Iron Man/Ghost Rider: Ghost Of A Chance 1/1
Title: Ghost Of A Chance
Author: Ghani Starkiller @ mrs_peel_fanfic
Disclaimer: Ain't mine, characters and situations belong to Marvel and the filmmakers.
Rating: PG
Characters: Roxanne Simpson, Tony Stark, Pepper, Rhodey, Johnny Blaze/Roxie, hints of Tony/Pepper and Roxanne/Rhodey?!
Summary: Roxanne Simpson, on the job! And this time, her interviewee has a few surprises of his own, as well as one hell of a wicked pick-up line!
A/N: jadeblood, this one's for you, babe! I know you've been having a pretty crappy time of it lately, to say the very least, and I thought that this might cheer ya up a bit! Hugs!
Roxanne Simpson looked down the list in her hand with a sigh. She’d expected this, at least to some degree: until recently, Stark Industries held more military munitions contracts than any other manufacturer in the country. She’d assumed there would be some level of disclosure she could not cross, rules laid down for the interview she was about to conduct. But the inventory of questions she was not permitted to ask, that had been handed her by none other than Tony Stark’s personal assistant, went above and beyond just national defense; it read like an instruction manual, just as thick only twice as dry.
She bit her lip as she glanced out the wall length picture window behind her at the stunning Malibu landscape. The sky was clear--save for the ever present smog, though even that was admittedly less than it would be if they were in L.A.--and the ocean churned, its blue turning to a greenish-white as the waves crested and fell gracefully back toward the glassy surface. You’re not in Dallas anymore, Dorothy, she thought to herself, shaking her head slightly.
Glancing at the monitor, she could see that Steve and Tammie, her illustrious Wake Up, Los Angeles! co-stars, were still chatting about something or other; she’d asked to have the volume turned down some time ago, their inane chatter wearing on just about her last nerve. This was supposed to have been her big break, her chance to report the hard-hitting news, to interview the heavyweights. And they had been good to her, she couldn’t complain about that; it was hardly Dateline or Good Morning America but she was national now, and the people she had access to she would never even have dreamed of speaking with at that Podunk operation back in Texas.
She shifted in her chair again and straightened her jacket as her attention was drawn to a small commotion moving her way. It was Stark with that personal assistant of his trailing behind him, seemingly reciting to him his schedule for the day and other matters of import, Roxanne was sure; they were fussing with and over each other as only two people who had been together as long as they had could do. She stood to greet him; in her heels, she was a few inches taller than he was. “Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure,” she greeted him with what she hoped was an inviting smile as she held her hand out to him.
Taking a moment to stop fretting with his tie, Tony stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows quirking slightly as he regarded Roxanne. His countenance changed immediately, from pestered and overwrought to suave, playful. “Ms. Simpson,” he replied, taking her hand in a manner that suggested more a kiss on her knuckles that never came more than a simple, professional handshake. “Roxanne. Roxie. Can I call you Roxie?”
“Hm hm,” she chuckled with a rather forced smile as she took her seat again. “Only two men call me that; one’s my daddy and the other… you aren’t.” She swept her hand toward the second chair in an invitation, which he eagerly accepted, settling himself with unnerving ease. She had a feeling she’d caught only a glimpse of the real Tony Stark as he had scuttled in; now he was living his persona. She wished she could recall that earlier version, bring him out for the interview but she doubted he let very many people see him that way.
His eyebrows ascended further up his forehead but his manner remained pleasant; she was a challenge, that’s what he’d be thinking. “Miss Simpson, if I could have your attention for a moment,” a tall, neatly groomed man in a military uniform said, clearing his throat as he stepped forward. Stark was gesturing to him wildly using only facial expressions but the man seemed undeterred, even as he answered with featural contortions of his own. After a minute of their silent war, the military man cleared his throat again and presented Roxanne with a folder made thick with the papers within. “If you could review some of the questions that are prohibited….”
“I’ve already gotten the list from Miss Potts,” Roxanne said with a sigh.
“With all due respect, ma’am, this is a different one,” he told her with a grimace of sympathy. Resignedly, barely restraining herself from throwing her head back and groaning, she took the folder from him.
“Rhodey,” Tony griped, “I’ve told both you and Pepper….”
