Chapter 18

Tony wanted to follow Pepper, he wanted to stop her, he wanted to talk to her. But halfway he sank to the ground. He felt like dying. This headache was hardly bearable, and he felt terribly sick. He had to cough a few times before giving up on his plan of following Pepper. Instead, he was leaning against the wall, panting. He could understand how angry Pepper must be now. What a scare he had caused over the last week. If this wasn't enough, she had also been the one to find him on that restroom floor. He had promised her he would take better care of himself - and now this. He kept screwing up so much...

Tony was shaking all over. He was so afraid. He was afraid of losing Pepper. He was afraid of losing everyone if he kept this up. And he was afraid because he could feel he was losing control. He hadn't been able to stop himself from drinking last night. And then he hadn't been able to stop himself from drinking too much. The plan had been to just take the edge off. At first…

Again, he had endured a panic attack last night after a nightmare. And because he then had thought about that dark cave, and that terrorists, and that goddamn water trough. This was happening over and over again. The thoughts and memories of it would not leave his head. He constantly tried to think of something else. But it just didn't work.

When he thought about the fact that today was a beautiful day and the sun was shining – it reminded him about how dark it had been in this cave. When he washed his face in the morning – he often looked down into this terrible water trough instead into the sink. When he thought about how he could keep his company going - he remembered the missile with Stark Industries written on it that had exploded right next to him. Just everything seemed to be connected to Afghanistan. Everything. The more he tried not to think about it, the more it seemed to force itself on him. But when he actively thought about it, it wasn't any better.

The only thing that seemed to help was alcohol. It wasn't all good then; Tony saw the pictures in front of him or had to think about Afghanistan even then - but when he was drunk, it didn't feel so bad to think about it. He was less stressed, he was less scared, he wasn't so incapacitated. It was more as if he could then look at these images from distance. So, yes, he had to admit he might had a tiny little drinking problem. But he told himself that this was just a temporarily thing. He could stop every time he wanted. If this was getting worse, he would stop, of course. But as long as it was helpful… why not? He just needed a little more time to get things right, to get in control of everything.

Tony managed to get back to his feet. One step after another. First, he desperately needed to get rid of this headache. So he went back into the bathroom and took two painkillers from the mirrored cabinet, which he hastily washed down with some water from the tap.

God, he felt like absolute shit. In addition to that, Tony sensed fear in every nerve; he wished he could simply peel himself out of his distressed body. He just didn't want to feel anything. Right now, at this very moment, he wanted help. But it was no one here. And he didn't know if he could express it. Express what, actually? I am scared? Please help me? I don't know what to do? I can't take this anymore? Pathetic.

He couldn't go on like this. Something had to change, Pepper was right with that. But how? Should he take this psychiatrist's advice? What help could he be offered? He simply had no hope that there was help for him. What had happened, had happened. Those memories would stay with him forever. Nothing could change that fact. It had happened - and it was horrible.

Tony went into the living room and stared at his bar. He just didn't know what else to do. He just didn't. He needed help – but apparently, he had to help himself. So he reached for a bottle of whiskey behind the bar, opened it with shaking hands, and took a few generous sips.

"Sir," Jarvis said empathetically. "I strongly advise not to drink again. Your liver enzymes are significantly above the limit. And there's still residual alcohol in your blood."

Tony ignored Jarvis and slumped back to the floor while holding onto the bottle like onto a life preserver. Fear constricted his throat, and he tried hard not to lose his mind.

"Would you like me to call Miss Potts?" Jarvis' voice sounded again.

"Yes," Tony gasped, "... No! No, don't."

He didn't want to cause Pepper any more pain. Besides, he was afraid that if he asked her, she wouldn't come. He wouldn't be able to handle any rejection now. Tony took more sips straight from the bottle. Moreover, if Pepper saw that he was drinking again, she might turn away from him for good.

"Sir, I'd like to get someone involved as I can perceive severe symptoms of stress and impaired decision making. Would you allow me to at least send Mr. Hogan?"

"No, Jarvis. Stop bugging. Just… give me a moment."

Jarvis didn't speak up again. Tony continued drinking.

He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget everything. He wanted to forget his parents' deaths, and he wanted to forget what it was like back then. Too smart for the other kids as a child, too young for the other students in college, always lonely. He wanted to forget that people had died because of his weapons for years. He wanted to rip the arc reactor out of his chest and pretend Afghanistan never happened. He wanted to forget Yinsen's death. He wanted to forget Obadiah's betrayal. And somehow, he wanted to forget Iron Man. Tony wanted to forget this pain. This unbearable piercing inner pain. Right now, he hated everything about himself. And everything about the world. And what's to be done about that?

