4"Pepper," Steve muttered, a single breathless word, just when he didn't think he could feel more light-headed. He grasped for purchase nearby, wherever he could find support, because he was afraid of collapsing. "Pepper," he insisted, making eye contact with Rhodes, "someone has to-"
Tony's best friend – his best friend, should Steve talk to him, shouldn't Steve keep his traitorous distance, should Steve have addressed this whole crowd of somber people under his responsibility already, weren't there a thousand things he should have done, another thousand he shouldn't, so why was he doing nothing – gave Steve a stunted nod. "Already have. She's- fine. She's alright. On her way."
Steve wanted to wheeze, which was something he hadn't done since before science had turned him into a useful freak of nature. "Did you tell her?"
"About Tony?"
"About- yeah."
"She told me. Last person he talked to before he lost contact with Earth. Pepper was on the phone with him when he went out of range."
Steve pictured it. The soft, soothing tone that only took hold of Tony's voice when he was speaking to Pepper Potts. The promises and endearments tumbling out of his lips like he couldn't quite control himself. The static and the silence crawling over the line. The last vestiges of Earth's best defender that would ever feature in his home. And then-
It'd been two weeks. Tony Stark was lost to them.
That was what this meeting had been about. Someone – Steve – had to face reality, stop waiting for a miracle. Thor and Natasha had been dead silent the whole time. Bruce and Rhodes kept exchanging glances and quiet, urgent words. Danvers didn't understand why they were making such a big deal out of declaring someone dead, not after the past week. The racoon was still scowling, had been for two weeks now.
They – the Avengers, such as they were – hadn't had the time to ponder over people outside the compound. They'd had to fix injuries, issue press releases, join forces with the army and first responders and police and whatever grief-driven volunteers they could find, clean up the worst messes that had followed the end of the world. But it felt evil – to hammer the last nail into their friend's coffin – friend, Steve's inner cynic parroted derisively – and fail to reach out to the most important person in his life.
A sudden urge to ask Rhodes – anyone – to tell him he hated Steve – he hated Captain America – took possession of him, but Steve bit his tongue. All he got was Rhodes' tired, bereaved smile and a shrug.
"She didn't say," Rhodes said, and Steve realized belatedly that while his brain spiraled into a daze of torture, his mouth had asked how long until Pepper's arrival.
"If you've given up on him, I have a last will and testament I must discuss with you," Pepper said without preamble, breezing past them to the conference table. It had taken her maybe ten minutes to get there, and the meeting was still in full swing. Her briefcase slammed down with a thump, and it shouldn't have felt so loud, but Steve flinched.
"You think going over legal papers is a priority right now?" Danvers asked incredulously, and Pepper's gaze snapped up to stare at her.
"I'm sorry, were you doing something important?" she retorted icily, and Steve remembered what cool exteriors in the face of insurmountable grief looked like.
"Ms. Danvers," he said quietly, "give us a moment."
Pepper looked back down at the papers she was taking out of her briefcase, as though nothing had interrupted her in the first place. "I need everyone except the new girl and the racoon," she declared unaffectedly. Danvers glanced at him, unimpressed, and left. Rocket followed.
"Pepper," Rhodes tried, gently, lowly, "she's right. Right now, we have to-"
"Do you know what SI's been doing, as of late?" Pepper demanded of him, crossing her arms. "Would you like me to explain to you what the world looks like out there? Have you even left the compound? There's a crash site on every corner. Several fires that needed to be put out, a few out west that grew into a serious problem. There are kids alone in abandoned houses that need to be found, fed, sheltered. Essentially every public service is at half capacity and at double demand. Not to mention the state in which the remaining half is working, emotional and otherwise. I managed to put up SI's every working resource as a temporary replacement for those, but I'm at capacity. I'm working with half my staff and-" she slammed a hand on the papers, "there are legal issues hindering me. Tony's dead and his assets are frozen. So, yes, I need to do this right now."
There was no frailty in her voice. Stevecouldn't have said that with such strength. Rhodes had found his own surface to clutch at. "Sorry. Okay. I'm sorry," he told her, visibly contrite.
"Where's Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, and Peter Parker?" she asked bluntly, looking down at her papers again.