The man--Colonel James Rhodes, it must be: Stark’s trusted friend, ally or sidekick, depending on who you listened to--held up his hands in apparent surrender. “My hands are tied on this one, Tone.” His professional air slipping even further, he leaned over to Roxanne and asked, somewhat embarrassed, “Do you think you can sign it--I mean, autograph. I watch you all the time on TV and it’d just mean so much….”
“Rhodey!” chastised Tony again, but Roxanne was smiling, genuinely now, as she reached for the pen in her breast pocket.
“If you could just make it out to ‘Your Biggest Fan Jim,’” continued Rhodey excitedly, bending over her shoulder and indicating a spot on the blank manila file face. Catching sight of Tony’s pouting, he put a hand over his heart and warned, “Don’t hate on me, man. I‘m serious; don‘t mess.” Roxanne’s smile widened a she drew a little cadre of hearts with her Sharpie; here again was a hint of that sincere Tony Stark she so longed to interview.
“Wouldn’t it have just been easier to give me a list of questions I could ask?” she said, blowing out a deep breath of air that ruffled her bangs as she reviewed this new information. “It certainly would have saved you a few packs of paper.”
“Never mind them,” Tony told her, waving a dismissive hand towards where Pepper now stood with Rhodey, off to the side of a hallway running from the foyer of his house. “They’re… overprotective, trying to, you know, cover my assets,” he joked and Roxie found herself chuckling along. He leaned against the arm of his canvas folding chair, bringing him closer to her. “It’s Miss Simpson, right?”
“I prefer Ms. actually,” she told him, but her stony expression broke into a warm smirk. “But Roxanne is fine,” she said, leaning back into her own chair, getting comfortable, as she rested her hands in her lap, her fingers entwined. “And it’s good to have friends like that,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “You can never have too many good people watching your back.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Especially when you’re not so good a person?” he inquired teasingly.
“I’ve heard the stories,” she responded with a lopsided smile, propping her chin against the heel of her fist. “I’m not interested in yellow journalism, scandal or sensationalism. I’ve done my homework Mr. Stark--”
“Tony,” he interrupted.
She inclined her head in assent. “Tony,” she repeated. “I’ve read up on what you’ve been doing engineering-wise since you canceled your contract with the military, the strides you’ve made in prosthetics. I don’t understand most of it,” she admitted with a laugh, “but what I do understand is how very impressive it is.”
“Are we going to talk about the suit?” he asked astutely, his face alight with mischief. “Or is it going to be the eight-hundred pound gorilla in the room?”
“I believe that particular topic was on both my lists of forbidden questions,” she responded, shaking her head so that her sandy, gilt brown hair bounced around her shoulders. “Everyone wants to know, of course; the subject of your mystery bodyguard, plus your statement at your press conference, is one of the most talked about in town. And in this town, that’s saying a lot. Which is exactly why I intended to avoid the matter almost entirely, in all honesty, Tony.”
Oh, she was a feisty one, he was sure of that. “Don’t believe in superheroes, is that it?” he teased.
She tapped her chin playfully with her Sharpie as she feigned deep thought; he’d think she was merely being coy. Good. That was as it should be. “You mean a man with the means and motivation to combat evil? A man that uses the gifts he’s come by, one way or another, to help others, to set himself apart and to stand up to the forces of malevolence that are sneaking in around the edges of our lives nowadays?” Now her voice became soft, wistful, and Tony cocked his head to the side as he listened; something thrummed inside of him, not exactly kindred but… alike. “A man that is willing to sacrifice everything to make this a better world to live in?” She smiled and the gesture remained melancholic. “It wouldn’t be unheard of,” she replied quietly.
Tony didn’t push the matter, though it had made him thoughtful, contemplative of the true meaning to everything she said. The make-up girl came by, and a production assistant to secure his mic on the lapel of his Armani jacket. She could see on the monitor, even if she could not hear it, that Steve and Tammie were readying themselves to throw it over to her and the camera men began to bustle around their equipment. The producer gave them the countdown, finishing with his fingers, pointing to Roxie to let her know they’d just gone live.
The interview went well. Stark was charming, as she had expected, though the subject of his work managed to coax out a more serious sort of man that she had anticipated, someone who believed in what they did wholeheartedly, someone who had been profoundly changed in some personal way her restrictions wouldn’t allow her to explore. When the topic even neared his time as a hostage, his eyes would go sort of faraway and she’d feel like she were intruding on some private experience that was no one’s, save his own, to share in. Occasionally, she found her mind wandering to Johnny, wondering what it was about Stark that made her think of him.
