It was the first time Tony had said his name in this entire exchange and the impact of hearing it on Tony's lips sent a burst of fresh guilt into the chasm. The last thing he wanted to do was distress the man more, but if there was even a small<i>chance</i>that they could get everyone back, Steve would drag him there by the ankle kicking and screaming. He would hate himself every minute, every second, but if war had taught him one thing, it was that if they could bring back<i>everyone</i>alive, then sometimes the stragglers had to be carried.<br/><br/>He'd seen a lot of men break those days. Seen many men weep over pictures of their wives and children, faded by passes of their fingers or the weight of their tears. Tales of sweethearts waiting back home then the next day knowing those same pretty dames would be getting letters that said their boy had been taken out by men that dared to say some people were more deserving of life than others just because what they were and how they were born.<br/><br/>He'd seen a lot of horrors, but nothing could ever steel him against seeing the pain of loss on a friend's face.<br/><br/>Steve sucked in a sharp breath when Tony's hands fell on him, clammy from the constant cloak of panic and depression that hung on the man like a raincloud.  The unsteady pats against his sweatshirt was so removed from the reminder that yes, the others were dead. For all they knew their souls had just vanished into thin air. Against all his faith he kept in spite of meeting literal gods and monsters, Steve had believed that a soul could never truly be destroyed. Maybe he was hopeful, naive, but he'd seen things he'd call miracles happen for them before. He'd given up on miracles there for a while when the same moral code that wouldn't let him leave his best friend since childhood behind had cost him another friend in exchange.<br/><br/>But now...now he was daring to hope again.<br/><br/>Moments later their eyes connected, and Steve got his first close up look of Tony's own guilt, a mountain crushing him to nothingness. Tony was a man that felt the weight of creation on his shoulders. Steve knew this. He'd seen it after Ultron and the man's solution to effectively castrate the entire team in the process. Steve knew it was out of guilt. That guilt with a capital 'G' guided Tony's every move. Guilt over the lives his past weapons dealing had cost. Guilt that he couldn't do enough. Guilt that he let Pepper down. Guilt that he'd let<i>everyone</i>down.  Anyone with eyes could see it, but few could understand it, and maybe that's why Tony and he could never get on the same page. Steve understood it more than he would admit.<br/><br/>He'd never realized how hard Spiderman's death would hit Tony. Steve only knew through the grapevine that Tony had taken little Peter Parker under his wing, which had been humorous for everyone at first. Tony Stark a mentor? Steve would admit to rolling his eyes a little. The Tony he used to know didn't have the follow through to deal with teenagers. But lo and behold, the grapevine kept gossiping, and Spiderman showed up at the showdown to rip his shield away with a little quip to go along with it. Steve hadn't agreed with Tony bringing a kid along, but he could see that Tony wasn't fooling around.<br/><br/>He supposed they all got used to dealing with superhumans all days that even Tony Stark could forget that at the end of the day, Peter Parker was just a kid. A kid Rhodey said thought Tony hung the moon.<br/><br/>Steve's heart broke for Tony, listening to those last moments he could imagine so vividly after seeing Bucky fade away into nothingness, eyes confused and searching. '...<i>Steve?'.</i>But he hadn't expected the quiet, broken words that left Tony after. In all these years, Tony Stark didn't seek out help. He was a man that could be bleeding out and still stubbornly insist he could patch himself up.<br/><br/>And then suddenly the warm weight of the other man was against him, and Steve locked his strong arms around Tony, fingers bundling Tony's stress-rumpled shirt in his grip. A hard, thready breath left the man that had once represented the will and hope of the free world, but like that dream had faded and torn at the edges. Steve blinked hard,  feeling the vibration of Tony's raw words against his body, acutely aware that the last time they'd touched Steve had been ripping Tony's arc reactor from his suit.<br/><br/>"I've got you." He murmured in reply, blinking back the water that invaded his vision."I've got you, Tony."<br/><br/>------<br/><br/><br/>Sometimes it was easy to forget that the teenager was anything but that. A child, prone to a bit of hyperactivity and tended to run at the mouth. But seeing Strange turn away from him after dropping a bomb the size of Manhattan on him, PeterP reacted before he could think it through.<br/><br/>"No!" He was up and darting into the house in a heartbeat. Peter planted himself in front of Strange with a look of desperation and anger, the look of a child given a taste of something they deeply needed only for it to be ripped away.<br/><br/>"What do you mean you found-<i>How</i>?" He insisted the pleasant plucky cadence of his voice hardening into something a little more combative. As swift as the burst of anger towards Strange's attitude surfaced, Peter's expression cycled with a-"...Please." And the heat fell away, the threat of a very real adolescent swing into emotionalism imminent. "Can I do anything? I know I don't look it but I'm really smart...I..I can help if you just<i>let</i>me...Please?" He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home so bad he was sick with it.  He made a good show of keeping his spirits up, but he was like anyone else at the end of the day. Able to feel lows, able to cry himself to sleep when he thought no one was looking. Able to have the same, nightmarish dreams.