Pepper didn't fail to notice the storm instantly chilling the room, glancing up at Steve, whose expression must have been doing something terrible. He'd caught sight of Natasha, fists clenched and face twisted painfully. For the first time, Pepper showed signs of vulnerability. Her lip trembled, her lashes fluttered, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said, soft and hurt.
"Who's Peter Parker?" Steve asked roughly.
"Kid," Bruce muttered, "Spider-Man."
Steve's head whipped around to stare at him, and the wasn't the only one with that reaction. Rhodes looked equally alarmed. "What'd you mean, kid?" Natasha said.
"He means Peter was sixteen," Pepper explained. "How do you know he's-"
"I need to go," Nat choked out, and just like that, she was out the door, a quiet flash of a person dodging them all before anyone had the chance to say anything else.
Bruce didn't hesitate and hurried after her.
"Banner's been contacting everyone on Stark's database," Thor said, taking it upon himself to pick up where Bruce had left off. "We could not get through to Parker. It has been days. We made assumptions."
Pepper closed her eyes again and took another deep breath. "What about Agent Barton's wife and three children?"
"There was no one at his home," Steve told her softly.
Pepper's hand spasm-ed. "Rhodes, get out."
"What?"
"Out. Take the god with you."
Something was gluing Steve to his chair, watching Rhodes lead Thor out the door with a bewildered look on his face. Something tenebrous and ominous that he was now realizing, somehow, had been brewing for years. Pepper had her eyes fixed on him. The door clicked behind her, and Steve had never heard silence so suffocating. They were alone in that room and her mere presence felt like thick poison-gas, choking him out.
It wasn't until Pepper started speaking that Steve realized his every muscle was tightly coiled, as though he was waiting for the quinjet to drop him in the middle of his next battlefield. Her voice was so quiet, and so loud.
"I loathed you," she declared with feeling, and it was so unexpected that it wiped any previous thought from Steve's mind. He stared at her. "I think I still do. At first it was just some irritation, something I thought I could repress and handle. But it grew into hatred very quickly."
Steve thought his legs felt numb. "Because- our fight. Because of Siberia? Or- the lies- the lie," he stuttered, unnerved by the way she was staring at him. "I hurt him, I know, I never wanted-"
Pepper put him out of his misery, holding up an outstretched palm. "I didn't hate you for- physically hurting him. Tony has so many enemies," she said, and Steve flinched violently at being counted among Tony's enemies, "the sheer terror- the fear one of them would end up taking him away from me, it just overshadows any other personal feelings. I couldn't hate you – not for that, specifically – when all I was thinking about was how relieved I was that he'd made it through one more fight in one piece. And I didn't hate you for lying to him. Tony didn't hate you for lying to him. That made me mad. But I hated you after your spat every bit as much as I had before."
"Then I'm afraid don't understand," Steve replied, quiet, formal, unexpectedly scared of what he was about to learn. "Why?" Steve had always faced his fears head-on.
Pepper pursed her lips like this was one of the qualities contributing to her feelings toward him. "You're going to kill him," she asserted, a haunted certainty in her tone. Steve inhaled sharply. "You realize that, don't you? He's not dead yet, I think you and I both know it," she said, and she did so with such confidence, Steve's hopeful deliriums almost felt real right then and there. And then she snatched him back into reality. "But one day, he'll die, and I'll hold you responsible."
"What?"
She took a deep breath. "Every time you called on him – every emergency he was indispensable for – it was one more chance for you to kill him."
"He was an Avenger-"
"I KNOW HE'S AN AVENGER!" she roared, and Steve nearly tumbled off his seat in pure shock. She'd gone from mild frustration to irascible fury in the time it took Steve to make that ill-timed defensive comment. Pepper seemed contrite, taking in his pale expression. She gripped the table and closed her eyes. "No one ever lets me forget he's an Avenger," she continued, softer, less visceral, but still angry. "Is it really so hard for you to find something in that job description I might take issue with?"
Steve swallowed dry, tried to pretend he couldn't hear his own voice shaking. "I know you were concerned for his safety. We all had loved ones-"
"You still don't get it," she muttered. Steve instinctively shut up. He'd never felt less in control of an interaction, even back when he'd been at risk of an asthma attack during every conversation he had. "I'm not asking you to explain the way I feel to me. I'm telling you how I feel about you and why."
