Just a little short piece I thought of. This is Pepper's thoughts, set in the future from the movie, quite a long while after he's made his announcement and become a super hero for the world. Is set in front of the backdrop of a Pepper/Tony established relationship. This is just something that came to mind driving around in the car and I had to write it down…hope you enjoy!

Oh, and I don't own Iron Man, nope. But I'd sure want him. heh heh anyway, sorry that the dividers have to be in letters….can't get anything else to work.

IMIMIMIMIM

She hears it so much she's tired of it. They say it in magazine articles, on the news, on the street in little groups, huddled around a familiar picture. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to be with him? I mean just think about it…being in love with Iron Man! Oh, I wish he was mine."

Every time she hears it in person she wants to stop them, tell them that no, it isn't wonderful. Tell them that to be in love with the famous Iron Man is a curse she wouldn't wish on her worst enemies(of which she has many). On some of the bad days, she has said just this. Once to a young girl who looked at her like she was either crazy or a lesbian. Most people recognize her, but Tony tries to keep her profile low in public so there's still a few who don't know. This girl was one of them. It doesn't matter, really, that the girl didn't believe her. She would have never been able to see past the thoughts of sex, money, and fame to see what Pepper meant. Most people never could.

To them loving a superhero was all bliss, your name in lights. Constant protection. Amazing sex.

All she could say was no, no, you don't really want this. The important things, the real things, she could never say.

It was like this, on the bad days.

The really bad ones had involved her personally, but it wasn't herself she cared about. She had been kidnapped, used as bait but she never feared for her own life. No, she knew Tony would come for her. It was his life she feared for. Seeing her hurt or in danger drove him to desperate measures. He took crazy risks. He put himself on the line. At least once a week in her dreams she saw days like these. In her dreams, he usually died in her arms. Or, worse, before her eyes but out of reach. And it was always over her.

The alcohol, that was a constant. The women who so ached to be in her place didn't know about that. If they did, they knew only what the papers said. They knew about rehab, that first time. They knew about the occasional party. What they didn't know was that the real drinking he did, the hard times…none of them had anything to do with partying. It had everything to do with the past and the present. The weapons he had made, the people he had killed, even the terrorists he was killing now. He could see their blood on his hands, she knew. He had told her, his words slurred, his hands shaking around a glass of Johnnie Walker. He could see their blood, every one of them. He said he knew no matter what he did, he could never wash it off. She knew, equally, that while there were many things she could take away by taking him in her arms, she couldn't rid him of the blood either. It followed him everywhere, sometimes dulled but never gone. He carried guilt like a physical handicap, like a dead body tied around his neck. Being a better man than any she had ever known made him more vulnerable to guilt that any man she had ever known. No one else saw this, he kept it inside. She had to see it all, both a blessing and a curse. Yes, she got him when he was tender. She also had him when he had fallen apart.

His anger was a problem, sometimes. Usually when he'd been drinking. Oh he'd never hit her and she was certain he never would, but he'd done his share of yelling that he regretted the next 

morning. She had stopped being angry a long time ago, and she had almost stopped being hurt by it. Almost. Jarvis always apologized for him before he did. Tony's verbal apologies were few and far between and only given when he really knew for sure he'd fucked up. No, most of the time it was something in his eyes, the way he touched her when he said good-morning. It was apology enough, for her, but then she knew him inside out. Most women couldn't have stood it. Most women wouldn't have forgiven him, not after the third time. She forgave him before he even asked.

Those were the thoughts she had on the bad days, the things she longed to tell every woman who envied her place. She wanted them to know the truth. It was nothing to envy. It was hard, it was constant worry. They didn't know how it felt to kiss him good-bye, knowing it could be the last time to ever see him alive. They didn't know how it felt to stay up all night with three news channels on, sitting on the couch in nothing but his old shirt and drinking black coffee, waiting and waiting and waiting for news that didn't come until morning. They didn't know the wash of relief every time he came home in one piece. It was a force so strong it could knock her to her knees. They couldn't imagine the harsh reality of sitting by his bedside in a hospital waiting for him to wake up. Dreaming of a time in the far off future where he doesn't wake up at all. They spent more than their fair share of time imagining his body, she was sure. But she was equally sure they saw it without the scars. She knew every one, the white lines a map in their own way. She could have traced them all with her eyes closed. The new ones bothered her the most. Especially when she couldn't remember how he had gotten them.

She would admit, if only to herself, that there were days she told herself it wasn't worth it. Her mother had certainly told her so. There were days she told herself that it hurt too much to love him, that her love for him was going to kill her. There was only once she almost had herself convinced. The thoughts came on with panic and stress, always in his absence. What always happened next was that he came home.

There were good days, too. They still outnumbered the bad. Though she hadn't previously been the praying kind, she now prayed they always would.

She knew that tomorrow, or maybe the day after if it was a long mission, she'd take back any thoughts that it wasn't worth it. She would wake in his strong arms, held tight to his chest. She would hear his heartbeat, alive and strong. He always looked like a little boy in his sleep, so peaceful and innocent. She would wake him with a kiss, soft and gentle. Her hand would caress his cheek, so glad he was there, real and warm under her hands. His eyes would open, dark and sleepy but full of so much love it would take her breath away. The look he reserved only for her. He'd say her name, his voice low and content. And she would know beyond all doubt that where she was was heaven on earth, right there in his arms. She would know that nothing could be better than this. In knowing that, she would agree with them. There was nothing better than being in love with Iron Man, nothing.

She wouldn't trade it for the world.

IMIMIMIMIM

Reviews are pure love.