U.N. meetings about the Accords."

"Is it true?"

"True enough."

"Good. Do you want to see the statement before it's released?"

"No, just run it by Pepper's PR people."

"Will do. And will you please let me know the next time you run off and do something that's going to end up all over the internet?"

"No promises."

"Thanks for nothing," she groused.

"My pleasure." She hung up and he smirked. It was far too easy to give her a hard time, though he didn't enjoy it the way he used to. He'd have to make it up to her somehow.

He sent Happy a heads up. You'll get a call from the new Avengers PR girl, Mel. Let her have the security footage of Pepper and me from this morning. I know you have it.

The response was almost immediate. Is she cute?

"Friday, what's Mel look like, again?" Friday showed him her headshot. Yeah, she's cute.

Nice.

Tony wandered from the pilot's seat to the coffee closet. Each of their jets had a coffee closet, which was really just a cupboard where they'd stashed the instant coffee, spoons, and the requisite assortment of packaged sweeteners and creamers in a neatly arranged drawer. He'd also hardwired a plastic electric kettle into the cupboard, and insulated mugs were stacked next to it and strapped to the wall so there were no casualties if the jet had to dive or roll. A larger drawer was full of bottled water to put into the kettle.

"Friday, show me the photos Mel was talking about." He absently started making a cup of coffee as he skimmed the images. It was the usual assortment of long-lensed paparazzi shots and cellphone pictures of varying quality, so no big deal.

When the coffee was ready he took it back to the pilot's seat and held it meditatively while watching the world seem to move around him. The world had moved on without him when he was in Afghanistan, moved on without him when he was absorbed, obsessed, with getting the B.A.R.F. system up and running . . . would move on without him if he decided to disappear like Bruce did.

Well, eventually. Pepper would be frantic and it was entirely possible that his disappearance would derail the Accords edits. If that happened, Rogers was likely to take his people and go rogue again. This time all the world would be after them and either countless people would die trying to catch them or Rogers would have a crisis of conscience and turn himself in, which would be a disaster.

The thought of living as someone else somewhere else for a while, of vanishing into thin air, was tempting, but he wasn't about to muck up the Accords now. Also, Pepper. And that project he needed to finish in case T'Challa came to the subcommittee meeting.

"Friday, connect to the computer in my lab at the compound and display on the right screen."

He tweaked this and that and wrote comments about some of the sections until Friday reminded him it was nearly time to call Dr. Tanya. He stood up and stretched and went aft to do a couple of things, but was ready, fresh cup of coffee in hand, right on time. This punctual thing was becoming a habit.

"Hey, doc."

"Hello, Tony. Is it possible for us to talk over video? We have had some good conversations on the phone, but I would like to be able to see you as we chat."

That was, of course, quite possible; it was only a minute or so before they were exchanging greetings face to face. "How are you doing?" Doc T asked.

"I'm tired," he admitted.

"You look it. Nightmares again?"

He grimaced and told her about them and why he thought he'd had them. She asked what he'd thought of the questions she asked him to answer and what was bothering him the most. She also raised the issue of medication and whether he would be willing to try it for any of his concerns. He flatly declined, uninterested in (more) pills.

The conversation was good but long and Tony was so very tired. His coffee was long gone and with the video he couldn't just walk away to make more.

"When will you be back at the compound?" she asked eventually.

"End of the week? Whenever the U.N. meeting is done," he said.

"Where are you now?"

He peered out toward the ground and shrugged. "Flyover country somewhere." He could have pulled up a map, but that felt like too much effort.

"Where are you headed?"

"My tower in the city. I need some space before I go rub elbows with diplomats again."

To his surprise, she nodded rather than trying to convince him to return to the compound. "Call me if you need to talk, no matter what time it is."

Tony chuckled humorlessly. "What, are you worried about me, doc?"

"You're trying to cope with a lot of things and you have a history of self-destructive habits," she said carefully. "Letting you know that I am available if you need me is the least I can do."

"Yeah, well, most people don't bother," he said dismissively.

"I am not most people." She seemed amused.

"We're paying you to care."

If his remark stung, she didn't show it. "There are others here who care about you, no money needed."

"Technically they're all on my payroll," he objected, then sighed. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?"

He knew she was trying to draw him out and he wasn't going to go along with it, not this time. "No, it doesn't," he said flatly.

"There are people who worry about you, you know," she said gently.

"I find that hard to believe."

"There is more to life than what you can personally imagine."

"That's what I'm afraid of. I can imagine a lot of really shitty things."

"I don't only mean negative things. Why focus on those?"

"Because that's most noticeable," he said, and took a deep breath. He was tired, all he wanted was for the conversation to end, but she was striking a nerve and he couldn't not respond. "Does it matter that I built a self-sustaining tower? No, because a fucking alien used the power source to allow a space army to invade. So I need to anticipate, stay one step ahead, make it so we can respond better, faster, maybe even prevent the next disaster."

"How do the Avengers fit in?"

"The Avengers are a desperate bid to counteract or at least contain the devastation. They're an attempt at a shield between the world's population and whatever is coming next. In the meantime, they try to make the world a better place. A positive charge to neutralize negative ones, but I don't think the positive charge is as strong as Fury hoped it would be."

"Are the Accords positive or negative?"

He sighed wearily. "Depends on what happens next week. They could be positive, or they could be the worst thing that has happened to the Avengers. So far, they've only proven to be negative."

"You wouldn't have supported them if you didn't think they could be a good thing."

"I still think they could be. It's just-" his shoulders slumped and he looked away. "My math was wrong where Rogers was concerned. My math is never wrong, but it was. That's what I get for putting people in my calculations, I suppose. I thought he would support it, he didn't, and everything went to hell."

There was silence for several long moments. "What will you do when you get to New York?" Doc T asked gently.

Tony shrugged. "Have a scotch, maybe order a pizza. I don't know, nothing important, at least until tomorrow. I need to be ready for Monday and right now I'm not."

"Whenever I make it down to the city, I expect you to tell me which pizza place to visit."

"I could bring pizza back to the compound when the meeting's done."

"You could," she said agreeably. "But I haven't been to New York City yet. I need to see the sights."

He was scandalized and they ended the conversation by discussing a future field trip for her and any of the other Avengers who wanted to come, which got him wondering. Had Wanda been to the city yet? He had no idea. If she hadn't, he and Rogers were going to have words about the proper education of an Avenger.

He had the rough outline of a trip mapped out by the time the jet got close enough to the city that he needed to take over for the autopilot. Lodgings weren't a problem, seeing how they had an entire tower, and there were lots of food options, many of which would deliver (though that defeated the purpose of a sightseeing trip). There was no lack of things to do and places to go, so he listed a dozen of each and figured they'd hammer out the details later. Security might be a concern, but it always was. He could even give Happy a call, have him coordinate. That would please him.

Perhaps it could even be a celebratory trip after they straightened out the Accords.

No, that was wishful thinking, and thinking too far ahead. One step at a time, and for now that step was the upcoming meeting.

A/N: The "questionnaire" is the Millon Clinical Multiaxial Inventory, a psychological assessment that currently consists of 195 true/false questions. I don't mention actual questions because I don't have access to the current version. (Note: I am never going to pronounce a diagnosis (diagnoses?) for Tony in the fic for two reasons: 1) that's not the point of the story, and 2) I'm not qualified to make such an assessment.)