Thank you for the reviews- you are all great and your enthusiasm is encouraging. Not many people reading but that's okay- happy to write for the few and myself.

It is therapy right now. Stay safe.

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Steve stood on the threshold of Peter's room, a room that held ghosts, moments in time that he couldn't bear to re-live- he started as he heard a distant giggle; the carefree laugh of a boy who was lost- his lost boy. He froze, unable to move; he tried to breathe but his throat closed, and he had to heave to draw in air. He thought he could do this but now faced with it- he….he…

The man turned abruptly and stopped as he was confronted by Natasha staring at him; her face impassive, no emotion, the hardness of many years ago returned.

The loss of the son she adored proving too much to bear; Natasha had re-erected a wall around her feelings- protecting herself from further pain.

No-one was allowed to get too close; she nursed her wounds like an injured animal. She had closeted herself in the tower and cut off all contact with everyone.

''I will help you,'' she said firmly and Steve hesitated.

''You have to do this; the tower will be gone soon. Do you want his belongings thrown into land fill?'' she was harsh as she had an inclination to be these days.

''No, no of course not. I will get someone else to do it, I can't….'' Steve replied as he pinched the bridge of his nose, tension throbbing uncomfortably and Natasha tutted.

''Which is yet another thing you will torture yourself about in the future. This is your, our son's bedroom; do you really want strangers touching, moving his things, giving his Lego to their children to play with or don't you think Morgan might like to do that? Have a small part of her brother in her life? Suit up Cap, turn and face!'' Natasha snapped irritably and Steve took a deep breath.

''Come on,'' Natasha walked past him and he followed her.

Later when she was alone, Natasha sat with Peter's Captain America plushie clutched against her chest and cried; cried her heart out for her little boy, for his misplaced future- for the future they would have, should have, enjoyed together.

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Steve stood on the veranda staring across the lake; it was quiet, peaceful as the breeze blew gently through the trees but there was no comfort, whatever he did; wherever he went there was no comfort. It was just all pain and loss, the world was drowning in pain and loss; struggling to survive the trauma. It was as he had felt in exile a lifetime ago but then there had been hope, possible redemption; now there was none- just an empty void stretching before him, before them. It was irrevocable or was it? Steve just couldn't accept that fate- surely there was something that could be done to repair this devastation?

They were Earth's mightiest heroes- it was up to them to save the world- save themselves. But how?

''Oh Bubba, where are you?'' He looked up at the sky; tears gathering yet again as suffocating grief crushed his chest- this was unbearable. How did he recover from this grievous blow? He had never experienced such deep seated despair before- it was intense and sucking him dry.

'Pops, Dad said it's time for dinner,'' Harley interrupted him nervously.

Then, Steve was reminded why he was suffering through this- he had two other children who depended on him- he had to be strong for them. He could not allow his misery to blight their lives- somehow he had to pull himself together, be happy; live a full life again. He still had so much- his husband, his children- it was time to stop wallowing.

They kept to a strict routine in an attempt to be stable for the children. Harley was enrolled in the local high school but that was proving problematic to say the least.

Steve collected himself, surreptitiously wiping away the tears; not willing to burden his remaining son with his distress- the teenager was struggling enough as it was.

''You don't have to do that, hide how you feel. I wish you wouldn't. I miss him too, he was, is my brother; I always wanted a brother then I got one and he was totally awesome even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes,'' Harley said nervously.

Steve laughed and looked at him, no longer hiding his tears.

''He was, he really was, awesome and a pain in the ass,'' he said and Harley grinned.

''Language!''

Steve held his arms out and Harley walked into them, they stood together for a long time holding onto each other for dear life.

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Tony looked down at the web shooter he was working on; he didn't know why he kept going, why was he working on this? No one would ever use it! He picked it up and turned it over; then pure white rage engulfed him and he hurled it against the wall as hard as he could- it shattered into several pieces.

Tony sank onto a nearby stool, covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

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''Is this ever going to get better?'' Tony whispered plaintively to his husband as he lay in his arms.

