The Soldier and His Girl. (Steve Rogers Love Story)

Chapter Forty-Four: The Weight of Words

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the Stark estate as I pulled up to the front gates. The house stood as it always had, grand and imposing, but today it felt different—hollow, like a shell of what it once was. Tony had called earlier, asking for help with something I knew was going to be difficult. Anthony, Emily's father and Tony's adopted father, had been snapped away alongside half the universe. Now, eight months later, Tony and Pepper were finally ready to pack up his things.

I stepped out of the car, taking a moment to steady myself. It wasn't going to be easy walking into that house, knowing Anthony wouldn't be there. He had been a good man, a strong presence, and a father figure to many of us in ways we couldn't have anticipated. Losing him was another cut in a wound that just wouldn't heal.

Pepper opened the door before I could knock, her face weary but managing a small smile. "Steve, thanks for coming."

"Of course," I replied, giving her a quick hug. "How are you holding up?"

She sighed, the kind of sigh that carries the weight of too many sleepless nights. "As well as can be expected. Tony's in the study, but he's been... well, you'll see."

I nodded, following her through the familiar halls. The house was quiet, almost eerily so, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioning. When we reached the study, I found Tony sitting at Anthony's old desk, papers and trinkets spread out in front of him. He didn't look up as we entered, just kept his eyes on whatever he was holding.

"Tony," I said gently, stepping further into the room.

"Cap," he responded without looking at me, the usual sharpness in his tone dulled by something deeper—something I recognized all too well.

Pepper touched his shoulder lightly. "I'm going to start in the bedroom. You two can handle things in here?"

"Yeah," Tony muttered, finally looking up as Pepper left the room. "We got it."

I glanced around the study, my eyes landing on the shelves filled with books, photos, and mementos from a life well-lived. It was strange, seeing it all laid out like this, knowing it would soon be packed away, boxed up, and stored out of sight. But that was the way of things now—putting pieces of the past into boxes, trying to make sense of the senseless.

"So," I began, breaking the silence that had settled over us like a thick fog, "where do we start?"

Tony shrugged, his eyes still on the item in his hands. "Wherever. Doesn't really matter, does it?"

I walked over to one of the shelves and picked up a framed photograph of Anthony with Tony and Emily, all three of them laughing, their arms around each other. It was taken not long after Tony had returned from Afghanistan, a time when they had all been closer than ever. I held it up, unsure of what to do with it.

"Do you want to keep this?" I asked.

Tony glanced at the photo, his expression unreadable. "Put it in the box for Pepper," he said, his voice flat.

I nodded and did as he asked, the silence growing heavier with each item we packed away. It wasn't just Anthony's things we were putting into boxes; it was memories, moments that could never be replaced. And with each object that disappeared into the cardboard, I could feel the tension between us growing, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

After a while, I moved to Anthony's desk, opening one of the drawers and finding a stack of letters tied together with a worn piece of string. I pulled them out, flipping through the pages covered in Anthony's neat handwriting. Some were addressed to Tony, others to Emily.

I handed them to Tony, my voice quiet. "These should stay with you."

He took the letters without a word, staring at them for a long moment before setting them aside. I could see the strain in his eyes, the way he was holding himself together by sheer force of will. But I could also see the cracks—tiny fissures that threatened to break open if he wasn't careful.