“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.
“I don’t need to be saved,” he reminds her. “It’s one of the things you like about me.” If Summer ever had to pick between Tony and someone else hanging from a ledge, she could be content in the knowledge that he would haul his own ass back up. “You’re one person, Sunshine. No one’s expecting you to save the world on your own.” He falls quiet then, his hold on her tightening somewhat. What’s he supposed to say? It will be okay? You did your best? It all just rings as trite in his head.
“Don’t lie to me, don’t say that.” Another sob hitches through her body as her voice cracks and spikes. “All the things that have happened since I met you, everything — I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t save you.” She’s barely coherent, knees shaking. Tony might as well be holding her up. “It hurts so much, Tony.”
Though the pain isn’t less, the effects of it are wearing off, wearing her down. The tears don’t slide down anymore when she blinks, and most of the dried blood has slipped off her skin, though there are still patches at her hairline where she shoved recalcitrant strands out of her eyes with the back of one hand. After a minute, and a long, shaking sigh, Summer turns around. She rests her forehead briefly against the arc reactor before tucking her head into the curve of his shoulder instead.
“Will you do a thing for me tonight?”