Chapter Three

Ka mate käinga tahi, ka ora käinga rua
There is more than one way to achieve an objective.
Maori Proverb



Tony blinked rapidly, feeling his face radiate more than his arc; it wasn’t often that he found himself in the position of defending his privacy. “Those are ancient; haven’t opened the file in months!”

“That’s not the point, Mr. Stark,” Pepper told him firmly, pulling her suitcase away. “What I’m trying to say is that everyone is entitled to their own . . . entertainments, all right? I go with Gwendolyn St. Lavender books, and you go with porn. Let’s drop it, shall we?”

Glad of a distraction, Tony’s eyebrows went up. “Gwendolyn St. Lavender? That’s one seriously big-assed pseudonym. I mean, no one’s really named St. Lavender, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Pepper sighed. “And right now it’s a moot issue.”

“Fine,” Tony mumbled, “Whatever. Would have been nice if you’d packed say, a deck of cards.”

“Yes, and it would have been nice if you and Joe hadn’t decided that flying through a typhoon was a good idea!” she shot back, her exasperation having hit its limit.

There was no way to deny that, Tony knew, and he gave a great, gusty sigh. “Yes, okay, that was a crappy decision, I admit that freely, Miss Potts, and believe me, I’m fully aware that I’m responsible for his death, and very nearly yours and mine as well. I know that and I accept that blame, fully.”

He did feel it; the truth of what had happened had haunted him through the hours in the dark when he couldn’t sleep, and Tony accepted the pain.

Tony watched her anger shift to sorrow, and the urge to pull her into his arms returned, but she was already reaching into the suitcase again, busying herself with the contents. Tony understood it was her way; Pepper always turned to work when she was upset. It was one of the reasons Stark Industries had managed so well during his captivity.

Tony wished he could make an exit, and give them both some breathing room. He rubbed his aching shoulder, moved to the door and tugged part of the wet tablecloth back, staring out. “It’s tapering off, I think.”

“Good,” came her quiet reply. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I guess we’re both feeling a little . . . cabin fever.”

“Don’t be,” he told her, not looking over his shoulder. “I got us into this, and I’m going to get us out. That’s a promise, Pepper.”

Within an hour the sun was out, making every leaf glitter. The sand was pitted from the rain, and the air smelled wet and good. Tony opened the tool bag and beckoned Pepper over as he laid out the contents. A hacksaw, a screwdriver set, a box of assorted screws, several wrenches, rolls of wire, electrical tape rolls, an extension cord and a flexible measuring tape.

“How long is the rope?” Pepper asked, touching the orange nylon coiled line.

Tony eyed it, and hazarded a guess. “Looks like about a hundred yards, give or take.”

“We could use it to explore, then,” she pointed out. “Tie one end to a tree here by the cabin, and head out to look for water, because we’re going to need some.”

The brilliance of this idea made Tony grin, and he nodded. “You were a girl scout, weren’t you Potts? Kumbaya, campfires, the whole nine yards?”

“All the way to Cadette, actually,” Pepper confessed. “But I’m hard-pressed to apply some of it to our current predicament.”

“The rope idea’s a great one. Let’s grab some coconuts first, and stockpile them around the cabin, though. I can probably get into them with the hacksaw, later.”

Pepper saw the sense in that, and they moved along the beach, collecting the nuts. Some were green, some just going brown, and a few were cracked. There was more debris along the tide line too, and Tony was the first to hear the buzzing of flies as they approached a dark heap on the sand, surrounded by fallen palm fronds.

He stopped, and caught Pepper by her shoulders, turning her away. “Pepper--look that way, right now.”

“What? Why—ohhhh . . .” she choked, jerking her gaze to the trees. Tony himself had to wait a few seconds to regain his composure before he could take in a deep breath and relax. He began to pull off his shirt.

“Tony—!”

He ignored her and moved towards the legless torso, his steps deliberate. Over his shoulder, he spoke to her, his voice flat and factual. “He needs . . . to be buried, Miss Potts. He was my employee; it’s my duty. I want you to go back, and choose a tree to tie the rope to. I’ll be back . . . when I’m done.”

