3: Objectivity

She couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening. Not today, not ever. But it still did. He vanished. The man she'd been working under for two and half years vanished.

She wasn't supposed to be affected, no. Far from it. Wasn't she supposed to be relieved? Since Stark is gone now, that means Fury could dismiss her case.

She isn't Virgina 'Pepper' Potts. Tony Stark's famous PA. The woman behind the man. The Merchant of Death's right hand woman.

She is Agent Hera Alanis. The Queen of SHEILD (according to Natasha and Barton, at least). She's brought the most powerful down to their knees. And she's never failed a mission. Never.

But then Fury had waltzed in with that stupid Manila folder. Told her to get close to Stark. Gain his trust, and get the information that SHIELD needed.

Two years later, here she was. Sobbing pathetically into the sheets of the guest room bed she claimed her own when she first started working with him.

It was tragic, really. She was a trained assassin for God's sake! She wasn't supposed to have these thoughts, these feelings she never thought she would ever be able to experience.

But then Anthony Edward Stark happened.

She laughed dryly to herself. Bile rose in her throat and hot tears pricked her eyes. This was so stupid. She was crying over a man that she was supposed to spy on.

Then again, he was the only consistent thing in her life for the past two years. She knew him better than anyone else. He liked his coffee black. (I like my coffee black because it's just like me, dark and bitter.)

He hated it when someone turned his music down. He doesn't like avocados because he finds them too creamy. To him, Star Warswill always be better than Star Trek. And it didn't matter how much Rhodey tried to argue with him, Star Wars would always be better.

Curling up into a fetal position, she clutched her pillow tightly and let the tears trail down her face. Hiccuping slightly, she burrowed her face into the pillow and inhaled the scent of fabric softener and slipped her eyes closed.

Hera

"Potts. Earth to Ms. Potts. Pepper. Virginia Potts!" She jolted at the sound of her full name. Pepper whipped her head to the side, only to find Tony smirking at her.

"What is it now?" She moaned. All she wanted was to sleep. But since her amazing boss decided to bang a famous supermodel (totally consensual, by the way) she was stuck in his mansion until said model agrees not to file a sexual harassment case.

"You're very pretty, you know that?" Pepper widened her eyes and quirked an eyebrow at him. "But I think you would look adorable fisting my sheets..." He finished slyly.

Recoiling slightly, the redhead chucked a throw pillow at him and huffed in annoyance and embarrassment.

"If this girl doesn't file a harassment case against you, I just might." She chuckled, unfazed by his innuendos. "Besides, you could do so much better than that. The transition from pretty to cute did not work. Isn't it usually vice versa?" Tony rolled his eyes at his assistant.

"It was a tester! I didn't know if it would work. I kno-"

"Well obviously, it didn't. You pic-"

"-w it would have worked on some wom-"

"-ked the wrong person to test this on. Hell, Rhodey-"

"-an I meet at the bar. You're practically immune to my-"

"- would have been a better option!"

"-irresistible charms!"

Falling back into the couch, Pepper tucked her legs beneath her and cuddled with the pillow next to her while Tony looked at her in confusion. She just yawned in response.

Getting up to go who knows where (Pepper has stopped trying to figure it out) she snuggled further into the pillow as she let her muscles relax. A minute or so later, she felt strong arms slip under her knees and over her back, hoisting her into a bridal-style carry.

She rested her head on the warm chest, seemingly oblivious that she was moving. Almost immediately, Pepper went limp in his arms. Tony smiles softly at the sight of her in his arms.

Walking into the guest room he had set up for her moments ago, he gingerly places her on the bed and takes off those killer heels. (He has absolutely no idea how she's able to walk in those torture devices for twelve hours.)

Tony adjusts Pepper into a more comfortable position, bringing the covers up to her chin. Looking at her sleeping face on last time, he presses a tender kiss to her forehead and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Hera

Cracking one eye open, Pepper nuzzles her face into the pillow as she blinks the drowsiness away.

"Jarvis?" The redhead croaks lightly, her voice scratchy.

