Disclaimer: Again, no.

Timeline: This takes place about three months after "She's a Machine."

Note: Thanks for putting up with me, people. Life got nuts and "I'll publish again real soon!" turned into "Holy crap, I have approximately six thousand final papers to write!" which then became "Damn, I'm tired. Thank GOD the quarter's over. I'm going sit on my ass for a while and catch up on 'House' on USA." (That guy amuses me endlessly. I don't know why.) In other words, laziness attacked. But I fired back, and got off my ass, and wrote some words. Yay for me. Please tell me how I did, and as always, have fun.

BURIAL AT SEA

She dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex and fleetingly wished she had her mother's pearl choker around her neck, for more respect, more formality, to mark this passing. But the pearls were at her apartment in the jewelry box on top of her bureau, and there was no time to get them right now, so she sighed and consoled herself with the thought that at least she had worn black to the office today – her usual business suit, impeccably tailored with a sapphire blue blouse peeking out of the blazer. That was all well and good, but her dress code compliance was just slightly offset by the fact that she hadn't been here when he died.

He'd gone alone. That was the real tragedy of it, the terrible irony. He'd been a daily companion. The most reliable male constant in her life, the more she thought about it. A very dear friend. Maybe even something more. She was still trying to come to grips with the whole thing, and half an hour alone in the bathroom hadn't exactly pulled her together. Jim was trying to help. He'd shown up a little while ago on some Air Force business, but had put that aside at the look on her face.

A sniff escaped. He threw an arm around her.

"Sorry," she said. "You must think I'm a total wimp."

"Pepper, no way would I classify you as a wimp," he replied softly. "It's a real loss."

"We were together so long," she went on. "It's just … I knew it was bound to happen sometime, but I … he was always so … I don't know, active. Alive. And now…" She blew her nose and stared miserably at the body. "I loved him, Rhodey," she finished softly.

Jim responded by pulling her close. "I know. It's okay."

Pepper sniffed again and Jim held her as she stood and stared for a quiet minute, silent and stiff and humbled in grief.

"Hey!"

The shout from the doorway made them yelp and leap apart. Tony was still kind of dressed from the office. He'd dispensed with most of his suit and wore only a wife-beater, slacks, and expensive loafers, leaving him dressed like a trés chic trailer park denizen. He completed the picture by stalking across the carpet of Pepper's "home" office with a glint in his eye and stopping next to his friends. He didn't even ask why Jim was there, just launched straight into it.

"You get your mitts off her," he teased, plucking the colonel's arm off Pepper and casually replacing it with his own. "Hi."

"Hi, Tony." She didn't even try to shrug off his hand, which was unusual, and her voice came out nearly an octave too low.

Tony's eyebrows shot for his hairline. This was not the response he'd expected after a long and actually productive day at the office. He hadn't seen Pepper since five, when they'd gotten back to the mansion after work, but it was now six, and her mascara was gone, her eyes were red, and her voice was rough. One plus one plus one …

"Pepper, what's the matter?"

Pepper simply pointed ahead of her. She and Jim (and now Tony) looked at their ghostly reflections in the large tropical aquarium. The aquarium was … empty. And then Tony's gaze shifted to the water line, and he saw the problem bobbing along gently on its side. It was a peachy-colored ring, but he knew if he looked down right over it he'd see the familiar red flush scales covered in white speckles. Possibly one black, vacant, staring eye.

He sighed, finally understanding. "Fred died?"

Pepper nodded. "While we were in a board meeting, if Jarvis's calculations are correct."

"Jarvis's calculations are correct," Jarvis commented from one of the speakers on Pepper's computer, sounding almost miffed. "Mr. Stark, it falls to me to report that Miss Potts's beloved Red Pigeon Blood Discus, a.k.a. 'Fred,' ceased all biological processes at 3:35 and fifteen seconds this afternoon. I estimate that Fred experienced a total lifespan of approximately seven and a half years, which is quite old for a fish and fully within the expected limits of his species."

Jim wandered to the bay windows and Pepper sniffed again and Tony mulled this over. "Cause of death?"

"Old age, sir."

"Ah. Well, Pepper, if there was any way to go, that was probably it. You know, lights out, see ya." He shrugged. He was trying to be comforting.

Pepper gave him a weary look, one that gave him points for trying but also told him it was no good. "It's not that. I wasn't here for him, Tony. He died all alone."

