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39th Teddy Bear [voice/action]
[Elicia had been sleeping next to Gracia off and on now, after papa had left. She thinks maybe it makes her mama better, that she's close and there. And like so many other days, Elicia gets up and rubs her face, bleary-eyed and ready to start the day. Only, what greeted her was the silence of a empty, blue room; the essence of it—everything that made it her mother's—was sucked out. All she had was a pillow behind her and a blanket clutched in her hands, and for a moment, she doesn't understand.
It takes some time before she finally does.
The house is really quiet. Winry and Ed must be doing the things they do every day. She numbly leaves the bed and goes into the bathroom, stripping down like always, turning on the water and being careful that she doesn't make it hot. She gets soap in her eyes, but it's okay, because it washes out. When that's over with, the clothes come next—it's a dress, and she puts her ties in her hair, trying to make them match evenly on each side; it sort of looks right, she thinks, so she goes to the kitchen and uses a chair to get to the cabinet so that she could get the cereal box. And then the milk. Spoon and bowl. She doesn't make orange slices because the knives are bad and off limits. And then she sets the table and eats fast.
It's all wrong. But she's had nightmares about a day like this, only soothed when she woke up and looked at her mother, or wandered into her room in the dead of night, just for a look. But now nothing's left in her mama's room, and the fog of loneliness pushes on her from all sides as she sits on the couch and waits for something to change.
Over time, she lets herself cry. It builds up like a wave traveling toward sand, gradually peaking as the force carries it. It's okay, she thinks. She'll come back, or papa. They wouldn't just leave her behind for long. Not even the malnosso could change that about them. Right? They'd come back and there wouldn't be any reason to cry.]
[Voice]
Mama—
[She breathes in, voice watery and unsure. Everyone had to do things like this. This was the right thing to do. This is what people here had to do sometimes, for the ones they loved. She inhales a shaky sob.]
Gracia... Hughes... Went home.
[It's weird to say her full name like that. She doesn't like it. But she has to be grown up right now.
Later in the day, she'll be out working on the garden Raine had helped her replant, and has no intention of going inside until the sun starts dipping low. She doesn't really feel like playing today. A lot of her presents from the birthday are left scattered in her room, where she's left them from the night before Gracia had left.]
It takes some time before she finally does.
The house is really quiet. Winry and Ed must be doing the things they do every day. She numbly leaves the bed and goes into the bathroom, stripping down like always, turning on the water and being careful that she doesn't make it hot. She gets soap in her eyes, but it's okay, because it washes out. When that's over with, the clothes come next—it's a dress, and she puts her ties in her hair, trying to make them match evenly on each side; it sort of looks right, she thinks, so she goes to the kitchen and uses a chair to get to the cabinet so that she could get the cereal box. And then the milk. Spoon and bowl. She doesn't make orange slices because the knives are bad and off limits. And then she sets the table and eats fast.
It's all wrong. But she's had nightmares about a day like this, only soothed when she woke up and looked at her mother, or wandered into her room in the dead of night, just for a look. But now nothing's left in her mama's room, and the fog of loneliness pushes on her from all sides as she sits on the couch and waits for something to change.
Over time, she lets herself cry. It builds up like a wave traveling toward sand, gradually peaking as the force carries it. It's okay, she thinks. She'll come back, or papa. They wouldn't just leave her behind for long. Not even the malnosso could change that about them. Right? They'd come back and there wouldn't be any reason to cry.]
[Voice]
Mama—
[She breathes in, voice watery and unsure. Everyone had to do things like this. This was the right thing to do. This is what people here had to do sometimes, for the ones they loved. She inhales a shaky sob.]
Gracia... Hughes... Went home.
[It's weird to say her full name like that. She doesn't like it. But she has to be grown up right now.
Later in the day, she'll be out working on the garden Raine had helped her replant, and has no intention of going inside until the sun starts dipping low. She doesn't really feel like playing today. A lot of her presents from the birthday are left scattered in her room, where she's left them from the night before Gracia had left.]
[action]
[Maybe not a literal one, but he's heard her refer to them so affectionately as Big Bro and Big Sis. They'd get the job done, Elicia would be fine with them, not as fine as with her real parents but at least finer than with them.
He was comfortable with the idea of never having that. He'd told himself he had come to terms with it, in his own way. But each time he did, it seemed to creep back up on him. First Rogue--her, multiple times, then this. Howard. God, he can't take two steps in Luceti without being assaulted by family on some front. He'd laugh at the irony if he had any desire to.
"So you're a man who has everything, and yet nothing."
It wasn't something that was meant to be his. He knew that. But it keeps coming up, and now Pepper...]
I--can't. Just--of everyone who could take care of her...not me. Not us.
Re: [action]
But it's a hypothetical argument anyway, and one Pepper won't risk continuing there. If Elicia wakes up and hears Tony saying he won't take care of her, she'll be crushed. Pepper won't let that happen, and if it means relenting for now, then so be it.]
Fine. [She sighs and shakes her head--but there's one more thing she needs to say before she can let it go.] But I think you're selling yourself short. I honestly do.
[action]
Would you really tell me otherwise?
[His voice is strained, one part of him wanting very much to believe her, another refusing to even let himself think about it.]
Re: [action]
But that's just it. He's so much more than a playboy or an overgrown child. She sees the man, definitely flawed, but good in so many ways.]
If I really thought you'd do her more harm than good, I wouldn't have brought it up at all. [But no matter where Elicia lives, or who takes over the role of primary caretaker, Tony can't just pretend that he doesn't have an influence too. A responsibility.] She already sees you as family, you know.