"Yes, Miss Potts?" The A.I. answers smoothly.

"Um, the first night I slept in this room... do you know what happened? Since I don't seem to recall that night." She asked sheepishly.

"Of course. You and Mr. Stark were doing damage control after one of his escapades with a rather famous supermodel. You two ended up bickering thanks to one of Mr. Stark's attempts at what he calls 'a smooth pick-me-up.' However, my vitals from that night told me you were sleep deprived, which was the reason you ended up passed out on the couch. Mr. Stark has returned and took you to this room and finished the work you two had started.

"Mr. Stark had also kissed your forehead before he left. I attempted to figure out his reasoning behind it but came up short each time." Pepper nodded slowly and swung her legs to the side of the bed. Standing on shaky legs, she padded her way to the bathroom and leans against the sink.

Releasing a shaky breath, she attempts to get on with the rest of her life.

Possibly, a life without Tony Stark.

Hera

The familiar sound of heels clicked against the cement floors of the SHEILD base. Everyone turned their heads, no one at SHEILD ever wore heels. No one.

Keeping her head held high, Agent Hera Alanis marched up to Director Nick Fury's office. Opening the door, she stepped in slightly, looking Fury in the eye.

"Is Romanoff here right now?" She asked, clearly not in the mood for snarky comments. Fury nodded.

"Yeah, she's in the break room. Have fun." He deadpanned, looking back at his computer. Nodding her head in acknowledgment, she left without a word.

Pushing the doors of the break room open, it shocked her to find that it was empty.

She found Romanoff perched on one of the pool tables, legs outstretched in front of her.

Heaving a sigh, Hera slumped into the leather couch in front of the table. Natasha just stared at her.

"Hey," she greeted. Putting her feet up on the coffee table in front of her and leaning back into the couch. Natasha nodded her head in response.

"I'm worried about you," came the Russian's soft voice. Hera looked at her sharply. Natasha's face softened when she was met with Hera's red eyes.

"I'm fine. You have nothing to worry about," she answered tightly, hurriedly wiping her eyes. "It just came as a shock to me." Natasha shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest, mirroring Hera's pose.

"It came as a shock to all of us, Queen. But I worry that your personal feelings for Stark are starting to cloud your judgement. He's your target, Hera. He's not your friend." Hera swallowed hard.

"He's all I have in this life. SHIELD is great, and I love you guys and everything. But ironically, he brings me a sense of normalcy." She said softly, letting a small tear escape from the corner of her eye.

"It doesn't seem like you see him as a friend. His disappearance broke you, Queen. In all of our years together, I have never seen you cry. Are you're not just fond of him?" Natasha questioned softly, mindful of how fragile her friend currently was.

"Are you implying that I'm in love with him?" Hera retorted, her voice breaking.

Natasha shook her head 'no.'

"I'm saying you've lost objectivity." The redhead finished. Hera's throat tightened as she threw herself off the couch, pacing around the room.

"To hell with objectivity, Natasha! Tony Stark is a good man, despite what all of the tabloids say. He's a good man and he's lost in Afghanistan. Yes, he can be quite the ass at times, but he did not deserve this fate." The tears fell freely now, red eyes brimming with fresh tears.

"We're so different in that way, Natasha. Yes, we're both assassins but our training has nothing in common. I'm not like you, I can't stomach my feelings and lock them in a box the way you do. I have no self control.

"Nat, I'm just so tired. Tired of pretending to be the concerned PA that just lost her boss. I want to be his friend. He's all I have, and I don't want to lose him." Natasha sighed deeply and walked over to where Hera was pacing, grabbing the woman's shoulder to ease her out of her stupor.

"You can't beat yourself up over this. No one knew this was going to happen. You need to stop working yourself into the ground. Hera, you're in love with him. But you refuse to admit it." Hera chuckled sarcastically.

"I'm not in love with him, you have to stop pushing that fact, Nat." The Russian nodded in response.

"Whatever you say, Queen. Whatever you you say..."