Tony blinked. He shot Jim an "Is she crazy?" look across the room – which was answered by a slight nod – before he opened his mouth again. "Um, Pepper, look, not to be insensitive, but it's not like you forgot to sit at the bedside of your dying uncle or something. Fred was a fish."

Pepper sighed in exasperation. "You don't get it. Fred wasn't just a fish. Okay? He was my fish. I adopted him when he was a little baby fish from somebody who didn't want him, and I brought him home in a plastic bag, and, and he's been my fish, damn it!" she exploded helplessly. She was starting to gesture a lot. "And he was my fish for a long time! And a few weeks ago he started getting kind of arthritic and creaky, and I knew he was almost done, but I just…" she stopped and let out a sigh.

Tony still hadn't moved his arm. He was honestly a little amazed that Pepper, even as distracted as she was, had let it stay there for so long. Apparently grief had its upside. He considered what to say for a moment.

"Contrary," he began, "To what you think, I do understand what it means to lose a pet."

She eyed him, trying to tell if he was being serious, and decided he was, prompting him to continue.

"… which is why I recommend we give Fred a proper send-off. Jarvis, do me a favor," he said suddenly to nothing in particular. "Call the harbor master and have my yacht ready to sail within half an hour. Oh, and have dinner for three sent over from someplace nice."

"Right away, sir."

"Excellent. Well, I'm going to put on some more appropriate clothes. Rhodey, you got a jacket?"

"Uh, not with me," Jim said, walking over from the window.

"No problem, you can borrow one of mine. Come on Pepper, you go with Rhodey and find yourself a coat. It's chilly out at the marina."

Pepper looked a little bewildered as Tony steered her out of the room and gave her a slight push to get her moving. Jim followed her, with a slight warning look at Tony, who ignored him and got busy with the funeral preparations. With a sigh and an imaginary rolling up of the sleeves (because he didn't have any at the moment) he dug into the drawers underneath the tank and pulled out a clear plastic bag designed for fish transport. He dunked the bag in the tank water until it was half full, and then skimmed the bag across the surface to trap Fred. With a splash of water, Tony tied off the top of the bag and watched the fish bump against the sides.

"Fred is dead, long live Fred," he mumbled. He set the bag down carefully next to the tank and went off to find some jeans and a warm jacket.

IMIMIMIMIM

It was freezing out here, and the sun was almost gone, melting into a pink and purple puddle on the horizon. Pepper saw her breath with every puff and was very glad for her coat. It was an imitation mink number with a hood, and hardly the sort of thing she'd normally wear, but she'd discovered it in a corner of Tony's closet and only after she slipped it on surmised that it must have belonged to his mother. In any case, he hadn't commented on her wearing it except to nod in approval, and now she was leaning her synthetic fur-covered, warm self against the moist steel railing of Tony's medium-sized yacht, the Belafonte, holding a bag full of water and lifeless fish, staring out at the darkening blue-black ocean. Waves slopped everywhere and there was silence and for a moment she felt like she was the last person left on earth.

Gentle pressure at the small of her back made her turn. Tony had sidled up next to her, in jeans and a bomber jacket with the collar turned up high on his neck. His breath was puffing too.

"Hey. We're here – open water. Rhodey's gonna cut the engine. You ready to do this?"

Pepper smiled at him. "As I'll ever be."

He nodded. "You look nice. Your legs cold?"

Pepper looked down. The buttoned coat came almost to her ankles, and when she moved it swung side to side like a narrow bell. "I'm okay. Thanks."

A sudden low whine and slow grating of machine parts told them the engine had been turned off, and Jim stepped out of the cabin and joined them. He'd found a navy parka with a fur-lined hood, and as soon as his unprotected head hit the open air, he shivered dramatically and pulled the hood up. Pepper laughed. Tony rolled his eyes.

"All right people, let's do this."

He crossed over to the small table set up on the deck, plucked a bottle of champagne from the small ice bucket, and uncorked it like a pro. Despite the slight rocking of the boat, he managed to pour three glasses, and carried them over to Pepper and Rhodey, who relieved him of two of them. The men leaned on the railing on either side of Pepper, and they all stared out into the twilight.

"Who wants to go first?" Tony asked.

There was some uncomfortable silence.

"I will," Jim said finally. "Fred, you were … um…" He broke off and let off a steaming puff of air. "Damn, this is hard. Pepper, you knew him best. I think. What was he like?"

Pepper smiled. "He was sweet. He loved people – apparently that's a trait of discus fish – and he was always happy to see me."

