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Pepper stared back at the roiling cage of fire, her hand flying to her mouth, her professional composure completely gone. "Hermione, the fire! Will he be alright? Is he safe?"
Hermione shook her head, giving Pepper's hand a reassuring pat. "Don't worry, Sister Pepper. It's just a normal flame, not something dangerous like Fiendfyre. It looks terrifying, but it's controlled. It will burn itself out in a few minutes and won't leave a single scorch mark on him."
Dark magic like Fiendfyre? Pepper's mind briefly snagged on the terrifying implication before she decided, for the sake of her own sanity, to let it go. She looked at the small, serious girl beside her, and a wave of profound, unexpected emotion washed over her. In the midst of the worst crisis of her life, abandoned by the man she loved who was lost in his own trauma, the one person who had truly seen her, who had understood her pain and stood up for her, was this strange, impossible child.
"Tony… oh, Tony," she sighed, the sound a mixture of exasperation, worry, and a love she could no longer deny.
"He's a work in progress," Hermione said with a knowing sigh of her own, sounding wise beyond her years. It was the curse of the superhero's loved ones, she knew, to be caught in the turbulent wake of their greatness and their pain. But Pepper was the one person in this world who had shown her genuine, uncomplicated kindness, and she wouldn't let her be consumed by Tony's self-destructive crusade.
Thinking of this, a mischievous glint returned to Hermione's eyes. She leaned in close to Pepper and whispered conspiratorially, "You're still thinking about that narcissist, aren't you?" She grinned. "You like him, don't you?"
The question, so blunt and so true, made Pepper's heart skip a beat. A hot, undeniable blush spread across her cheeks. She looked down at Hermione's teasing, all-knowing smile and finally broke, glaring at her with feigned annoyance. "You're a menace," she said, her voice betraying her with a slight tremor. "A child shouldn't be teasing adults about such things."
Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Please. The way you two look at each other when you think no one is watching? A blind man could see it."
Pepper was flustered into silence. After a long moment, she looked back toward the office, her expression turning worried again. "Do you think… we were too harsh? What you said about Yinsen…"
"No," Hermione said, her voice firm, losing all its childish playfulness. "For a man like Tony Stark, a man who has built an armored shell around his heart as much as his body, only the most drastic measures will work. We can't afford to wait for him to figure it out on his own." She looked up, her brown eyes meeting Pepper's, and her voice dropped to a quiet, profound whisper.
"Don't worry, Sister Pepper. He will be fine." She gave her a small, confident smile. "Have you forgotten? I have seen the future."
Later that night, at the Stark Mansion in Malibu.
Tony flopped onto the massive, white leather sofa in his cavernous living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand that he didn't taste. He stared up at the high, vaulted ceiling, the rhythmic crash of the Pacific Ocean outside the only sound in the vast, empty house.
Hermione's words echoed in his mind, a brutal, unrelenting chorus of his own failings. "How Pepper managed to get through every day… Not only do you not know, but after you came back, you never asked…"
He hadn't asked. He had been so consumed by the roaring fire of his own guilt, by the ghost of Yinsen's face and the phantom screams of the people his weapons had killed, that he had never once stopped to consider the war Pepper was fighting on his behalf. She had been his rock, his one constant, and he had treated her like a piece of office equipment, taking her loyalty and her love for granted. He was a hopeless, selfish bastard.
And she was right about his self-destructive streak. He knew it. Deep down, he knew that his frantic, all-consuming quest to become Iron Man wasn't just about atonement. It was a death wish. He was throwing himself into the fire again and again, hoping that one day it would finally consume him, because maybe then, the guilt would finally stop.
"I have to apologize," he murmured to the empty room, the decision finally solidifying in his heart. "I have to fix this."
He stood up, wiping a hand across his tired face. The next second, a familiar, avuncular voice came from the shadows.
"A bit of a rough day at the office, Tony?"
Tony's eyes widened, and he fell straight to the ground, his body seized by a high-frequency sonic vibration that locked his every muscle. A familiar face loomed over him, a kind, warm smile on his lips that didn't reach his cold, dead eyes. Obadiah Stane.
"Relax, Tony," Obadiah said, putting away the sonic paralyzer with a soft click. "A neat little toy, isn't it? Shame it never passed government regulations." He pulled a strange, pincer-like device from his pocket. "You know, when I ordered the hit on you, I was worried. Killing the goose that lays the golden eggs, and all that."
Tony stared up at him, his mind reeling with the agony of betrayal. Obie… the man who was like a father to me…
"But you just had to survive, didn't you?" Obadiah continued, his voice a low, conversational purr as he aimed the extractor at the glowing arc reactor in Tony's chest. "You had to build this little masterpiece. You had to lay one last golden egg for me."
With a grunt of effort, he plunged the device into Tony's chest and ripped the reactor free. An unimaginable, searing pain exploded through Tony's body.
"I forgot, you can't talk anymore," Obadiah said, admiring the pulsing blue light of the reactor in his hand. "By the way, asking Pepper to dig into the company's servers… not your smartest move. She's a brilliant woman. Such a shame. I really was hoping to keep her on."
Hearing Pepper's name, a surge of pure, impotent rage and terror shot through Tony. He strained against his paralysis, veins bulging in his neck, a silent scream trapped in his mind. Obadiah just shook his head, turned, and walked away, leaving him to die on the cold marble floor.
After what felt like an eternity, the paralysis began to fade. But a new, more terrifying sensation was taking its place. A cold, spreading numbness, and a sharp, stabbing pain as the shrapnel in his chest, no longer held back by the electromagnet, began its slow, inexorable march toward his heart.
The old one, his mind screamed. Pepper… she kept the old one. He knew if he didn't get to it, he would be dead in minutes. He began to crawl. Every movement was an agony, his body leaving a weak, desperate trail across the polished floor.
He had to live. Not for himself. For Pepper. She was in danger. He had to save her.
He finally reached the workshop, his vision blurring. He could see it, on a display stand, the simple, crude reactor he had built in a cave, now encased in a glass box with the words 'Proof that Tony Stark has a heart.' He stretched out a trembling, desperate hand. As long as I can get there… just a little further…
But his strength was gone. His body reached its limit, and he collapsed, his arm outstretched, his fingers just inches from salvation, as his life began to slip away into a cold, welcoming darkness.
Just as he was about to let go, a cheerful, familiar voice cut through the haze.
"Yo. Need a hand?"
Hermione hovered on her broomstick in the center of Tony's workshop, looking down at the dying man on the floor. "Tsk, tsk," she said, shaking her head. "Leaving a man to crawl on his own floor. So dramatic."
The voice, the same voice that had annoyed and infuriated him for weeks, now sounded like the most beautiful music Tony had ever heard.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
With a flick of her wand, the glass case shattered, and the old arc reactor floated through the air, aimed itself at the gaping, bloody hole in Tony's chest, and slid neatly into place.
The reactor lit up. Tony sat up with a sudden, violent gasp, his lungs filling with air, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was alive.
He looked up at the small girl on the broom, a thousand questions and a thousand thank yous dying on his lips. There was no time.
"Hermione," he rasped, his voice raw. "It's Obadiah. He was the one who tried to have me killed. He knows Pepper has the evidence. She's in danger." He struggled to his feet, stumbling toward the Mark III armor. "I have to suit up. Please… you have to get to her first. You have to save her!"
"I know I was wrong," he pleaded, his voice cracking with a desperate, newfound humility. "But right now… I can only ask for your help."
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .