Isobel tapped her fingers on her knife case as she waited to be called. This was a job she could land easily, if only she stopped being so nervous. The door to her right opened and a man walked out, throwing an apron on the floor and cursing loudly in French. She took another shaky breath as an attractive woman in a pencil skirt stepped out and called her name.

"Isobel Bergmann?" she looked up with a smile.

"Hello." Isobel stood and approached.

"Please, come in."

"Pepper, I just can't anymore, can't we just order takeout?"

Isobel entered the kitchen of Tony Stark's Malibu home to see the owner himself sitting at the table, a pile of uneaten dishes to his left. She quickly accessed the dishes. All high end gastronomical pieces of art, pushed aside. A plan formed in her head. The woman, Pepper Potts, ignored her employer to look at her tablet.

"So, Miss Bergmann. You're applying for a position in Mr. Stark's household as a chef. Why should I hire you?" she sat next to her boss and crossed her legs, smiling politely at Isobel. Mr. Stark just fiddled with his phone, a bored expression on his face.

"Miss Potts, I'm not very good with words." Isobel looked back at the kitchen. "Could I perhaps just...make something for you?" she smiled nervously.

"Please do. Meanwhile, tell me about yourself. Where did you learn to cook?"

Isobel recounted her schooling and previous experiences, interrupting herself only once to ask if any of them had any restrictions regarding food. As she moved in the kitchen, she felt herself relax and answer Miss Potts' questions with more confidence. In about twenty minutes, she had whipped up a simple homemade meal of spaghetti Bolognese with shredded cheese and a side of rocket salad and olive oil. She brought the plates to the table and waited anxiously for them to start eating.

"Spaghetti?" Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, I assume you spend a lot of time building things, and, well, pasta was the quickest thing I thought of right now since you seem to be in a hurry, and you didn't eat any of the other elaborate dishes, so I thought, um, maybe you needed something a bit more filling than that undercooked flamiche you pushed aside there." She wrung the bow of her apron on her hip nervously.

"Very observant." Miss Potts picked up her fork. "Mr. Stark often locks himself in his lab for days at a time, so you would need to follow a strict regimen of making sure he eats regularly."

"Also be available at any given time for snacks." Mr. Stark chimed in as he twirled pasta around his fork.

"If you were chosen for this position, what would be a basic menu for you?" Miss Pepper finally put a forkful in her mouth, but her face betrayed nothing.

"Well, off the top of my head, breakfast would be..." she took in a deep breath, looking out of the window behind her hopefully future employers. "According to your tastes of course, there would be either tea or coffee, maybe milk, or on hot days even a smoothie. Freshly baked bread with jam and butter, fruits and cold cuts. I'm assuming Mr. Stark wakes up early, so in order to have him eat something at least every three hours, a small snack would be served around 10 o'clock, consisting of juice and sandwiches, maybe a slice of cake if he's a sweet tooth. Lunch would then be at 1PM, something a bit heartier, grains and meats, something starchy, to keep up energy. Again, a snack around 5PM, but not the same as in the morning. A bowl of dried fruits and nuts, or a piece of cold pie with a vitamin shake. Dinner would be something lighter, I always hate to sleep on a full stomach, so according to the season, it would be a chicken salad, or a bowl of soup, or a simple risotto. Weekends I could make pizza, or Chinese, or barbeque, or...well, I like to experiment a bit with ingredients, so I assure you, you won't tire of my food so quickly." she looked back down to see that Mr. Stark's plate was already half eaten and Ms. Potts was wiping sauce off a corner of her plate with a piece of bread. She waited anxiously for someone to say something.

"You're hired. Move in by the end of the week. JARVIS will fill you in on everything you have to know." Mr. Stark stood and walked away, taking his plate with him, disappearing down some steps.

"M-move in?" Isobel looked in alarm at Miss Potts, who only smiled and nodded. "I-I thought I was going to come in early and leave late, won't this be an imposition?"

"Miss Bergmann, unless you live down the street, your commute will only tire you and delay Mr. Stark's meals. You will have your own suite, with lots of privacy, and a day off per week." Isobel gaped at the woman sitting in front of her. "I know it's a lot. It was for me too." Miss Potts smiled in understanding. "I assure you, short of having your own high-end restaurant, this is the best job you could land. And this," she pointed to her empty plate "was amazing. Simple, fast, filling and tasty. None of that chique nonsense. We get that enough at fundraisers." She shook her head.

"Oh. Um, thank you. Thank you so much!" Isobel finally breathed freely, and laughed in relief. "Thank you Mr. Stark!" she shouted in the direction of the stairs. She heard a faint 'yep!' and put her hand to her chest.

"I'll email you all the information you need, and I'll see you Sunday?" Miss Potts stood and held out her hand.

"Yes, of course, thank you so much, Miss Potts!" Isobel shook the hand offered to her with both of hers, a wide smile on her face.

"Please, Miss Bergmann, call me Pepper."

"Only if you call me Isolde."

"It's a deal. I look forward to you working here." Pepper walked her out and called her a car. "You should take the next few days to move your things here, and get acquainted with the nearby markets. You will receive a Stark phone, with all the numbers you need, so don't hesitate to text me if you have any questions, ok?"

"Wow. Once again, thank you so much." Isobel was almost dizzy with happiness. She got in the car and tried to sort out the thoughts running through her head. Moving, grocery shopping, organizing meals, keeping the kitchen in order... she sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her head back on the leather seat.

It was the morning before her first day at work, that fateful Sunday. She jumped out of bed, showered, and finished packing the last box. She didn't have much in her tiny apartment, so it had only taken the moving crew the better part of an afternoon to pack up her belongings and move it to Stark's Malibu home. She had kept contact with Pepper and sorted out a few details, but today was the day. She was going to stop by the farmer's market before she arrived, and get started on a few things, so that tomorrow, Stark would have the best breakfast he ever had.

The vendors all knew her, and somehow knew she had landed the job as Stark's chef. Some of the other chefs eyed her curiously, but she paid them no mind. She even recognized the French man who was interviewed before her. He sneered at her and stormed by, hitting his chest on her shoulder, almost unbalancing her.

"Qu'est-cequetupensequetufaits, connard?" Jean, one of the kind vendors helped stabilize her.

"Leave him be, Jean." Isobel picked up her basket. "How are you?"

"Putain…" Jean spat at the other chef's feet before turning to her. "Ma chérie, I am so proud of you!" he finally turned to her and embraced her, his thick French accent bringing a smile to her face. "I hope you will bring me many business now that you are working for monsieur Stark!" he wagged his finger playfully at her.

"Of course, Jean. Starting right now, actually. Can you set these aside for me while I go get some other things?" she handed him a list.

"Bien-sûr, I'll have them sent to that nice car there, oui?" he took the piece of paper and looked it over.

"Thank you, Jean. I'll see you next week?"

"Call me if you need any special ingredients!" he called after her. She waved at him and turned to the other stalls.

Soon enough, the car that was sent to pick her up was full and fragrant with fresh produce. The driver (Happy, she remembered his name) looked at all the colourful foods in the rear-view mirror. He shook his head.

"You're gonna have a tough time getting him to eat, Miss Bergmann."

"It's Isolde, please. And I assure you, he'll be asking for seconds."

"This I have to see…" Happy chuckled and drove on, as Isolde planned out a few menus and submitted them into the Stark phone she had been given, in a special app designed by Anthony Stark himself to make meal planning and approving easier.

As they approached the secluded Malibu mansion, Isolde felt giddy. She wouldn't be serving anything today, and she knew Mr. Stark had a fundraiser to attend anyway, but that didn't mean she couldn't get started on a few things already.

They pulled up close to the door and Happy helped her get everything into the kitchen before he darted away after an errand Mr. Stark had sent him on. Isolde popped by her spacious room to leave the last box of her belongings she had brought from her apartment and to change into comfortable black leggings, and a white tank top. When she opened her closet to pull out a fresh chef's jacket, only to find all her jackets gone. She frowned and looked again. She looked in the drawers, in the unopened boxes and even under her bed.

"Looking for these?" a voice startled her so that she hit her head under her bed.

"Ow! What?" she looked up confusedly at her employer standing at her door, a pile of folded cloth in his hands. She stood up and went to him, taking the first jacket on the pile and unfolding it. She laughed. He had ordered the buttons to be exchanged for miniature arc reactors and the embroidery of her name was now in the Stark Industries font, the well-known sharp line overlining her name. "Thank you, Mr. Stark, I love it."

"It's Tony. And I wanted to give you new ones, red with gold trims, but Pepper wouldn't let me." He shrugged.

"I'm glad she didn't." Isobel admitted. She shrugged her new uniform on and put the rest of the pile on her bed to be put away later. "Now, what would you like for breakfast tomorrow?"

"What, no dinner today?" he led her back into the kitchen and sat at one of the tall stools, taking a potato in his hand and inspecting it.

"You have a fundraiser to go to, don't you? I assume you didn't dress up in a tuxedo to welcome your new cook?" Isobel started putting away the produce.

"I might just have…" Tony sniffed. His lips quirked in a smirk as she laughed at him. "I like coffee." He divulged, pulling out his phone and opening the meal planning app. "Aside from that, no allergies that I know of. And everything here seems great, I'll let you know if I want something specific. Just don't poison me." He took an apple and stood.

"I promise." She smiled and watched him wave at her as he left.

The kitchen was clean and organized just the way she wanted it to be by the end of the evening. She had baked a small batch of cookies and set them on a plate next to a thermal cup filled with a latte by the corner of the dining table when the AI, JARVIS, made himself known, nearly giving Isolde a heart attack.

"Miss Bergmann." The disembodied voice called. She squeaked and spun around, nearly letting the cookies fall. "Forgive me for alarming you, Miss Bergmann." The polite British voice spoke from above.

"Oh, JARVIS, it's you." Isolde breathed a sigh of relief.

"Mr. Stark has permitted you entrance into his lab to bring him his meals. He doesn't use the dining table."

"Oh." Isolde picked up the plate and thermal cup. "Could you tell me how to get there?" she looked around. A light went on to her right.

"To your right, Miss."

She followed the AI's directions until she descended some steps and found herself in front of glass doors. A code was given to her and she tapped it in the holographic monitor in front of her face. The door slid open and she entered apprehensively.

Tony Stark's lab was a kind of organized chaos only he could find order in. She left the plate and cup next to a computer and left, the door closing automatically behind her. She went up the stairs and stopped behind a wall when she heard the front door opening and a woman giggling. JARVIS turned off the lights above her, so she was shrouded in darkness, but she saw a blonde, obviously inebriated woman, her shoes in her hands, sprinting up the stairs. Close behind her was an equally inebriated Tony Stark, his tie missing and his hair in disarray. She waited patiently to hear the door close and hurried to her own room. She quietly thanked JARVIS and changed into her pajamas, snuggling in her new bed.

The next morning, the AI, as per her request, woke her up at 4AM. She showered, changed into leggings, a tank top and a jacket. Slipping on her steel-toed CROCS, she made her way into the kitchen and started laying out a tray with breakfast. After a thought, she made another tray and left it on the counter as she took the larger one and made her way down to Stark's lab. She balanced the tray in one hand and tapped in her code to open the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark." She called to the man crouching by a car.

"It's Tony, Mr. Stark was my father." He called back, still with his hands in the engine.

"Sorry." Isolde smiled. "Where do you want this?" she held up the tray in her hands.

"Over here." He patted the floor beside him. Isolde turned her nose at him, but said nothing. She crouched and set the tray by his left and poured him fresh coffee into a cup. "Thanks, Izzy." She did a double take at his nickname, but just shook her head, laughing quietly to herself. "Oh, and the cookies were a godsend, can I have more midnight snacks?"

"I'm assuming you don't sleep much?" she squinted at him.

"m-m." he hummed into his cup as he took a large gulp of coffee and sighed. Isolde nodded her head.

"Will that be all, Mr. Sta—I mean, Tony?" she corrected herself. She watched him stuff his face with a buttered slice of bread and turn back to his car. She assumed he was engrossed in the engine, so she quietly made her way out.

"—occasionally, taking out the trash. Will that be all?" she heard Pepper say. As she walked around the corner, she saw the blonde from last night wearing one of Tony's shirt, glaring at a smiling Pepper. The blonde stormed up the stairs, probably to change, not even sparing her a glance. "Good morning Isolde."

"Good morning, Pepper. "I made her breakfast as well, but I don't think—" she was interrupted by the woman storming back down the steps and out of the house. "Yeah, no."

"That was very thoughtful of you, Isolde." Pepper followed her to the kitchen, where she helped herself to the second tray. Isolde grabbed another cup and joined her. They sorted out a few last details, then Pepper buried herself in her work as Isolde tidied up the kitchen and got started on the morning's snack. She occasionally stopped to refill Pepper's cup, until the older woman decided that she needed no more caffeine.

"I feel silly saying this." Pepper smiled apologetically at her. "But it looks like you're getting a few days off." Isolde dried her hands and turned to the other woman with an inquisitive frown on her face.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, not at all, it's just that Mr. Stark is headed out to Afghanistan for a weapons demonstration, he'll return at the end of the week." Pepper explained and stood. "Now I just have to get him on the plane." She smiled grimly at the prospect.

"Um, Miss Potts." Isolde shook her head. "Pepper." She corrected quickly. "What-what am I supposed to do until he gets back? Will you be coming in for meals? Will anyone else?"

"No, you can get settled, enjoy the beach, really, Tony has many business trips, you'll get used to this in a bit. He's a handful, but he's away a lot." Pepper smiled at her reassuringly.

"Oh. Okay, then, um, Pepper?" she opens the fridge "I'm not sure I was at liberty to do this, but I googled you and Mr. Stark, and I know for a fact that today is your birthday, so…" she pulled out a tray with a small cake, an unlit candle sticking in its centre. "Happy birthday!"

"Oh, Isolde, you're so thoughtful!" Pepper put her tablet down and approached the cook to embrace her. "Thank you!"

"Do you want me to cut you a piece? Or would you rather I sent it to your office?"

"Oh, send it, please, I'll share it with the girls." She looked mischievously at Isolde "Or I'll have to share with Tony." They both giggled, then Pepper went down to talk to Tony.

Isolde looked at her phone as it beeped, seeing a text from her employer. It hadn't been a day since he had left for the Middle East, and she was still feeling awkward about not working on her first day. Tony made sure she stopped thinking that as he constantly texted her pictures of everything he was eating. He sent her a picture of what looked like dangerously undercooked pork.

DON'T EAT THAT

She had answered, only to receive another picture of the magazine warning against food poisoning where he had found the previous image.

Just testing you.

She had then promptly ignored all his texts, until:

There's a woman here!

Isolde rolled her eyes at her phone.

Of course there is!

He then went quiet for a few hours. Isolde decided to pop into town to buy a swimming suit. She might as well enjoy the beach, now that she had the chance.

It had been a week since they received the news. Isolde had a new swimsuit, but no desire to enjoy the beach. Pepper came by daily, and they had dinner together, but neither ate much. They watched the news and pushed the food around their plates. Isolde was feeling guilty for being paid handsomely for a job that she was not doing, and when she revealed those thoughts to Pepper, the other woman just shook her head, saying when he got back, he would need proper food and nurturing. Isolde just nodded her head and decided to freeze some homemade stock, just in case.

After three months, Pepper came to the mansion puffy eyed. She was pissed at everyone involved in the search, apparently they were pulling the plug. Isolde sat in her chair, at a loss of what to do or say.

Fate had a funny way of working. Isolde had decided she was going to tell Pepper she was going to find another job. She still felt awful for being paid for something she wasn't doing. As she picked up her phone to text her employer-become friend, the screen lit up with a text message.

Isolde stared at the sender.

I want burgers.

She had never darted into the kitchen so fast in her life.

"Where to, Mr. Stark?" Happy asked him as Tony settled in the back seat.

"We're due at the hospital." Pepper was avidly typing away at her phone.

"No - to the office." Tony looked out the window. "I've been in captivity for three months. There's only two things I want to do. I want to eat a cheeseburger. And I want to hold a press conference." He held his hand out to Pepper. "Gimme my phone, I'm texting Izzy."

Isolde sat at the large couch in front of the TV. She gaped at the Press Conference her boss was holding. Tony was gazing out over the reporters. He seemed so vulnerable, silence grew awkward.

"I...can't do this anymore." He finally said. There was a pregnant silence. Everyone waiting for the Stark , a Reporter ventured:

"You mean you're retiring?"

"No, I don't want to retire." Tony waved him off."I want to do something else." It seemed to Isolde that he was making this up as he went, but his intent had been made up weeks ago. The room waited through more awkward silence.

"Something besides weapons?" another reporter asked.

"Yes. That's right." Tony nodded. The room suddenly startedbuzzing with overlapping questions. Isolde held her breath. She watched, her mouth gaping at what Tony was saying.