"Mm," said Tony. And then, out of the blue, "Hey, remember when he got fat?"

Pepper laughed. "Oh, yeah!"

"I set the timer wrong on that feeder I worked up for the tank and it was feeding him like four times a day. He got gigantic, and we couldn't figure out why for like, I don't know, a week?" Tony explained for Jim's benefit.

Jim snorted. "You screwed up something mechanical?"

Tony shrugged. "I wasn't paying attention. I'm useless when I'm not paying attention, you know that." His mind took another improvised left. "Man, that thing was a beach ball with fins. He looked like a blowfish. Thank God I fixed it, or he would have exploded."

"How'd you do it?" Jim asked.

"Reset the timer," Tony explained. "I put Fred on a very strict diet until…" He made a shrinking gesture with his hands. "You know. Returned to 'acceptable discus dimensions,' I guess."

Pepper snorted.

"Anything else exciting happen to Fred?" Tony asked. "He didn't leave anybody behind, right? There's no secret Mrs. Fred? No Fredlets?"

"No Fredlets," Pepper said, chuckling. She took a delicate sip of her champagne. "Just me."

"And me," Jim added, taking a sip of his own drink.

"And me," Tony said. "Well, Pepper, do you want to do this, or shall I?"

Pepper sighed. "I know I'm going to regret this, but … you do it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay," Tony said. "Here goes nothing." He cleared his throat and raised his glass. "Fred, you were a good fish. You were a young fish, you were a fat fish, you were a skinny fish, you were an old fish, and now … now, you are a dead fish," he eulogized, and then paused for a second, as though to let the enormity of his speech sink in. "Yeah, I think that about covers it. You have anything to add?" And he finally turned to look at Pepper, who was glaring at him at about half-strength.

She sighed. Champagne flute in the air, she said, "Fred, darling, you were loved, and now you are missed. Godspeed, and goodbye."

Tony and Jim both drained their drinks in one swallow. Then Jim opened the pouch and Pepper poured Fred out into the Pacific. The three of them just stood there for a moment, Pepper still holding the wet plastic bag, looking peacefully at the dark water slopping against the boat. Tony and Jim caught each others' eye behind Pepper's head and Tony flicked his head at the table. Jim nodded. The men waited a very long ten seconds.

"Okay, now I say we eat," Tony said. "Come on, I had Jarvis order us dinner."

So they all sat down around the table, where Pepper took charge topping up everyone's glasses and Tony opened up the pink cardboard box and passed out the boxed dinners from a nearby restaurant. They popped the tops on the boxes, inhaled the heavenly scent of hot food wafting on cold air, and Tony and Jim dived right in. But Pepper looked at her meal in dismay.

"Tony … are you kidding? Salmon? We just buried my fish."

"Yes, we did indeed bury a fish," Tony said, cutting off a bit of his fillet. "And now I'm eating one."

Jim tried not to laugh at the appalled expression on Pepper's face and followed Tony's lead. The meat was melt-in-your-mouth soft and delicately flavored, with grilled spring vegetables and fragrant mashed potatoes on the side.

Pepper sighed. "You two are unbelievable." She crossed her arms so she could stew better and watched the men eat for a moment, but she'd had nothing since lunch (cup of coffee and a half-sandwich) and hunger got the better of her. So she cut off a piece of her own fillet and popped it in her mouth. It was miserably good.

IMIMIMIMIM

The tank stood empty for two weeks. Pepper went about her business as usual, running Tony's life as needed and keeping busy. But on Wednesday after work, she drove to the mansion because she'd forgotten a file on her desk. Jarvis switched the lights on in her office as she approached, and out of habit, just before she moved for her workspace, she glanced at the tank. Her rational mind was expecting still water. So when something moved in the tank she gave a little start and backed off.

She looked around. She was alone. She backed out of the office and checked the hallway. Nobody. Satisfied she wasn't imagining things, she walked back in and over to the tank, and finally spotted them. They were swimming around enjoying each others' company, and she smiled because it was pretty much impossible not to figure out who'd put them there. The color scheme alone was a dead giveaway. A Super Red Melon discus – stop-sign red, candy-apple red, come-over-here-and-dance-with-me toenail polish red – was tailing a Golden discus, soft and demure and butterscotch-candy yellow.

"Jarvis, where's Tony?" she asked.

"He is down in the basement, Miss Potts," Jarvis said.

"Thank you, Jarvis. I'll be back in the morning."

