Chapter Text
Tony
She kept finding things. Detritus of his life, of the life they all three had...before. It had been exactly two weeks since they had evacuated him off the compound lawn, Strange, Shuri, Banner, and Cho doing everything that could possibly be done. In a way, he had been lucky to have been surrounded, literally, by some of the most advanced medical providers in the world. Without their quick interventions, there's no way he would have survived, even if there were still so many questions about his prognosis.
She would find little fragments of their life, scattered all around. His coffee mugs in the workshop, the sludge in the bottom black and cold and bitter scented. She'd found the paperback copy of a Zane Gray cowboy tale he'd been reading on the small table next to his recliner. One of his pairs of reading glasses resting carelessly on top.
What pepper wouldn't give to hear him hollering to her or to JARVIS, asking if anyone had seen his glasses. She'd often threatened to make him wear one of those beaded chains if he didn't start keepeing up with them better. The horrified look on his face had made her laugh, and even days later she'd smile to herself when she thought about it. (Well, learn to keep up with them, then, you idiot!)
The scent of his cologne on the hand towels in the bathroom, and the bars of ivory soap next to the sink. Any time he came home, he would scrub up with the white bars, filling the bathroom with the familiar and slightly alkaline odor. And his electric razor, sitting just so on a towel, waiting for its owner's return. His sneakers, haphazardly left by the front door, laces untied on one. (He always untied the left, but never the right. It was so weirdly Tony, and she'd never asked him why. Now she might never get the chance.)
In the mornings, she would hear the ghost of his footsteps as she remembered him sleepily puttering down the steps, making his way unerringly to the coffee maker. Silent and sleepy until he was at least two mugs deep into his caffeine addiction. (She kept trying to get him to go to decaf, at least part of the time, but she had never succeeded.) And at night, when she tucked Morgan into bed, the empty rocking glider next to her bed. Morgan felt it then, too, as she would stare forlornly at the empty chair where Tony had sat, every night, since she had been born. He'd never been away from her overnight until Endgame and the time heist. Over and over Pepper kept expecting to look over and see him softly rocking, his slippered feet gently pushing off the floor as the glider's mechanism wooshed with the faintest of squeaks. His expression impossibly soft, content. He loved that rocker. (Would he ever tuck Morgan in again? Was this something else they were going to lose?)
On his desk in the corner of the living room, she found half-graded papers from the college course he had been teaching at Columbia. She'd had to force him into doing it, but once he actually got started, he really enjoyed it. He liked the students, especially the ones who were really curious and asked questions. Just like with Harley, and Abigail, and Peter...all three of his honorary adoptees had been Blipped, but these teenagers were here and now and helped to fill that void for him. (But now they were all back in existance...He needed to come home to them. He needed to come back to being Dr. Stark, and Papa Tony, and...Dad...) Some of them had lost parents, too. Steve kept saying that she needed a support group. Pepper tried to be polite, but a part of her wanted to snap back at him...(YOU WERE HIS SUPPORT GROUP where the hell were you when Thanos snapped and this whole thing started?) but it wouldn't be productive, and it would only hurt Steve.
Pepper thought back to making that call to Columbia, explaining what had happened, that he wasn't coming back for the remainder of the semester. Not for spring, either, she had explained that his recovery was going to be a long one, but that by next fall, he would be able to reconsider his position at the college. The clerk she talked to was almost reverent when Pepper told her. And several fruit baskets, cards, and floral arrangements had been sent from faculty. But the cards and letters sent from his students, addressed to "Dr. Stark" and filled with praise and well-wishes...and love...Had meant more. She had them all, saved, in a binder for when he felt better. She wanted him to know what he meant to them. (He needs to know how many lives he has changed. How many people love him, and want him back.)
But unlike the other things left behind, Pepper refused to put these items away. Refused to disturb his papers, refused to pack up his razor, put away his book or gather up the probably sixteen pairs of reading glasses he had stashed all over the house. She would not move his pillow from Morgan's glider, the one he liked to put behind his lower back when he sat there. The cushion he always pretended was just there because "Morgan likes it there." (Of course morgan liked it there, because TONY preferred it to be there.) She wouldn't file away the student cards, she wouldn't throw out the coffee he preferred or put his favorite mugs in the back of the cabinet. His life took center stage, still, in this place. These were not items left behind, cold talismen to memories. These were the things that marked a life lived, and an existence that would be returned to, in due time. Pepper refused to accept anything less.
AN: Reviews are bread and butter for a writer, if you enjoyed this, or have criticsms, please take a moment to review. And if you have anything you'd like to see happen in this little alternate universe I'm playing in, let me know! Plot bunnies love to share the toast and jam, too.
- RB