Tony waited; reluctantly Pepper began to stumble away through the sand, and when she was almost out of earshot, he moved to the broken torso tangled amid the waterlogged fronds.

It was hard to look at the bloated remains of what had been a friend. Joe Mueller had been a top-notch pilot; hired on Jim’s recommendation. He’d taken to the Stark Lear immediately and had gotten Tony to whatever destination he wanted on-time over ninety percent of the flights.

Tony draped his shirt over the sightless eyes, and began to lay a few of the fronds out. He shifted the mangled body onto the palms, and slowly dragged the corpse up to the trees.

It took time to dig a grave by hand, and Tony cursed as he raked his fingers through the sandy soil, catching roots and hitting rocks. When it was deep enough, he nudged the body in, settling it gently before re-draping the shirt over Joe’s pale battered face. “It’s all my fault and I’m sorry,” Tony murmured over the remains. “You got us—Pepper and me—down as safely as you could in the face of incredible odds, Joe. I won’t ever forget that.”

After a quiet prayer, Tony draped the fronds over the mounded sand of grave carefully and went down to the water to wash his hands, wondering—not for the first time--if they would ever feel clean.

Pepper cried. She did so silently, wiping her face often as she carried the rope to the palm right outside the cabin. Suddenly the unreality of the situation had cracked; seeing the corpse had done that in a hard and unavoidable way. Added onto that was the guilt of lashing into Tony. Yes it had been a bad decision, but Joe had been a part of it too, and everyone had assumed the typhoon was well south of them.

She sniffed one last time, and looked down at herself, feeling grimy in her torn blouse and wrinkled skirt. One hand drifted to her stringy hair, and she winced, speaking softly to herself. “You need to get it together. Find water, take a bath, and get some laundry going at the very least. Tony is never going to think of things like that, so it’s up to you.”

This was a slightly cheering thought; Pepper felt better with the familiarity of the task. Taking care of Tony was always time-consuming and would keep her mind off more depressing things, so she tied the rope end to the tree in a good snug double hitch at waist level. She collected the coconuts in a loose pile around the tree and absently sorted them by ripeness, the greens on one side and the browns on the other. By the time she’d finished with that, Tony was trudging back, looking slightly bleak.

Pepper managed a weak smile at him. “You did the right thing. Thank you, Tony.”

“Don’t try and make me feel better,” he told her distantly. “It’s my fault he’s dead and I need to keep that in mind.”

“Tony--” Pepper began, and then went silent. Tony awkwardly patted one of her shoulders and she knew he wasn’t angry with her; just himself. She watched him move to look at the knot on the tree, his mouth turning up faintly. In the sunlight, Pepper noted his beard was thicker, and he had shadow along his cheeks from not shaving. He looked quite . . . scruffy.

“Nice hitch. Very secure. So—ready to go explore the jungle, Miss Potts? Or will you stay behind and play with coconuts?”

“Oh I’m going,” she told him firmly. “You need someone to look out for you, Mr. Stark.”

That made him grin, and Pepper felt better for it; Tony did have a devilishly cute grin at times. He nodded, then looked over at the tool box and selected the largest screwdriver in it, hefting it in his hand. “In lieu of a nice big machete,” he sighed, “This will have to do, weapon-wise.”

“Will we need a weapon?” Pepper asked timidly.

Tony shrugged. “Hope not, but I’d hate to have the regret if we end up in a bad situation. Okay—” He picked up the heavy coil of orange rope and looked into the leafy interior. “Straight line inward for our first venture?”

Pepper nodded; it seemed as good a direction as any. She picked up one of the water bottles, slipped it into one of the surviving gift bags and stepped behind Tony. “All right, Mr. Stark. I’m good to go.”

“You always are, Miss Potts—one of your endearing charms,” he told her over his shoulder. She bit back a smile and followed him into the jungle.

