Chapter Text
Peppers pov
Pepper had walked past Tony’s office every day for the last six months.
Every morning, she’d glance toward the familiar glass doors before continuing down the hallway. Sometimes she’d slow her pace. Other days she’d force herself not to look at all.
She always found an excuse.
There was another meeting to attend. Another contract waiting for her signature. Another problem demanding her attention before she had time to think.
It was easier that way.
As long as the office doors stayed closed, some small part of her could still pretend Tony was simply somewhere else in the building. In another lab. On another floor. Working until three in the morning because he’d forgotten that sleep was, in fact, necessary.
Today, there were no more excuses.
The hallway was empty as she stopped in front of the biometric scanner. Morning sunlight poured through the windows lining the corridor, warming the polished floor beneath her feet.
She rested her hand against the glass.
The scanner chimed.
ACCESS GRANTED.
The doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Pepper didn’t move.
For just a moment, she stood there staring into the office, her chest tightening as memories rushed forward all at once.
Tony leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk despite every lecture she’d ever given him.
Morgan running circles around the room while Tony chased after her, pretending he couldn’t possibly catch up.
Bruce and Tony arguing over equations that neither of them actually disagreed on.
The memories were so vivid she almost expected one of them to still be there.
Instead…
Silence greeted her.
She stepped inside.
The office looked exactly as it had the day Tony left for the compound.
His favorite leather jacket still hung over the back of his chair.
A coffee mug rested beside an open notebook, a faint ring of dried coffee staining the desk beneath it.
Stacks of blueprints covered nearly every available surface, held down by random objects that only Tony would have considered paperweights—a wrench, a small arc reactor prototype, even a half-finished Iron Man gauntlet.
Pepper smiled despite herself.
“You always said you were organized.”
The room, unsurprisingly, didn’t answer.
⸻
She set the cardboard storage box she’d been carrying beside the desk and slowly rolled up the sleeves of her blouse.
Bruce needed answers.
If Tony had left anything behind—anything at all—it was her job to find it.
She started with the shelves.
Awards.
Old Stark Expo models.
A tiny Dum-E figurine Morgan had insisted on painting bright purple.
Pepper picked it up, smiling at the uneven brushstrokes.
Tony had refused to repaint it.
“It’s art, Pep.”
“It’s lopsided.”
“Exactly.”
She carefully placed it into the box.
The next shelf held framed photographs.
Howard Stark holding a much younger Tony on his shoulders.
Tony and Rhodey at MIT.
The Avengers standing together after New York.
One photograph caught her attention.
It wasn’t framed.
It had been tucked behind the others.
Pepper gently pulled it free.
It showed Tony sitting on the workshop floor, Morgan asleep against his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed the camera.
He was simply smiling down at her.
Pepper’s thumb brushed lightly across the photograph.
“You loved being her dad.”
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
“I wish you could’ve had more time.”
She set the photograph aside.
Not in the box.
That one was coming home.
⸻
Nearly an hour passed.
She searched every shelf, every cabinet, every drawer.
Most of what she found wasn’t useful.
Receipts.
Prototype sketches.
Business files.
Sticky notes covered in ideas only Tony could decipher.
One simply read:
Build toaster??
Another answered it.
NO.
Pepper laughed quietly.
“You were arguing with yourself again.”
She shook her head, slipping the note into the box anyway.
Morgan would probably love seeing these one day.
⸻
By the time she reached Tony’s desk, sunlight had shifted across the room.
Dust floated lazily through the beams of light, disturbed only by the quiet movement of papers as Pepper opened one drawer after another.
The top drawer was exactly what she’d expected.
Pens.
Business cards.
A handful of old Stark Industries badges.
The second drawer held several notebooks.
Every page was filled with tightly packed handwriting, complicated formulas weaving between hastily drawn diagrams.
Pepper recognized almost none of it.
Bruce probably would.
She placed the notebooks into the box.
The bottom drawer refused to open.
Pepper frowned.
She pulled harder.
Nothing.
“…Of course.”
Tony had always hidden important things behind unnecessary security.
She crouched beside the desk, running her fingers along the inside edge of the drawer until they brushed against something unusual.
A tiny switch.
She pressed it.
A quiet click echoed through the desk.
The drawer slid open on its own.
Pepper stared.
“…Seriously?”
Inside…
There wasn’t much.
A faded baseball.
A handful of old cassette tapes.
And a small handheld recorder.
Unlike everything else in the drawer, the recorder looked almost new.
A strip of masking tape had been placed across the front.
Written in black marker were four simple words.
Pep. Play this first.
Pepper’s breath caught.
Slowly, she reached for it.
______________________________________
Pepper stared at the recorder for several long seconds before picking it up.
It was surprisingly light in her hands.
The plastic casing showed almost no signs of wear, unlike the older cassette tapes lying beside it. Tony had clearly used it recently.
Or… as recently as he could have.
Her thumb hovered over the play button.
She wasn’t sure she was ready.
Six months.
