Family is More Than Blood

Gunpoint

This chapter's a bit mature, just letting you know. Nothing actually happens but there are hints.

Tony sat back, massaging his temple. We're not real. We're not real. We're not real.

"What was it?" Pepper - Fake Pepper - entered the room. Tony turned away from her. Looking at her was too painful, too damaging. She ran her fingers stiffly through his hair, being so close to his love, his life, but not close enough.

"Nothing," Tony got up, shying away from her touch. "Go to bed, Pep, I'll join you soon."

She laughed and winked, "I'm sure you will."

The thought of making love to this shell of his... girlfriend? ex? disgusted him. She never would have pushed him. She never would have even mentioned it in his present state, but he choked out a laugh that sounded like a sob even to his own ears. She was satisfied, though, and left with a little smirk, hiking her skirt up slowly. As soon as she was out of earshot, Tony banged his fist against the table. We're not real. Peter had been injected as well, then. He had to develop something to get them back, he realized, but first he had to take Fake Pepper into custody. He sighed, eyeing the arm of his Iron Man suit. He held out his own appendage and muttered a few key words. The arm assembled around his own, and he flexed his hand, watching the hand rev up. It shot a blast of blue light into the wall, leaving a smoking hole in its wake. His other hand shaking with too much he loaded a sedative into a function he had been installing before Pirates of the Caribbean. He shut the memory away in his mind, focusing on the task at hand.

Once properly installed, Tony headed slowly up the stairs, making his way quietly to his bedroom where he knew that Fake Pepper was waiting. She was reclining on the bed in what was supposed to have been a seductive position, but real Pepper knew that Tony didn't like being seduced, he liked to know where the stood, to not pretend to pretend.

He held up the Iron hand, ready to fall back in a role that he had played for a very long time. Back when he was a well known playboy, foreplay had been second nature. Now, he was unsteady and unsure.

"Thought we'd have a bit of fun," Tony said stiffly. She giggled flirtatiously, a sound that real Pepper would never have made. He didn't want to make this any longer than he had to. He moved towards her in what he hoped was a sexy manner. She didn't flinch, which was a good sign. He smiled slyly (though it felt like a scowl). Before he could even raise his hand, however, he felt something cold press against his head. He stared in disbelief as Fake Pepper pressed a gun against his head.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Tony said, "I am wearing a part of my suit. Your gun won't be fast enough to kill me before I blast you to pieces."

 "But you won't," Fake Pepper said silkily, "I always hated you treating me like trash. That's why this has to happen."

"Oh, don't lie," Tony snapped, "We both know that you're not Pepper. I'll have no trouble exploding you."

"But Pepper's still in me," she crooned. "You wouldn't try to destroy me."

"You're right," Tony cocked his head, "But I don't have to."

Without another word, he shot a sedative into her open mouth, still reminiscent of the person she had tried to play. She lay, unconscious on the bed, and Tony gasped, trying to keep the tears inside his head. It was useless. Scalding tears slid down his scruffy cheeks. He clung to Pepper's unmoving body, sobbing until he couldn't feel anything anymore.

We're not real.