pepper spent years preparing to be a widow. she knew who she was marrying. she knew who she was dating. She saw his nightmares, his burn scars, the manic glint in his eye as he tried to talk through how to protect the world. Somehow, the half baked plans always stopped right before he’d prophesied his own death. He’d cut himself off and mumble some solution that could never work, and he’d change the subject. He was always a very thorough man, despite his reputation. The only things he left half-baked were the things he physically couldn’t see through or the things he didn’t think mattered.
The world mattered. People mattered. Tony always saw himself more machine than person, and machines didn’t matter.
A tool, always a tool. Machines are his great love because they remind him of himself. A means to an end. Made up of smaller parts and programmed to do what needs doing regardless of how it affects their functioning.
Tony was always a functional man, and a thorough one. He couldn’t leave an important problem unsolved, only pretended to when he didn’t want people worrying on his behalf. They were people. People deserved happiness He was machine. Machine deserved the satisfaction of a job complete.
Pepper spent years preparing to be a widow, because the Machine wasn’t as good at keeping People out of the loop as he wanted. He couldn’t help but die in public. Couldn’t help the way his battery drained in his face as he realized the Solution was impending. He didn’t want Pepper to have to worry about it, and for that reason he tried to will it untrue.
But it was true. Tony was always going to die and Pepper was always going to be a widow. The thing about Pepper, though, is she’s always been a good mechanic. She knows when it’s time to let a machine rust. She’ll shed a few tears, but she won’t keep trying to replace stripped screws. There’s a hollowness in the workshop once the Machine stops ticking, but the mechanic knows it’s for the best.
Pepper was a good mechanic, and she knew that the machine would come to its end eventually. She always prepared to be a widow. And no matter how thorough the machine is, the mechanic is even more so.
Pepper had been grieving Tony for fifteen years, and the funeral felt a bit like clearing off her desk of the tear-stained blueprints that she had poured her heart into and had done their job well.
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