"Right now, as of this second, we are freezing the sale of all Stark weaponry worldwide." The room erupted into chaos. "We've lost our way. I need to re-evaluate things. And my heart's telling me I have more to offer the planet than things that blow up." Tony seemed unaffected by the outrage. "In the coming months, Mr. Stane here and I will set a new course for Stark Industries. 'Tomorrow Today' has always been our slogan. It's time we try to live up to it."

Isolde stood and turned the TV off as Tony left the press conference. She still had work to do.

"Hello, Mr. Stark." JARVIS announced his arrival. Isolde nervously wiped her hands on her apron and walked around the kitchen island to meet her employer, a huge burger with all the toppings on a plate in her hands.

"Hello, Jarvis." She heard his voice and smiled as she rounded the corner. "Hey, Izzy." He greeted her. She opened her mouth to say something, say anything, but she couldn't come up with anything. So she merely extended the plate to him. She was surprised when he wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. He felt underweight. "This smells great. Can I have a coke?"

"I'll bring it to you." She finally found her voice, shaky as it was.

"The energy yield of this device outperforms your stated intention by eleven orders of magnitude. You could accomplish your stated goal with the power output of a car battery."

Isolde quietly approached and set the glass of coke where she picked up the empty plate. Tony stepped from a raised platform. All around him, calculations flashed at blinding speed.

"Upgrade recommendations. List." He ordered.

"Why are you talking to me like a computer?" Isolde had grown fond of the AI's sass.

"Because you are acting like one."

"Shall I disable random pattern conversation?"

"No. It's ok. You are the only one who understands me."

"I don't understand you sir."

"Were you always this dry? I remember you having more personality than this."

"Should I activate sarcasm harmonics?"

"Fine. Could you please make your recommendations now?"

"It would thrill me to no end."

Tony whirled around as he heard a giggle behind him

"Izzy!" he approached her and downed his glass. She handed him a bottle of water.

"Please keep hydrated, Mr. Stark." She took the glass from him.

"Have I been gone so long that you forgot my name?" he cracked open the bottle and took a swig.

"I'm sorry. Tony. What would you like to eat today?"

"The burger was awesome. I'm not really hungry anymore." His lip quirked up in a grin at her unimpressed stare.

"You're underweight. You need nutrition."

"Yes, mother." He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you'll come up with something, Izzy." She shook her head and left him to his calculations.

The rest of the day was filled with her bringing him food and drink, denying him alcohol and even going so far as to bring him a blanket when she found him dozing in his chair.

The next morning, JARVIS had her up at the previously mentioned time of 4AM. She had started growing yeast as something to take her mind off the empty mansion, and Pepper was very fond of the homemade bread that ensued, so she had left a loaf rising overnight, popping it into the oven first thing as she entered the kitchen. About an hour later, she had a huge breakfast set out in the kitchen. JARVIS had informed her "Mr. Stark spent the night working.", so she was hell bent on getting her employer out of the lab to eat and perhaps sleep a few hours. As she left the kitchen, a mere slice of buttered warm bread on a plate, which she planned to use to entice the workaholic upstairs for more, she ran into Pepper, who was coming down the stairs.

"His bed's empty." She greeted.

"He worked the night away." Isolde sighed. "There's breakfast in the kitchen." Pepper nodded and walked away, asking JARVIS to turn on the news in the kitchen just as her phone rang.

Isolde let herself in the lab and saw Tony in what looked like a dentist's chair, shirtless and fiddling with a glowing thing on his chest.

"How big are your hands?" he greeted her.

"What?"

"How big are your hands?" he repeated, his eyes glancing to the plate in her hands. "Gimme that."

"I don't under—"

"Just get over here." He snapped his fingers at her and waved her over. He snatched the bread from the plate, stuffing it in his mouth, then throwing the plate on a workbench nearby. "Show me your hands."

She held out her palms silently, staring at what seemed to be a hole in his chest, a glowing…thing embedded in it. She startled when Tony compared his hand to hers by touching their palms and stretching her fingers on his.

"Perfect, they're small. I need you to help me."

"What is that?" she finally asked as he let her hand go.

"That's the thing that was keeping me alive. It is now an antique. This is what will be keeping me alive for the foreseeable future. I'm swapping it up for an upgraded unit, and I just ran into a little speed bump." He holds up the newly fabricated, higher tech replacement chest piece.

"Speed bump, what does that mean?" she shook her head.