But before she left she had to properly bond with her new pets, so she spent a few minutes watching the fish swim around, tapping occasionally on the glass and smiling when they flocked to little pressure spot her finger made.

"Hi guys," she whispered softly. "I think you'll be very happy here."

Then she grabbed the file folder and headed for home.

IMIMIMIMIM

The next day, she came into the basement with Tony's usual cup of coffee and the newspaper. She'd decided to keep it quiet – any ridiculous outbursts of gratitude and Tony would run and hide, she was sure of it. So she entered her code and came in. Tony was at one of his lab stations, welding something. He turned at the click of her heels and flipped up his mask.

"Hey." He was casual. Too casual. He totally knew she'd seen the fish, and he was trying to hide his unease. It was so cute.

"Morning," she said, placing his coffee delicately on the bench opposite him, and deliberately launched into the day's schedule. "So, you have that video conference in half an hour with the Tetsuya execs. Make sure you shower and shave. I'll lay out a suit for you on the bed. And then at noon you have that presentation for the air force and there's that board meeting to discuss the Jai-Ling 4008 model at 4 o'clock, and after that you're clear."

This was precisely what Tony needed to hear, even though he didn't want to.

"Thanks." He said it through barely open lips.

Pepper tried not to smirk. Tony was so grouchy and pissed that she hadn't mentioned it. And he was clearly nervous. He kept futzing with his welding tool instead of putting it down. Then he gave her that look. That rather impatient, piercing, "Oh, come on, tell me you noticed" look.

So Pepper took pity on him. "Oh no, thank you, Mr. Stark."

An eyebrow raise. Hope. "For what?"

"For Ruby and Sunshine," she said quietly. "They're adorable."

And Tony smiled, victorious. "You're welcome." Then he changed his internal setting to Banter. He had an image to maintain, after all. "Wait a second. Ruby and Sunshine? Pepper, those names are wussy. You can't saddle those poor little things with names like that."

"Oh? Well what do you suggest?"

"Open Wound and The Golden Spear. And I can't believe you already named them!"

Pepper made an exaggerated noise of affront. "I couldn't help it! And there's no way in hell I would name such beautiful little creatures Open Wound and Killer Spear or whatever. That's so gross!"

Tony ignored her. "Ah ah ah, tisk tisk," he challenged teasingly, shaking a finger at her. "Where did that tough heart and nerves of steel go, Pep?"

"Hey!"

"Seriously. You got totally attached in what, fifteen minutes? What if they go belly-up tomorrow?"

"They won't go belly-up tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because I have it on good authority that their tank 'rocks.'"

Tony grinned. "Why?" He sometimes enjoyed acting like a two-year-old.

"Because you told me," she said dryly. "In fact, you told me it rocked because you built it, Mr. Stark, and your engineering skills are … well, they're amazing. Okay? Happy? That tank will filter properly every day so it'll stay clean as a whistle, and the food delivery system is perfectly timed for them. They'll live for many years. It's foolproof. So ha," she bantered back, putting her elbows on his work table and leaning in.

"Oh yeah?" Tony asked, leaning right back towards at her with a devilish smirk. "That's all I get, Pepper? 'So ha'?"

Pepper narrowed her eyes, but smiled. "Yeah." She was close. Dangerously close.

"All right, riddle me this: why did I build that tank?"

"Because you…" Pepper leaned in very close, and almost said it, almost said it. But she couldn't. So she dodged and said, "… Are a genius," in his left ear, stirring his hair with her breath.

Then she pulled back and noted with interest that he looked … disappointed? Hmm. Not really what she was going for. She never enjoyed leaving him in a sad mood.

"Really, Tony, thank you. They're beautiful."

He seemed to perk up at the gratitude, and nodded. "So you're okay with them? I was wondering if it wasn't too soon."

She just smiled and backed off, already heading for the stairs. "Fred was a sweetie pie, but yes, I'm ready to love again."

He shot her a crooked grin. "I'll keep that in mind. Hey, where'd you put my coffee?"

She pointed at the bench across the way, nodded when he saw it, and clicked her way up the stairs.

Tony watched her go and snagged his cup. "Definitely keep that in mind," he repeated under his breath, and blew on his drink.

End.

Final Note: In case anybody cares, the name of Tony's yacht is a nod to the ship in The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. It's a very surreal, engaging movie which is reasonably funny but exponentially funnier if you're wasted.

Or so I'm told. Anywhooo… Hope you enjoyed this. Happy Holidays!

Kiki