"You hate me," he parroted, wincing despite himself.
"Passionately," she replied matter-of-factly, and finally took a seat herself. "I used to argue with him about it. Back when I just thought he wasn't considering my perspective of things. Took me a while to realize that he was, that he always had, and that- well, saving the world was more important. Bear with me, I'll sound even more self-centered as this goes on," she advised when Steve opened his mouth again.
"I tried everything I could to- to make him understand what he was doing to us," Pepper continued, sounding more tired than angry now. She was looking down at her hands. "To me, to himself. He would hate me saying this – I wanted him as far away from the Avengers as possible. You people – you have this – honor-of-mission, worthiness-of-quest thing going on, and I can't make myself- accept, appreciate that he's a part of that. I put distance between us, on top of the distance the team was already forcing on him, and it tore my heart to pieces, and it was for nothing. I broke up with him, for christssakes. It still wasn't enough. I think that hurt me the worst."
"So, I hated you for it, because I sure as hell can't hate him," she finally revealed. Steve gaped at her. "I hated what you could get him to do. I hated that he wanted you to need him. I hated that every time he came back to me, you showed up, and pied-pipered him away with an earnest word and a righteous look. God, I hated that look," she muttered, and he truly believed her, given the way her fists clenched. "It was like watching a spell being cast on him. Tony hand-picks the people he gives attention to, he studiously tests the ones he respects and listens to. You- came out of nowhere. Just earned him like you were born into it. I hated that you showed up in his life and compromised the years I'd put into building a relationship with him," she finally admitted, quietly. "I hate that he's gonna show up again, and you're gonna need him."
"You can't- Ms. Potts," Steve called uneasily, because it felt egregious to use the familiarity of her first name at this point, "Tony was Iron Man long before I joined this century. He was a hero long before he joined the Avengers. You can't put that on me."
"I know he put himself in danger without outside influence, Captain," she agreed. "I know who he is, at his core, and I love him, all of him. But back then, the disregard for his safety, the recklessness – I couldn't deal with that. I still can't deal with that. But I could get through to him, I could make him wake up to his own actions. In the beginning, he was shooting off to blow up weapons caches in the middle east like he didn't have a care in the world – lying to me about his own impending death, or his PTSD. I could still point out his self-destructiveness, and he made an effort, because he cared. Started fighting smart instead of angry, told me the truth, destroyed his suits. But you – all it takes is Captain America showing up," she said, and Steve had never heard his title being spoken with such bitterness, which was saying something, all things considered. "It all gets undone. It's never safe with you, there's always some inescapable sacrifice play," she said it with a derisive tone, like the words weren't hers, "something he just can't shy away from. It's always the end of the world, with the Avengers."
"Ms. Po- Pepper," Steve said firmly, earning himself a sharp look, but this had gone way too far. "Tony Stark is a hero. Iron Man is an Avenger. That's not my fault, it's no one's fault – it's his character. You couldn't take Iron Man out of Tony any more than you could away how much he loves you," he said, purposely softening his entire demeanor. "And I know you wouldn't want to. I think you're a very headstrong woman who only wants to look out for his safety, and I can't imagine what you're going through right now, but you have to understand, that this, I don't think you can ever change about him. It's your choice how you want to deal with that."
If Pepper had hated him before, the look she was giving Steve now was murderous. "Your way or the highway, Captain? You're letting me have whatever's left once you're done with him?"
Steve blanched. "That's not at all what I said!"
"No, but see, it is. It's convenient for you to accept Iron Man's just an ingrained part of him, it's convenient for him to be on your team. What's inconvenient is him rearranging his priorities."
Pepper's words settled much like a stone sinking in his gut. Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Not at all," he corrected quietly, once he found the strength to open them back up. "You might not believe me, Pepper, but I love him too," he said. Pepper didn't outwardly react, just watched him silently, expectantly. "I'm worried out of my mind if I'm ever going to see him again. He's my friend, and I'm happy when he's happy. And he's happiest with you. None of that has anything to do with Iron Man."