"It's nothing. It's just a little snag." He looked at her with large eyes. Isolde imagined she was going to be asked to do something she was uncomfortable with. "There's an exposed wire under this device. And it's contacting the socket wall and causing a little bit of a short. It's fine." He assured her.

"What do you want me to do?" she was nearly calling for Pepper.

"I want you to reach in, and you're just gonna gently lift the wire out."

"What? No!"

"Why not? Please?"

"Is it safe?"

"Yeah, it should be 's like Operation. You just don't let it touch the socket wall or it goes "beep.""

"Beep?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Just gently lift the wire. Okay? Great." He laid back and waited.

"You know, I don't think that I'm qualified to do this." Isolde stepped back. "Maybe I should call Pepper."

"No, you're fine. You're gonna do great. Is it too much of a problem to ask? 'Cause I'm..." he gestured to himself and gave her that look from before, big eyes and turned up eyebrows. "I really need your help here."

"Is that look supposed to make me pity you?"

"Just—Just, please?" he finally looked at her in earnest and she saw a mixture of exasperation and genuine helplessness. "My hands don't fit in here." He demonstrated.

"Okay." She pulled off her ring and put it in the pocket of her jacket. "What exactly am I doing?"

"I'm going to swap them out and switch all functions to the new unit." He started explaining. "So, first I need you to reach in the socket and—"

"What socket?"

"The chest socket. Listen carefully, because we have to do this in a matter of minutes."

"Or else what?"

"I can go into cardiac arrest."

"I thought you said this was safe." Isolde was getting more off-put by the second.

"I didn't want you to panic."

"Mr. Stark, really..."

"It's Tony. Stay with me. I need you to relieve the pressure on my myocardial nerve."

"I don't know how to do that, I'm a cook!"

"I'm telling you." Tony was starting to lose his patience.

"Sorry..."

"Listen. I'm going to lift off the old chest piece—"

"Won't that make you die?"

"Not immediately. When I lift it off I need you to reach into the socket as far as your hand can fit and gently move the housing away from my heart. Do you know which direction that is?" he sounded serious.

"To the right."

"To my right. Your left."

"To the left." Isolde corrected and gestured in the correct direction.

"Right."

"Left."

"Right. Left." Tony nodded. Isolde took a deep breath and proceeded to slide her hand into Tony's chest.

"How deep does this go?" she grimaced.

"Keep going." He nodded. She reached uncomfortably deep, her wrist couldn't be seen anymore. She was expecting to nudge a bone, or an organ, but her hand met something slimy. "That's it. Deeper. Now press. Yes. It's releasing."

"Oh, there's pus!" Isolde steadied herself with her other hand on his shoulder. It was clammy with cold sweat.

"It's not pus. It's an inorganic plasmic discharge from the device, it's not from my body." He shook his head.

"It smells!" Isolde scrunched her nose.

"Yeah, it does." He agreed, nearly shrugging, but she could see he was making an effort to hold still. "The copper wire. The copper wire, you got it?"

"Yeah, I got it!"

"Okay, you got it?"

"I got it!" she was hating this.

"Now, don't let it touch the sides when you're coming OOOUT!" he jolted and machines started beeping furiously.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"That's what I was trying to tell you before." Tony huffed. "Okay, now make sure that when you pull it out, you don't—there's a magnet at the end of it…"

Isolde startled and pulled what seemed like a wrapped ring of copper from the socket.

"That was it. You just pulled it out."

"Shit!" she cursed, making Tony glance up at her. "Okay, I was not expecting—" she started to put it back.

"Don't put it back in! Don't put it back in!" Tony raised his arm that was hanging behind her and tapped her back.

"Okay, what do I do?" she looked up at the machines, which were beeping even louder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just going into cardiac arrest. 'Cause you yanked it out like a trout." Tony seemed frustratingly calm.

"What? You said it was safe!"

"We gotta hurry. Take this. Take this." He handed her a new device. The hand on her back was gripping her jacket, but aside from that, he seemed at ease. "You gotta switch it out really quick."

"Okay. Okay." She nodded and took the new device.

"Okay, you're gonna attach that to the base plate. Make sure yo—AAAHHH!" he jolted, pulling on Isolde's jacket so that she had to find support on the side of his chair. "Was that so hard? That was fun, right?" he smiled up at her. Isolde merely blew air through her nose and glared at him. "Here, I got it. I got it. Here." He handed her a rag to clean her hands with.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I feel great." He jumped off the chair and looked down at his chest.