Six months since she’d heard his voice outside of old interviews and recordings played on the news. Six months since she’d heard him laugh from the next room or call her name across the house.
She took a slow breath.
Then pressed play.
A burst of static crackled through the tiny speaker.
For a moment, there was nothing else.
Then—
“…Please tell me this thing is recording.”
Tony’s voice.
Pepper shut her eyes.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it.
There was a faint clatter in the background, followed by what sounded suspiciously like Dum-E knocking something over.
Tony sighed dramatically.
“I swear, one day I’m replacing you with a Roomba.”
A metallic whine answered him.
“…Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”
Pepper laughed quietly, tears already beginning to blur her vision.
Only Tony could have a conversation with a robot and somehow make it sound normal.
Another few seconds passed before his voice returned, calmer this time.
“Okay.”
“If you’re listening to this…”
“I guess I wasn’t around to explain things myself.”
The humor faded from his voice.
“I’m sorry about that.”
Pepper lowered herself into his chair without realizing she’d moved.
It still rolled the same way it always had.
“I know everyone’s probably looking for answers right now.”
“And I wish I could give them to you.”
There was a pause.
Long enough that Pepper almost thought the recording had ended.
“I can’t.”
She frowned.
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
Tony continued as though he’d heard her.
“Not because I don’t trust you.”
“Because if you’re listening to this…”
“…it means the plan is already in motion.”
Pepper’s grip tightened around the recorder.
The plan.
He’d known.
Not everything, perhaps.
But enough to prepare.
Enough to leave breadcrumbs behind.
⸻
She listened carefully, afraid to miss a single word.
“Bruce is probably driving everyone insane.”
A tiny smile tugged at her lips.
“He’ll tell himself that skipping sleep helps him think.”
“It doesn’t.”
“If he says it does…”
“He’s lying.”
Pepper could practically hear Bruce arguing back.
She made a mental note to tell him.
He’d hate how accurate Tony still was.
Tony chuckled softly to himself.
“Sam’s pretending he’s handling everything.”
“He isn’t.”
“He never admits when something’s bothering him.”
Pepper’s smile faded.
That one was true, too.
“And Rhodey’s probably threatening to unplug whatever machine Bruce is working on.”
A beat.
“Honestly…”
“He should.”
⸻
The recording grew quieter.
Pepper could hear the faint hum of machinery in the background.
Tony was in one of his labs.
Working.
Planning.
Preparing.
“I know this is hard.”
His voice softened.
“I know losing someone leaves a hole that doesn’t really make sense.”
“You keep expecting them to walk into the room.”
“You hear a noise and think…”
“‘That’s them.’”
Pepper looked toward the office door.
She’d done exactly that.
Every day.
“I wish I could tell you it gets easier.”
“I don’t think it does.”
“I think…”
“…you just get better at carrying it.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She didn’t wipe it away.
⸻
Tony took a slow breath.
“If Morgan asks where I am…”
Pepper closed her eyes.
“Tell her…”
Another pause.
“Tell her I loved every bedtime story.”
“Every science project.”
“Every tea party.”
His voice cracked ever so slightly.
“And tell her…”
“…she made me a better man than I ever thought I could be.”
Pepper covered her mouth.
The office blurred through fresh tears.
⸻
Several seconds of silence passed.
When Tony spoke again, his voice was steadier.
“If Bruce asks about Prometheus…”
Pepper immediately looked up.
“He won’t like my answer.”
Another small laugh.
“Actually…”
“Nobody will.”
“I know they’re going to try and crack it.”
“They’ll throw passwords at it.”
“Algorithms.”
“Quantum computers.”
“Probably magic.”
Pepper let out a watery laugh.
Stephen had already tried.
“It won’t matter.”
“Prometheus isn’t waiting for someone who can break in.”
“It’s waiting for someone…”
The recording crackled.
Static swallowed the rest of the sentence.
Pepper frowned.
“No…”
She tapped the side of the recorder.
The static continued for several more seconds before Tony’s voice returned.
“…guess you’ll have to figure that part out yourselves.”
Pepper slumped back in the chair.
“You did that on purpose.”
She knew he couldn’t answer.
Still…
She could almost imagine him grinning.
⸻
The recording wasn’t over.
Tony cleared his throat.
“Pep.”
His voice became impossibly gentle.
“If you’re still listening…”
“Thank you.”
“For every late night.”
“For every argument.”
“For believing in me…”
“…even when I didn’t.”
Pepper stared down at the recorder in her hands.
“You gave me a home.”
“You gave me Morgan.”
“You gave me a family.”
“I don’t think I ever said thank you enough.”
Her vision blurred again.
“I love you.”
The words were simple.
Quiet.
Honest.
Pepper let out a shaky breath.
“I love you too.”
⸻
The recorder clicked.
Static filled the room.
Then…
One last sentence.
“Oh.”
“If anyone tells you my desk is organized…”
“They’re lying.”
The recording ended.
Silence settled over the office once more.
Pepper laughed through her tears.
“You were impossible.”
She wiped her eyes and carefully set the recorder on the desk.