Steve had finally said the right thing, it seemed. Pepper deflated. Her knuckles relaxed, and he swore her eyes shone with swelling tears before she blinked them away. Her face had mostly been a mixture of anger and a cool mask so far, but now, she was letting the first hints of a lifelong pain, longing, desperation shine through. He wasn't sure what to do with any of it, and in the end, it would just become one more thing to weigh heavily on his shoulders.
"I don't think I like Iron Man all that much," she confessed. "I certainly don't like the Avengers. And maybe that's selfish," she said, and the way her voice broke, it broke Steve in return. His vision went blurry. "Maybe the universe needs Iron Man more than I need Tony Stark. But I am an obstinate woman, Captain Rogers," she advised, and now there was no fault or crack, just hard steel. "I won't let you win without a fight."
"I don't want to win," Steve whispered. Pepper observed him sadly. "Not this fight, I don't think. I just don't think it's really up to either of us."
She let out a long sigh. One of her strands of hair went out of place. "I'm sorry."
It was so abrupt, Steve started. "What for? You didn't say anything that-"
"Yes, I did," she countered. "I'm sorry for- taking all of this out on you. It's not your fault, and it's not fair. It was spiteful of me to imply you only saw him as a useful tool on the Avengers roster, and patently untrue. It's- I'm the problem, not you. So, I'm sorry."
"You're not the problem. You're the only one who cares about Tony the way he deserves," Steve argued softly. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry for the pain I've-"
"Thought we just agreed to not pin on you-"
"It doesn't need to be on me for me to give you an apology."
Pepper laughed. "Doesn't it?"
"You told me yourself, you were airing- a grievance you have with me. Nothing unfair about that," he reassured, and she huffed.
"I can see why he loves you," Pepper said, a hint of amusement bleeding into her words. Steve shifted in his seat. "Makes it hard to be mad at you."
She dabbed at her eyes one more time with a handkerchief she'd produced out of nowhere and began tidying up the papers she'd spilled with none of the fire she'd come in with, ready to lash out at anyone attempting to dose it. Steve watched her, worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
"You really think he's still..." He trailed off because Captain America was a coward at his core.
Pepper glanced up at him. Her gaze held a strange sort of compassionate determination. "I've been through this before, Captain. It'll be a while before I'm convinced he's really left me."
Steve gave a sharp nod. There was a rough knot of something warm and restless uncoiling in his chest, filling him with pointless energy. He stood abruptly. "So the will can wait, then?"
"The will can wait," she agreed, and Steve left to find Danvers. The universe was a big place, but Tony Stark was a bright star – it was past time to put their newest member to use, even if the hope was in vain.
Steve ended up living a very long life. Tony didn't. It was harder than Steve had anticipated, doing it without him.
Years down the line, when Steve thought about him, the immediate visual that came to mind was never Tony's body, his final moments, their last words to each other. A particularly sharp quip or a biting glint of wisdom, all of it stayed with him for good, but his memory had snagged on and immortalized Pepper Potts' face.
You're going to kill him, Pepper had said, and Steve tried hard to remember his counterarguments, and tried hard not to hate himself.
He'd always been someone who lived in the moment with one eye on the past. Like stewing on his regrets and lessons learned could, somehow, make him a better person after the fact. The day of Tony's funeral was no different.
There was a life there, present in an unorthodox way, spelled out in the crowd of people saying goodbye to a single important person they'd collectively lost. In all sorts of different ways, Steve though, gaze falling on Peter, on Nebula, on Happy Hogan. Most of all, though, his eyes caught on Pepper's simple black dress and red eyes.
Steve had opened his mouth to speak to her, more certain than he'd ever been in his life that he needed to seek absolution. Pepper had hugged him and kissed his cheek, and refused him the opportunity. "Live a good life," she'd requested. "He'd want you to."
It shouldn't have been so simple. The wind was blowing from the direction of the lake – it smelled of summer and easy afternoons. The scene was beautiful – it was a sunny day, the water was clear, and the grass was soft under his shoes. Pepper Potts walked away with a smile.
Left all alone, Steve committed her expression to memory, and lived in that moment until it passed.
