Tony stared around his workshop—a half a dozen unfinished projects, a couple broken suits, a few more that still needed to be built, the formula for Bruce’s serum, and anything and everything else he had almost left behind. The stack of papers he owed Pepper—ever growing—caught his eye and, without thinking, he scooped them up along with the latest cell phone prototype he had meant to send her, and left his workshop, taking the elevator up to her floor.
He’d been avoiding this for too long. Had he any sense, he would have called a press conference the second he woke up and got everything straightened out then made the rounds of explanations he owed. Pepper was high on that list, and while owing her was nothing out of the ordinary, Tony feared he’d finally pushed her too far, asked for too much. Pepper was, and always had been, a force of nature—she took on more than anyone in their right mind could handle and spit it out with the perfection and class of a queen, nothing out of line, nothing missing. Where he broke and pulled and ruined, she fixed, and he’d owed her his life from day one. Several catastrophes, life or death scares, disastrous public events, spirals into insanity, and one break up later, and he was thinking that just maybe, he’d left out a few pieces of her job description when he’d hired her. When he arrived at her door, he knocked twice and waited. So far, announcing that he was alive had not gone too well; it took too long for anyone to believe him, and initial reactions weren’t, well, easy, but he knew he had to try. “Peppppp,” he called.
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