He still had his missions. The Ten Rings were still waiting to be wiped out by him. And yes, he would kill them, every single one of them. Then everything would be like before. And then he might could go back to being a selfish asshole and not give a shit about anyone or anything. Not that he wanted that, but maybe that's just who he was. And maybe that's why he felt so bad. Because he was just pretending to be a better version of himself.

With trepidation Tony noticed that Pepper did not contact him at all for the next few days. He couldn't remember how many years ago this had happened the last time. Several times he was on the verge of dialing her number. But what could he say to her? I'm not good at this kind of thing, he thought grimly. The days passed, and Tony grew more and more restless. He needed to talk to her. He had to make sure Pepper hadn't turned her back on him.

So after a week of silence, he finally made up his mind to go to Pepper and see her in person. Maybe it was easier that way than by phone. Tony got up, put on a jacket, and headed downstairs to his cars.

"Jarvis..." he said as he descended the stairs. "What could you bring a woman you've upset?"

"Have you tried flowers, Sir?"

Tony had to grin involuntarily as he got into the Audi R8 and drove off.

A short time later, Tony entered Stark Industries. He noticed how long it had been since he had been here. The other employees probably did too, because most of them looked at him in confusion.

"Mr. Stark!" a pretty brunette called out, hurrying toward him in high-heeled shoes. "I didn't know you were coming. You could have sent word that you intend going to the office today. Are you feeling better? I heard about it - it was all over the news, I'm afraid. Anyway, good to see you. Is there anything I can do for you?"

She looked at him kindly. Tony, in turn, looked at the woman with his mouth open. Was he supposed to know her? Tony thought feverishly. Was this his accountant? The head of a department? Could have been either.

"Ah..." he said. "I'm actually just here to see Pep - Miss Potts... um… on a certain matter. That's all."

"Oh." The pretty woman looked at him a little disappointed. "Well, Miss Potts is in your office. Would you like me to take you there?"

"Thank you. But I guess I can find my office on my own, even if I'm not much here."

"Of course, sorry."

Tony winked at her out of habit, and then walked quickly away. He climbed the stairs to his office, on his way greeting a few more employees who were meaningless to him. Then he stood outside his office and took a deep breath before knocking. Knocking... why was he knocking on his own office door?

Pepper looked up from her desk in surprise. For a moment, she seemed surprised, then her expression darkened.

"What are you doing here?" she asked prickly.

"I work here."

"Is that so?"

Tony took a seat in front of the desk and looked at Pepper with what he hoped was an apologetic expression. Pepper remained silent though, and the tense atmosphere was palpable.

"Um... That brunette out there," Tony said, frowning. "Is that..."

"Your secretary? Yes," Pepper said unimpressed, turning back to her computer.

"That's my secretary?"

"For three years."

Pepper didn't deign to smile; she typed unflinchingly on the keyboard; her eyes fixed on the screen.

"Jarvis suggested to bring you flowers," Tony kept trying.

"Nice of him. Did you get any?" Pepper asked in an indifferent tone.

"Uh... no."

Silence again. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"Come on, Pepper..."

"No! A very clear no! No 'come on, Pepper'! I won't hear of it!"

Tony watched with great discomfort as Pepper began to type even louder and more frantically.

"Pepper... I'm sorry."

Pepper finally looked up, but she was clearly giving him a fake smile. "And what exactly are you sorry for this time?" she asked in a sugar-sweet voice.

"I... that I... I sort of... screwed up."

"Screwed up," Pepper repeated toneless. "Honestly, Tony, go home. I've got a lot of work to do, since I'm playing CEO here, even though I'm not. So if that's it..."

Tony tensed up. Pepper now turned to some papers on her desk, masterfully ignoring him. But Tony wasn't leaving. She was pissed, he could understand that, and he had to take it now. He couldn't blame her at all.

"I'm sorry I caused you so much worry," he began, watching Pepper's expression tensely, but it gave nothing away. "When I was back from hospital, I thought I was going to be fine. I really did. But then... I wasn't."

Pepper didn't look up, but her eyes kept staring at the same spot. So, she at least listened to him.

"I went to bed that night and then I had a nightmare about..." Tony bit his lip, but now it had to come out, he had no choice. "About Afghanistan. And, um. Then I panicked. Because it was really bad."

Pepper looked up again, though still with an expressionless face. Tony felt shame rising inside him. He didn't really want to let anyone in on this, but he also knew he owed Pepper an explanation.

"What do you mean by Afghanistan?" Pepper asked, a touch more politely.

