Chapter Text
Men in shiny suits sweep her eyes the moment she enters the room. It's predictable, really—people staring, people judging. She's lived in their crosshairs for years, worn it like a tailored dress and strutted through their opinions without a care. But today? Today, she's running on fumes and one bad decision away from flipping a table.
"Where is he?" she says, not even bothering with pleasantries. She's a walking, talking grenade right now, and God help the idiot who tries to pull the pin.
"Mrs. Stark, I would advise you to stay calm," comes the first voice, and of course it's Fury. Because of course it is. He's the kind of guy who thinks he has people figured out with his little dossiers and his surveillance reports, like he's got a cheat sheet to their souls. But no, not today, not with her. Fury has absolutely no idea how badly she wants to launch him through the nearest window for locking Anthony away for so long before even considering giving her a heads-up. Oh, yes, she can hold a grudge.
"More... prepared people are dealing with this now," Fury continues. "Anthony will be in good hands when we get to him—he'll be coming with us this time. It was a bad decision to leave him out here so exposed."
Pepper's eyes narrow. Oh, that's rich. A bad decision?
Steve stands up from his seat, wisely avoiding touching her—because Steve is a saint, a gentleman, and the quintessential good guy. Which, naturally, only pisses Pepper off more.
"Pepper," Steve steps closer, in that infuriatingly calm, 'I'm here for you' way that makes her want to scream. She's in a hospital gown, for God's sake, and she doesn't even care. All she did was tuck Morgan into bed and then storm right into this conference room. It doesn't matter that the thin cotton of the socks are sticking uncomfortably to her skin, pinching and pulling at her nerves. That same sensation is coiling inside her—worry, desperation, guilt. Stupid, stupid. She should've gone. She should've been there, not him.
"I can imagine how you're feeling," Steve starts. "But it's not your fault. Okay? You—"
"Don't." Her voice slices through the air like a razor. She doesn't need this right now. Doesn't need the well-rehearsed sympathy, because none of it fixes the fact that Anthony is out there somewhere—alone—and she's stuck here, trapped in a conversation that feels like an insult to the fire burning inside her. "Oh, you're out of your depth here, Steve. You have no idea."
"I know what it's like," he pauses this time, and Pepper can feel Natasha's eyes on her as she shifts her weight, "to feel responsible for someone like that."
"Like what."
"Listen," he says, clearing his throat. "You should be upstairs getting some rest. Bucky, give me a hand here."
"I'm not letting him," she points at Fury, her voice tight, teeth clenched, "threaten to take Anthony away from me. Are you not listening to him? I don't even know where Anthony is, or who he's with. He's worried about dragging him back to some cage and squeezing some stupid portal out of him? Want him to teach his ways? Oh, because that was so hard to figure out, right? Such a big secret. I couldn't care less what SHIELD wants. Anthony's not a lab experiment, and I'm sure as hell not letting him be treated like one."
"Alright, you've made your point," Bucky says, standing up and steering her toward the door. She's trying to hold back tears, her frown not really convincing anyone anymore. "How about we step outside and have a chat, huh?" Pepper presses her lips together, tempted to lash out at Bucky but settling for a half-hearted shove that doesn't even make him flinch. Instead, he simply takes hold of her wrist, not tight, just steady in the middle of her chest. "Come on, let's talk this out."
"Coming," Natasha says, making it clear she's tagging along.
"Count me in," Clint adds, joining her off the seat.
-
"HYDRA's got him," Bucky begins. "That's why Fury's acting the way he is. HYDRA wants the same thing SHIELD does, but they're a lot less polite about it. Don't worry, though—I'm the one going in after him."
"So am I," Natasha chimes in.
"I'm coming too," Pepper says. "He's there because of me."
"Yeah, not so sure about that," Clint cuts in, eyes locked on Bucky.
Bucky's hand grazes her elbow, a silent apology in his eyes. It turns her stomach. He sighs, long and heavy. "Look, these guys are the worst of the worst, Pep. Believe me, I've got the resume to back that up. And I'm telling you right now, what I'm about to do in there is not pretty. So, how about you sit this one out?"
Her hand trembles as it inches toward her face, wiping the tear from the corner of her eye with painstaking hesitation. After a long moment, she gives a slow, reluctant nod. "No, you're right. Morgan needs me."
"She does need you."
"Will you bring Anthony back to me?"
"Sure will."
-
Pepper swaps out her clothes, skips eating—glances at the calendar on her phone and realizes tomorrow’s the eve, and she’s somehow managed to lose half the afternoon and an entire night, passed out. The waiting is like standing next to a jet engine, drowning everything out. She distracts herself by braiding Morgan’s hair, trying to shove down the thoughts that are turning her stomach.
“Mom, is Uncle Anthony gonna be okay?” Morgan mumbles around her fingernail, and Pepper gently takes her hand, reminding her to stop that habit. “'Cause I’ve been thinking. I was kinda mean to him the other day. And now I feel bad… he saved me, and I didn’t even say sorry.”
“They’ll find him,” Pepper says, mostly to reassure herself, clipping a butterfly clip at the end of Morgan’s second braid. “Wanna tell your mom what happened?”
“He was making faces at me again, and I told him to stop,” Morgan says quietly. “I was being nice, but he wasn’t, and he asked Uncle Bucky for his bottle, and I called him a big baby.”
Pepper freezes mid-comb, her hand hovering over Morgan’s bangs. “Oh,” she winces, trying to keep her tone light. “A big baby?”
“Yeah, I know.” Morgan sighs, her eyes dropping to her lap. “I’m so sorry.” Pepper feels her heart shrink painfully. “Aunt Nat said he’s really like a big baby, and that I’m kinda his big sister now. So I should’ve protected him, right? From the bad guys?”
“No, sweetheart, that wasn’t your fault,” Pepper reassures her immediately. “Siblings fight. Happens all the time, actually. I’m sure Anthony will forgive you for calling him a big baby. But he’d never let you go with the bad guys—he’s a superhero, remember?”
“You know what he said to me,” Morgan looks up at Pepper, her wide eyes searching, “before they took him away? He said he did something wrong and he was going to make it right.”
It should add up, maybe even make perfect sense—but this doesn’t sit right with her. “Did he say anything else?”
Morgan shakes her head slowly, her eyes welling up.
-
They find Anthony.
He’s flown back in on Christmas Eve.
Pepper’s already in tears by the time he steps out of the helicopter, walking on his own two feet—one arm in a sling, and that nagging sense of déjà vu.
“They let me fly with the pilot,” Anthony greets her casually, bruises, scrapes, and scratches marking his face like battle scars.
Pepper can barely stomach it herself.
She swallows the lump in her throat, watching Anthony make an effort to keep steady. “I’m fine,” he manages, voice thick. “You should see the other guy.”
“Come here,” she says, pulling him into her arms as she watches Bucky step out of the helicopter. Anthony leans in, finding a spot on her shoulder to nestle his face. “Baby, I was so worried,” she whispers. “Look what they did to you. I’ll never let you talk to me like that again.”
Pepper fully expects Anthony to try to shut her out again, to brush off her concern. Nothing really prepares her for the way his voice breaks, nervously pressing against her neck. “I—I’m sorry, mommy.”