An road to healing

2

The sun filtered through the curtains the next morning, casting a pale light across the room. Steve’s eyes flickered open, the remnants of his tears still damp on his face. His head felt heavy, the weight of everything pulling him down, but something was different now. The phone buzzed in his hand, the sudden vibration cutting through the fog of his exhaustion.

He blinked at the screen, still half-dazed, and then his heart skipped a beat. It was a message from Tony.

Come to the tower at 10.

Steve stared at the message for a long moment, his breath catching in his throat. Was this a trap? Was Tony finally done with him? Or—was this something else? Maybe, just maybe, this was his one last chance.

His hands were shaking again, but this time, there was a flicker of hope among the fear and the guilt. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe Tony was willing to try. Or at the very least, Tony wanted to say something, even if it was just to scream at him some more.

Steve stood up, wiping his face, still trying to steady his breath. He didn’t know what to expect, but whatever it was, he knew he had to go. This could be his only chance to fix things, to finally say everything he needed to say and to show Tony that he wasn’t running away anymore.

He grabbed his jacket, quickly pulled it on, and, with one last lingering glance at the empty room, walked out. The door closed behind him with a soft click, but for the first time in what felt like forever, Steve didn’t feel quite as alone.

Steve walked down the street, his steps quickening with each stride. His mind was a whirlwind of uncertainty, his heart racing with the weight of the message Tony had sent. Come to the tower at 10. What did it mean? Was Tony still angry? Did he want to talk, or was this the end?

As his thoughts spiraled, Steve found himself walking faster, the world around him blurring as he focused on getting to the tower. The familiar sights of the city weren’t helping his nerves—each passing moment felt like a countdown to something he wasn’t sure he was ready for. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he showed up, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it might be his last chance.

Then, as he rounded a corner, something caught his eye. A small, nondescript shop sat tucked between two buildings, with a neon sign hanging above the door that read, Burgers. Steve’s eyes lingered on it for a moment, and then it hit him.

Tony loved burgers. He loved the greasy, messy kind—the ones that were always just a little bit too big to fit in his hands, the kind that dripped sauce down his chin as he ate with a smile that Steve couldn’t help but remember. He’d seen Tony devour one of those burgers after a long day of tinkering with his suits, laughing about how it was the best thing he'd eaten all week. Tony always had a way of making the simplest things feel like something special.

Steve’s chest tightened with a mixture of nostalgia and longing. He hadn’t been able to share a moment like that with Tony in so long. The thought of Tony sitting across from him, enjoying something so ordinary but so... them, made Steve ache with regret. He had messed that up too.

For a moment, Steve hesitated, standing in front of the shop, the tempting smell of freshly grilled patties wafting through the air. He glanced up at the clock on the corner. He had time.

Without thinking, his feet carried him forward, and he stepped into the shop. The bell above the door jingled as he entered, and the warm, inviting smell of sizzling meat filled his senses. Steve ordered two burgers, knowing exactly what Tony would want—extra bacon, extra cheese, and all the fixings.

As he stood there waiting for the food, his hands clenched at his sides. This small act felt so trivial in the grand scheme of everything that had happened between him and Tony. But, for a moment, it felt like something he could do for the man he still cared about, even if it was just a burger.

The worker handed him the bags, and Steve nodded, his fingers brushing against the paper wrapping. He didn’t know if this would fix things, but maybe—just maybe—it would be a step in the right direction.

As he walked out of the shop, the weight of his choices pressing down on him once again, Steve’s mind was consumed with one thought: What if this isn’t too late? What if there’s still a chance for us?

Steve walked briskly, the weight of the burgers in his hand grounding him, but it was the reflection of his own thoughts that kept him from slowing down. The longer he walked, the more he realized how little he truly knew about where he stood with Tony. The streets blurred past him, but the familiar buildings and the buzz of the city felt almost like a distant memory, a world he used to be a part of but no longer fully fit into.

His beard, though still scruffy and uneven from months of neglect, offered some comfort. It served as a cloak, a way to blend in—a shield from the world he wasn’t ready to face yet. If anyone looked at him, they'd see a man who resembled Steve Rogers but wouldn’t quite be able to place him. The rough facial hair helped him disappear, to remain anonymous in a sea of people, to not be that soldier everyone knew. A man who had failed, lost, and disappeared from the world for too long.

As he moved closer to the tower, the streets began to feel more unfamiliar. It wasn’t just the city that had changed; it was him. He was different now—older, scarred, a little more broken. But the tower stood in front of him, imposing and strong, as if it were the same giant it had always been.

But this time, it wasn’t Avengers Tower he stood in front of. It was his home.

Steve paused, his breath catching in his throat. The sense of finality hit him harder than he’d expected. The tall glass walls, the sleek architecture—everything about it had changed since the last time he’d been here. It wasn’t just the physical building that was different; it was the people inside, the absence of everyone he had once called his team, his family.

This wasn’t the place where the Avengers had gathered after each mission, after each victory and defeat. This wasn’t the place where Tony had joked, where they’d fought and bled together. This was… something else. Something personal. A place of wounds that had never fully healed, of regrets that still echoed through the empty halls.

For a long moment, Steve simply stood there, the burgers now forgotten in his hands. He wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. But one thing was certain—this was it. This was his chance. He could walk away now, fade into the distance again, or he could face whatever came next. It was his decision. And it was Tony who would decide if there was any way forward.

Steve took a deep breath, the cold air cutting through him. He wasn’t ready for whatever would happen when he stepped inside, but there was no turning back now. He turned to the door, his steps steady despite the fear that gripped him. The sound of his own heartbeat was louder in his ears than ever before as he made his way to the elevator, the tower looming above him, waiting.

With one last glance over his shoulder, as if to remind himself there was no going back, Steve pressed the button to go up, to whatever awaited him at the top.