''No, I don't think it will. I think you just learn to bear it and a little bit every day you get better at hiding it but no; it doesn't ever gets truly better. We will be happy again; we have to be for Harley and Morgan, but we will carry the scar of losing Peter for the rest of our lives,'' Steve replied sadly; resigned to the reality of their catastrophe.

Unless, unless, unless, unless.

The voice in his head reminded him that there was still a minuscule amount of hope, but at that moment it really did feel hopeless- despite the constant nagging of possibility that haunted him.

He placed a loving kiss on his husband's lips and Tony nodded; at last accepting the inevitable- he had no fight left so he succumbed.

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''Well?'' Steve glowered at Harley who was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the bag of weed before him.

''I just… I don't know…. I needed it,'' Harley stuttered over his inadequate reply.

'' Harley, you do not need that shit!'' Tony was furious and just about stopping himself from throttling the teenager.

''I miss him, I really miss him and it helps, it numbs how I feel. I forget about Peter, about Sam when I smoke,'' Harley swiped a sleeve across his face and stared miserably down at the table, tracing the grain with his finger- too ashamed to meet his parent's disappointment.

''I know you do bud, we all do but this is not the way,'' Steve wished Sam was here, he would know how to handle this.

''Harley kiddo, please believe me this will only help for a little while and then you will need something else. You have gotta face reality and deal with it,'' Tony said and Harley glared at him.

''What like you do? Spending hours in your workshop staring into space, that's facing reality is it?'' Harley turned on his father furiously and Tony froze, unsure how to reply as his son called him out on his hypocrisy.

''Okay, okay, calm down everyone!'' Steve threw Tony a look as he spoke. Tony sighed loudly and ran his hand irritably through his hair but he remained silent.

''So suspended kiddo, on your last strike before expulsion. Do you understand what happens if you are expelled?'' Steve was the voice of reason.

Harley glanced at Tony who tipped his head, so did he?

''That school, the one for troubled kids. I will have to go away,'' Harley whispered- he had seen the brochures, he knew what they were considering.

''It is not a school for troubled kids; it is a place that will help you, support you. Set you straight. We don't want to send you away kiddo, but you are leaving us no choice here,'' Steve was less than happy with this option- could he bear losing another child? But Harley was self- destructing before their eyes and they were running out of options.

He had been suspended three times; stopped playing football and was fighting on an almost daily basis- he was very much on a slippery slope and an extremely angry young man.

''No, I don't want to go away. Please don't send me away,'' with that Harley collapsed his face in his arms and started to cry piteously.

Both men came over instantly- wrapping comforting arms around him. They looked at each other over their son's head- what were they going to do? They were facing the very real possibility of losing another of their children.

''You need to go to your room Harley,'' Tony was the one who took charge- he was the one advocating the tough love approach- he understood better than most people that indulgence did not work in these circumstances.

''Okay,'' Harley stood and galloped upstairs- eager to get away.

The two men stared into space, both lost for words- completely out of their depth.

Rey wandered over and butted Steve's leg, whimpering as his walk was well over due.

''Tony, I can't send him away. He belongs here with us,'' Steve pleaded as he stroked the dog's silky head; his eyes anguished when he finally looked up.

''Do you think I want to? If we don't he could end up dead. Do you want to bury another child?'' Tony was hostile and defensive- yet again a situation he could not control: it was becoming a way of life.

''We didn't bury Peter,'' Steve retorted immediately and Tony sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

''No, I know we didn't but he's not here is he?''

There was a stifling silence as yet again tragedy invaded their attempt at a new life- a fresh start.

In the distance, Morgan began to cry.

''I'll get her, you take the dog out. I'll start dinner,'' Tony ran away and hid behind domesticity.

Steve nodded as he did the very same thing.

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It's sad and painful at the moment but it was always going to be. Hopefully, there is some light at the end of tunnel soon.

Comment and suggest. Always happy to receive suggestions.

Salutations.