“I don’t forget that. You aren’t him, no matter what you think; you just started the same place. You’ve had your jolt a lot earlier — I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he — if Tony had been jolted out of that self-absorption sooner, like you.” Summer twists a ring on her hand around her finger a couple of times, staring out the window at the traffic. “Anyway … of course I give a damn about you. It’s what I do, that’s all I’m good for. You’re someone who — how do I say this? — there are a lot of people around you that are only interested in what you can do for them. In making you feel good, controlling you, giving you what you want. Someone has to be the person who cares about the real you, and I guess that person is me.”
“Chaos, I’m sure,” he chuckles, trying to not show how much the words actually impacted him. It’s nice for someone actually to not see him as the kid that’s Tony Stark, but not, but the kid who was Tony Stark, but didn’t let his future self define him. Reaching over he grabs her hand gently, to place a small kiss on her knuckles. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if Tony succeeded in sending me back. If the world I was going back to was going to feel the same after everything I saw here. And, yeah, I’m not going to lie: sometimes I hate waking up here …but I’m glad I met you, Summer. Throughout everything, you’ve stuck by me. Thank you.”
She flushes again. “I’m not really doing anything special,” she mumbles, “but you’re welcome all the same.” His gratitude is so powerful, she puts up another shield just to keep her thoughts from drowning in it; it’s like seeing the world through a haze for a second. She keeps hold of his hand, uncaring of how her arm is awkwardly bent. “You never answered my question,” she says, quietly.