The sun was low in sky when the trial was finally over, the light barely making it over the horizon- providing just enough to illuminate the courthouse. The perfect setting for an eerie silence, but there was no such fortune; reporters swarmed the steps and shouted questions forcefully into the cool air, trying to be heard and desperate to be answered. If the weary figure making his way down the concrete responded to just one of their questions, their future career could be cemented into history. The news was dying for more information on what they were calling an 'Avengers Civil War,' and since Tony Stark had avoided disclosing anything so far, the first to get him to talk without the questioner being a judge or a lawyer would surely be sung about. The reporters practically threw their mics at the man, snarling and pushing each other out of the way. The most aggressive were even being arrested by the several police officers in the area. It's funny how people would dare disturb the peace and risk arrest in front of a government building for the sake of one man. To be fair, tensions do tend to get much more strained when that single man is the one and only Anthony Stark.

Still, the crowd could not get him to speak. They didn't even care about the outcome of the trial, (Tony Stark was found not guilty and was put on probation from using the Iron Man equipment for an undisclosed amount of time; the Accords are not going anywhere and neither is he, it's just a pause while they figure out where to go next) their stations could handle and process that, but what they set out for was an explanation, and by god they were going to get one. Stupidly, though, for it was something they would get anyways as soon as the court's 24 hours were up and everything became public. Time was important, however- if they could get the story just 2 hours quicker than everyone else then they became the best of the best, and, oh, doesn't everybody want to be the best?

None of the reporters were answered. Silence was kept. The pain was kept.

So, while most of the reporters left to go home, a few of the dedicated tried to follow the car before getting chased away by police, and they would think for a few moments on how they had failed, but they would fall asleep and wake up the next morning for work with a new look on life.

Most would go on to be happy, normal.

Tony would go home to be empty, depressed.

He would ignore dozens of phone calls from Pepper Potts for fear of dragging her down with him. He would miss her, as he missed Rhodey, because he was off at some physical therapy center in Detroit. Happy was with Pepper. He wouldn't drag him away from a life of false security and duty so he could ruin his mental state by talking to him. That's cruelty in the purest form.

He would consider letting Vision talk to him about something, anything really, but dismissed the thought out of bitterness and stubbornness. A big cause for this would be because Vision is the reason Rhodey can't be here with him, yet the true cause is he didn't want to have company right now, and he didn't want to further ruin Vis's image of him. He would see him as weak, and he couldn't have one more person see him as weak.

He walked quickly to his room, almost slamming the door out of helplessness. He briskly passed by a mirror, electing to keep his head down- but if he had looked, he would have seen a haunted face with bloodshot eyes and overgrown facial hair. It was the face of a broken man. How un-Tony Stark, so unlike a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and hero. He wondered how many people even saw him as a hero now. He wondered if they would still see Steve and his renegade Avengers as heroes when they find out the whole story.

Steve.

Surprising how many emotions and ideas come to his mind when he thinks of that name. He thinks initially of how he lied, how he betrayed him, how he tore apart the Avengers. How he tore apart Tony's family, albeit unstable, but it was the only real family he had. Then he would think of the better times, when they were friends, when they had each others' backs. Everything was clouded with doubt, he didn't know what to think of the great Captain America anymore.

Head in his hands, he sat unsteadily at his desk, the sturdy chair beneath him contrasting hugely with his shaking legs. He was tired, angry, lonely, hurting- he didn't know how to proceed.

He asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to open his hidden drawer, and beneath the desk, a simple box materialized into existence, carefully crafted into its underside. Just as the A.I. began to curiously ask questions about what he would like to do next, he muted her.

He grabbed it and placed it gently on the desk. It wasn't anything fancy, it was a metal lock box with a classic lock. He pulled a key from out of his pocket and turned it open.

Inside, there were a few items. His mother's necklace, one of his first designs (the first one, one of the only ones that Howard had praised), there was a letter from Pepper, and a few other small, sentimental items. No one else knew about the box- no one knew enough about Tony to know he had a sentimental side.

At the bottom of the box, there lay a simple flip phone. There was only one number on the phone.

Tony stared at it with no lack of loathing or interest. Cap had given him that phone, he wrote that he could call if he needed the Avengers.

And maybe he needed them. He needed them to distract him from the bottle of Scotch on the counter to his left, he needed them to talk to when he wanted so the silence didn't swallow him whole, he needed to help them so he could help himself. He needed to call.

Tony reached out for the phone and flipped it open. The bright light of the phone did little to add anything to the dark room, but to Tony it was a lighthouse shining for a ship lost at sea.

With a shaking finger, he hit the CALL button.

It rang.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

"We're sorry, but your call has been sent to an automated voice message. The number you are calling has a voice mailbox that has not been set up,- "

Tony hit end. The room was plunged into darkness.

"Huh. There for me, aren't you Cap?"

That bottle of Scotch suddenly became the best option out of everything he had considered prior. Part of him wanted to call again, part of him wanted to sleep or build or eat or do anything else. But who needs any of that when you're Tony Stark? Snarky, rich, uppity Tony Stark. He unconsciously wiped away a tear he wasn't aware had formed.

He took a step towards the cabinet.