It was easy going at first; the line paid out behind them, and Tony warned her about little hills and dips underfoot. They pushed past more coconut trees, and after twenty feet, the bushes began to get thicker and scratchier. Ten minutes later, Pepper felt the buzz of mosquitoes, and whimpered a little, since malaria wasn’t anything to look forward to. Ahead of her, Tony’s undershirt clung to him, damp with sweat and humidity, and she focused on the muscles of his bare shoulders, finding them to be much more interesting than the foliage around them.

The ground began to slope downward, and Tony skittered a bit. He was in runners, so his traction was good, but even then he cursed a bit, and Pepper held back her giggles. Behind them, the orange of the rope stood out in bright relief against the greens and browns of the undergrowth.

“I hear something,” Tony told her, when Pepper skittered down to the section of slope where he stood. They both froze, listening intently. Pepper caught it first, over the rustle of trees and the sound of birds.

The low rumble of water.

“I love the sound of that,” Tony murmured. “It sounds . . . quenching.”

“Let’s keep going,” Pepper urged, as visions of bathing, getting the salt out of her hair, WASHING danced in her head. Tony nodded, and they moved down the slope together, finding the easiest path.

A break in the trees gave them a clear view ahead, and the sound they’d heard before coalesced into the vision of a waterfall. The waterfall fell a good fifty to sixty feet in a lovely, scenic tableau, and the water basin they were in was probably a quarter of a mile across and thundering into a deep pool only a few more yards ahead. Tony grinned, and fed out more line, moving quickly now, Pepper right behind him, gleeful at the sight. The ledge was a few feet over the water, which was startlingly clear. Tony handed Pepper the coil of rope and bent down, scooping a handful of water up to his mouth.

He glanced up at Pepper, and swallowed. “Fresh.”

“Yessssss,” Pepper moaned, and began to sit on the ledge, preparing to slip into the water.

Tony blinked a little. “Potts? Are you okay?”

“Clean,” she told him, and gingerly lowered herself, still dressed, into the water, her sandals reaching the sand underneath. Pepper gave a shiver; the water was cold, especially in the lower layers, but it felt wonderful, too, especially on her sunburned areas, and she ducked under before she lost her courage, pulling out her one scrunchie and raking her fingers through her hair.

She broke the surface to find Tony still on the ledge, looking down at her with awed amusement. “Cold?”

“Y-y-yes, but it feels so good!” Pepper assured him with a chatter-toothed smile. “C-c-come on in!”

Tony fought the urge to grin. Actually he fought more than one urge; the water had made Pepper’s shirt and lace bra wonderfully transparent, and the sight of her perky chest and ruckered nipples was almost more than he could cope with at the moment.

“Only if you turn around,” he told her. Pepper was about to chide him when she realized her own appearance and gave a squeak. She spun in the water, and Tony did laugh then.

He couldn’t help it, actually. The relief of finding water was a load off his mind—at the very least, they wouldn’t die of dehydration. Tony pulled his sweat-soaked undershirt off and reached for his fly button, hesitating. “Potts—if I swam in boxers, would you respect me in the morning?”

“Who s-says I respect you now?” she chattered over her shoulder.

“Oh such a comedienne—” he grumbled, tickled at her tartness. He set the screwdriver down, slipped out of his shoe and the pants and sat on the ledge, sliding into the water, grimacing when the cold reached bits of him that did not need the shock. “Unnnngh---”

“Feeling the chill?” Pepper asked him, and ducked under the water before he could think of an appropriately biting reply. He held his breath and went all the way under himself, feeling the clean wash of the cold loosening the sand and salt from him.

It did feel good, Tony admitted a few moments later as he paddled a bit and looked around at the banks of the pool they were in. The water basin they were in was probably a quarter of a mile across—nothing huge, but if he had to guess the center depth, probably about twenty to forty feet . . . then he saw it.

Tony blinked, and then turned to find Pepper. She was standing in the shallows, scrubbing her face with what looked like a handful of sand. “Potts—what the hell are you doing?”

