Steve runs, in agony and hope, because it’s him, sliding down the steps, holding on to a blue-faced person Steve doesn’t recognize, his beard untidy and his hair mussed, eyes glossy as if empty of life. But it’s Tony, in the flesh, half the size Steve remembers, hissing in pain as he slumps into Steve’s arms, but he’s alive, breathing, saying words Steve can’t gather the mental ability to understand but is grateful to hear nevertheless. Steve has to pause in the middle of the steps, to take a deep breath and steady himself. He has Tony in his arms so he can’t shatter into pieces; he has to keep it together.

Put Me Back Together (2k, T)

Steve holds it together to see through what needs to be done, with Tony missing in space and half of the universe snapped out of existence. Only until Tony comes back to earth.