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Pepper waited.
She was incapable of lifting her gaze from the door to this small office, every part of her calling out quietly to the figure, whom she knew was preparing himself to step through. The hum of voices had died away an hour ago as each one departed, Morgan would be in bed with Happy or Rhodey watching over her until Pepper was done.
The time was now.
The doorknob turned slowly, agonizingly and Pepper willed herself not to cry. This was inevitable she knew, and she would be damned if she didn’t do this one last thing, offer this last reprieve.
Stephen Strange, clad in his suit and impossibly small for such a large man, slipped into the room. As stormy eyes settled on her she felt the hole aching in her chest keenly, nodded her head once in greeting.
He came forward, standing in front of her desk in silence and she felt honoured in the way he waited, on her, for her. With a shaking hand she motioned at the chair, allowing him to sit, though he did so stiffly.
There was a part of her that wanted to scream and shout, to bang her fists against his chest, his face until finally drawing blood, until she could make him feel the pain reverberating through her with each beat of her heart. Make him understand that he left her a widow and her daughter without a father. Beg him to give her heart back from where Tony had stolen it away. She wanted to sob and cry and have this man be witness to it all as penance for his crime.
“I’m sorry,” quiet and deep, sincere and broken.
Pepper inhaled shakily, eyes going glassy as she whispered hoarsely, “I know.”
She wanted to close her eyes, but she knew what images would arise. She wanted to drink a bottle of alcohol and forget it all. She wanted to crawl into bed with her daughter and try to feel again. She wanted to be capable of forgiving the man sitting in front of her, because the look in his eyes was one, she had seen too many times since the Snap, since Tony came down on that ship in the middle of the night, starved and defeated.
“I knew,” she murmured.
Stephen’s head tilted a little, but he stayed silent.
“Tony,” she choked on his name, clenched her teeth against a sob. Pushed onward. “He told me about Titan. You said there was no other way.”
His eyes were wet and some vicious part of her wanted to break him. Stephen nodded slowly, however, and for some reason that simple action, sent a wave of relief through her. It mingled with sorrow and anger as it would for years to come but all this time of waiting for the shoe to drop and to be told she was right…well.
“There wasn’t and I knew, one day, he’d save us all,” Stephen’s voice was still quiet, unsure.
Pepper’s hands clenched into fists, “I knew I’d never get to keep him. You spared his life for a reason and it wasn’t for me.”
“You’re right. And I am sorry.”
He was, she knew he was. There was bitterness, how could there not be? Her husband was stolen from her…yet she had always known. When they said their marriage vows she wondered how long it would last, when she discovered she was pregnant she was filled with nightmares of leaving her child an orphan, when she watched him read to her and make dinner and joke about how she was a prodigy, there was a silent clock in her head, forever whispering: there was no other way.
The tears spilled over because to know and to experience were so different, so painfully unlivable. She wiped at them with shaking hands as she sobbed in a way she hadn’t since his death, full body shudders moving through her, wet gasps for air.
Trembling arms encircled her, and she was pressing into Stephen’s chest. Hands combed through her hair and she was grateful there was no shushing or pleas to calm, simply his steady presence as she broke. Tony rose up before her eyes, all these years, every good and bad memory, every sarcastic remark and traumatic nightmare and she wanted, so desperately, she wanted more. More time, more Tony, more love, more life, more, more, more, more.
“I’m sorry.”
Her hands tightened on his tunic as she pulled away, shaking her head and trying so hard, so god damn hard, “don’t,” she managed around tears. “Don’t say that. Its not your fault.”
Even through her tears she could see his pained expression and she felt a surge of conviction, “how long?”
“What?” he whispered, sounding a step away from his own sobs.
“How long would I have had him, what was the longest?”
She saw the battle in his eyes until finally through trembling lips he murmured, “seven years.”
The words hit her like a shot to the chest, but she didn’t pause, pushing, always pushing, “at what cost?”
His eyes flickered toward the door, then back to her, pitying, “Morgan never would have been born.”
Her forehead fell back against his damp tunic, even as more tears slipping down her cheeks, “thank you, then thank you.”
His hands stilled on her, having frozen and Pepper tried to level her voice, “thank you, for giving me five years and a piece of him to keep with me.”
She couldn’t help her sobs, to fragile to contain them. He didn’t need to speak, his hands moving again, and she thought maybe she had got it right, made Tony proud. To blame the man before her was easy, too easy and she had the right, after everything. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t do that.
Pepper wouldn’t condemn him to her hatred or even her resentment. She wanted to be better because maybe if she could forgive him, she could find it in herself to forgive Tony. Grief was a horrible, complicated thing, but she wasn’t the only one feeling it…because she had seen something, this small recognizable little look.
“You loved him,” she whispered wetly.
Stephen stilled again.
“Its ok. I couldn’t imagine not if I saw all you did.”
Pepper pulled back to see that tears had spilled over Stephen’s cheeks. She stood, pulling him into a hug and held him tight as he answered quietly, “I did.”
“You do,” she replied quietly. “Its ok. It’ll be ok.”
As they stood there, united in a special kind of grief Pepper started to believe that maybe, one day, she’d mean it.