“Cleaning up,” she informed him, and splashed water on her nose and cheeks, looking pink and happy. “Not my usual scrub, but it will do.”

“Look over there,” Tony pointed, “and tell me what you see.”

“Trees,” she responded wringing water out of her hair, “and rocks, and . . . a dock. A dock?”

“Looks like one to me too,” Tony agreed thickly. “Not in great shape, but definitely man-made.”

They were both silent for a stunned second.

“Oh God, there are people here?” Pepper demanded, her excitement rising visibly. “We’ve got to get over there, Tony!”

“No.”

“What?” she turned, and he manfully kept his gaze on her face, even though his eyes wanted to wander lower and enjoy the cling of her wet blouse.

“Pepper, look at the condition of that dock—vines all over it, one of the pilings is tilting. That thing hasn’t been used in decades, maybe even a century. Nobody is here but us. We can go check it out tomorrow, but we’ve got less than half a day of light left, and I want to try opening a coconut and getting a fire made. The dock can wait.”

She wanted to protest; Tony could see her excitement at war with her common sense, but finally Pepper nodded, reluctantly. “Okay, yes, you have a point, Mr. Stark. We do have a few priorities.”

“Good woman,” he replied, still looking across the water to the dock. “Mind you, I could swim over there—“

“No!” Pepper almost shouted. She made a visible effort to calm herself, moving to put her hair back in the scrunchie. “No. You’ve had a dislocated shoulder; swimming that distance would be a really bad idea, Tony. Besides, you don’t know what’s over there. We’ll go together, when we go.”

She was being logical, and Tony grudgingly appreciated it, especially since he was nodding in agreement and ogling her at the same time. Pepper crossed her arms over her chest and shot him a glare. “Tony--!”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but we both know that would be a lie,” he confessed unrepentantly, face now averted. “At least we’ve found water, and it’s not too far away.”

“We can refill the bottles,” Pepper agreed. “I’m getting out now.”

Tony followed her out, climbing onto the ledge and shaking his head to get the water out of his ears. He picked up the rope and began to recoil it, but Pepper stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Let’s leave it and just follow it back for now,” she urged. “I guess we’ll wear away a trail after a while, but for now—“

“And that,” Tony smiled at her, “Is why I adore you, Miss Potts. Ever logical. Come on, let’s go play with coconuts, because I don’t know about you, but that salami was a long time ago.”

She nodded ruefully, and with a last happy glance at the water, turned to move behind him up the slope and into the greenery, following the orange stripe on the ground.

Pepper wanted to laugh. In the late afternoon, in the shadow of the palms, with the soft lapping of the small waves in the lagoon, the setting was nearly perfect—

Aside from Tony’s cursing.

He knew a lot of bad language, and had an incredibly creative streak in combining threats, curses and general observations. Since he was directing all his vitriol at a coconut, Pepper was having a hard time holding in her mirth as she sat in the doorway of the cabin.

“Your amusement is not appreciated at this time, Potts,” came the low grumble. “Think you can do any better?”

“Yes,” she admitted, looking up from the Guide to the Philippines and smiling. “There are lots of different ways to get into a coconut, according to this guide. The ‘toss and crack’ method for the green ones, and the peel and crack method for the ripe ones.”

“Oh please,” Tony rocked back on his heels and waved a hand sarcastically, “You’re welcome to demonstrate, by all means.”

Pepper set aside the book, and came over to where Tony was squatting. She picked up a football-sized green coconut, held it over her head, and looked around. The curved outer hull of the cabin caught her eye, and Pepper moved, hurling the coconut at the steel wall of the mangled plane section. The coconut hit cabin with a heavy ‘thunk’ and bounced away.

Tony hooted. “Brilliant. An amazing feat of engineering there---“

Pepper picked up the green nut and brushed the sand off; a large crack now ran down the length of it. She carefully carried it over, picked up the large screwdriver, and wedged it into the crack, prying it open. Water began to leak; Pepper quickly held the nut over the plastic bin that the salami had been in and let the coconut water drain out before continuing to pry. The edges widened and the nut cracked in three pieces, revealing pale soft meat within it.

