A/N: I should probably clarify that, for the story's purpose, Pepper received the phone call roughly around 10 pm and without doing any research like a bad 'author' into how long the plane ride would actually be and time zone differences and all of that, we're going to now claim that he's getting back to Malibu at roughly 9 am. As my dad would say, 'don't ruin my story with your realism' in case my numbers are way off.

Thx!

AMM

The first thing I did after kicking myself into gear was call Happy and relay the news. He'd been equally as shocked but slightly more composed than myself, promising the car and himself would be ready and at the mansion to pick me up at 8 am sharp.

I stayed awake the rest of the night, too keyed up to be able to sleep. I felt like I had paced a circle in Tony's workshop as I had begun to walk around in an attempt to busy myself. It hadn't worked. I was unable to land on something and focus, only lasting a couple minutes before moving to something else. I had made sure I had a suit that was presentable and when 5 am rolled around, I was in my own quarters, for once, showering and getting dressed.

At first, it had shocked me to find that my tailored pantsuit didn't fit me as well as it had a few months ago but when I really thought about it, it made sense. I had brushed it aside as I'd slipped the plum colored material over my black blouse and put on a simple gold chain and diamond studs in my ears.

I had done my best to pull my hair back into a bun and cover up my red and puffy eyes. Even once I had reached a point of no longer crying all day long, the aftermath of time spent crying wouldn't go away.

Once dressed, I had moved down to the main floor and paced, more than likely, another circle into the tile of Tony's kitchen. I had attempted to make myself a cup of coffee and a small bowl of fruit but after a few sips of the espresso and a couple of blueberries, I'd nearly thrown them back up. The espresso machine hadn't been touched since Tony left and since I'd told the cleaning services to not come for a couple weeks, the machine hadn't been cleaned or emptied. And the blueberries, being Tony's favorite fruit and on a delivery service that came every week, which I couldn't bring myself to cancel, I couldn't stomach them until I saw him eating them once more.

When Happy finally pulls into the drive, I don't even let him get out of the car before I'm descending the front steps and climbing into the back. I refuse to meet his eyes, knowing he is watching me with pity. I don't want his pity, I want him to drive. And he does, thankfully. The radio hums quietly in the front but other than that, there's no sound except my erratic breathing that I try to keep calm.

What if the plane never made it out of wherever they found Tony? What if it gets shot down or bombed? What if Tony sustained fatal injuries he didn't tell me about? What if he dies before he gets here? What if-"Pep, deep breaths, or you'll hyperventilate and won't be able to help him off of the plane." Happy's voice snaps me out of my spiral and my eyes snap to his in the rearview mirror, his brows scrunched with concern.

Nodding, I try to focus on taking deep breaths, my hands shaking in my lap and fiddling with my nail cuticles. My nails have already been picked down to the beds, ruining their usual clean and even appearance but my fingers look for something else to terrorize.

I've mostly managed to get a hold of myself by the time we pull into the airfield, my sight landing on the numerous men in military uniforms standing about.

Happy climbs from the car and beats me to opening my door as I had gone to reach for the handle. He offers a gentle smile as I stand from the car and I try to return it, though I'm sure it appears more as a grimace. I keep my eyes trained forward, not wanting to risk meeting anyone else's eye and having to start a conversation I want no part in. I straighten my blazer as best I can and move to stand in front of the town car, hands clasped in front of me as my fingers continue to try and pick at the skin of my hands.

A quick glance down at my watch shows that we're still half an hour early and I wonder how long I'll be able to stand here with my composure intact when I notice a large military cargo plane in the distance, growing bigger until it's almost directly overhead. I cover my ears as it lands a few hundred feet down the runway before it cuts its engine. Lowering my hands, I try to smooth out my hair and again straighten my clothes as the back hatch begins to lower.

Just inside, I make out two figures. One stands while the other sits in a wheelchair. A horrifying thought strikes me, questioning if Tony is now paralyzed in some form and how devastating that would be for a man who loved life. But once the hatch is almost completely down, the man in the wheelchair stands. I had been right in guessing it was Tony but fight a sigh of relief as Rhodey helps him walk down to the runway.

Without my permission, a couple of tears spring into my eyes as I observe the man in front of me. His right arm is in a sling and he's relying quite heavily on Rhodey to help him walk. I can see a few scabbed over cuts on his cheekbone and around his left eye and his hair is a little longer and more untamed.

But what catches my attention is him in general. He's also lost weight, though his shoulders seem slightly wider, and his face has lost some of the cheerful 'baby fat' in his cheeks. His mouth is set in a hard line and as he grows closer, I realize his eyes are lacking their normal mirth and warmth. And they're locked on me until Rhodey points out the step down from the back of the plane onto the tarmac.

He glances down and takes a careful step and a group of soldiers wheel over a stretcher with a bag of first aid supplies. Tony immediately sees it and his eyes squint with distaste. "Are you kidding me with this?" He scoffs before making a shooing motion with his hand in the sling. "Get rid of it."

As soon as he's on the pavement, he releases his tight grasp on Rhodey's arm before his eyes once again lock on mine. I can't stop the smile that spreads across my mouth, wanting nothing more than to launch myself into his arms and hold him close and I'm once again reminded how head over heels I am for this man, how much I've missed him.

Stopping a few feet away from me, his gaze softens slightly as his eyes rove over my face, noticing the tears lining my eyes. Up close, I can see more nics and scratches along his hairline, on his lips, and on his neck, leading beneath his shirt but I don't allow my eyes to linger, moving back up to meet his as soon as I've finished my closer inspection.

"Hmm," he hums, a miniscule upward tilt of his lips making my smile widen. "Your eyes are red. Few tears for your long lost boss?" He teases and I huff a laugh. While his tone is still rather serious, I'm relieved to know he wasn't completely lost while overseas.

"Tears of joy," I joke back, realizing how scratchy my voice sounds. "I hate job hunting."

He gives a single nod, mouth losing the hint of a smile and eyes hardening once more as he moves past me towards the car. "Yeah, well, vacation's over."

I don't argue with him, just follow, ignoring that these last few months have been anything but a vacation for either of us.

A/N: No matter how long the flight from Afghanistan to Malibu was, I don't think it was enough time to properly tend to Tony's injuries. And I know the movie shows him walking, well, stumbling, after crashing in Mark I but I tend to believe that was more for times' sake then for 'reality'. I seriously doubt that crash or any of the things he went through in that cave were something he could easily walk away from. So, I might put a bit more emphasis on residual injuries in the upcoming chapters because I don't believe he's not still sore or hurting like it shows in the movie. He's way too nonchalant at the press conference afterwards for a man who'd been shot out, in an explosion, and crash landed in a metal suit the day before.

I also just like the thought of him needing someone to take care of him :D

And another thing, does anyone else think his blazer, shirt, and tie don't match? I think that everytime I watch the movie: 'his tie does not go with that jacket'.

Oh, I was also considering ending it after they got in the car to go to Burger King, which, fun fact, was something RDJ attributes his victory with drugs to. He'd been driving with a bunch of illegal substances in his vehicle and had decided to pull into Burger King for a burger and 'everything changed' so I appreciate that he was able to go get Burger King cheeseburgers for the movie.

Thx!

AMM