Let's Begin

Ch. 11

This contains a panic attack right at the beginning, so don't read if it might trigger you.  If you don't want to read that, skip to the page break (* * * * *) to continue reading.

Pepper couldn't remember the last time Tony had seemed so unfocused and easily irritated at the same time. It couldn't be the first time something like this had happened. Somehow, she already knew exactly what to do. However, she honestly couldn't remember him ever being so on edge aside from right after the first alien attack on New York.

She didn't blame him. No, she could never. There was panic creeping through her own chest that she refused to let out, so while Tony disappeared to let out his stress in his lab, she attempted to do what she did best: network.

Tony had been against the idea of calling Sheriff Davis, but Pepper felt like he could be helpful. After all, he'd been the responding sheriff the last time she and Peter had been attacked and he had personally seen Ritchie's escort to prison. Unfortunately, talking didn't take her mind off it and pretty soon, she found that she couldn't breathe.

"I'm going to have to call you back, Sheriff Davis," she said, taking a shaky breath.

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Stark?" the sheriff asked. Pepper nodded dumbly before remembering it was a phone call and he couldn't see her.

"Yes, yes," she assured him breathlessly, clutching at her chest as it tightened. "I just—I have to go... go do something real fast."

"Alright, we'll be on the lookout," Sheriff Davis promised.

Pepper quickly thanked him and hung up, dropping her phone on the floor as her hands shook uncomfortably. Her breathing had all but stopped by now. While she tried to breathe in, breathing out was impossible and she began to shake more. God, what was happening? Why couldn't she breathe?

"You seem to be experiencing a small panic attack, Miss Stark," FRIDAY said.

No, she didn't have panic attacks; those were supposed to be Tony's thing, not her's. In protest, she attempted to breathe but found it was not as easy as it should have been.

"Would you like me to notify Boss?"

"No, FRIDAY," Pepper yelled, glancing worriedly towards the ceiling.

The last thing she wanted right now was for Tony to find her in a mess in the living room. It would scare him and all the progress he had made on finding Peter would disappear.

"I'm fine," Pepper whispered to the AI.

Her 'fine' turned into soft cries which were followed by a loud gasp. Reaching blindly towards the couch, she grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her chest as she sobbed.

God, was Peter even still alive? He was probably beaten up somewhere with his kidnappers demanding money. She knew they should have kept him a secret. If he'd been homeschooled and hidden away, no one would have ever found him and he wouldn't be being tortured and—Oh god, she really couldn't breathe.

"Hey, Pepper," Tony said softly.

Pepper lifted her head up from the couch pillow she had been crying into to see Tony kneeling in front of her. The stupid AI had called Tony against her will.

"Tony!"

Tony nodded and joined her on the couch. His t-shirt was stained with grease and he smelled vaguely of oil, but it was all comforting in a way the couch pillow hadn't been. Clinging to him tightly, Pepper buried her face in his neck and tried to stop crying.

"I got a hold of Peter," Tony told her softly. Pepper hiccoughed in response and Tony continued. "He's alive. A little nervous, but he seems to be alright. He'll be okay. He's a strong kid."

There was no way Tony was going to tell her he'd been given a riddle and five hours to solve it. It had already been an hour and a half and he'd be lying if he said it was easy to figure out. Even FRIDAY was still trying to crack the code.

"I'm so worried," Pepper whispered shakily. Tony nodded and pressed a kiss to her head before burying his face in her hair.

"I know," he replied, leaving the Me too out of his statement.

* * * * *

Peter really didn't appreciate the phrase "tough love". When he'd asked Mr. Patrick why he wasn't being given dinner, the man had simply responded with the cliche phrase and sent Peter out of the room.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting in his room when the light suddenly turned off, but he knew it was long enough he'd completely missed dinner. At the sudden darkness in the room, Peter yelped and scurried back against the wall. Although his wrists were now untied, they were chaffed from the rope and scrambling backwards was a little painful.

"Go to sleep," a voice demanded from outside the door.

Peter glanced up at the blinking camera light and slowly laid down on his bed.

"Good boy."

Peter didn't hear anything after that, preoccupying himself with watching the red blinking light. It never turned off and as Peter counted the number of times it blinked, he began to get sleepy. Despite trying very hard not to fall asleep, his eyes closed sometime after the 352nd time the red light blinked and Peter fell into a fitful sleep.