Having him at her back helps. “Why?” she mutters. It doesn’t even matter if he can actually hear her. The word burns in her throat, hammers with her pulse. “It’s never enough. Why can’t I protect them?” She clenches her fists under the water, holding them up like they’ve failed her. “I can hear them hurting. Always, always. I can /hear/ it.” Her voice breaks in the middle. “Why can’t I make it better?”
“I wish I could tell you,” he replies, just as quietly, his chin resting against her hair. “God knows I’ve wondered it enough times myself.” Wasn’t that the entire point of Iron Man? Fix what his company fucked up; make amends for all the innocent blood he’d inadvertently spilled. “I dunno if it makes you feel better, but you aren’t the only one trying to help. And you do help; you do make a difference.”
“How?” It’s half an anguished sob. “People are dead, people are hurting, and I can’t change it. I can’t even save you!” Her shoulders round in, one arm wrapped across her body as if to hold herself in. Or together. “Make it stop. God, please, make it /stop/.” The hot water streams down over her face, rinsing away the tears before they have a chance to fall, but the tension in her body is so high now even the heat can’t relax her.