She shook his hand when they had wrapped, keeping it professional this time around, not the flirtatious thing he’d given her when they’d met. “So, this… other,” he said, clearing his throat as she began to collect her personal belongings. “Is it serious?” He affected a grave face that made her laugh.
She smirked, attempting to conceal the discomfort she felt all of a sudden. “It’s sort of a… long distance relationship,” she responded, keeping her voice even, as if his question had been casual interest and no more. But why do your choices always keep us apart? There were worse ways to spend an evening than dinner with Mr. stark like, say, obsessing over Johnny: wondering if he was alright, if he’d be back anytime soon. “Actually,” she said, gift wrapping an opening for him, tying it with a bow, “I don’t know that many people in town. I’m sort of new around here….”
“Ah,” he responded, running a hand along his goatee. “Perhaps you’d like to….” His words trailed off as she held up a finger urgently to silence him and to signal, ‘give me one minute!’
She crouched down beside her duffel and rummaged through it until she found it: the round, black object that fit so neatly into the cup of both of her hands. Her Magic 8-Ball. She gave it a vigorous shake, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back slightly, as if she were urging an answer. But what outcome did she really want? She looked down and a grin spread across her tan face.
“Sorry,” she told Tony, standing again as she slipped the straps of her duffel over her shoulder. Her expression was sympathetic, somewhat regretful. “But I can’t.”
“Mr. Long distance again?” he asked playfully and she responded with a smile. “Just tell me this, okay?” he pressed her as she began to walk past him. He spread his arms and gave her his most disarming smirk. “Did I ever have a chance?”
“Not even a ghost of one,” she replied and giggled at her own private joke. “Do me a favor though and take that secretary of yours someplace nice. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark.”
Tony watched with a growing frown as Roxanne paused beside Rhodey, bringing out her sharpie again and scribbling something else on the folder; her writing looked suspiciously like digits. “Seriously? You’re giving him your number?” Tony objected with a sulk. Roxanne only turned back to him for a minute to throw him a wink and then she was walking with the rest of her crew out to her van.
THE END
Author: Ghani Starkiller @ mrs_peel_fanfic
Disclaimer: Ain't mine, characters and situations belong to Marvel and the filmmakers.
Rating: PG
Characters: Roxanne Simpson, Tony Stark, Pepper, Rhodey, Johnny Blaze/Roxie, hints of Tony/Pepper and Roxanne/Rhodey?!
Summary: Roxanne Simpson, on the job! And this time, her interviewee has a few surprises of his own, as well as one hell of a wicked pick-up line!
A/N: jadeblood, this one's for you, babe! I know you've been having a pretty crappy time of it lately, to say the very least, and I thought that this might cheer ya up a bit! Hugs!
Roxanne Simpson looked down the list in her hand with a sigh. She’d expected this, at least to some degree: until recently, Stark Industries held more military munitions contracts than any other manufacturer in the country. She’d assumed there would be some level of disclosure she could not cross, rules laid down for the interview she was about to conduct. But the inventory of questions she was not permitted to ask, that had been handed her by none other than Tony Stark’s personal assistant, went above and beyond just national defense; it read like an instruction manual, just as thick only twice as dry.
She bit her lip as she glanced out the wall length picture window behind her at the stunning Malibu landscape. The sky was clear--save for the ever present smog, though even that was admittedly less than it would be if they were in L.A.--and the ocean churned, its blue turning to a greenish-white as the waves crested and fell gracefully back toward the glassy surface. You’re not in Dallas anymore, Dorothy, she thought to herself, shaking her head slightly.
Glancing at the monitor, she could see that Steve and Tammie, her illustrious Wake Up, Los Angeles! co-stars, were still chatting about something or other; she’d asked to have the volume turned down some time ago, their inane chatter wearing on just about her last nerve. This was supposed to have been her big break, her chance to report the hard-hitting news, to interview the heavyweights. And they had been good to her, she couldn’t complain about that; it was hardly Dateline or Good Morning America but she was national now, and the people she had access to she would never even have dreamed of speaking with at that Podunk operation back in Texas.