For the first time since Tony’s funeral…
The office didn’t feel quite so empty.
Not because he was there.
But because, for a few precious minutes…
It had felt like he’d never left.
_____________
The office had fallen quiet again.
Pepper sat in Tony’s chair, the recorder resting loosely in her hands. The silence didn’t feel as crushing as it had before. It still hurt, but somehow… hearing his voice had eased the ache, even if only for a little while.
A gentle knock echoed against the open glass door.
She looked up.
Bruce stood in the hallway, one hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie.
“I figured I’d find you here.”
Pepper gave him a tired smile.
“I finally worked up the courage.”
Bruce stepped inside, his eyes wandering across the office. Nothing had changed. Every tool, every blueprint, every unfinished project remained exactly where Tony had left it.
“It still feels like he’s going to walk through that door,” Bruce admitted quietly.
Pepper nodded.
“I know.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Bruce eventually noticed the recorder sitting on the desk.
“What’s that?”
Pepper looked down at it.
“I found it hidden in his desk.”
Bruce’s expression shifted immediately.
“Did you listen to it?”
“I did.”
“And?”
Pepper let out a slow breath.
“It wasn’t about Prometheus… not really.”
Bruce frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“He talked about Morgan.”
She smiled softly.
“He thanked me.”
Her voice caught.
“And… he left a message for all of us.”
Bruce pulled out the chair across from the desk and sat down.
“Can I hear it?”
Without saying a word, Pepper handed him the recorder.
⸻
Bruce listened without interrupting.
He smiled when Tony teased him about never sleeping.
He rolled his eyes at the joke about magic.
When Tony thanked Pepper…
Bruce quietly looked away, giving her a moment she didn’t ask for but appreciated anyway.
The recording ended with Tony’s familiar joke about organizing his desk.
Bruce stared at the recorder for several seconds before setting it back down.
“I hate how normal he sounds.”
Pepper swallowed.
“So do I.”
“It feels like…”
Bruce searched for the words.
“…like he’s still working somewhere.”
Pepper looked around the office.
“In a way…”
“He is.”
⸻
Bruce stood and slowly wandered toward one of Tony’s workbenches.
Half-built projects covered nearly every inch of the surface.
Some looked finished.
Others had been abandoned halfway through.
Tony had always started five things at once, insisting he’d finish them all eventually.
Sometimes…
He actually did.
Bruce picked up a small notebook lying beneath a wrench.
Most of the pages were filled with calculations.
Then, toward the back…
The writing changed.
The equations disappeared.
Instead, there were simple thoughts written between rough sketches.
Never confuse intelligence with wisdom.
Bruce turned the page.
Genius isn’t rare.
Opportunity is.
Another page.
Build things that outlive you.
Bruce stopped.
Pepper noticed the expression on his face.
“What is it?”
Bruce slowly handed her the notebook.
“I don’t think these are engineering notes.”
Pepper looked down.
The final page contained only a single sentence.
Written neatly across the center of the paper.
Potential matters more than achievement.
She frowned.
“What do you think he meant?”
Bruce didn’t answer immediately.
He stared at the words as if seeing them from another angle.
Then…
His eyes widened.
⸻
“The rejection list.”
Pepper blinked.
“What?”
Bruce grabbed the notebook.
“The people we’ve been checking.”
He began pacing.
“Shuri.”
“Reed Richards.”
“Hank Pym.”
“Stephen.”
“Every single one of them has already changed the world.”
Pepper slowly stood.
“So?”
Bruce looked back at her.
“They’ve already reached their potential.”
Silence settled over the office.
Pepper felt the pieces beginning to fit together.
“You think…”
Bruce nodded.
“We’ve been looking at the wrong generation.”
⸻
He was already pulling out his phone.
“I need to get back to the compound.”
Pepper folded her arms.
“What are you going to do?”
Bruce’s thumb flew across the screen as he spoke.
“I’m rebuilding the search.”
“No Nobel Prize winners.”
“No famous inventors.”
“No CEOs.”
He looked up.
“I’m going to start looking for people no one else has noticed.”
Pepper glanced toward Tony’s empty chair.
A strange feeling settled in her chest.
Hope.
Small.
Fragile.
But hope all the same.
“Then go.”
Bruce smiled faintly.
“I’ll call you.”
He hurried from the office.
Pepper remained where she was.
⸻
She looked around one last time before reaching for the light switch.
The room darkened.
Only the afternoon sunlight remained, spilling across Tony’s desk.
Her eyes landed on the recorder.
Then on the notebook.
Finally…
On the jacket still hanging over his chair.
Pepper smiled through the tears.
“You really thought of everything.”
She stepped into the hallway.
The doors slid shut behind her with a quiet hiss.
For the first time in six months…
Closing those doors didn’t feel like saying goodbye.
It felt like carrying Tony’s last mission forward.
(This is a different recording, not the one in chap2, or maybe just her pov but idk I did this late at night. Might delete or rewrite because something just doesn’t sit right.)