Tony stared, his expression slightly stunned. Pepper broke off a piece of the meat and held it out to him. “Here.”

Reluctantly he took the segment. Pepper waved a hand back at the book. “Also? If you use the hacksaw, use it at one end, especially with the brown coconuts because then you can pull the dried husk off of the nut in strips.”

“I still found the water,” Tony petulantly pointed out. “And I’m going to start the fire.”

“Okay,” Pepper placated him sweetly, feeling amused at his frustration. The coconut meat was good; fresh, almost jelly-like, and she finished her piece before she knew it. “Do you want me to get tinder and firewood?” she offered gently. Tony was making sincere efforts at comfort and she appreciated his attempts, truly, but Pepper was pretty sure that out of all the skills he had, jungle survival training wasn’t one of them.

“That would be nice,” Tony told her, his tone still slightly sulky. Pepper sighed inwardly and moved off, walking close to the foliage line and picking up fallen palm fronds, sticks and bits of coconut husks, leaving Tony to his pique.

It was a nice time of day, with the sun at a slant, and the shadows beginning to stretch out towards the lagoon. Pepper was more comfortable now in a pair of Tony’s dark blue boxers, with a green Hawaiian shirt over them. Not the flashiest fashion, she knew, but at least he’d been willing to share, and the clothes were clean.

Pepper hummed to herself. Coconut was good, but realistically, the two of them were going to need more that those to live on, and from what she’d read in the guide, there were some other things that the island might have on it, if she kept her eyes open. If Tony could get a fire going, that would help too; cooking might be a challenge, but it would be worth it if they could manage to rustle up some protein of some kind.

She had her arms nearly full and was making her way back towards the cabin when another loose coconut caught her eye. Pepper went to scoop it up, and the huge, ugly alien thing clinging to it dropped off and scuttled towards her foot.

Pepper screamed.

She didn’t do that very often, but in her family, all the Potts women were blessed with lungpower that carried extremely well. Her terrified shriek echoed, sending flocks of panic-stricken birds rocketing from the nearby trees. At her sandals the disgusting monster thing, however, kept moving towards her, talons waving menacingly. Pepper danced backwards, still clutching the kindling as Tony raced up kicking sand everywhere, hacksaw in hand, his expression utterly, completely alarmed.

He looked around, sweeping an arm around Pepper’s waist and pulling her to him, “Jesus! What? What?”

Pepper couldn’t quite talk yet, and pointed with her chin to the menace in the sand. It hesitated long enough for Tony to get a look at it.

“Whoafuck! What the hell is that?” came his startled question as he jumped back, pulling Pepper with him. “It looks like a baby Predator!”

“Crab,” Pepper managed, finally. “C-coconut crab, but it scared me.”

“No shit,” Tony shot her a sidelong glance, half-amused and still slightly fearful. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. In the sand, the crab, having decided it had made a point about stealing coconuts, lifted one claw in an obscenely familiar way and began to scuttle off.

Tony gawped. “He just flipped us off!”

That was too much, and Pepper felt the nervous giggles begin to well up in her, escaping now in unladylike snorts.

“Yeah? Well same to you, asshole!” Tony yelled at the retreating crustacean. “I’ll see you in butter, with a hint of garlic!”

Pepper lost it completely then, and burst out laughing, dropping all the tinder at that point, her eyes filling up, and her face growing red. Tony caught one glimpse of her and joined in, realizing exactly how bizarre his threat must have sounded and the two of them collapsed into the sand, choking and laughing together for long minutes.

When Pepper could finally breathe without wheezing too much, she wiped her tears away and flopped out on the sand, looking up at the endless blue of the sky and relaxed. She hadn’t laughed like that in ages, and now, drained of all tension, she felt pretty damned good, if only for the moment. Pepper turned her head to look at Tony, who was looking at her as well, his expression soft.

“My hero,” she murmured, and meant it.