"Well, you smell. Am I done?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Can I wash my hands now?"

"Yes, you may." He answered. Isolde saw the colour go back to his skin. "The new unit is much more efficient. This shouldn't happen again."

"Good, cause it's not in my job description." She turned to take the plate and leave.

"It is now." He called after her.

"Will that be all, Mr. Stark?" she turned back to him, holding the door open.

"That will be all, Ms. Bergmann." She exited, but he dashed after her. "Wait, no! What about breakfast?"

"You've had it." She shook the plate above her head without turning back or slowing her pace.

"They fed me better in the dungeon!" He went after her into the kitchen, seeing the breakfast laid out for him and Pepper helping herself. "Oh."

"I thought you could use a few minutes away from downstairs." Isobel walked around the island as he sat and pulled a cup closer. He watched as she filled it with coffee. He raised his eyes to her.

"Thank you." He said quietly, but his tone implied more than just the coffee. Isolde smiled thinly at him and nodded.

She went about the kitchen as Pepper and Tony talked about his company, and when they finally stopped eating, she wrapped a sandwich for Pepper and handed her a thermal mug with a cappuccino.

"Mr. Stark?" she called. He glared at her. "Tony." She corrected.

"Yes?" he turned back to her.

"As your cook—"

"Uh, correction." He interrupted her. "Chef. Give yourself the credit, Izzy."

"Home cooking means I'm a cook." She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to argue. "As your cook," she stressed her words, "I feel I'm allowed to care for your wellbeing beyond what you eat, so I suggest you head upstairs, shower, and try to sleep a little." She levelled him with a stare when he started to argue again. He hung his arms by his sides.

"But I'm not sleepy, mommy!" he nagged. She merely raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to her work.

Surprisingly, he did fall asleep, if only for a couple of hours. He woke up refreshed and changed into jeans and a faded band t-shirt before he went back downstairs to find a tray with a sandwich wrapped in a napkin, a glass of juice covered with plastic wrap and a bowl of fruit salad waiting for him. He took the tray downstairs and continued with his day.

Tony stepped out of his car and into his Malibu beach house. He was still a little irritated at Rhodey, why did everyone think he needed time? He paused and sniffed the air. The smell was wonderful, he guessed lasagna. He made a beeline for the kitchen, but found it empty.

"JARVIS?"

"Miss Bergmann is on the deck, by the pool, Sir."

He walked out to see her shoes discarded by the pool, and a wet trail leading from it to the rail, where she was leaning with her leggings bunched to her knees. She was looking out to the ocean, a cigarette in her fingers.

"You smoke?" he announced himself, startling her.

"I know, it's bad for my health." She rolled her eyes and turned back to the view. "I'm not getting any ash on your pretty house, Mr. Stark." She showed him an ashtray by her side.

"Do you even have tastebuds anymore? Is that why you cook so well, you can't taste anything and this is your way of coping?" he stopped next to her and rested his elbows on the rail.

"I taste just fine, Mr. Stark." She paused. "That came out weird." She shook her head.

"Yeah, you called me Mr. Stark."

"You do understand it's a form of respect, right?" she looked at him.

"I'm only saying this one more time." He looked at her over his sunglasses with a serious gaze. "To—ny." He enunciated slowly.

"Miss Bergmann, the timer for the lasagne just went off."

"Thank you, JARVIS." She straightened up and pulled her leggings back down, slipping on her socks and shoes.

"Your shoes are ugly." Tony quipped.

"Comfort is not directly proportional to beauty." She turned back to him. "Come eat lunch, Tony." She smiled at his soft 'yay' and shook her head.

"You know, you're getting me fat." He said one day as he accepted a helping of roasted potatoes.

"Fine, don't eat." She reached for his plate. He held it out of reach, frowning at her. Pepper giggled into her glass.

Isolde fell into a comfortable routine. Tony had been eating and sleeping better, so Isolde established a limit to the amount of calories he was ingesting. She usually spent her afternoons on the beach after laying out his snack, finding the constant banging from Tony's lab too much to bear. She would return in time for dinner, when she would have to bribe her employer with promises of a new recipe, or sometimes even a dessert to make him come upstairs, eat and then, hopefully sleep. She knew he didn't sleep all night, because the 'midnight snacks' she left on the kitchen island were always gone in the mornings.