Tony sighed, then spoke to his hands. "About my captivity. I had a nightmare about being tortured by the terrorists."

There was silence again, so after a while Tony did look up. Pepper no longer seemed angry or indifferent. He could clearly make out compassion.

"You have those a lot, right?" Pepper asked then. "The nightmares? I remember when we were on the plane to New York… you had one, too."

"Yeah," Tony said, "sometimes they're just bad dreams. But mostly they're more like... memories."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Pepper said genuinely. "Although it doesn't surprise me. I mean, I don't know what exactly happened to you over there, what they did to you... But it must have been horrible. And I'm sorry you're still suffering from it."

Tony cleared his throat and shifted uneasily in his chair. For some reason, he couldn't stand Pepper's sympathy.

"You could have called me," Pepper said softly.

"It wasn't that bad..."

"Bad enough to get you heavily drunk, even though you'd just been released from hospital after alcohol poisoning."

Tony was silent. She was right, after all. But he didn't really want to admit that.

"Tony..." Pepper said, and now she looked at him with concern. "I've noticed for a while now that you've been drinking very much… Too much, in fact."

Oh no, not that. Tony swallowed; he didn't want to have this kind of conversation. Why on earth had he come here in the first place? Surely Pepper would have calmed down anyway, if only enough time had passed. He shouldn't have come.

"I'm really worried," Pepper added. "We're worried."

Tony listened up. "We? Who's we?"

"Happy, Rhodey... me."

"So, you're talking about me," Tony returned, now angry in his turn.

"Of course, we're talking about you," Pepper said, unperturbed. "Because we care about you."

Tony knew it was childish, but somehow he wanted to be angry right now. "What business is it of yours?!" he shouted furious and jumped up.

"Why do you always react like that when someone cares about you?"

Tony just glared at her in anger.

"You know what I think?" Pepper said calmly, standing up as well. "That you're actually quite glad that we're talking and worrying about you. But that you can't handle it because you've never experienced anything like this. Someone truly caring about you. This is new and plain overwhelming to you. And very sad. But we do care. So, no matter what you want to throw my way now, drop it. Because I don't want to do you any harm."

Tony's mouth was already open to say something in return, but he closed it and looked grimly at Pepper. She was right, he knew full well she was right, and he hated being seen through like that. He had never felt being cared of, never felt safe. His parents had sent him to boarding schools as soon as possible. When Tony had visited home, it had never felt like being home. Of course, he had loved his parents, especially his mother, but he had never felt truly as a part of their life. And sometimes he still hated them for sending him away and for never really letting him get involved in what should have been a family.

Pepper came around the desk and took his hands in hers. With her touch, every bit of anger suddenly faded. There she was again, standing here in front of him, this wonderful woman who cared so much and was so patient with him.

I don't have anyone but you.

For a moment they just stood there looking into each other's eyes, it was almost a bit magical. As if light and pleasant electricity was circulating through their hands. Tony just had to smile at her. At Pepper, with her pretty face and her little freckles…

She leaned forward and Tony's stomach did a leap. Was she about to kiss him? Tony put his hands around her hips, his skin tingling pleasantly where he was touching her. It felt suddenly like that night they had danced together... and when he'd unintentionally left her on that balcony when he'd meant to get drinks. But it had been a moment when they had almost kissed.

Pepper closed her eyes, came even closer - and then paused. It almost looked like she was smelling him.

Oh...

"Is this alcohol on your breath?" Pepper asked, leaning back.

He let go of Pepper and cursed inwardly.

"Tony?"

"I... Just one drink."

Pepper seemed to fight with herself, like if she didn't know what to do now. Getting angry, sending him away, being lenient? But then Tony saw disappointment on her face, which was almost worse. With a small step, Pepper moved away from him.

"Why have you been drinking again? It's half past eleven."

Tony remained silent, looking away in embarrassment.

"I can sense your tension. I do. But isn't there anything else that can calm you a down a bit?" Pepper asked quietly.

Barely noticeably, Tony shook his head. Pepper sighed but took his hand again and squeezed it lightly. "Jesus, Tony, I'm serious. Go easy on the alcohol. We already talked about this. You scare me so much with this."

"…Yeah, I know. Sorry. I limit my drinking," Tony mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Please don't just say that, please do so then! God, Tony… You really scare me, do you know that? I have the feeling that you are almost always drunk – or at least tipsy. Do you want to become addicted to that stuff? You need to stop this."

"I heard you, Pepper. I stop."

"Good… Is there anything I can do for you?" Pepper asked.