She shifted in her chair again and straightened her jacket as her attention was drawn to a small commotion moving her way. It was Stark with that personal assistant of his trailing behind him, seemingly reciting to him his schedule for the day and other matters of import, Roxanne was sure; they were fussing with and over each other as only two people who had been together as long as they had could do. She stood to greet him; in her heels, she was a few inches taller than he was. “Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure,” she greeted him with what she hoped was an inviting smile as she held her hand out to him.
Taking a moment to stop fretting with his tie, Tony stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows quirking slightly as he regarded Roxanne. His countenance changed immediately, from pestered and overwrought to suave, playful. “Ms. Simpson,” he replied, taking her hand in a manner that suggested more a kiss on her knuckles that never came more than a simple, professional handshake. “Roxanne. Roxie. Can I call you Roxie?”
“Hm hm,” she chuckled with a rather forced smile as she took her seat again. “Only two men call me that; one’s my daddy and the other… you aren’t.” She swept her hand toward the second chair in an invitation, which he eagerly accepted, settling himself with unnerving ease. She had a feeling she’d caught only a glimpse of the real Tony Stark as he had scuttled in; now he was living his persona. She wished she could recall that earlier version, bring him out for the interview but she doubted he let very many people see him that way.
His eyebrows ascended further up his forehead but his manner remained pleasant; she was a challenge, that’s what he’d be thinking. “Miss Simpson, if I could have your attention for a moment,” a tall, neatly groomed man in a military uniform said, clearing his throat as he stepped forward. Stark was gesturing to him wildly using only facial expressions but the man seemed undeterred, even as he answered with featural contortions of his own. After a minute of their silent war, the military man cleared his throat again and presented Roxanne with a folder made thick with the papers within. “If you could review some of the questions that are prohibited….”
“I’ve already gotten the list from Miss Potts,” Roxanne said with a sigh.
“With all due respect, ma’am, this is a different one,” he told her with a grimace of sympathy. Resignedly, barely restraining herself from throwing her head back and groaning, she took the folder from him.
“Rhodey,” Tony griped, “I’ve told both you and Pepper….”
The man--Colonel James Rhodes, it must be: Stark’s trusted friend, ally or sidekick, depending on who you listened to--held up his hands in apparent surrender. “My hands are tied on this one, Tone.” His professional air slipping even further, he leaned over to Roxanne and asked, somewhat embarrassed, “Do you think you can sign it--I mean, autograph. I watch you all the time on TV and it’d just mean so much….”
“Rhodey!” chastised Tony again, but Roxanne was smiling, genuinely now, as she reached for the pen in her breast pocket.
“If you could just make it out to ‘Your Biggest Fan Jim,’” continued Rhodey excitedly, bending over her shoulder and indicating a spot on the blank manila file face. Catching sight of Tony’s pouting, he put a hand over his heart and warned, “Don’t hate on me, man. I‘m serious; don‘t mess.” Roxanne’s smile widened a she drew a little cadre of hearts with her Sharpie; here again was a hint of that sincere Tony Stark she so longed to interview.
“Wouldn’t it have just been easier to give me a list of questions I could ask?” she said, blowing out a deep breath of air that ruffled her bangs as she reviewed this new information. “It certainly would have saved you a few packs of paper.”
“Never mind them,” Tony told her, waving a dismissive hand towards where Pepper now stood with Rhodey, off to the side of a hallway running from the foyer of his house. “They’re… overprotective, trying to, you know, cover my assets,” he joked and Roxie found herself chuckling along. He leaned against the arm of his canvas folding chair, bringing him closer to her. “It’s Miss Simpson, right?”
“I prefer Ms. actually,” she told him, but her stony expression broke into a warm smirk. “But Roxanne is fine,” she said, leaning back into her own chair, getting comfortable, as she rested her hands in her lap, her fingers entwined. “And it’s good to have friends like that,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “You can never have too many good people watching your back.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Especially when you’re not so good a person?” he inquired teasingly.
“I’ve heard the stories,” she responded with a lopsided smile, propping her chin against the heel of her fist. “I’m not interested in yellow journalism, scandal or sensationalism. I’ve done my homework Mr. Stark--”
“Tony,” he interrupted.
She inclined her head in assent. “Tony,” she repeated. “I’ve read up on what you’ve been doing engineering-wise since you canceled your contract with the military, the strides you’ve made in prosthetics. I don’t understand most of it,” she admitted with a laugh, “but what I do understand is how very impressive it is.”
