By no definition has Pepper Potts been handling things exceptionally well, and that's typically her brand, if she were to ever actually call it a brand. It wouldn't be the first time an abrupt upheaval in her life came without so much as a phone call, it wouldn't be the first time she's stared at a dead quiet workspace and wanted to throw up or cry, it wouldn't even be the first time she's woken to find the bed empty. She did awake to an empty bed again, but it wasn't because Tony had wandered off to deal with insomnia. She did stare at a dead quiet workspace again, feeling the sickest she's potentially ever felt, because Tony hadn't come to the forge early. And she did have an abrupt upheaval, but greater than those before, because the world she has been left in without Tony Stark - an entire universe away, not a city or a globe - is not hers and Rhodey, one of the steadiest and loved constants in her life, isn't here when she faces Tony's loss.
She's never really adapted to this entire kidnapping scenario, she's just survived, and been damned convincing at making it look like she's handling it all with pragmatism and good humor. For all that work, it's been too easy to try and cut out as much of the metaphorical noise of this strange life as possible. It's not healthy. It's not helping. She knows if she doesn't face the next step forward now, the pain is going to finally win out over what she knows she needs to do.
So Pepper goes to the forge with her best game face on, because she's powered through so many things, she can do this.
She almost retreats just over the threshold.
Somehow it's more painful to be in this space with Tony gone than it ever was to enter his workshop when nearly everyone but her believed him to be dead in Afghanistan, and she wouldn't say she somehow loved him less then and it made it easier. No, this place has meant more than just 'Tony's space' to her. It's been a place of security in this mad world they inhabit (the routine of the day and the people bound to be around feel all the more real after events like unexpected relocations and wilderness survival), a place of discovery of new facts about herself (she enjoys helping with the work here, even if she's far, far better at keeping things somewhat organized and moving forward), a place of camaraderie (this family Tony built, because he's an engineer of those too), and yes, a place that has just as much of his sweat and tears and genius as places back home.
What stops her retreat is that the space is inactive, but not empty, because there sits Brigitte, looking as lost as Pepper feels. Pepper recognizes the papers the young woman's clutching and something shifts within her, that mixture of giving and selfish that recognizes something Pepper can do for someone else and in the process, shove back some of her pain. Of course she knew she wasn't the only one reeling from this loss, and she hasn't turned anyone away who sought her out, but in the silence of the house she had shared with Tony and Rhodey, she's looked only inward, not outward in the direction of the 'forge family.'
When she reaches Brigitte, Pepper's touch is gentle but firm as she pries the papers out of the young woman's hands. She carefully, painfully, sets them aside, and fills the now-paperless space with her own pale fingers, squeezing Brigitte's hands gently.
sisters are doin' it for themselves.
She's never really adapted to this entire kidnapping scenario, she's just survived, and been damned convincing at making it look like she's handling it all with pragmatism and good humor. For all that work, it's been too easy to try and cut out as much of the metaphorical noise of this strange life as possible. It's not healthy. It's not helping. She knows if she doesn't face the next step forward now, the pain is going to finally win out over what she knows she needs to do.
So Pepper goes to the forge with her best game face on, because she's powered through so many things, she can do this.
She almost retreats just over the threshold.
Somehow it's more painful to be in this space with Tony gone than it ever was to enter his workshop when nearly everyone but her believed him to be dead in Afghanistan, and she wouldn't say she somehow loved him less then and it made it easier. No, this place has meant more than just 'Tony's space' to her. It's been a place of security in this mad world they inhabit (the routine of the day and the people bound to be around feel all the more real after events like unexpected relocations and wilderness survival), a place of discovery of new facts about herself (she enjoys helping with the work here, even if she's far, far better at keeping things somewhat organized and moving forward), a place of camaraderie (this family Tony built, because he's an engineer of those too), and yes, a place that has just as much of his sweat and tears and genius as places back home.
What stops her retreat is that the space is inactive, but not empty, because there sits Brigitte, looking as lost as Pepper feels. Pepper recognizes the papers the young woman's clutching and something shifts within her, that mixture of giving and selfish that recognizes something Pepper can do for someone else and in the process, shove back some of her pain. Of course she knew she wasn't the only one reeling from this loss, and she hasn't turned anyone away who sought her out, but in the silence of the house she had shared with Tony and Rhodey, she's looked only inward, not outward in the direction of the 'forge family.'
When she reaches Brigitte, Pepper's touch is gentle but firm as she pries the papers out of the young woman's hands. She carefully, painfully, sets them aside, and fills the now-paperless space with her own pale fingers, squeezing Brigitte's hands gently.