Avengers Oneshots

Talking Helps #Ironstrange

A/N I am going to do a part 2 to the previous chapter, as requested, but I wanted to do this first because I was feeling inspired by the prompt above. This is set after endgame, and everyone survives. It's a lot more serious than some of my other chapters and deals with trauma and self harm. Sorry for any inaccuracies or triggers, it's my first time writing this stuff. This does have a happy ending though - I hate sad endings - and there's no character death or depictions of violence. I hope this isn't too bad xx.

----A Few Months After Endgame----

Emptiness. Stephen would say it filled him, but that's not really how emptiness works. It just sort of sinks through you, damping all emotion. He'd felt it just after Dormamu too, a horrible hollow feeling, like you're a shell protecting something important, only that something has been removed and now you're devoid of any purpose. This was different to Dormamu though. That emptiness had faded with time as he'd busied himself with more important things. He'd pushed through that emptiness.

This emptiness stayed. This had taken route and grown through him. He'd read books to distract himself like he'd done last time, but he could never focus enough to finish them. He didn't really care though. Why should he bother? There was no point when you really thought about it. No point to anything now.

He got up each day and longed for the night, when he could sleep and not do anything. Except, sleep didn't come. The night was restless and filled with terror when he did eventually sleep. His dreams were filled with people dying. Over and over. Dying. Sometimes it was people he knew, sometimes it was total strangers, it made no difference now though. The faces had all blurred into one. The only thing he could still picture vividly was the blood. It was everywhere.

----------------

Stephen rarely left his room in the compound now. He'd moved in there after he'd joined the Avengers - it was supposed to be more practical and easier for everyone. In reality, Stephen missed the sanctum. He liked it's old halls and polished floors. The otherworldly ether about it. He often went back there now just to sit in the library and stare at the walls. He'd lost interest in the books months ago.

Wong had tried talking to him, but never got a response, so gave up eventually. The only one he talked to now was Tony. Kind, wonderful, brilliant, beautiful Tony. He was the reason Stephen hadn't ended his life months ago. He loved Tony, and didn't want to leave him like that. Sometimes he'd sit and stare at the gold band on his ring finger: the engagement ring Tony had given to him before the snap. Given because of how much Tony loved him. That was the other reason Stephen was still alive. He didn't want to waste what Tony had given him.

Tony was Stephen's comfort and safe house. They didn't talk much now, not like they used to - but Stephen lived for the small moments when Tony would kiss his cheek and wrap his arms around him before drifting off to sleep. These moments were blissful, and were becoming rarer as Stephen spent more and more time alone in the sanctum.

He wanted to talk to someone, but he didn't know how to start. He didn't know if any of them would relate, or would understand. They all seemed so busy, so active, so engaged in eachother's lives. It was exhausting just thinking about it. He would sit on the sofa in the living room, just watching whatever was happening hrogh the window. They'd all move around Stephen - through him it felt like sometimes. Over the course of the day their faces would blur, like a badly filmed time lapse, or maybe a computer game.

At times like this, Tony was the only one who could snap him out of it. He'd sit down on the sofa next to Stephen and start talking. It could be about anything, but eventually Stephen would latch onto the sound of Tony's voice and would start associating with reality again.

----------------

Tony of course knew what was going on. He just didn't know how to help. Or how bad it actually was. Everyone was dealing with PTSD after Thanos, some better than others though. Each week the Avengers would get together and each tell the others about a memory that had been bothering them the most. It could be anything, but they all had to share something. It helped them relate to eachother and anchor them in reality. It reminded them that they weren't alone, and that they never had to go through anything alone. Stephen never attended these meetings.