[action]
But he wasn't forced to care about Elicia because he was related. It was because he chose to.]
I'm her superhero. That's it.
Re: [action]
That is not it at all, Tony Stark. She adores you, just as much as she would any blood relative. [Tony was the one Elicia went to when she needed to be held. He's the one she asked not to disappear, and the one she trusts to be there when she wakes.] She's as much your family as I am, even if you don't see it.
[action]
We're--you and I--family?
[And he's practically holding his breath, chest tight. The implications of that are vast and he isn't sure how to begin processing it.]
Re: [action]
And Tony's completely missed it. Being together, living together, and he's never made that connection.]
You know, considering how much of a genius you are, you're also very dumb sometimes. Of course we're family. What do you think we are otherwise?
[action]
And it makes him silent again, and this time, he doesn't know what to say, what to ask. He didn't think of her the way he did Howard. Even Rogue, in that strange, strange way. That was his exposure to family.
And all it does is make him realize he's even worse at this than he realized and how could even ever raise a kid if he doesn't even understand how family works in the first place?]
Re: [action]
Don't. I know what you're doing, and I'm telling you to stop it right now. [Because she knows Tony better than anyone, and his expression is all too telling.] There's a lot of things you can't put words to, and that's okay. You get the important things right--like holding a crying girl even though you're terrified. Or saying you appreciate me, even if you have to make a joke to get it out.
That's what really matters.
[action]
[Terrified. But yes, he is. He's so far outside his comfort zone, his familiar circle of behaviors and interactions--that's one of the things Luceti had done to him. It has changed him. He has personal friends here--more than he had back home, certainly. And there were teens and kids he looked out for--why? Was it friendship? His mind refuses to define them, as if labeling them as such would somehow cheapen it, so he doesn't. They were somethings. The people he cared about around here were somethings.
And Pepper was an extra special something. He knows she's right about the things he can't say. Despite his ability to talk and talk, there's so many times when he can't get out what he needs to. It makes him feel vulnerable. Small. Like the situation isn't under his control.
Everything he's feeling right now. It's been out of his control from the second Pepper told him about what happened.
He wishes it was easier. That he didn't so often keep himself from saying the things he needs to. But it makes him feel like he's putting himself out there, even if he's clearly already out there when he's holding a girl who exhausted herself crying because her parents are gone, and she begged him not to leave and is still holding onto him so tightly--
He reaches out, taking Pepper's hand in his free one, and meets her eyes with obvious worry and purpose.]
I appreciate you, Pepper.
[And that's a lot of straightforward for him to be.]
Re: [action]
He slips his hand into hers, and Pepper curls her fingers around his. She's a bit nervous when he looks at her that way, because she can see his determination, and the anxiety that goes with it.
And then he says something she doesn't expect. A feeling she knows he has, yes, but the words are direct, with no humor or snark to soften them. She's honestly shocked, but only for a moment before she smiles.]
I appreciate you too.
[That and so much more, but this is already such a huge step. Pepper squeezes Tony's hand, then leans over, giving Tony a quick and careful kiss.]
[action]
He's never really held a kid before. It's....
Nice.
And even though now he knows he's got more things to figure out than he initially realized, it doesn't seem so hopeless anymore.]
Re: [action]
Do you want something to drink or anything? I can see what's in their kitchen. [Tony is pretty much stuck until Elicia wakes up, and that's okay. Pepper doesn't at all mind being his personal assistant during times like these. She wants to make him comfortable, to stretch out this feeling of calm and peace for as long as she can help make it last.
Although she won't be hurt if he says he's fine either. She's just as good sitting with him, holding his hand in hers.]
[action]
He's still surprised by it, too, after all.]
But--thanks.
Re: [action]
[With Tony's hand still in hers, she watches Elicia, wondering how long the girl will stay asleep, and how she'll feel once she's awake. The pain won't have gone, but hopefully crying some of it out will have helped.]
[action]
... Is it late now?
[Yes, she was obviously asleep for hours and hours. She hopes Ed and Winry aren't coming home too quickly, because she's not ready, and she still needs to tell them--and they need something to eat...]
What'm I gonna make for dinner...
[action]
If you're hungry--[Well.
He probably shouldn't make something. Unless it is Eggos. He's good at Eggos. But maybe they could all figure out something together.]
Re: [action]
[Pepper finishes the thought, offering her own smile to Elicia. The girl seems calmer, but Pepper's sure that's just temporary. Still, it's probably best to get her to eat while it lasts.]
Would you mind showing Mr. Tony and I where the kitchen is?
[action]
It's this way...! We always have lots of stuff...
[There are lots of fruits and vegetables. Lots of things good for a healthy diet. Tony would probably frown at the lack of instant food around here, though.]
[action]
And what do you want? I think it's safe to say you can have whatever you want.
[In light of circumstances.]
Re: [action]
Lunch is a different story. Even a late lunch.]
Definitely safe to say. [Although Pepper has to hope Elicia picks something she can make. She's an amateur cook at best, although she can follow directions. She's definitely above the Eggo level.]
[action]
[She looks up, unsure, voice lowering.]
What do heroes eat?
[action]
...Sandwiches?
Re: [action]
[Although they may not have the rolls necessary for true hero sandwiches. Pepper isn't going to be picky, however, especially if it makes Elicia smile. She looks down to the girl.]
What would you like on yours?
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