Tony thought about it for a moment. But deep down, he didn't believe anyone could do anything for him. No one could take away this pain from him.

"You could start showing up at my place again?" Tony said half-questioningly, grinning slightly.

A barely visible smile appeared on Pepper's face as well, but the disappointment and concern did not vanish. Which wasn't surprising. Nothing was gained by his answer.

"I'll take better care of myself from now one," he therefore added.

"You said that before," Pepper replied.

A little later, as they left Stark Industries, another round of blinding flashes of photographers was already awaiting them. About twenty reporters and photographers had posted themselves outside the entrance.

"Them again…" Pepper grumbled.

"Again?" Tony asked.

"They try to catch you here almost every day," Pepper said impatiently. "Let's go, I really don't feel like it right now."

Tony and Pepper tried to make their way through the reporters, but they were very persistent in blocking their path. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could make out four S.H.I.E.L.D. agents quickly approaching them. They pushed the small crowd apart so that Tony and Pepper could proceed.

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!" a smallish reporter with oversized glasses shouted. "How are you doing after your hospital stay?"

"Mr. Stark, over here!" a slightly older woman called out, holding out a recording device to him. "Can you confirm that the reason for hospitalization in New York was alcohol poisoning?"

"Is it true that a cocaine overdose was also involved? Can you confirm the statement of your press officer?" the first reporter asked again.

"It was rumored already a few months ago that you were suffering from post-traumatic stress," an unidentified man from the back rows yelled. "Can you say anything about that?"

"You were at little Marcus' funeral. Is it true that you offered the mother sums in the millions as compensation?"

"Mr. Stark! What can you tell us about the explosions at your Malibu residence? The press statement about it was very unsatisfactory!"

Tony ignored the questions, but each one hit him with force. Just like in front of the hospital, the questions didn't bounce off him like it used to be, but touched something fragile inside him.

"Tony," a voice he recognized suddenly said right next to him. "What's the situation in Afghanistan? Any news about the Ten Rings?"

Tony winced at the mention of the Ten Rings and turned to the right side.

"Miss… Brown," he said slowly, looking the blonde reporter in the eye.

"Almost," she said. "Miss Everhart... Brown is where I studied..."

Tony remained unimpressed; he wasn't able to remember all the women he'd ever slept with. After all, he had linked the name of her university to her, which was more than she could expect. What he remembered very well, on the other hand, was that she worked for the Vanity Fair Magazine and had shown him footage of his weapons a few months ago, which had led him to find out that Obadiah had been selling them under the table.

"Actually, we were already on first name basis. Christine," she added.

"Huh," Tony made disinterestedly, trying to move on.

But Christine held him by the arm and looked deep into his eyes, which made Tony stop after all.

"The Ten Rings were reportedly seen near Kabul last week. In Qalai Nawrooz," she said forcefully. "When are you going to take care of this matter?"

The other reporters had stopped shouting in between. They all held their recording devices in his direction and looked spellbound from Everhart to Tony. Only the clicking of the cameras could still be heard.

"Where did you get this information from?" Tony asked quietly, feeling a knot in his stomach.

"I don't reveal my sources, you know that," Christine said, smiling. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

Pepper beside him moved uneasily, while Tony was at a loss for words.

"It almost seems like you don't even know anything about it," Christine said, giving him a searching look.

Tony felt Pepper's hand on his arm. She was trying to get him to move along.

"Apparently, you indeed don't know!" Christine laughed, almost triumphantly.

"Don't get into it," Pepper whispered to him.

"I've got everything under control concerning the Ten Rings," Tony said, realizing that his voice was slightly trembling.

"But not in private, right?" Christine asked extra loudly, as if she was about to prepare her next move. "Alcohol? Cocaine? What's the issue with that?"

Pepper groaned and tugged on his arm again. Somewhere in his chest, Tony felt a violent surge of anger and contempt.

"How about an exclusive?" Christine asked unabashedly. "Just the two of us? I can give you some information, you give me a few of your eloquent phrases for an article in return, and then… we'll see what else happens?"

"I don't think so, Miss Brown," Tony said coldly, turning away.

"Everhart!" she called after him, and he could hear in her voice that she was grinning.

The reporters started asking their questions again, while the agents were now forcefully clearing a path to the parking lot.

"Where's Happy?" Pepper asked irritated, looking around.

"He's not with me."

"What, did you drive by yourself?" Pepper hissed quietly, looking at him reproachfully.

Tony didn't answer and kept walking, holding his hand in front of his face, not wanting any more photos of himself.

"Tony, you… give me the keys!" Pepper demanded energetically, holding out her hand. "I'll drive."