“Are we going to talk about the suit?” he asked astutely, his face alight with mischief. “Or is it going to be the eight-hundred pound gorilla in the room?”
“I believe that particular topic was on both my lists of forbidden questions,” she responded, shaking her head so that her sandy, gilt brown hair bounced around her shoulders. “Everyone wants to know, of course; the subject of your mystery bodyguard, plus your statement at your press conference, is one of the most talked about in town. And in this town, that’s saying a lot. Which is exactly why I intended to avoid the matter almost entirely, in all honesty, Tony.”
Oh, she was a feisty one, he was sure of that. “Don’t believe in superheroes, is that it?” he teased.
She tapped her chin playfully with her Sharpie as she feigned deep thought; he’d think she was merely being coy. Good. That was as it should be. “You mean a man with the means and motivation to combat evil? A man that uses the gifts he’s come by, one way or another, to help others, to set himself apart and to stand up to the forces of malevolence that are sneaking in around the edges of our lives nowadays?” Now her voice became soft, wistful, and Tony cocked his head to the side as he listened; something thrummed inside of him, not exactly kindred but… alike. “A man that is willing to sacrifice everything to make this a better world to live in?” She smiled and the gesture remained melancholic. “It wouldn’t be unheard of,” she replied quietly.
Tony didn’t push the matter, though it had made him thoughtful, contemplative of the true meaning to everything she said. The make-up girl came by, and a production assistant to secure his mic on the lapel of his Armani jacket. She could see on the monitor, even if she could not hear it, that Steve and Tammie were readying themselves to throw it over to her and the camera men began to bustle around their equipment. The producer gave them the countdown, finishing with his fingers, pointing to Roxie to let her know they’d just gone live.
The interview went well. Stark was charming, as she had expected, though the subject of his work managed to coax out a more serious sort of man that she had anticipated, someone who believed in what they did wholeheartedly, someone who had been profoundly changed in some personal way her restrictions wouldn’t allow her to explore. When the topic even neared his time as a hostage, his eyes would go sort of faraway and she’d feel like she were intruding on some private experience that was no one’s, save his own, to share in. Occasionally, she found her mind wandering to Johnny, wondering what it was about Stark that made her think of him.
She shook his hand when they had wrapped, keeping it professional this time around, not the flirtatious thing he’d given her when they’d met. “So, this… other,” he said, clearing his throat as she began to collect her personal belongings. “Is it serious?” He affected a grave face that made her laugh.
She smirked, attempting to conceal the discomfort she felt all of a sudden. “It’s sort of a… long distance relationship,” she responded, keeping her voice even, as if his question had been casual interest and no more. But why do your choices always keep us apart? There were worse ways to spend an evening than dinner with Mr. stark like, say, obsessing over Johnny: wondering if he was alright, if he’d be back anytime soon. “Actually,” she said, gift wrapping an opening for him, tying it with a bow, “I don’t know that many people in town. I’m sort of new around here….”
“Ah,” he responded, running a hand along his goatee. “Perhaps you’d like to….” His words trailed off as she held up a finger urgently to silence him and to signal, ‘give me one minute!’
She crouched down beside her duffel and rummaged through it until she found it: the round, black object that fit so neatly into the cup of both of her hands. Her Magic 8-Ball. She gave it a vigorous shake, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back slightly, as if she were urging an answer. But what outcome did she really want? She looked down and a grin spread across her tan face.
“Sorry,” she told Tony, standing again as she slipped the straps of her duffel over her shoulder. Her expression was sympathetic, somewhat regretful. “But I can’t.”
“Mr. Long distance again?” he asked playfully and she responded with a smile. “Just tell me this, okay?” he pressed her as she began to walk past him. He spread his arms and gave her his most disarming smirk. “Did I ever have a chance?”
“Not even a ghost of one,” she replied and giggled at her own private joke. “Do me a favor though and take that secretary of yours someplace nice. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark.”
Tony watched with a growing frown as Roxanne paused beside Rhodey, bringing out her sharpie again and scribbling something else on the folder; her writing looked suspiciously like digits. “Seriously? You’re giving him your number?” Tony objected with a sulk. Roxanne only turned back to him for a minute to throw him a wink and then she was walking with the rest of her crew out to her van.
THE END