Iron Man, Tony/Pepper, heart of stone; "Conductivity" Conductivity
Pepper gets all the way up the stairs carrying the thing, her hands still gooey with whatever fluid it had been covered with, up the stairs and into the living room with Tony's absurdly good view that she normally forgets all about. She's looking at the view, which she hasn't done since about the third week of this job, which was long enough ago that she's a little startled to realize that it's been that long, been years with Mr. Tony Stark of Stark Industries, looking at the view and holding the thing that had been keeping him alive until about three minutes ago in her hands.
She puts it down. It clicks on the countertop like a glass.
Pepper thinks about the slick, smooth metal inside the cavity. How it felt when the back of her knuckles brushed against it, the spike of fear in her throat dissolving into a flutter of adrenaline when Tony didn't die, didn't shake or seize or -- anything, even if she'd had her fist inside his chest.
The metal had been warm, but only as warm as Tony's skin. The arc reactor was cool, almost chilly.
The shiver goes all the way down her spine, makes her stand up straight, her feet skimming out a quarter inch from the heels of her pumps. She breathes hard, all the air shoved out of her lungs. Her heart goes without any assistance at all.
Down in the workshop, Tony is blasting music -- something by Black Sabbath, loud and obnoxious. Pepper wonders just when she learned the names of all of Tony's favorite bands, even the ones she really hates. She cups the discarded arc reactor gently in the palm of her hand. Runs her thumb around the edge as softly as she wants, once, before putting it down again.